#Feathers of Ark my beloved

[aroaceleovaldez]

what powers do you think a child of arke would have? would they be similar to iris kids?

OH BOY i have thought a LOT about this. Holding my dear beloved Arke kid oc Rain. Now is her time to shine.

For Arke kids, i imagine the most common power would be having wings of some kind, or something relating to wings - just given that based on the little written stuff we have on Arke, the most notable stuff about her (besides being Iris' twin) is her wings being taken. Also I think it's fun that her wings are specifically iridescent, versus Iris' more often being described as golden specifically. With my oc, she specifically has wing-shaped markings on her back from which she can summon real wings at-will (plus general other feathers just for the aesthetic).

Besides that, definitely just general stuff related to being a messenger goddess and rainbow goddess - I imagine Arke kids would probably have similar powers to Iris kids, but maybe more subdued in some areas or specifically focusing more on double rainbows and reflection/refraction, iridescence, etc - Since Arke's thing as Iris' twin is that she's specifically goddess of the second faded rainbow when there is a double rainbow. I just really love the idea though of like, you have your Iris kids with general color/rainbow stuff, but then Arke kids are more aligned with like the rainbow sheen of oil in puddles and stuff. Rainbows in places you don't really think about. Iridescence of bird wings and beetles type stuff. Re: colors, one trait I gave to my oc for that theme is that her hair changes color like a mood ring based on her emotions. By default it's just a rainbow gradient at the ends of her hair, but it'll color-shift to match how she's feeling/what she's thinking.

I also think there's a lot of potential for stuff along the lines of like. So Iris is specifically associated with the sky/clouds and water. Arke in turn you could associate more with the earth and underground, since she was cast into Tartarus (and you could totally play with how her wings were given to Thetis, who gave them to Achilles. Maybe Arke kids have beef with Thetis/Thetis kids as a result, or just generally don't do as well around water because of her.) or due to her siding with the Titans during the original Titanomachy. Maybe Kronos as Titan of the Harvest gave her some ground-based speed buffs idk. Fun to play with. Speed as a power is a definite possibility, since Achilles wearing Arke's wings on his feet were supposed to be why he was extra fast.

Also maybe not a power, per se, but they could definitely make a joke about Romans misunderstanding who their mother is - cause both Iris and Arke are twin messenger goddesses of the rainbow, but only Iris has a Roman equivalent, and her Roman equivalent is Arcus. "Who's your mom?" "Messenger goddess of rainbows, Arke." "Arcus?" "Arke" "Arcus?" "Arke-"

In general though: Messenger/speed, colors/rainbows, and wings are definitely the big themes. In part because she has so little text about her, it actually kind of makes for a lot of room to play with stuff and work out further themes for her which is super fun.

I also have a lot of general thoughts and headcanons about Arke/Arke Kids and the Second Titanomachy/Titan Army if you wanna hear about that 👀

[medics-secret-shipfic-folder]

Concept Art for Archimedes, The Blighted Beast

Archimedes, The Blighted Beast - When the Shadow Blight was first unleashed, Archimedes and the rest of Medic's beloved doves were caught in the initial blast of dark energy. The concentrated Blight energy rapidly corrupted the doves and transformed them into massive, hulking monsters that easily dwarf their previous owner. The doves gained numerous draconic traits and achieved a greater level of intelligence than was previously unattainable. Now capable of basic problem solving and an intricate network of communication, Archimedes and the rest of Medic's doves went on to become some of the most fearsome monsters in the Shadow Blight's army, often ordering around weaker monsters. Archimedes went on to become the leader of this newly formed flock of monsters and is identified by the wiry feathers atop his head, which are not present in the rest of the flock. The Blighted Flock, as they are now known, were appointed as Chainlink's servants, constantly guarding and patrolling his airship and delivering stray humans to his infernal factory. During their stay, Chainlink conducted extensive experiments on the doves in order to fortify their bodies, resulting in the strange artificial engines on Archimedes' wings. These engines allow Archimedes to reach mach 2 speeds with very little effort, turning this bird into a deadly aerial threat. Despite the Blight twisting Archimedes into an unrecognizable monster, Archimedes still retains his memories. When he encountered Medic during the events of Take Back The Fortress, Archimedes immediately recognized Medic and tried to gain his owners trust. Archimedes later brought Medic directly to Chainlink's chambers, wherein Medic was able to successfully make off with a Blight Ark and discovered who The Marker was before escaping the airship with the help of the flock. Archimedes and the rest of the flock was unable to stay with Medic due to the Blight's influence, but he was able to give Medic a special whistle. Should Medic ever need his help, all he needs to do is blow the whistle and Archimedes will come to his aid.

My Deviantart!

[aroacesigma]

ok idk what en has so im just gonna give u the banger songs i love from each unit. some might not be in-game but also im bad at knowing where en is. also idk the en names of a lot of these songs so uh. you may need to look them up.

fine: hajimari no fantasia (BELOVED.), neo sanctuary, miracle dream traveler, tempest night (wataru goes off), feathers of ark (idk if en has that yet). also fucken. ghostic treat house. that is not in EN but its a banger.

Trickstar: BREAKTHROUGH, Kiseki, Finder Girl (i don't think u guys have that yet) and Daydream x Reality (also don't have that) the world.....

Ryuseitai: Tenka Muteki☆Meteorangers!, Ryusei Hanabi, Suisei HALATION, Nekketsu☆Ryusei Ninpouchou (i don't think u have that yet)

Alkaloid: Distorted Heart (do NOT play that expert beatmap unless you are confident. or do :3), Artistic Partisan, Believe 4 Leaves (u do not have that probably), and Vermilion (my beloved)

Eden: Dance in the Apocalypse (ignore the choreo its SUCH a banger), Awakening Myth, Majestic Magic, Exceed...... idk which ones you have of those Adam: Melting Rouge Soul is good... you don't have that tho. Eve: Sunlit Smile <3 Trap For You <3 Ruby Love <3

Valkyrie: MIWAKU GEKI. THE LOML. Last Lament. Memoire Antique. Tonight in this moonlit mansion. Eternal Weaving. also uruwashi no nightingale but that's not in-game at all you gotta go find that somewhere else.

2wink: Kangei☆2wink Zatsugidan, Heart Prism・Symmetry, LEMON SQUASH CHEERS!, Sugar Spice Hōteishiki !!! idk if u have the last two yet

Crazy:B: Crazy Roulette, Honeycomb Summer, Paranoia Street, Yubisaki no Ariadne, NOISY:BEEP (my beloved......), Helter-Spider (i don't think u have that yet)

Undead: Melody in the Dark, DESTRUCTION ROAD, Gate of the Abyss, Valentine Eve's Nightmare (if you don't like this song we can't be friends /j), FORBIDDEN RAIN (idk if u have that.... adonis went off tho)

Ra*bits: Nousagi March♪, Milky Starry Charm, Made in Tokimeki♪, Love it Love it, Pocket ni Uchuu (the other loml)

Akatsuki: Zan -Ketsui no Yaiba-, Kengeki no Mai, Usubeniiro no Yakusoku, Summer Bird is also very good <3

Knights: Fight for Judge, Silent Oath (if you like slower more chill songs. its very soft lyrically), Article of Faith (the in-game cut does not do it justice listen to the full version elsewhere), Grateful allegiance (listened to a tiny bit of that and almost started crying. oops), Promise Swords, Little Romance (RITCHAN THE WORLD), Mystic Fragrance (NARUNEE THE WORLD), Coruscate Breeze (TSUKIPI THE WORLD), Starlight Parade, Or the Beautiful Golden Drop (IZUMIMI THE WORLD)

Switch: Galaxy Destiny (if you don't like that song either we can't be friends /j), Emerald Planet, Magic for your "Switch", Omoi no Kakera, Majestic Magic, Romancing Cruise (natsume the woooorld)

MaM: Festive!, Yukai Tsuukai That's Alright! (mam the only unit to have bagpipes in his songs), Blooming World

Double Face (rip): Stippling, =EYE=, No name yet

ok thats like everything. lets ignore that i sent you basically 95% of the knights discography. we don't talk abt voice of sword that song doesn't exist

THANK YOU SO MUCH (melody in the dark is the one i am currently obsessed with it is such a banger)

and thats what made me remember . voice of sword is the one i cleared expert on . it was an ordeal but it was the easiest 😭

[shastafirecracker]

trick or treat :)

you get a full size candy bar of a treat from my current WIP, the next installment of the VWL series, this time Vash POV and dealing with some larger worldbuilding fallout rather than just one smut scene! It's meant to be the Vash companion to Wolfwood's "don't stop if I fall and don't look back." Vash has to visit his sisters and actually face what happened to Knives.

having arrived in Octovern, he's on his way to visit the facility where his surviving sisters are housed:

"The fountain in the green space is splashing quietly in the empty city center. Vash hasn't seen Octovern since - But it's bigger now than even July ever was, all built up and modernized and filled to the brim with sleek Earth tech. And, because of the evacuation, it's dead silent. Empty of inhabitants. Far above, a distant hawk cry echoes. The fountain burbles, water broken into many rivulets by a large monolith of red rock. It looks like a natural piece of bedrock.

The fountain's base is made up of a hexagon of large panels of dull gray metal, angled slightly upwards. When Vash is close enough, he sees that they're segments of hull from some old Seeds ships, micro-abrasions from space debris still intact. And they're covered in writing.

Uverna, 214. Piss Creek, 45. Stony Gap, 1,304. Concord, 892. Carcasses, 501. Juneora Rock, 4,346. Monterusso, 28. Milltown, 118.

Towns and their populations, all wiped out during the Ark's passage. Vash's gaze lingers as he rounds the six panels; four are covered with nothing but place names. He knows not every single person from every town died, but enough did. Enough.

One panel, facing away from the Plant building, bears an etched portrait of a female face with short hair framing her cheeks. Beneath, it says Domina, Beloved, and an age younger than Vash but older than any human. Independent. Vash knows her, vaguely, from the entanglement of thoughts and memories that had been exploding through him during that very last encounter. He knows her via the perspective of her death as seen by her killer: her contact with extra-orbital threads of power that had cracked into her safe shell, wriggled into her skin, stabbed fine blades into all of her flesh, slipped through her meat in a hot, greedy butchery of her young body, warped her, claimed her, sprouted her, bloomed her flesh into feathers -

Vash walks away from her portrait, her eager smile, her Beloved.

Opposite her, on the side of the fountain facing the Plant building, is the epitaph. "In memory of all that was lost," it begins, and goes on for a short but saccharine paragraph about grieving together and building back stronger through new alliances. At the bottom is a simplified version of a star map, a few dots and lines connecting Earth to her lost children.

Vash thinks it's very much the kind of monument that Earthers would build.

He moves his eyes from the text to the bedrock centerpiece, with its clear water flowing endlessly over a piece of stone that will never absorb it. That's all that really needs to be said about this planet, isn't it?"

[thevibraniumveterans]

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Are you sure about that, Loki? Are you extra, extra sure about that?

Because you:

1. Joined a task force to look for Sylvie (even though you didn’t know her then) and entered the same tent she had just disappeared from mere seconds before;

2. Thought that she was you (which later she would disagree with and say “if anything, you’re me” but anyway) and therefore pretty darn easy to locate;

3. Wouldn’t at first accept the fact that she was superior to you (well, y’all are equals, and maybe she’s better than you, but we’ll get to that later);

4. Theorized with your new friend Mobius that she was hiding in apocalypses by stealing his salad and then proceeding to absolutely destroy it doing so;

5. Visited freakin’ POMPEII to prove said theory and then actually proved your theory correct;

6. Used a candy from the future as a clue to find out where she might’ve taken her next steps, and cross referenced it with the many apocalypses she might’ve been in;

7. Actually found an apocalypse that she ends up being in (Alabama 2050);

8. Went to said apocalypse to look for her (you seem pretty invested in looking for her at this point);

9. Found her first enchantment victim who then passed the enchantment onto her second victim (B-15, looking at you), whom you still thought was you;

10. Found her third enchantment victim who told you not to call her a Loki (which she’ll do again, don’t worry);

11. Acknowledged through her fourth enchantment victim that she was different than you for the first time (“I would never treat me like this,” you said);

12. Followed her through a Time Door back to the TVA after meeting her for the first time;

13. Somehow allowed her to get the best of you even though you probably didn’t mean for that to happen;

14. Grabbed her stolen TemPad and landed the both of y’all in yet another apocalypse, the worst one yet actually, one that she’s probably been to before;

15. Tried to shield her from a falling meteor, to which she said she didn’t need your help (I mean, did you have a reason to save her then?);

16. Called her weird (I mean, that’s funny as hell, I gotta give you that);

17. Opened a door for her and let her enter the mining shack first before you did;

18. Literally let down your guard around her (yes, you’re tired from all that running, but still);

19. Somehow didn’t even stop her from putting both her hands on your neck in an attempt to enchant you (it looked romantic as hell, dude, and how were you not even opposed to her doing that, given both of y’all’s antagonism toward each other?);

20. Told her mockingly “In my heart” when she asked you where you hid her stolen TemPad (I mean, you could have said literally anything else but you went for “in my heart”, okay, I see where this is going);

21. Kind of agreed with her when she said you needed her to get out of Lamentis, “you need me” being the key phrase;

22. Asked her where she was going, and followed her;

23. Acknowledged that she’s not a Loki (yay!), or at least the fact that she doesn’t want to be referred to as one;

24. Followed her into an abandoned mining town where you thought you could fool a resident who chose to stay (you couldn’t);

25. Let her get away with teasing you about your failed efforts;

26. Playfully grabbed her by the shoulders from behind as you used your magic to conjure up a guard’s outfit for yourself (which you looked absolutely hilarious in, by the way, that helmet did not help one bit);

27. Sat down with her at a booth on the train, just the two of you (I’m not calling this anything else other than a date, at this point, to be honest);

28. Told her a wistful story about your mother and how she taught you magic and how she believed in you;

29. Showed her a miniature version of the fireworks you said your mother once conjured up for you, in an attempt to make her happy (I mean, those are beautiful fireworks, and she likes them too!);

30. Playfully conjured up a feather and quill to tease her about saying “Love is hate” (she finds you funny, she just doesn’t want to admit it);

31. Asked her whether she’s got anyone waiting for her when her mission’s complete (well, she did give a sarcastic answer but that’s not my point);

32. Admitted to her that you courted both princes and princesses in the past as part and parcel of being royalty;

33. Disagreed on love being mischief (what does that even mean?!) and then told her that you might need a bit more of champagne to really get that line of thought going;

34. Sang (I’m sorry, serenaded is a better word) her a song about a fair maiden waiting for her beloved to return home (you’ll find out how prophetic that would be in due time, don’t worry);

35. Decided that a dagger was your best metaphor for love (what, does being inebriated make you better at metaphors now?)

36. Let her get mad at you for getting drunk on the train (tbh, that’s kinda your fault, but there was literally nothing else to do, so) and breaking her TemPad (honestly, how do you even break a TemPad when it’s hidden in one of your magic pockets?! How?!);

37. Asked her if she felt better after that frustration-fueled scream (I mean, that’s kinda the first time you’re looking out for her, because that’s about to get real routine);

38. Went along with her after she sarcastically suggested that y’all both should try to get the Ark off the moon, fully knowing the impossibility of doing so;

39. Bantered teasingly with her about enchantment;

40. Believed her on a dime’s drop when she said that everyone who worked that the TVA were Variants, just like the two of you;

41. Let her grab your hand before the both of you ran around the back of the Ark’s docking station in order to find another boarding point;

42. Asked her if she was okay after the both of you got knocked back by an explosion (aww, you do care for her, how sweet!);

43. Finally called her by her name just before the Ark exploded;

44. Apologized to her for ruining her mission and dooming the both of y’all to die on an exploding moon;

45. Sat and listened to her explain her motives for her mission, before telling her that though people like the both of you may lose in sometimes painful ways, y’all always survive one way or another;

46. Freakin’ COMPLIMENTED her (that’s a first), and while the both of you sat waiting for the explosion to wipe the both of you off the map, you took her hand for the first time after she put her hand on your forearm (lovely, by the way);

47. Looked longingly and sadly at her when the both of y’all were hauled back to the TVA for interrogation and then subsequently separated;

48. Denied, when interrogated (is questioned a better word?) by Mobius, that you and her are partners (ha, you’ll soon be, in more ways than one, if you weren’t already), with a look on your face that absolutely betrays your true feelings for her;

49. Couldn’t even sell your lie about meeting her to Mobius that he had to lie right back to you;

50. Thought she was dead and felt so worried for her (you should’ve seen your face!);

51. Asked if she was alive and then SIGHED IN RELIEF when you were assured that she’s still alive (oh, have you got it bad for her, and you know it);

52. Denied that she’s your girlfriend the first time Mobius teases you with that word;

53. Spilled your emotions and your feelings for her on the table when you told Mobius about how much you believe her about everyone at the TVA being Variants;

54. Didn’t even deny it the second time he called her your girlfriend;

55. When asked by Mobius if you cared about Sylvie, you didn’t know if “care” was the right word;

56. Straight-up told him, “I believe her” with such emotional conviction it’s hard to see it as anything else;

57. Nodded your head at her when the both of y’all were reunited at the very same elevators you met in front of (how poetic) and she asked you if you’re okay;

58. Literally had her back when the both of y’all fought the guards in the Timekeepers’ chambers;

59. Got distracted when she got knocked down to the floor by Judge Renslayer;

60. Were on the brink of telling her how you feel about her, telling her that revealing your emotions was kind of a new experience;

61. Decided the best option was to place your hands just by her shoulders for whatever reason;

62. Let go of her so that she wasn’t pruned like you were;

63. Admitted in a roundabout way in just three words that she was your glorious purpose (priorities shifted, eh?)

64. Proudly proclaimed that her being terrifying was the very thing that made her so brilliant;

65. Literally puffed out your chest when you said, “she needs me” (she will, much later, don’t worry);

66. Revealed that she’s the only one you do trust (oh, the way your voice just softens when you speak about her…);

67. Planned an unwise sneak attack (that would’ve involved stabbing a cloud, I mean…) on freakin’ ALIOTH because you believed that doing so would bring you back to her when you really had no idea whether it would or would not;

68. Ran down the hill you were on to reunite with her (classic reunion move, pity you didn’t complete it by hugging her, but I guess you’re not there yet) when she arrived by car and asked her if she’s okay (looks like it’s becoming a habit);

69. Hilariously tried to unsuccessfully argue, through telling her that you’ve been in the Void longer than she has (maybe for like, an hour or two? IDK) that stabbing a cloud with a dagger was your best line of defense;

70. Sat next to her and had a conversation with her, during which you…;

71. Said it was cold (whether it was or wasn’t, isn’t important), so you…;

72. Conjured up a blanket for yourself before asking if she wanted one as well and proceeded to deny that your budding romantic connection with her was the both of y’all’s nexus event;

73. Followed that up with revealing that your nexus event with her felt great, it was a nice moment (aww);

74. Proceed to deny it as another TVA lie (you really need to work on talking about your feelings!);

75. Reassured her that you don’t know what the both of y’all are doing with regards to this relationship you both have with each other;

76. Playfully wrapped part of your blanket around her shoulders (double aww, that’s the classic “I’m gonna fake yawn and drop my arm around her shoulders, y’all think she’ll notice” kind of move, and yes, she did, and she likes it) and smiled giddily like the lovesick puppy you are;

77. Acknowledged in a roundabout (and maybe not so subtle) way that she loves you;

78. Pledged to not betray her, to not let her down, because you’re not that kind of person anymore;

79. Adorably nudged her when you asked her what her plans were when all was said and done;

80. Suggested that the both of y’all could figure things out… “together”, you said (triple aww!);

81. Handed the TemPad she gave you to Mobius and told her, “You go, I go” (I mean…);

82. Let her take your hand before you went to attempt to enchant ALIOTH;

83. Interlocked both of y’all’s fingers while y’all were at it;

84. Walked hand in hand to the Citadel at the End of Time;

85. Asked her if everything’s okay after she becomes nervous before entering the Citadel;

86. Got really unimpressed when that creepy ghost clock offered the both of you a chance to rule the TVA together;

87. Stated that “We write our own destiny now”, cementing the fact that you and her are an item;

88. Warned her to not listen to He Who Remains;

89. Tried to stop her by warning her about the possible consequences of her actions;

90. Suggested that the best plan of action was to take a minute to think of whether allowing a multiversal war was better than the alternative both of y’all never wanted (unfortunate as it was to be a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t situation);

91. Got upset when she told you she felt like you betrayed her (don’t worry, you didn’t);

92. Clashed blades with her even though you clearly didn’t want to;

93. Told her “No” when she suggested that you kill her and take a throne you never wanted;

94. Let her blade fall to your neck to get her to stop and consider;

95. Said to her that this feeling of revenge, bloodlust isn’t worth it because you’d once been in her shoes;

96. Told her that you didn’t want to hurt her (after acknowledging that she’s been hurt by the TVA for a lifetime) and that all you wanted was for her to be okay;

97. Shared a kiss with her.

98. Deepened that kiss (you know you did…);

99. Grieved the misfortune of not just losing her but also the outcome of recent events, knowing that what she had to do was her life’s mission that you’d previously supported her on;

100. Went up to a changed Mobius and told him by referring to her, “We made a terrible mistake. We freed the Timeline. We found him beyond the storm.”

And if that doesn’t say “she’s become my girlfriend and I’m damn proud of her”, I don’t know what does.

-

Go get her, Loki. Go get Sylvie back. We’re betting on it.

[mewtonian-physics]

my ranking of the alex rider original series (stormbreaker through scorpia rising) from ‘book i least enjoy rereading’ to ‘book i most enjoy rereading’ let’s goooo

spoilers for all 9 books under the cut

9. Ark Angel

...He went to space. He went to space. Also the entire plot could have been avoided if Drevin had actually bothered to provide a photograph of his son. I’m sure he had one. I still like this book but it’s literally so insane that I just don’t know what to do with it. 

It is however really funny that Webber just goes and gives a speech insulting this super high-profile ecoterrorist group and acts like it’s no big deal and then they kill him. Shock of shocks.

8. Skeleton Key

Okay, points to this book for terrifying the shit out of me. God damn it does that shark scene scare me. Also, points for making me feel a little bit bad for a man who wants to nuke his own country because he thinks it will fix the place up. I’m still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s probably a good thing. I feel like understanding his thought process would say bad things about me. Still, I actually did feel sorry for him, if only a little. Dude was clearly mentally unstable and I doubt his son’s death helped at all. I also got sad about what happened to Carver and Troy. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a cringe fail American who has the American release. So sue me.) What a nightmare that must’ve been to endure... Otherwise, though, I’m not super into this book. The opening is just kind of meh and the way it leads into the rest of the plot seems a little bit unbelievable. Also, this might be an unpopular opinion, but Sabina annoys me. I would not get along with her at all and I can’t imagine her as a girlfriend. Skeleton Key does, however, absolutely excel at the emotional scenes. 

Also, why are all the spy agencies so comfortable with sending in a 14-year-old? Especially when they outright admit that the other attempts have all died horribly? Bureaucracy’s a bitch.

7. Point Blank

Boo, Dr. Grief! Boo! We hate your white supremacy! I’m so glad you got a snowmobile to the face, you deserved it. (Perks of books written by Jewish people--we aren’t afraid to give the neo-Nazis an unpleasant death.) Anyway, this book definitely isn’t bad, but I wouldn’t really say it stands out in the series. It definitely does hammer home the point of just how trapped Alex is, since MI6 isn’t going to just let him go after one mission, and let’s face it, the plot with the clones is creepy as hell, if highly improbable. But I’m largely just here to see the neo-Nazi get snowmobiled. That’s right, I just completely changed the definition of a pre-established word. I’m a rebel.

Also, I hate Fiona Friend so much and overall think she just didn’t need to be in the book, but the line about ‘I’d rather kiss the horse’ made me laugh so hard. Alex, you sass.

6. Snakehead

Okay, let’s talk about how genius the plan in this book is. I love it! I love how Yu wants to kill the people involved in the peace conference without making them into martyrs, so he comes up with this whole elaborate plan to stage a natural disaster. It’s incredible. This dude was thinking so far ahead. And he would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid... But anyway, I don’t see a lot of books where the villain really acknowledges that killing their enemies could just cause more problems for them via turning them into martyrs for a cause. Also, the way he’s so polite and soft-spoken while also being a complete monster... This book genuinely gives me chills. Extra bonus points for the part in the hospital, the absolute nightmare of having all your organs slowly removed and sold off and everyone around you is being so nice about it? ‘Oh, don’t worry, Alex, it won’t be so bad. Here, take your medicine. Do you need anything?’ Literally just. What the fuck. 

Also Ash can fucking fight me. You put your own godson in horrible danger on purpose! You killed your best friend! Bastard. 

...And just in case the book wasn’t disturbing enough, Yu’s fate at the end lives in my mind rent-free and I think about it on a concerningly regular basis considering that the chances of that happening to me are so low they’re practically in the negatives. Damn you, Horowitz.

I would also be remiss if I did not mention just how much I love the tagline ‘once bitten, twice spy’.

5. Crocodile Tears

Ah yes, the book that kickstarted my drift away from the church... I kid, of course. I drifted away from the church for completely separate reasons. But Desmond McCain is always going to scare the shit out of me. The ability to kill countless innocent people while blissfully quoting Bible verses (that he takes wildly out of context and uses for his own self-serving means) is... well, I could actually say a lot about what that reminds me of, but I’m here to rate books, not religion. Moving on. This book has some really stellar antagonists, and the plot is chilling in a way that feels a lot more realistic than most of the other books. Even if some of it is a bit farfetched (sabotaging a nuclear power plant? Really?), the idea of using disasters for your own profit... well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on why that is so believable. The Poison Dome is also a really cool and chilling scene--even Alex, who has the luck of the devil, can’t get out of that one unscathed. Further scares come in with the fate of Harold Bulman--imagine having your entire existence wiped and your identity changed while you were asleep! The breakdown he has over it is almost enough to make me feel sorry for him, even though he was ready to exploit a teenager and make his life a living hell just to turn a profit. Note the word almost.

Also. The opening makes me cry. Specifically the line talking about how Ravi’s kids would ‘never meet Mickey Mouse’. I lose my goddamn mind every single time I read it. That little personal touch turns the scene from a statistic to a tragedy. Once again: Damn you, Horowitz.

4. Stormbreaker

Yeah, this one gets the special cover shot. And why not? What we are looking at here is the birth of a legend. Move the fuck over, James Bond, Alex Rider is on the scene now. Anyway, yeah, this book is pretty damn spectacular. It has its stumbles, but as the first book in a series, that’s to be expected. Still, it pulls you in from quite literally the first line and keeps you going right up until the end. (If you came here from my post of memes, you know how much the line ‘Killing is for grownups, and you’re still a child’ destroys me.) It has the debut of much-beloved characters such as, of course, Alex--but also Jack Starbright, and of course, the best MI6 agent of them all, which is to say Smithers. Hell, even Yassen Gregorovich, especially once you get through Russian Roulette... Man, that was a rough one. 

Seriously, though. This is a really good book. The scene with the Portuguese man-o’-war still gives me the chills to think about. (Have you ever looked up pictures of those things? They’re beautiful, but holy shit will they make you regret being born. Nature is funny like that.) 

We also get the introduction of, of course, Alex’s patented sass (his response to Sayle saying he relates to the man-o’-war is HILARIOUS) and we get the inherent humor of Alex screwing up an alias one time and then just going by Alex for the rest of the series so he doesn’t do that again. Really, kid, I know you’re not a trained spy or anything but did you never play pretend growing up? Ever? You can’t pretend your name is Felix for a little while? That sounds like a you problem.

3. Scorpia Rising

I distinctly remember when this book came out, actually. I was on vacation at the time, and I remember my brother annoying the hell out of the poor workers at a bookstore we frequented there to see if/when they were going to get it in. They did, finally, and we bought it immediately, and I was of course absolutely desperate to read it. He got to read it first, though. -_-

This is a great book, an absolute emotional rollercoaster all the way through. The way Blunt tricks Alex back into service by staging a shooting was exactly the kind of cold, brutal behavior I’d expect from him. Seeing Julius come back was shocking, but very exciting, too. And Razim makes an incredibly chilling villain, with his absolute disregard for human life and his desire to measure pain. Also, seeing Smithers’s house was so much fun. Smithers in this book was just really fun in general, but he’s really fun in every book, so... nothing unusual there. But also, I want an unwelcome mat. Please?

2. Eagle Strike

‘But Penny,’ you might ask, ‘why is this book so high on your list? It has so much of Sabina in it, and you said she annoys you.’ That is true. What does not annoy me, however, is basically the entire rest of the book. I love the tense opening, and then reading through Alex’s real-life ‘playthrough’ of Feathered Serpent is still one of my favorite scenes. Cray is absolutely incredible as a villain, with the way that he truly believes in his cause--which is undoubtedly a good one! Yet the extremes to which he will go for that cause, and the fact that he very nearly succeeds, are what elevate him to one of the most dangerous villains in the series. That scene with Charlie Roper and the nickels is something I can never seem to stop thinking about. Actually, I think about it basically whenever I think about large amounts of money paid in small increments... 

Also, I really enjoy how he gets into the whole plot in the first place, and I really enjoy Smithers saying ‘ah, fuck it’ and helping him out anyway. Go, Smithers. You once again prove me right in saying that you’re the coolest adult in MI6.

The revelation that Yassen knew Alex’s father is one that absolutely blew my mind first time around. The way his life was threaded into the lives of the Rider family--he worked with John Rider, was saved by him, killed Ian Rider, and then died for refusing to kill Alex Rider--wow. Wow. It gets to me. It really gets to me. This book is a masterpiece. I heard that it’s going to be what the second season of the TV series is based off of, and I’m so hyped for that. We love to see it, we really do.

1. Scorpia

I don’t believe anyone who says this book didn’t get to them at all. I just think they are lying. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to not be affected by this book. God. Just thinking about it reminds me of why I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on. We get all this backstory about Alex’s parents, we get tricked along with him into thinking MI6 killed his father, then bam, that was a lie, and Alex may have just fucked himself over big time. Also, that plot is terrifying! (And I bet anti-vaxxers had a field day with it, huh.) Julia Rothman is a really great antagonist, one of the only ones who didn’t go and explain her plan in great detail to Alex--the fact that she didn’t actually being a plot point was something I personally found pretty clever. In general, this book is... I tend to hate when people say they ‘can’t put it down’ because it’s usually an obvious exaggeration, but that really is how I feel reading it.

And again. If that ending didn’t get to you... Well, I just think you are lying.

[finding-fallen-stars]

YGO Questionnaire Part 2 Electric Boogaloo

So, my gf/bf @howaboutalittlehelpneos tagged me to do this again a... good long while ago, and I had wanted to wait until I'd finished my GX rewatch before trying this again. But ouch oof I accidentally also got through all of 5Ds again before getting to this lol

But the 5Ds rewatch definitely reshaped a lot of my thoughts, so... cracks knuckles. This won't be spoiler free, fair warning~

Favorite Series: ugh the formatting killed my original essay on this but okay GX and 5Ds are pretty tied in my book, now-- I love them equally, but in different ways! GX fulfills my love for subversive coming-of-age stories with a heartwarming, humorous, and also soulcrushing touch, and I love how each season brings a new story and new characters-- it's like reading installments of a novel series, and I think the formatting works wonders for it as a whole. It has some absolutely phenomenal character writing, too-- even the characters I dislike are ones I can appreciate for what they introduce to the story! And honestly, not enough people give the first two seasons of GX the credit it deserves: they're half the charm, really. How are you going to feel the full impact of the heartbreaking content in seasons 3 and 4 if you aren't properly attached to the characters?

But on 5Ds's side of things... it fulfills my love for stories with time loops, found family, human nature, and of course, love and death and how they intertwine. I love how the leading characters are just a bunch of broken kids from broken circumstances who all find a home with each other, and of course, how it highlights class disparity and how fucked up the prison/"justice" systems are. Yea, sure, maybe it underwent executive meddling and all, but I genuinely love it for what it is and I wish more people appreciated it... my only problem with 5Ds is the untwist with Z-ONE and then the ending s m h I adore it overall and I could go off for a long while on it. Overall, these are my two instinctive recommendations for anyone getting into Yugioh!

(look at these boys they're so important) Favorite Protagonist: Oh, believe me, absolutely nothing has changed here-- Yusei Fudo is and always will be my favorite protagonist, and my rewatch only solidified that.

I just... love him so much? He's seen so much hell in his life and carries so much guilt on his shoulders, but he still has room in his heart to believe in others and to believe that anyone can defy fate and find hope even at rock bottom. I love that he's initially introduced as this quiet, brooding figure when he really just turns out to be a huge softie who wears his heart on his sleeve half the time and wants to bring about change for Satellite and its people. Plus I just really love that his greatest flaw is something that would ordinarily be a positive trait-- he's Overly self-sacrificial, to the point where he's basically setting himself on fire to keep others warm, and that's not really framed as something Heroic

Just... he makes me so happy. I have two Yusei charms that I ordinarily keep on my keys (one was a gift from Zenzen) and they're a constant source of serotonin for me. He's Peak comfort character for me. Best protag in my book Favorite Rival: Same deal here-- still Manjoume!

look at him he's so important

While he spends a lot of the anime getting the good old damsel in distress treatment (getting suckered into a cult, getting knocked into a coma, becoming a zombie, getting fucking Killed, etc), I still think his character arc is really well-written overall and I only appreciated it even more when I watched GX again. I love the fact that he's got a soft heart he buries beneath the edgy facade, and that he's simultaneously really sharp and also kind of dense lol. He's just a fun character and watching how he evolves from episode one to episode one hundred eighty is such a satisfying journey.

Plus, props to him for being such a versatile duelist-- 50 wins in a row is HARD as is, let alone with a deck full of cards he just found laying around in the Arctic. Three ace monsters, three different archetypes... he's a really good duelist and I'm proud of him for it

Oh, but honestly, I don't really dislike any of the rivals-- I'm neutral towards Revolver and Reiji, but the remaining four (Kaiba, Manjoume, Jack, and Shark) compel me. yes I accidentally wound up liking Jack Atlas shhh Favorite BFF: Honestly, I really like most of the characters who fit this archetype-- Joey, Crow, Gongenzaka, Soulburner... I still lean a little bit more towards Joey, but I really appreciate all four of them. I'm gonna say Joey again, just because I find his evolution as a character the most compelling, but I appreciate the other three a lot. Soulburner has the best design though Favorite GFF: Oh absolutely still Aki, but I honestly... really love most female Yugioh characters? I'm assuming this is lead girls only, but like. I'm dumb and gay and I love Girls so this is naturally the most difficult one for me to answer lol

Aki just resonates with me the most because she's the prime example of how trauma doesn't always manifest in palatable ways-- when we first meet her, she's angry and lashes out at anyone and anything just because she wants the world to suffer in the same ways she's suffered, and then... we get to watch her grow from that, once she's free from Divine and able to heal the way she needs to heal. I know the second half of 5Ds didn't give her character the attention it deserved, but I'm still proud of her for winding up on the path she did-- seeing her channel her power and energy into wanting to heal and help others was just so good and was one of the few things I really Loved about the 5Ds ending.

oh, but like. Asuka Tenjoin and Aoi Zaizen are very close seconds for me!!! Aki just has a vice grip on my heart Favorite Villain: Okay, it's still technically Vector-- I think he's the most entertaining, well-written, and effective villain out of all of the ones we've seen so far, but... I also want to add Takuma Saiou and then all of Yliaster as honorable mentions?

As someone fond of tarot myself, I was naturally pretty intrigued by Saiou the first time I watched GX, but my attachment to him only grew the second time around where I actually got the chance to understand his character better. Plus, like... the visuals with him are fucking astounding and he's always so interesting to watch.

As for Yliaster, I just... really love how the big bad of 5Ds turned out to just essentially be a broken man desperate to save anyone and anything and three robotic reconstructions of the friends he'd lost. I still think the untwist with Z-ONE was stupid and I much prefer the idea of him and Yusei being the same person, but I'm still compelled by the other three-- well. Paradox less so, because we don't get a lot of Paradox lore, but. Aporia and Antinomy for sure.

ugh Yugioh has some damn good villains

Favorite Card: now that I actually play the TCG game...

Stardust is always going to be my favorite of all cards because it checks every box for me (my favorite YGO character's ace monster, space theme, what more could I want), but Aromaseraphy Rosemary has really become one of my aces in my best TCG deck! I'm still mastering irl plays, but I'm happy with my progress and I love my plant gang...

Favorite Episode: alright, here's where there's actually been a Lot of change, so...

Season 0: Episode 16: "Turnabout by a Hair's Breadth - The White-Robed Crisis" -- The more I think about this one, the more I love it; there's a... lot of corruption in the medical industry, and I've seen a lot of it firsthand, so just. Seeing a corrupt doctor get what he deserved at the end was cathartic, in a way? Plus, a Jounouchi-centric episode is always a good time.

Duel Monsters: Episodes 96-97: "Darkness vs. Darkness/One Turn Kill" -- this hasn't changed, I still love seeing Marik and Bakura bitch at each other for two whole episodes LMAO

GX: Episode 152: "Activate Super-Fusion! Rainbow Neos" -- This one hasn't changed and it likely never will-- I take so much pride in seeing Judai push forward, past the fear and guilt he's carrying, all to save Johan... it's cathartic and I never get sick of watching it.

5Ds: sweats. still all of Crash Town, but also episodes 137-147-- the Ark Cradle is one of my favorite parts of 5Ds and one of my favorite YGO arcs period, and even though each duel is a fucking gut punch, I love the emotional intensity and weight in each episode... It hurts but in a mostly good way

Zexal: Episode 143: "The Aloof Duelist 'Nasch': The Destined Final Duel" -- this one hasn't changed! Still hurts, still love it, I still weep over Ryouga Shark Kamishiro on a daily basis

Arc-V: Episodes 81-82: "Our Respective Battlefields/The Ultimate Falcon VS The Black-Feathered Thunder" -- Okay, honestly, this was hard because I... genuinely. really don't like Arc-V very much at all lol (it's just not my cup of tea, but more power to those who do like it!), but I thought this duel was a lot of fun! Shun is my absolute favorite from Arc-V and I really like the friendship he struck up with Crow a lot, so here we are

VRAINS (so far): Episode 25-26: "Virus Deck Operation/Three Draws Leading to Hope" -- honestly I am so biased because I just really love Blue Angel and I loved seeing her get a well-deserved victory like this lol. I'm not done with VRAINS, so this is probably gonna change, but anytime Blue Angel or Soulburner are on screen, I'm happy

Favorite Decks to Use: Aromages will always have my heart, but I adore Cyber Angels too! I'm building my Trickstar deck, my Synchron/Stardust deck (just waiting on Dawn of Majesty...), and my Magician Girls deck, too! Fusion, Ritual, Synchro, XYZ, Pendulum, or Link?: Synchros my beloved... but also Ritual Years in fandom: I've been here for just a little over one year now! and I wuv it... I'm never looking back Who am I tagging: no one I'm too shy

[azulaphales]

Us Against the World

Chapter 2 (Read from the beginning on AO3 here)

The Earth experiment had failed.

Despite Gabriel’s best efforts to inspire virtue in the humans, he only saw violence at every turn. There was nothing to do for it, other than reset the experiment and start over.

People gathered to watch Noah and his family march the animals to the ark, and Gabriel stood among the crowd. They deserved it. Of course they did. They were wicked people. He tried to remind himself that, even as he watched them marvel at the animals like they would at a parade, their faces alight with wonder, blissfully ignorant of the fate that was to come.

He spotted a dark figure skulking around near the hull of the ark, and walked over to investigate. As he approached, he recognized the small silhouette and black mop of hair belonging to the Prince of Hell.

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel said scornfully.

“Same thing as you,” Beelzebub replied. “I’m making sure everything goes according to plan.”

“And what plan would that be?” Gabriel inquired.

Dark delight flashed across Beelzebub’s features before their face returned to its usual impassive expression. “I’ve ensured safe passage for the lesser animals,” Beelzebub explained, tapping their fingertips together. “The ones that your lot didn’t see fit to put on the list along with the beloved giraffes and unicorns. Termites in the wood, ants in the food supply, mosquitoes in the humans’ sleeping quarters.”

“Why would you do that?” Gabriel asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious, feather-brain?” Beelzebub said, their singsong voice grating on his nerves. “My pests will drive those humans to the brink of sin by making their miserable existence on that ship even more unbearable. Not only that, but they will plague the new human civilization for generations to come.”

Gabriel slammed his hand against the hull, just above Beelzebub’s shoulder. The little demon didn’t flinch. He glowered down at them as he leaned into their space, pinning them against the ship. “It’s never going to work,” he said. “Those humans are virtuous.”

Beelzebub jabbed a finger into his sternum. “You try being virtuous when your skin is aflame with mosquito bites and you’ve just stepped through a board rotted out by termites,” they retorted.

“Your little bugs can’t cause that much damage,” Gabriel asserted. “Not when there’s only two of each of them.”

“Oh, that whole ‘two-by-two’ business is so reductive,” Beelzebub groaned. “There’s way more to ants than just male and female, you know. You can’t repopulate ants without a colony, so I thought, why not a thousand of them?”

“You can’t just do that, Beelzebub,” Gabriel said desperately. “It goes against the--”

“The Great Plan?” they said, their voice dripping with derision. “Are you here to thwart me?” They tilted their chin forward on the word thwart, which sparked a desire in him to curl his fingers around their bared throat, lift their small body up with one hand, and squeeze just tight enough to make them gasp.

Gabriel clenched his hand into a fist at his side instead. He pulled back from them, resisting the urge that had suddenly overcome him. He wasn’t going to let them tempt him, too. “No. I’m here on assignment. I’m supposed to watch over the ark until the waters rise.”

Beelzebub’s eyes lit up with a realization that he was already sure he did not like at all. “Oh, I see. You’re here to revel in the humans’ demise. That hardly sounds like an angelic thing to do.”

“I would never do such a thing,” Gabriel insisted. “It’s not reveling to be satisfied when justice is served to wrongdoers.”

Beelzebub let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Is that what you call it?” they said. “Honestly, at first I would have thought this plan to kill all the humans came from my side, not yours.”

“It’s your side’s fault that we had to do this,” Gabriel replied. “You’re the ones tempting them to evil.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Beelzebub said. “Your side does all the evil for us.”

Gabriel drew in a deep breath. He felt his composure slipping, and he had to change tactics. “Isn’t this all a little beneath you?” he said.

“I’m a demon lord. Nothing is beneath me,” they said. “I’m the lowest of the low. No deed is too vile. If you think you’ve seen my worst, then brace yourself, because--”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” Gabriel said, waving his hand. “I don’t mean morally. I mean, what’s a demon lord doing here, on Earth, wreaking minor mischief? Don’t you have underlings for that?”

Beelzebub bristled, crossing their arms tightly across their chest. “No,” they sighed. “Crawly couldn’t be trusted, not after the way he was looking at that angel.” Gabriel wondered if the way Crawly looked at that angel bore any resemblance to the way Beelzebub looked at him now, their eyes flicking up to his face before darting away again. “Besides, don’t you have more important things to do, too, Archangel?”

“Of course I do. I have a really big assignment coming up,” Gabriel told them, because it was technically true. He did have a big assignment… in a couple of millennia. Until then, he was woefully under-scheduled, compared to the flurry of activity that he had enjoyed prior to the Earth’s creation. But if Beelzebub thought he was important, he didn’t want to give them any information to challenge that assumption. “Not that I’m going anywhere until I’ve made sure that you aren’t going to cause any more trouble.”

“Fine. My work here is done,” Beelzebub said. They tapped their foot and opened a portal to Hell, the ground belching lava and sparks. “You won’t be staying here too long either, not if you don’t want to get your robes wet.” They sunk down and disappeared below. A single raindrop fell, and sizzled on the scorched patch of earth they left behind.

One raindrop became many, and then became sheets of water crashing to the earth with a vengeance. The crowd of humans scattered in a frantic search for shelter that would soon prove futile. Gabriel shifted back and forth on his feet, stirring the water that had already pooled around his ankles. He didn’t have a word for what he was feeling, but there was no satisfaction in it.

[casbeanwrites]

flo!!!!! congrats on your followers!!! if you want suggestions you should write.... hmmm... some kinda soulmate au + royalty au?? or anything else that floats your boat :)

blooming stars 

15k wc, explicit, ao3

My sweetest love,

It is with a broken heart that I write this last missive. The day we’ve been dreading all those years has finally come to pass — I have been promised in marriage to a complete stranger. I know nothing of them, besides that they are an offering to my family, strengthening with this gift the power I shall soon hold as the heir to our estate.

I know not their gender, nor their age, or even the color of their eyes, nor do I care; they are not you, my love, therefore I spare them very little thought. I only fear they will try to wed me to a young immature thing, and I am revolted at the thought; my brother’s future wife has been deemed his since they were only children, and I dread to find out how old my future spouse will be.

My hand shakes as I write these words, for I know they shall be the last you will read from me for a terribly long while. I’m afraid that with a spouse by my side every day I won’t have the luxury to hide and write you these letters, nor will it be safe for me to receive our dear pigeon at my window.

This might be the last time I can ever tell you, my sweetheart, my darling, but it is never going to stop being true — I love you, and only you. I am yours, and yours alone, now and forever. No matter the legal bonds that shall bind me to another, you will remain the only one to have ever touched my soul. I will see your eyes in the morning, when I look up at the sky, I will think of your honeyed voice in the afternoon, as the sun sets, and I will think of nothing but your lips long after the day is done.

My heart will remain here, on these papers, in the words I picture you reading over and over again, just like I read yours. Not a day will go by that I won’t be thinking of you, thinking of holding you, kissing you, thinking of the life we could have had together. Those few stolen hours we spent with each other all those years ago remain the best memory of my life.

I must now end this letter, otherwise I might simply cover the paper with all the words I dreamed of one day calling you — darling, sweetheart, sunshine, beloved, angel. Those words shall never escape my lips for another, but here they are, just for you.

Despite my own sorrow, I pray every night that you find the happiness you deserve, be it without me — I shall not be so heartbroken if I know that you’ve found solace, peace, and joy, be it with another. Please, write me one last time, and tell me your life will be wonderful, leave me only with thoughts of your smile, your laughter, and I shall be at peace.

Yours, in this world and all the others,

Your soulmate

Dean folds the letter with shaky hands, cursing at the tears that have dripped down on the paper and made his words blurry.

He knew this day would come — they both did — but it doesn’t make it any easier. He does not dare write the name of his love on the paper, in fear of who might find it, and so simply pours some wax from his candle and seals it with the emblem he’s made himself, in secret, for this purpose alone — a bee. His love adores bees, he has told Dean about them in many of his letters. His family owns beehives in their backyard, and when they met it was one of the first thing Dean learned about his soulmate.

He leans out of the window and whistles, and while he waits for the pigeon they share for this purpose alone — his name is Charles — he sits down and opens the bottom right drawer of his wardrobe. He lifts the false bottom to reveal hundreds of letters carefully folded and stocked underneath. They’re all covered in his soulmate’s beautiful handwriting. Some contained dried flowers or herbs, a very small rock or seashell, a strip of fabric or a pine cone — all now stored in a small box hidden under Dean’s bed. Pieces of his soulmates life, things he had touched, things he’d picked with care knowing Dean would receive them, hold them, kiss them, as if he could touch his soulmate through them.

Every night Dean sits here and picks a letter, unfolds it, and reads it. Never the same one, usually in the order he’s received them. He’s careful when he handles them, and never allows himself to open more than one, by fear of the words slowly fading from the pages from being handled too much.

It’s already started to happen to the very, very few portraits Dean has of his love — already a few years old and done by his sister Anna. How often he has traced the shape of his lips with his fingers, the dark ark of his brow, stared at those charcoal eyes and wondered if they were still as blue as they used to be.

Dean will never forget the boy he only met once, on that beach, all those years ago — dark tousled hair, wide blue eyes, and sun-tanned skin. He will never forget his smile, the way he threw his head back when he laughed, or the soulmate mark that bloomed and coloured on his arm when they touched.

Dean looks down at his own arm now. It’s small, but still there — the dark blue night sky, of which every freckle on his skin is a star. Sometimes beautiful lines stretch between those marks to create pictures, joyful or scary, depending on his soulmates’ mood. Other times, the colours and stars are obscured by dark clouds. For the three first years after their meeting, his mark was faded, grey, dull.  

Until a pigeon showed up at Dean’s window, cooing softly. Its eyes were blue, its feathers white and grey. On his back was tied a small roll of cloth. Dean carefully unrolled it and something heavy fell in his hand — a necklace, with his family sigil, that he had hastily taken off and pressed in the other boys palm right before they parted. He’d closed his soulmate’s fingers around it, told him that if they were ever to meet again, this would remind them of who they truly were — soulmates. Now and forever.

And there it was again, three years later, in his own hands. Dean had looked for his soulmate everywhere he went, and had almost lost hope of ever hearing from him again, until then. This wasn’t him, but it was something — it was proof that Dean wasn’t alone. That his love was out there, thinking about him, wishing for him.

His mark bloomed all over again.

The letter was simple but Dean could only hear it in his soulmate’s voice, that had already been low for his age.

Dear soulmate, if this messages reaches you, know that I think about you every single day. The mark on my arm has etiolated, the leaves brown and the branches thin and frail. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t looked for you, and this is my last hope. Please send me back a word, any word, if by miracle you receive this.

Yours, now and forever,

Your soulmate

Then had begun their correspondence. Every week, Dean would wait for Charles to perch on his windowsill with a letter attached to his back. He’d feed the bird and sit down to eagerly read it, leaving the animal a night to recover before sending him back with a response. What started shy and tentative became long missives full of promises, secrets, and dreams. They’d never mention their names, or where they were from, in the fear of the letters being discovered.

They never mentioned hope, either.

Because soulmate or no soulmate, Dean has a destiny. He’s the heir to the Winchester estate, to a small fortune and ample lands, to political influence over the court and the King. He has huge responsibilities awaiting him on his twenty first birthday. He’s pretty sure his soulmate is in a similar situation.

And it’s not like they can sneak out to meet in the middle of the night. Dean can’t be sure, but he suspects that his soulmate doesn’t even live in the same kingdom. It takes several days for Charles to fly between them, and the beach they had once met at was on the edges of land. The other boy had smelled like the sea, like salt and sunshine and waves, like rain and storms and lightning.

They’d never had hope, but they had dreams. Their letters were full of what if ’s, of the things they wished they could say, do, if they were ever to see each other again. It had grown and evolved into more mature ideas as they’d grown older, from adolescents to young adults. Dean hadn’t kissed him then, only eleven years old, still a child, but in the past ten years there wasn’t a day he hadn’t thought about it.

And maybe now he realizes that he did, somehow, have hope.

But that’s over now.

Dean’s wedding is in a couple of weeks, and then he’ll take over the estate. And he will never, ever see his love again.

He receives a response the morning of the ceremony. He was afraid, so afraid, that it wouldn’t arrive in time, and he almost cries in relief when he wakes up to find Charles taking a nap on his windowsill. He’s a little miffed that the pigeon didn’t wake him, but his heart beats loud as he wonders how his soulmate will react to the news of his engagement — even though he was warned that it would happen a long time ago.

He didn’t expect this, though.

My darling love,

I wish I could tell you that I am, indeed, filled with joy and delighted with life. That despite your absence I have managed to find love and a purpose, that I will spend the rest of my life tending to my garden and my beehives, peaceful and content.

Alas, I cannot. Not only am I tortured by the thought of you and this unknown spouse, by the fear of who you will be bonded to, and whether or not they will be the kind, loving, generous, and tender partner you deserve — but I myself have learned similar news just this morning.

I have also been promised in marriage, to a spouse I not know of. My parents refuse to tell me about them, and I fear the worst — as the youngest sibling of a large family, I’m afraid of being no more than a gift of tender youth to an old, rich, powerful aristocrat. I know my parents are hoping to strengthen economic bonds with a wealthy family of a neighboured kingdom, and I can only fear the worst for my fate. I shall be brought to them very soon, as if I am no more than a bale of hay thrown in front of a horse.

I will have to leave my bees, my garden, my home, and travel many miles to be given to this stranger and live the remainder of my life on their estate; yet my only true sorrow is to lose you, my love. I do not know if Charles will be able to find me again once I leave here, but if he does, I will have to send him away or else my spouse might suspect your existence.

The only solace I’ve found was in your words, to know that even in my darkest times, I shall never be alone — that when I think of you, even as I am about to give my life to someone else, you are out in the world, somewhere, thinking of me. And that will have to be enough, my love, my honey, my dearest. That is enough.

In this world we might part, but in another, I know, we will find each other again.

Yours, now and forever,

Your soulmate

Dean folds the letter before his tears can tarnish the precious handwriting. He kisses it, once, before placing it in the secret drawer and getting ready for the day.

His wedding day.

                                                           ∞

10 years ago

Dean takes a deep breath of the salty, marine wind blowing over the ocean. It’s the first time he’s ever left the county, or went any further than the little village adjacent to the Winchester estate. He’s begged his parents many times to let him come when they visit the capital and the court, but they’ve never allowed it. His life is too precious, they say. He could catch an illness, or come face to face with many dangerous people — beggars, murderers, kidnappers. The Winchesters are a big name in the kingdom and their heir must be protected.

Thankfully a few years ago came a second child, another boy, and their parents have decided to finally take them on their first family vacation. They’ve travelled all the way to the edge of land, where the population is sparse, their name is unknown, and their sons would be safe. They’ve left their private guards behind many miles ago, and Dean breathes for what feels like the first time in his life.

He looks to his right, where both of his parents are laying down under a sunshade, and his little brother plays in the sand, building a castle with an wooden bucket and his bare hands. He looks to his left, where the beach unfurls endlessly, the air blurring from the heat of the sun.

He wonders what would happen if he took a few steps away. He looks back, and no one is looking at him — both his parents have fallen asleep and Sam is too engrossed in his task. Dean would be wary of leaving him, if they were anywhere else, but they’re completely alone and Sam is safe with both his parents by his side.

So Dean keeps walking.

He’s not sure what pulls at him, but it’s something — curiosity, a desire of liberty, of being truly alone for the first time in his life. Maybe it’s that, maybe it’s something else, but he walks until he cannot see his family anymore, hidden behind the many twists and curves of the coastline.

He keeps going, his bare feet digging into the sand, the wind soft and refreshing against his skin. The waves hit shore in an endless cycle, and Dean lets the water run over his feet and ankles, deliciously cold. He walks without thinking of having to go all the way back. The sun is high, birds are chirping, flying overhead and plunging into the storming waves, and Dean admires their fearlessness, to let themselves fall into the dangerous waters over and over again.

He walks until he sees movement ahead, and then stops, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He’s not alone anymore. There’s a boy, walking towards him, the imprint of his steps in the sand reaching far behind him. He stops too, when he sees Dean, and then he waves. Dean can’t see much about him from this distance — only his clothes, white pants and a loose blue shirt, a dark mop of hair. A blinding smile.

Dean smiles back and his feet start moving on their own, carrying him closer to the stranger.

His skin is tanned, his limbs lanky, adolescence just about to hit — he looks around ten or eleven, the same as Dean. His eyes are bluer than the sea.

“Hi,” Dean says, and they stop, a few feet from each other. Water licks at their feet, retreats, and reaches for them again.

“Hello.”

The boy examines Dean curiously, calmly. Their eyes meet, they both blush a little bit. Dean wants to say something, wants to reach out. Wants to ask what his name is, where he’s from, and if he feels it too — this pull, this energy between them. What pushed Dean to walk all this way, looking for something he couldn’t understand.

The boy reaches out between them and stops, his fingers a few inches from Dean’s arm.

“Can I touch your freckles?”

Dean’s cheeks, already heated by the sun, turn a shade darker. He’s never liked the hundreds of dots adorning his skin, nor does he know where they come from. His mother has a few on her nose in the summer, but nothing close to the quantity that covers Dean’s body. Sometimes he feels dirty and tries to rub them off in the bath, but only ends up with red and irritated skin, and feels like he can count even more the next morning.

The thought of that boy touching them should feel scary, and shameful, but it’s not.

“Okay.”

But instead of touching his arm, the boy’s hand reaches up, his fingertips grazing Dean’s cheek. They gasp. They’ve both felt it, Dean knows when he looks back to his new friend’s widened eyes.

A tingling, where their skins are meeting. Dean reaches out and wraps his hand around the other boys’ wrist. They both watch as a bright light flares between them, and then —

Where the other boy’s skin was bare before, colour etches itself into his skin. Green. Just a thin line first, and then leaves start sprouting from the new stem. They curl around his forearms, growing and spreading. It’s a plant — a plant with bright green leaves grows and blooms along his arm, disappearing under the hem of his sleeve.

“Oh,” the boy murmurs. Dean looks up to find him staring at Dean’s hand, still around his wrist and — oh.

A dark blue shade has wrapped itself around Dean’s forearm. His freckles have gone from brown to bright and shining, like a thousand stars into the night sky. Dean lets go of the boy’s wrist just as he lowers his other hand. Their fingers meet, tentative, and weave between each other.

Their soul marks grow, grow, and grow, until both their arms are covered in colourful hues, all the blue shades of the sky for Dean, and lush green leaves and elegant stems for the boy who he realizes now, is his other half.

They stare at each other, amazed. There’s so much Dean wants to say, to ask, but he feels an itch in his throat, so he pulls the boy into a tight hug instead. His heart feels as full and as bright as the sun, and he wants to laugh and cry at the same time. He doesn’t even know this boy’s name, where he comes from, if they even speak the same language — but he knows, deep inside, that he’s just found something rare, precious, and unique.

His soulmate. He has a soulmate, and he found him.

Dean tears up as he holds the other boy even closer. His face presses into the soft skin of his neck, he smells like the sea, like sunshine and freedom and summer breeze. The boy hugs Dean back just as fiercely, his fingers dig into his shoulders and he lets out a sob against his chest.

They stand like that for a really long time, just slowly swaying, tightly hugging, as the water envelops their feet, then their ankles, moving slowly up with each wave. Finally they have to pull away, when the water reaches their knees and soaks their pants. Dean can see his soulmate wiping his cheeks when they move apart, his eyes red and bluer than the sea and the sky combined. Dean’s never seen such a gorgeous, vivid color — except on his arm. Right now. He shakes his head, unable to stop smiling, and finds his expression mirrored in the other boy’s.

They walk up the beach, hand in hand, and collapse down on the sand. They stare at each other.

“We’re soulmates,” the other boy says. His voice is low for their age, and it might be the most beautiful sound Dean’s ever heard. It makes his heart puff up in his chest.

“Yeah. I didn’t — I didn’t think I’d ever meet you.”

“Me neither.”

They both laugh a little bit and Dean scoots even closer. The other boy brings their intertwined hands up and lays them over his heart. Dean can feel it beating, as fast and hard as his own.

He lays his head on the boy’s shoulder. The sand under them is warm, the long grass behind them shuffles in the wind. For the first time in his life, Dean feels perfectly content to just exist.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he asks.

“I love bees,” the boys says, and he smiles against the top of Dean’s head. “And I love honey the most.”

“I like that. I love honey too. S’my favourite sweet.”

His soulmate’s fingers untangle from his just to run along his arm, brushing over and over the colours twirling on his skin. Colourful lines connect between the dots and a bee appears, flying amongst the stars.

On the other boy’s arm, little bees are buzzing around the leaves and stem of what is slowly growing into a tree.

“Your turn.”

Dean thinks of all the things he wants his soulmate to know about him. That he’s rich, that he’s an heir who will one day hold responsibility for the political and economical system of a whole county, that he’ll have thousands and thousands of lives depending on his choices and rulings… That his favourite food is pie, be it meat or fruit, that he wishes he could spend his days reading about stories and heroes and maybe even write them.

But instead he decides to begin with the most important.

“I have a little brother. My parents are always so busy, so I’m kind of the one raising him. I just started teaching him how to read. I like… books, and stuff, y’know, been reading him stories before bed every night, and— sorry. I’m rambling.” He hides his blush in the other boy’s neck. His skin is warm, and he smells so good.

“I like hearing you speak. Your voice is very pleasant.”

“Yours too.”

“I hope I can meet him one day.”

“Do you know any soulmates?” Dean asks instead of dwelling on that answer — he doesn’t want to think about why this might forever remain a hope. He just wants to be here, now.

“One of my sibling met theirs, but in my family, we don’t — we can’t…”

“Mine either.” Dean closes his eyes for an instant, reminded of the harsh reality —  in his family, no one marries for love. He holds on to the other boy tighter and inhales his already familiar scent. “But there are these two women in the village—” Dean smiles, thinking about Jody and Donna, the village’s peacekeepers. “They’re soulmates and they live together. And their marks are beautiful. One of them has those yellow flowers all over her arms… the other has darker marks. They compliment each other.”

Dean thinks about the way he feels whenever he sees them — warmed from the inside, like their love and the bond they share heals those around them. He understands now, because holding his soulmate close makes him feel like he’s the sun, radiating heat and light and life all around him.

“Are you here long?” the boy asks. He speaks into Dean’s hair.

“No. Just a few days. You?”

“We leave tonight.”

Dean feels cold seeping through the warmth, despite the other boy’s body heat. Just the thought of having to separate from him is physically painful, an ache in his chest. But he knows he will have to. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to think it, but his soulmate pulls back a little and Dean instinctively holds him tighter. But he moves just enough to know his forehead against Dean’s, and smiles sweetly at him.

“We will find each other again. I promise you—”

He pauses, frowns, and then smiles again.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Dean.”

“Dean. That’s a beautiful name. I’m Castiel.”

Dean doesn’t have time to tell him that his name is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Voices are calling, distressed, for Dean, and he scrambles to his feet.

“Dean you cannot speak my name—”

“I know. You can’t either.”

It physically hurts to pull his hand away from his soulmate, so he does the only thing he can think of — he grabs the necklace his brother had given him as a present and puts it in his soulmate’s hands. He looks into his beautiful eyes one last time, and then he runs.

                                                         ∞

There’s a soft knock on his door and Dean looks up to find Sam standing in the doorframe. His baby brother, now a tall teenager with floppy hair and kind features, is looking at him with a small smile.

“Hey,” Dean manages. His throat is blocked up, his fingers are shaking around the buttons of his ceremonial robes.

Sam walks in and bats his hand away, doing the buttoning himself.

“How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling?”

Dean immediately regrets snapping at Sam, but he can’t help it. Sorrow has dug its claws deep in his chest, and he can barely breathe. In a few hours, he will be bound for life to someone who isn’t his soulmate. The longing and heartbreak he has felt for ten years were nothing compared to what the rest of his life will be.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry you’ll never see him again.”

Dean closes his eyes to keep the tears from pouring out. Sam is the only one who knows, the only one Dean has told. His parents know, kind of — of course everyone noticed the mark on his arm that keeps changing colours and shape depending on his soulmate’s mood. But to everyone except Sam, Dean lied. He told his parents that he didn’t notice when his mark appeared. That he doesn’t know who triggered it.

There’s a reason he can’t risk speaking his soulmate’s name.

Dean knows that his parents are good, kind people. But finding a spouse for someone who’s already bonded with their soulmate is a near impossible task. Everyone is aware of the power that soulmates bond hold over a person. Everyone has heard stories of great men and women who sacrificed everything to find their love. Kingdoms have fallen because kings and queens broke marriages and alliances, wars were started over soul marks and love that wasn’t supposed to be.

Innocents were killed just for being soulmates of important people, slaughtered because their existence threatened alliances and treaties.

Not only that, but marrying an offspring to someone who’s heart and soul belongs to someone else is a risk most families refuse to take. Especially when the marriage is for a political or economical alliance. The only reason Dean’s parents were able to find him a respectable spouse is because they believe he doesn’t know, or care, about who his soulmate is. And they’ve been lucky enough to find someone who had also been compromised. Someone who has also met their soulmate.

Dean’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not.

“You could run, you know. Find him. For real. Charles could guide you.”

“I can’t just leave, Sammy. We’ve always known that — and anyway, he — he’s getting married too. Maybe it already happened. He was never really mine.”

Dean doesn’t need to look at Sam to know the look of pity he’s being given. Sometimes he envies his brother, for having never met his soulmate. Sam can still hope of falling in love with his future spouse — maybe he already has, he seems to be getting along quite well with Amelia, an old family friend to whom he’s been promised since they were both children.

But Dean’s heart can never belong to anyone else.

He feels nothing but dread as he enters the ceremony hall, and has he stands at the altar in front of Jody — she will be performing the ceremony. He’s been blinded, as will his spouse, with a veil over his face.

The room is filled with people, mostly friends of his family and villagers he’s known his whole life. There are a few new faces, though, that Dean noticed before his mother pulled the veil down over his face. Probably members of his future spouse’s family.

His future spouse. As always when he thinks of them, and more so with every day the wedding got closer, Dean feels like a block of ice has been dropped into his stomach. It churns and freezes his insides. His heart is heavy in his chest and it hurts every time it beats low against his ribs. He wants to run, he wants to run so badly, but he can’t, so he does the only thing that ever manages to calm him down – he thinks about his love.

He closes his eyes and thinks of that day on the beach. He replays every moment, up until the very last touch they shared. It was so long ago. Since then, Dean’s only gotten to know his soulmate from his letters and the small gift they contained. He knows he’s smart, thoughtful, kind, generous, passionate. He knows he’s funny, too, and a little bit mischievous. And that sometimes, he can write about love and desire and… lust, and make Dean ache in the best of ways. Often, Dean thinks that hadn’t they been soulmates, had they met any other way, he would’ve fallen in love with him anyway.

He wonders what he looks like now. Ten years can change so many things. In the last portrait Dean received, three years ago, his soulmate was already almost unrecognizable. His shoulders were broader, his jaw too, and he had lost the tender features of childhood that still lingered when they had met. Dean had stared at that portrait for hours, thinking that he’d never seen such a beautiful man.

It hurts in a million ways to think about him, but it’s the only thing Dean has left to hold on to. His voice must be lower now, huskier. His hands, calloused and rough from working in his garden every day. His eyes — his eyes are the same, Dean knows, as their color is forever inked into his skin. He thinks about his lips, stretching into a smile. He almost smiles too. He may spend the rest of his life hollow and hopeless, but at least he knows, he will always know, that he’s loved.

He’s loved.

The tension in his chest loosens, just a little bit, just enough to breathe. He wants to touch his mark, run his fingers over it, even though it’s been grey and dull for weeks now. He knows why, and he knows that the twin mark, on his beloved’s arm, must be the same. He still wishes he could touch his right now, but he can’t. He’s wearing long gloves under his sleeve. A tradition for arranged marriages.

The door hinges creak and Dean forces himself to open his eyes. All he can see is the red cloth over his face. But he can hear — the chatter in the hall has died down, and the clear sound of footsteps walking up the aisle resonates against the stone walls.

There’s a sense of impending something in Dean’s chest, something like doom, or something worse, Dean isn’t sure, but it grows with every step his future spouse takes towards him.

The air is too still, the silence stifling, no one daring to say a word. Dean’s hair raises on its end, goosebumps covering his body from head to toe. He can’t see his spouse, but he knows they’re standing in front of him now. He’s not sure how but he can feel their presence, their breathing. Dean braces himself one last time, and for a split second he thinks of running — but then Jody takes his hands, and joins them together with the hands of the person he’s about to marry, and he forgets to.

Through the gloves, the grip is firm. Steadying. He’s holding a stranger’s hands, yet Dean feels a lot calmer than he did a minute ago.

He barely hears what Jody is saying — things about undying bonds and lifelong promises — until she asks him to repeat her words.

“I, Dean Michael Winchester…”

Dean feels fingers tightening their grip around his, like an involuntary spasm. He’s not sure how but he can hear his future spouse’s breathing accelerate, and he realizes he’s not the only one who’s scared witless right now. Somehow that makes him feel a little braver.

“I, Dean Winchester,” Dean repeats, his voice coming out shaky, uncertain.

“Take thee, Castiel James Milton…”

Dean’s heart stops in his chest. His mouth runs dry. His ears are ringing. He must have misheard — he’s only heard that name once, ten years ago, and he never thought he’d hear it again.

“Take thee, Castiel James Milton,” Jody repeats, a little louder.

“Take thee,” Dean breathes in, out, slowly. “ Castiel… James Milton.”

He waits to be corrected. Waits to be told he’s mispronounced it. All he feels is his future spouse holding on impossibly tighter to his hands. Dean feels a buzzing under his skin, as if a thousand bees have elected residence in his veins. The feeling he’s had ever since the door opened, that something terrifying is about to happen, intensifies.

No one else seems to notice, though, and Jody continues, undisturbed.

“To be my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health…”

“To be my…” Fuck, Dean’s voice will not stop trembling. “Lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health…”

“Through war days and peaceful times, under this sky or any other, and to be yours long after death does us part.”

Dean repeats, dutifully, his voice finally steadying out.

And then it’s his turn. A voice, low and warm, and somehow incredibly familiar, rises in the hall, repeating Jody’s words.

“I, Castiel James Milton, take thee, Dean Michael Winchester…”

Tears well up in Dean’s eyes. He’s heard that voice before, he’s heard his name in that voice before. It wasn’t the same back then, it was a child’s voice, and now— his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he can hardly hear anything else. It cannot be. It’s impossible, this is his mind playing tricks on him. This is ten years of deeply buried desires surfacing back—

He struggles to stay focused, to untangle reality from his dreams, but all he can see is red, and all he can hear is him.

“To be my… lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, trough war days and peaceful times, under this sky or any other, and to be yours long after death does us part.”

“And now with these rings, your promises must be sealed.”

Dean breathes, finally, as their hands are separated. His mind is spinning, dizzied, and he tries to gather his thoughts, keep them from spinning out of control.

It’s completely possible that there is more than one person on this Earth named Castiel. That the man in front of him is one of them, and that his voice is familiar just because Dean wants it to be. He cannot afford to hope, he cannot afford to lose himself to this — the pain that will crush him when he reveals his spouse’s face, when he realizes he let himself loose his mind over nothing — it would kill him for good. No, hope is not allowed. Finally, his heartbeat becomes regular again. He takes off his gloves, has to pull hard to slip the fabric off of his sweaty hands.

A cold ring is pressed into his palm and then Jody guides his hands once more, until he holds onto bare skin.

A rush of light and a million spark burst under Dean’s skin, staring from where the tip of his fingers press into the stranger’s skin and twirling around his palm, his wrist, his arm. He can’t see but he can feel, colors blooming under his skin, lines stretching between stars. Blue. He can feel blue wrapping around his arm, like it did ten years ago.

His fingers hurt from Castiel’s grip, he can feel the tremor under both their skins, and his knees almost buckle under the weight of the truth he can no longer ignore.

He is holding his soulmate’s hands. There is no denying it, no ignoring it. He doesn’t know how it happened, if it’s a miracle or a dream, but there is no fighting this — all he can do is abandon himself to it. He grips Castiel’s fingers tightly, then the ring, relief replaced with urgency. He must seal this marriage before anyone notices.

He slides it onto Castiel’s finger, just as he feels him do the same with his other hand. Promises are sealed, and Dean’s heart beats with hope renewed.

“I now pronounce you officially wedded in the eyes of the court, the law, and the Gods,” Jody declares.

The veils are lifted, and fear grips Dean one last time.

The face before him is of a stranger, yet Dean would recognize him anywhere, any time. Eyes bluer than the sky. Lips stretched into a hopeful smile. Dean is lost then, lost in the admiration of his beloved, standing before him, changed by the years and yet eternally beautiful. He’s not quite as Dean imagined, in fact he’s so much more; taller, broader, warmer, more breathtaking than Dean could have ever pictured. In that instant, he wants nothing more than to bring those hands to his lips and kiss them, to fall to his knees and worship the ground of whatever God brought Castiel back to him.

He wants to stand here forever and let himself drown in his eyes, he wants to bring him close, wants to bury his face against his beloved’s skin and lose himself in his scent. He wants — he wants so much, but the ceremonial hall is once again buzzing with sound, with chairs rattling the ground, with applauses and voices.

Their families surround them, ushering them down the altar. Their hands are pried apart, cold replacing the space between Dean’s fingers where warmth used to be. Dean finds himself hugged by his mother, his father, his brother. It’s a whirlwind of questions and congratulations, of claps on his back and tight hugs from those he loves.

His eyes frantically look for Castiel, afraid that if he blinks, even once, he might reopen his eyes to find him gone. Replaced by a complete stranger, dream shifting back to reality.

But when he looks above his uncle Bobby’s shoulder, he finds those blue eyes meeting his once again. The same hopeful, uncertain smile, the same questions in Castiel’s gaze. The same longing that Dean feels pulling at his chest painted on his features, like a string stretching in the invisible space between them.

He loses sight of him as his mother drags him out of the room, down a hallway and finally into a changing room, Sam on their tail.

“How are you?” Sam asks as soon as the door closes behind them. He anxiously examines Dean from head to toe.

“I’m— I’m fine, I’m okay,” Dean manages to say. He hides his hand in his long sleeve, unsure whether or not his soul mark has reached it. He can’t risk them noticing it before he can speak to Castiel, before he can ask him how, before he can — fuck. Kiss him, maybe, hold him, feel him, be certain that this is real.

“He’s pretty cute, right?” His mother tries, cupping Dean’s face in her palms. Her eyes are bright and happy, relieved. She never wanted unhappiness for him, but Dean knows that she feared, like the rest of his family, that he’d put up a fight or try to run away. “And he’s your age, and he has a soulmark, but his parents promised us that he has no idea who it is, and that he won’t be looking for them. This is the best we could’ve hoped for, Dean.”

“Yeah. It is.” Dean clears his throat, avoids her gaze. “Thanks, mom.”

Mary smiles, and then looks at Sam and nods towards the door.

“Alright, sweetie. We’ll let you get changed. Meet us outside when you’re ready.”

When the door closes behind them, Dean slumps against it, finally breathing again. He can still feel it. In his heart, in his mind, bees buzzing under his skin.

As fast as he can without ripping the fabric, Dean sheds his heavy ceremonial robes, cursing at all the layers. Finally he’s down to his undergarments and he quickly rolls up his sleeve.

And falls to his knees.

Where his mark was dull and grey, an eternal cloudy sky, his skin is now an explosion of colours. Blue, blue of course, the first and the most vibrant of them all. But through the stars are smears of pink, violet, green, as bright and beautiful as an aurora borealis. Both his arm and forearm are covered now, and the colors merge and expand right in front of his eyes.

His vision blurs, and he wipes the tears rolling down his cheeks. He rests his forehead against his knees and breathe, deeply, in and out. It’s true. It’s real, Cas is here — here, somewhere, and he’s happy.

Dean needs to get back to him.

As quickly as he can manage he puts on the clothes waiting for him on the bed. They’re much lighter than his previous robe was, just one layer of dark green velvet, adorned at the seams with golden lace. The sleeves are long, covering his whole arm to the wrist, and thankfully his mark hasn’t reached his hand yet.

His mom exclaims with praises when he walks out and he brushes off the compliment as best he can. His eyes are already searching the empty hallway for Castiel, who must also have been brought around here to change.

He can see that Sam wants to ask questions — his brother knows him better than anyone else, and he must have noticed that something is going on, but he dares not ask questions in front of their mother. So they follow Mary without a word, back towards the ceremony hall where a banquet and a long night of celebration are awaiting the new husbands and their families.

They turn the corner and Dean’s mark throbs. Coming out of another bedroom and standing between an older woman and a girl with dark hair, Castiel smiles. His robes are similar to Dean’s, but the velvet is dark blue, matching his eyes, and the lace is silver. The open collar shows a hint of tan skin and of a muscular chest. The pants are tight around strong, thick thighs.

He’s stunning. Dean forgets to breathe, choked by the sight in front of him. Before he realizes it they’ve walked up to them and met, and Dean’s mom is already talking to the other two women enthusiastically, about how beautiful the ceremony was and how delicious the feast will be.

Cas takes the place besides Dean and they walk, silent, their sleeves brushing against each other. That simple touch, that hint of heat, is already overwhelming. Dean steals glances at him from the side. His profile is as remarkable as the rest of him — straight nose, strong chin, high cheekbones. His dark hair curls on his forehead and behind his ear, and Dean’s fingers itch with the need to touch, to feel. There’s a shadow of stubble on his cheeks, down his neck. Their eyes meet. Dean opens his mouth, closes it.

He has a thousand questions to ask, and a million more things he wants to say. But not here, not where they can be heard. Not with Sam walking right behind them and their mothers in front.

Silence it is.

The chairs in the ceremonial hall have been removed, replaced by round tables at which most guests are already sitting. A group of musicians, with their violins and cellos and flutes, have taken place on the altar. As soon as they walk in, Dean and Castiel are accosted by Dean’s father, and then guided around the room to meet each other’s families. Dean loses track of the number of people who congratulate them, of the hands they each shake, the polite words they exchange. The whole time they cannot speak a word to each other, and Dean’s impatience is growing.

Finally, it’s time to eat. At the royal table, they sit, flanked on both sides by their families. Dean is acutely aware of Castiel’s presence next to him, of the heat coming from his body, of the gaze, heavy and longing, examining him when he looks away. Under the table, their knees touch. Dean struggles to swallow his bite of lamb shank.

When their eyes meet, Dean finds warmth, and heat, and want in his husband’s gaze. He keeps touching his ring, new, then his mark, familiar, reminding himself that this is real. That it happened. That this isn’t a hallucination. Every minute that goes by, Dean expects to wake up in his bed, sweaty and tangled in his sheets. He expects to look up and find his ceremonial robes waiting on the chair, to hear his mother knocking at his door and asking him if he’s ready.

His right hand rests on the table, next to his plate. Less than a quarter of an inch from Castiel’s. He keeps looking, keeps finding them closer than they were before. If he just shifted his pinky finger slightly…

Heat rolls under Dean’s skin, his mark glows with warmth. Castiel’s fingers rests against his own, more firmly. Slips under, hooks… The tension in Dean’s chest melts, replaced by warmth. He breathes.

“Seriously, Dean, are you okay?”

Dean jumps when his brother leans over to address him. He hides his hand under the table, underneath the long tablecloth. Next to him, Castiel’s cheeks are pink, and Dean wishes he could stare longer, reach out to touch him again — but Sam is watching him with rapt attention.

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m fine.”

Sam leans in further, close enough to whisper in Dean’s ear.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Sammy…” Dean’s throat blocks up. He wants to tell him. Needs to tell someone, needs to be told he isn’t crazy, that what he’s seeing — that it’s real. “I’m okay. I’m really — I’m better than okay. I’m good.”

He looks at Sam as he speaks, and finally his brother nods. His eyebrows are still curved with a note of uncertainty, but he lets it go.

Dean looks to his right again. Castiel seems engrossed in a talk with his mother. Dean moves his hand under the table, until he meets a warm thigh, and the folded fingers waiting there. He tries not to gasp at the contact. The rush of emotions buzzing under his skin still takes him by surprise, every time.

Slowly, his hand slides into Castiel’s. Fingers curl between Dean’s, holding tight. A thumb brushes, ever so softly, on top of his own. It’s so much easier to breathe when he’s touching him. It’s both intoxicating and incredibly healing.

He fights to keep his eyes on his plate. To not stare, endlessly, at the man next to him. At the curve of his neck as he leans towards his mother. At the delicate coloring of his cheeks, from the wine, or maybe from their touch. At his long fingers curving around his cup, at the way his mouth moves when he speaks, eats, drinks. Dean isn’t supposed to be enamoured with his new husband. Isn’t supposed to want him, or care for him. Not yet.

He puts his fork down, and slides his left hand under the tablecloth to join his right one. He finds Castiel’s wrist, against his own, slides his fingers under the hem of his sleeve. Touches the mark that is hidden there. He closes his eyes. He can feel it, can feel the mark moving under Castiel’s skin. It’s not as much a physical sensation — it doesn’t have texture, or shape, it’s more that he can feel the energy of it. He can feel the way it feeds on his own, and gives back to him tenfold. He strokes his fingers on the inside of Castiel’s arm. The skin there is soft, warm.

His husband’s cheeks turn a shade darker. His fingers tighten around Dean’s. It takes everything in Dean not to bring their linked fingers to his mouth. Not to kiss each of them, reverently.

He blushes at the memories of the words he laid out on paper through the years — so many desires, so many dreams. About all the places on Castiel’s body he wished he could kiss. Of all the ways he dreamed of bringing Castiel pleasure. The vivid descriptions Castiel wrote of the things he wanted to do to Dean kept him warmth through the coldest winters. There was a freedom in their exchanges back then, a boldness, thinking that they would never get the chance to make those dreams a reality.

But now — now they are surrounded by hundreds of people, but soon, too soon and yet not nearly soon enough, they will be alone.

Dean doesn’t have time to expand on that thought. He has to let go of his beloved’s hand as the tables are cleaned, and then pushed to the side to make space for dancing.

His only relief is that he and Castiel are not requested to lead. In fact, his husband is soon dragged away by his sisters, to share dances with them, and Dean stands back, leaning against a pillar, and watches them.

Castiel is all elegance and confidence on the dance floor. He smiles as his sisters goof and jump around him. He throws his head back and laughs as one of them makes him spin, arms extended. Dean’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. Before him stands a man, tall and strong and grown, but he can still see in him the boy he met on that beach all those years ago. The abandonment in his joy, the lightness in his eyes.

The same complicity, warmth, and tenderness as their gazes meet from across the room.

“Hey,” Sam smiles.

“Hey.”

Dean can help but grin back, and then goes back to admiring his new husband.

“So. Not that bad?”

“You have no idea, Sammy,” Dean chuckles. He can’t help himself. He’s fucking giddy.

“Really? Wow. I — That’s great, Dean. I didn’t think—”

“It’s him.”

Sam stops, frowns. He looks between Dean and the man currently twirling on the dance floor with abandon.

“What do you mean, him?”

“My soulmate, Sammy. Castiel is my soulmate.”

“How—”

“I don’t know. I don’t — I don’t know.” Dean realizes he’s laughing, even with tears in his eyes. That he’s so happy, he’s not sure how he can contain it much longer. “I don’t know, but… it’s true. It’s him.”

“Holy shit.” Sam grabs him and hugs him, tightly, and Dean returns his gigantic embrace.

“I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Someone stands in front of them and they pull back. Dean clears his throat and turns around to find his new husband looking at the both of them, a fond look on his face.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Hi, Castiel.”

Sam looks kind of starstruck — in all those years Dean has spent telling Sam about his soulmate, it never occurred to Dean that Sam might want to meet him, too.

“Would you mind if I borrowed my husband for a dance?”

Dean lets Castiel pull him to the dance floor, too enthralled by the feelings he gets whenever their skins touch to think of something to say. It’s like sunshine pouring directly into his veins, and he feels so light on his feet that he worries he’s going to float away. But Castiel grounds him, wrapping his free arm around Dean’s waist and pulling him close.

Dean has to turn his face away to avoid their noses bumping, and he follows, a little clumsily, Cas’ easy movements. The music is upbeat but not too fast, easy to move with, and Castiel doesn’t attempt any complicated steps, he just swings slowly, spinning a little bit, pulling Dean with him, and Dean goes.

They dance in silence at first, just basking in each other’s presence. Dean closes his eyes and lets the feelings of liquid light wash over him, starting from where their hands are clasped together and running through his whole body, oozing all the way to his bones.

He briefly meets Castiel’s eyes, but it’s just too much — who knew cold blue could shine so bright? — so he turns away again. Their cheeks brush, the barest touch. Dean’s heart is about to hammer out of his chest. Castiel’s hand is firm on the small of his back, his steps are sure, his breathing even, but Dean can feel his heart stutter against his own every now and then, when Dean’s breath tickles the hair curling behind his ear.

Dean aches in an entirely new way. He wants to bury his nose in Castiel’s neck, he wants to hold him so much closer, he wants to finally know what those lips feel like against his own. Want to know Castiel’s taste in the same way he has come to know his scent.

But everywhere Dean turns, eyes are on them.

So they dance.

They dance until the music slows, until they can only lightly sway, and Dean can’t resist speaking, the questions burning his lips and his heart.

“Is this — is this real?”

Cas moves his head slightly, his cheek rubbing against Dean’s when he speaks.

“Yes.”

He feels real — he has a presence, Dean can feel the warmth of his body, his energy, his weight in this reality. But it’s still hard to believe.

“What if it’s just a dream?”

“Then it means that I get to be with you, like this, every single night when I fall asleep. I’m good with that too.”

Dean could listen to him speak for hours on end, the low rumble of his voice the most soothing of sounds.

“How did — how is it possible? How—”

“How did this happen?” Cas murmurs, and he gently spins them around. His thumb rubs circles on the small of Dean’s back.

“Yeah,” Dean manages. “Did you—did you do this?”

Cas shakes his head slightly, his hair tickling Dean’s ear.

“No. Did you?”

Their gazes meet again. Dean always gets a little lost when he looks into Castiel’s eyes. It’s hard to focus on thoughts.

“No. I really thought—really thought I’d lost you.”

Cas’ eyes fill with tears, and Dean blinks to chase the wetness away from his own.

“Me too.”

Dean has to look away to repress the need to lean over and kiss his husband right here, right now. It would attract the wrong kind of attention. They keep  dancing as the night goes on, easily switching from animated line dances — which Dean always dreaded, but Castiel is so beautiful and free, throwing his head back and laughing at the silly steps, trotting and gambolling and spinning around each other — to slow, intimate ones. They just fit together, easily, and Dean finds himself grinning until his cheeks hurt. He constantly has to restrain his urge to press his forehead against Castiel and to lean into his shoulder, so firm under his palm.

He’s not sure how long he can keep doing this without losing his mind.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Dean slows them down a little, tightens his grip on Castiel’s hand. They’re slowly waltzing now, Castiel’s hand firm between Dean’s shoulder blades, their fingers intertwined.

“I—”

Dean lets his nose brush, ever so slightly, along the sharp angle of Castiel’s jaw. He feels his new husband shiver from head to toe.

“All those things we said, in those letters, about—”

A ball forms in Dean’s throat and he swallows around it. He’s not sure he wants to hear this. If Cas says—

“I know they were written with the thought that they’d never come true. And now, this, and I don’t expect — but I want you to know that I meant it. Every single word I wrote to you, I meant it.”

Cas’ lips brush on the shell of Dean’s ear as he speaks.

“I still do.”

Dean pulls him closer, chest to chest, until they can barely move without stepping on each other’s toes.

He keeps his eyes trained on the curl of hair behind Castiel’s ear.

“Me too,” he murmurs. “I want — fuck, I want it, I want you, more than — it’s just…”

He feels Castiel tense against him and he wrecks his brain to find the right words. His cheeks are burning against Cas’. He thinks of all the things he wrote over the years, the needs and desires he laid out on paper.

“I’m scared of disappointing you.”

Cas pulls away, just enough to catch his gaze. “Dean—”

“All that stuff I wrote about, I — I’ve never actually done any of it.”

Dean knows how it works, he’s read books and heard people talking, and he’s certainly well acquainted with his own body. But he’s never actually touched anyone else that way.

“I ain’t gonna be good at it.”

Cas smiles then, and the knot in Dean’s chest loosens at the sight.

“I have not done any of those things either. I’ve only dreamed about it, thinking of you”

“We’re gonna have to learn, I guess,” Dean smiles, and Cas laughs, and fuck. It’s the most beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen. And suddenly he isn’t scared at all, because Cas will be there with him every step of the way.

“And you could never disappoint me. This is — this is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Dean murmurs, and he can’t resist bracing their foreheads together, just for an instant. He’s an inch away from kissing Cas’ mesmerizing lips. His husband’s cheeks are tainted the most delicious shade of pink, and he’s so fucking beautiful Dean isn’t sure how his legs are still supporting him.

He manages to turn away, and breathes the sweet perfume of Castiel’s hair instead, soft against his lips.

“Do you — um, do you think —” He takes a deep breath, steadying his voice. “How soon do you think we can get out of here?”

“Now. Now would be good,” Cas’ rumbling voice replies.

Dean lets out a breathless chuckle and holds him tighter. He knows his eyes are shining like never before, he knows his smile is brighter than the sun. He’s still not completely certain this isn’t a dream, so he waits impatiently for the song to end, so he can slip away with his new husband and make the best of this night in case he wakes up.

The party is still in full swing and Dean isn’t sure how they can escape unnoticed. They move, slowly, to the edge of the dance floor, hoping to melt into the crowd and slip away through a backdoor.

As the last note of the song floats through the air, they pull back from each other, grinning. Cas’ cheeks are pink, his eyes shining brighter than the moon. For the hundredth time tonight Dean feels knocked over by his beauty. Nothing, not a memory or a drawing or even Dean’s imagination could ever do him justice. And somehow, Dean can read the same sentiment reflected in Castiel’s eyes — a fiery admiration, an endless gratitude, and still a little bit of disbelief.

“Might I get a word with my son?”

Dean startles when his mother appears by his side, with Castiel’s mother right behind. Dean feels washed by a cold wave as they let go of each other’s hands.

“Of course,” Cas says, bowing his head. They exchange a glance, and while words were all they had for ten years, they don’t seem to need them anymore. Dean can read in his husband’s eyes everything he needs to know — he nods, and Castiel smiles, before they go their separate ways.

Mary grips Dean’s hand and drags him back to the dance floor and he follows, albeit a little reluctantly. He wouldn’t mind dancing with his mom on any other night; he loves every moment spent with her and she’s always been his favourite dance partner. But right now all he can think about is getting Castiel alone and out of these ridiculous ceremonial clothes and finally, finally —

“You two seem to get along,” Mary smiles as they sway together.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean stutters. He doesn’t know how to speak without accidentally letting out that he’s over the fucking moon. “He’s — we’re —”

“He’s your soulmate, isn’t he?”

Dean gawks at his mother, but she doesn’t seem mad, or sad — she’s just smiling, with a look not dissimilar from his own — full of relief and tenderness.

“How did you—?”

“A mother always knows, Dean. I can feel it. Your happiness.”

Dean doesn’t say anything for a moment. He’s not sure he wants to hear more. What if Castiel’s family knows too? What if they decided that this is — that it’s not what they thought it would be, what if they think this was rigged, somehow, and decide to take Castiel away? Dean’s breath shallows at the thought, recoiling like he’s been hit.

“Dean, honey, look at me.”

Dean looks at his mom and realizes he’s been squeezing the blood of out her hand.

“This is a good thing. This is — it’s a miracle, Dean.”

“I know,” Dean breathes out, “but — isn’t it — what if they’re not happy about it, what if they change their minds and they take him away? What if—”

“Why would anyone do that?”

Dean realizes he doesn’t have a good answer to that. He’s just been so, so scared of losing Cas again, that he never stopped to think that this secret might not be a bad one after all.

“I don’t know, I just—”

Mary looks at him with sympathy.

“This is the best possible outcome, Dean. I think your father and the Miltons would agree.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, almost daring to be hopeful.

“Yes. And even if they didn’t, it’s too late. You and Castiel are bonded together by the rules of the land and the laws of the Gods. No one can take him away from you, not even Death.”

The wave of relief that crashes inside of Dean almost knocks him off his feet, and he leans into his mother, into her familiar, reassuring embrace.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

Dean hugs her fiercely, and quietly wipes his tears with his sleeve.

“I’m sure you and Castiel must be eager to make your exit,” Mary smiles, a little teasing.

“Yeah,” Dean blushes. “Kind of.”

“But we need to have the talk, first.”

“The talk?”

“The wedding night talk.”

“Oh, Gods, mom,” Dean groans, his cheeks flushing with heat. For a moment he thinks of abandoning his mom right then and there in the middle of the dance floor.

“I don’t want you or Castiel to get hurt in your eagerness to—”

“Please don’t—”

“Now, there are different ways for two men to share pleasure, however—”

Dean frantically looks for a way to escape this conversation. “I know how it works,” he mumbles hastily. “I don’t need the talk.”

“I’m sure you think you do, but your health is more important than your embarrassment right now, Dean Winchester.”

Dean bites his lips at his mother’s commanding tone — it’s the one she uses when things matter, and Dean knows better than to try to try a witty reply.

“Now, first of all, lube is the most important thing you’ll need. You cannot produce enough lubrication on your own for penetra—”

“Mom, ew —”

“And it can be very painful without it. It’s also very important to stretch, I know it might seem boring but you need to really take the time to use your fingers to open up before—”

“Please stop talking.”

Dean throws desperate glances around the room until he finally finds the blue eyes he was looking for. On the other side of the room, Castiel’s face is as red as a boiling beet. Dean realizes he must be receiving the exact same discourse from his own mother, and his own embarrassment only heightens at the thought.

“And it’s going to hurt, at first, but—”

Dean tries to tune her out, putting his hands on his ears and singing under his breath. The idea of doing those things he’s so desperately wanted for years, tonight, with Cas — it’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and confusing in a way that makes Dean want to be as far as possible from any member of his family.

Finally, she seems to be done, and so is the song, so Dean pointedly takes a step back and looks around for Castiel. He spots him a few feet away from the door, having apparently been able to escape his mother.

“Dean, one last thing—”

Mary gently grabs Dean’s arm.

“Being with your soulmate doesn’t mean that this is going to be easy. Love and marriage is something you have to work at, no matter the bond you have. Don’t take him for granted.”

Dean frowns. The thought of ever taking a moment with Castiel for granted, after all they’ve been through, makes no sense at all. There won’t be a day he will not be grateful to the universe for having brought Castiel back to him — and he knows just how incredibly lucky he is to get to have this. He’s not about to forget.

“Alright, go ahead,” Mary winks, gently pushing him off the dance floor. “Go find your husband. I’ll distract your father. I think he wanted to have the talk, too.”

Dean silently thanks his mom and finally manages to get away, taking Castiel’s hand just as they slip through the door.

Dean’s anxiety rises with each step they take towards their newly appointment quarters. His mind is only beginning to get a grasp on this new reality — the one where he’s actually married to his soulmate, to Castiel, for the rest of eternity — and despite the reassuring press of Castiel’s hand into his and the familiar way their fingers intertwine with each other, Dean feels his heart beating faster and faster as they make their way through the empty corridors.

“We have a greenhouse,” Dean blurts out.

He’s not sure why he chose that moment to say it, just that he’s been wanting to from the moment he realized who was standing in front of him at the altar. He remembers vividly the words of Castiel’s last letter — his sadness at the thought of leaving his home, his garden, and his beehives. Dean’s mother had always been fond of plants, and for the past ten years Dean has been helping care for the greenhouse, because it made him feel close to Castiel, somehow.

And now — now he wants him to know that there are things, here, for Castiel to love, besides Dean. That even when they thought there was no hope, Dean was still thinking of him, and of making his life a home for Castiel, may he never live in it.

“You do?” Cas smiles, and Dean can only glance at him quickly for fault of being completely blinded.

“Yeah. It’s really big, and it has all of your favourite plants.”

Cas’ hand squeezes Dean’s fingers and he halts, just for a moment.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Dean can’t look at him and he keeps moving forward. They’ve almost reached their bedchamber and he needs to busy his brain so he doesn’t stumble into complete panic. His mother’s “talk” has done nothing but freak him out more. What if he hurts Cas? What if he does everything wrong and Castiel never wants to touch him again?

“Every plant you told me about in your letters, every seed or cutting you sent — I planted them. Took care of them. They’re all waiting for you, if you—”

There’s a sharp tug at their joined hands and Dean is forcefully spinned around, until he’s nose to nose with his new husband.

“I’m building an apiary, too,” Dean says, unable to stop talking, because Castiel’s lips are right there, an inch from his own, plump and pink and perfect and if he doesn’t keep talking he’s going to do something else, something he’s not sure he’s ready for. “It’s not finished so it doesn’t have any bees yet, I was thinking of asking you to send me a queen or something, I don’t know if you can send bees by carrier pigeon but I—”

“You did that for me?”

“Yeah. I… I mean. I never thought I’d get to actually show you. But it made me feel… I don’t know. Like there was a piece of you with me. A place I could go and… be with you. I know it’s dumb I just—”

“Dean. Stop talking so I can kiss you.”

“O-Okay, but I’m probably going to be bad at it, and—”

Dean’s words die in his throat when Castiel’s thumb brushes on his lower lip. His eyes are lit with a dark spark that takes Dean’s breath away. Their noses bump, a hot breath caresses his mouth.

Their first kiss is tentative, just a dry press of Cas’ lips. Dean closes his eyes anyway, feels like he’s free-falling ten thousand feet through the air. He’s pretty sure he’ll have bruises on his chest tomorrow where his heart keeps hammering against his ribs. He lets out a whimper and cups Castiel’s cheek, feeling too much at once — the scrap of stubble against his palm, the soft hair caressing the tip of his fingers, the warmth of Castiel’s entire body pressed against his own. And finally, the soft caress of perfect lips on his mouth.

It’s new, but nowhere as scary as Dean thought it would be. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know how to kiss, let alone do anything else — because he’s with Cas . And suddenly it’s so easy, sharing each other’s breath, tasting the sweetness of each other’s lips. Cas’ hands run up Dean’s chest, grip his shoulders, and the kiss deepens.

It’s more wet now, and Dean feels the subtle scrape of teeth against his lower lip, sending a deep shiver through his nerves. It’s a whirlwind of new sensations. He wants more, pulling Castiel closer, inhaling deeply, sea breeze and sunshine and love. Cas smells like love. The buzzing under Dean’s skin, that has been growing ever since Castiel walked up the aisle, reaches a new height; there are fireworks exploding inside of his chest, and light spilling from Castiel’s touch into his skin.

Only when Castiel makes small sound against his lips does Dean realize how hard he’s holding him, so hard that his fingers cramp and pain shoots up his arms. He loosens his grip and pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Castiel’s.

Inside of Dean, beneath his ribs and low in his stomach, is a strong pull, a ferocious hunger, for more of Castiel’s touch, more of his kiss, more of it all — but he keeps it at bay, long enough to look at him, and everything else falls away.

Cas is smiling, beaming, and Dean gets lost in deep sea blue.

“I think we’re pretty good at this,” Cas murmurs, and Dean can’t resist kissing the smile on his lips.

“Yeah, we are.”

Dean didn’t think he could feel this calm, stepping into the bedroom, on his wedding night, with his new husband. But Castiel has managed to make him feel calm, almost settled. Of course there’s still the underlying current of energy under his skin, but he’s starting to understand that that’s never gonna go away as long as Cas is there — and he’s more than okay with it.

As for the yearning in his chest, in his stomach, well — maybe they can do something about that. Slowly.

They tour their new living quarters hand in hand. Castiel especially appreciates the tower corner, a small library with a fireplace, bookshelves, and a large window following the curve of the building. A padded bench runs along the wall under it, and plants hang above it, giving the space an ethereal feel. Dean is impressed with the bathroom, with a real porcelain sink and a bath big enough for two, that he cannot wait to try.

The bedroom is at least twice as big as Dean’s old one. The canopy bed is large enough for them to both sleep without ever touching each other, if that was something they wanted, and in the morning light will flood from the tall glass windows and spill onto the bed.

The bed. Dean can’t help staring at it like it’s a monster about to devour him. He has thought about Castiel in his bed every single night for ten years. First it was innocent — he’d think about them holding each other just like they had on the beach that day. He’d think about falling asleep listening to Castiel’s heartbeats, lulled to unconsciousness by the slow rumble of his voice.  As years passed, the dream changed. He thought about laying Castiel bare underneath him, and of all the ways he could pleasure him, cherish him, worship him.

It was easy to think about it then, when it was just fantasies. Hypothetical. Impossible. Now it’s—

“Cas, I’m scared.”

Dean isn’t sure if it’s the soulmate bond that makes him unable to lie and blurt out every thought going through his mind, but before he can ponder his embarrassment, Castiel lets out a relieved sigh.

“I am too. Terrified.”

They exchange a wide smile, both leaning into each other’s embrace. Emboldened, Dean lays a soft, chaste kiss on his husband’s mouth.

“Maybe we could — take it slow. If that’s okay.”

“I would like that,” Cas agrees. He wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders, caresses his cheek with the tip of his fingers. “We are in no rush. Are we?”

“No. Not at all.”

It hits Dean all over again, that it happened. He married Cas today. He married Cas. This is it, for the rest of his life—

“Can you disrobe for me?”

Dean stares at Cas, who seems just as shocked as he is by the words that came out of his mouth.“I meant — I didn’t mean —”

The most adorable blush has spread on Cas’ cheeks. Dean chuckles.

“I thought we were taking it slow?” he teases, pulling at their intertwined hands to press a kiss on Cas’ fingers. The ring is cold against his lips.

“No, that’s not — I mean, I do want to see you—” Cas’ entire face looks like a ripe strawberry. He takes a deep breath. “I have been dying to see your mark again. Every day I wondered what it looked like, and all night I’ve been—”

Dean only lets go of Cas’ hand to undo the buttons of his ceremonial shirt. Cas’ eyes darken, following the path of his fingers.

“You too,” Dean says, with more bravado than he feels. “I want to see you.”

Cas nods and begins unbuttoning with shaky fingers. Dean gets impatient, fiddling with those ridiculous threads and buttons, so he ends up shucking his shirt over his head. When he looks back at Cas, he stops breathing.

Cas is bare from the waist up. And there is a lot to take in — but all that Dean can see is colors.

An explosion of colors has taken over both of Cas’ arms and almost half of his torso. What used to be a frail vine snaking around Castiel’s arms is now a lush, jungle-like spread of leaves, stems, and flowers. All the shades of green in the world are battling on his skin, all the shape of leaves and plants and trees; and it’s only when Dean feels the warmth of Castiel’s bare body that he realizes they’ve embraced each other again

Arms around each other and skin against skin, Dean now sees just how much their marks compliment each other. Not only is the night sky blue of his own the perfect mirror to Castiel’s eyes, and the green lush of Castiel’s a reminder of Dean’s, but all the other colors adorning their skins are a perfect match; flowers for Castiel and brushstrokes of colors for Dean, imitating the aurora borealis that often lights up the sky during winter.

Together, their marks look like the Earth under the sky, and the leaves ruffle softly as Dean holds Castiel closer. Their soul marks almost seem to feel each other, melding into one another, bleeding into each other. Leaves and vines begin to tease the tip of Dean’s fingers, where they’re curled around Castiel’s arms, and blue starts to darken Castiel’s skin along the length of his arm.

Dean isn’t sure how long they stand there, just watching the colors move and bloom on each other’s skin. Must be a while, because his muscles are stiff when he blinks again. He meets Castiel’s eyes, wide with amazement, and then his mouth, for a gentle kiss.

Castiel’s arms tighten around his shoulder, fingers slip into his hair, pulling to deepen the kiss. His body is warm and firm against Dean’s, and he can feel the muscles rippling under Cas’ skin as he runs his palms up and down his husband’s back. Too taken by the sight of his mark, Dean barely registered everything else, but he’s now completely floored by how much Castiel has changed.

His shoulders are large, firm, his jaw rough, his hands strong. The translucent colors of his mark move over tan skin, adorned by little brown moles. Dean can’t help but trace the outlines of Castiel’s body with his palms; sharp angles, silk soft skin. Dean has wondered what Castiel looked like more times than he can count, but nothing he’s ever come up in his mind could come close to this.

According to the reverent look in Castiel’s eyes, as his fingers explore Dean in return, he’s thinking the same thing. They can’t read each other’s minds and never will, can’t hear each other’s thoughts, but are already naturally attuned to each other’s emotions, wants, and needs. Dean knows instinctively that Castiel wants to kiss each of his freckles, he can see it in his eyes. He leans over to kiss him again, and Cas makes a soft sound against his lips, melting into his arms.

Dean has spent years picturing what kissing Castiel would be like, but he never thought it would be like this. That Castiel’s mouth would light his entire body on fire, that the hesitant brush of his tongue would send his mind spinning out of control, that he’d fight to keep his knees from buckling just from his soulmate’s touch. Fingers begin their exploration again, Cas’ palm sliding down his chest, down his hips, slipping under his waistband.

Dean’s not so sure he wants to take it slow anymore.

His tongue slides, slow and filthy, against Castiel’s. Shivers run under his skin, Cas pulls harder into his hair. Emboldened, Dean lets his finger slide down the V of Cas’ hips, picking at the knot tying Cas’ pants together.

“Oh,” Cas murmurs, a little breathless. Dean bites harshly into his lips in response.

Dean can feel his own heart, beating hard against Castiel’s, can feel both of their hardness pushing between the layers of clothes.

“Cas,” he growls, tugging at Castiel’s waistband. “Want — need—”

Cas is so hard. Cas is so hard, for him. He presses the heel of his palm into the shape tenting Castiel’s pants and Cas’ hips jump forward, his nails drag into the skin of Dean’s shoulder.Dean pulls back, just to watch the way Cas’ eyes glaze over, the plush wetness of his mouth, pink like a rose in bloom.

There’s so much he needs, and he doesn’t know where to start. It’s overwhelming, to love this much, to hold in his hands the most precious thing on this Earth. He’s told Castiel that he loves him a thousand times over, has written all the words of love and endearment and cherishing that exist in the world. He’s dreamed of saying them aloud every single day for ten years, but now that he’s here, now that Cas is real and warm and wanting in his arms, he doesn’t know where to start.

I love you just isn’t enough.

“Angel,” he murmurs instead, kissing every bit of Cas he can reach; lips, cheeks, nose, eyes. “My angel.” Cas’ neck is warm, and he can feel his husband’s throat vibrate against his lips when he lets out a soft groan. “Sweetheart.” Cas arches against him, cock twitching against Dean’s palm, and Dean needs to feel that, over and over again. “Sunshine.”

“Beloved,” Cas replies, out of breath.

He pulls back from Dean’s embrace, his hands frame Dean’s face. They’re noses bump, and Cas is smiling too much to allow for Dean to kiss him properly, but he can’t find himself to be mad about it.

He needs to say it anyway.

“I love you.”

Maybe there’s no need for anything more than that. Maybe it’s enough, because it’s all there is. Love.

He doesn’t need anything more than this.

He leans over, kisses a path along Castiel’s jaw, presses his mouth into the tender skin of his neck.

Cas says it back, of course, repeats it over and over, until their voices get lost, stifled between their lips.

And suddenly, Dean knows exactly what he wants. He slides down to his knees, hitting the hardwood floor.

“Dean…” His name falls from Castiel’s lips, not a request, not a question. A shuddering breath, an adoration.

Dean smiles, reassuringly, and then lowers his eyes. He undoes Castiel’s pants and pulls them down, pooling them at his feet.

He has dreamed of this, too.

His hands frame Castiel’s thick thighs. He buries his nose in Castiel’s hips, warm skin and sharp bone. He traces it with his tongue, very aware of the hard, throbbing length brushing against his cheek. Cas’ hands settle on his shoulders, gently stroking through his hair.

He nuzzles in the slightly softer flesh of Cas’ stomach, follows the brown trail of hair down, down, down. He moves towards the heat, where the skin burns under his lips, curly hair caressing his mouth like a kiss. Vines and leaves follow Dean’s touch, moving under his mouth, and he kisses them too. Where his lips touch, flowers button and bloom.

Castiel’s scent is different there, concentrated, headier. It sends Dean’s mind into a dizzy spin. His stomach is pulled tight with want, his cock hard and bobbing between his legs. He doesn’t allow himself more than a quick glance at Cas’ — thick, curved and scarlet at the tip, spilling a generous amount of clear liquid — before he wraps his lips around him. He doesn’t want to think about it, he just wants to taste, to know, finally.

It’s bittersweet — mostly bitter, Dean realizes, but maybe he’s just a little too in love to not find it sweet — and Castiel’s cockhead is smooth and warm under his lips. That’s what hits him the most, the softness of Castiel’s skin against his tongue. He’s hard, getting harder with each clumsy stroke of Dean’s lips, but it’s soft, smooth, and Dean hums in delight.

He can hear Castiel make strangled noises, his fingers pulling a little too hard at the strands of Dean’s hair. But Dean is already addicted to this feeling, to how much he can feel with his mouth — his husband’s desire, his pleasure, flesh throbbing and hardening into his mouth, spilling salty bitterness on his tongue. He lets out a frustrated whine when Cas forcefully slips out of his mouth, but he doesn’t have time to ask why before Castiel’s strong hands grab him, forcing him up to his feet.

Cas’ kiss is burning, bruising, filthy, and Dean feels him moan as he tastes himself on Dean’s tongue. Dean wants to ask what he did wrong, but Cas grabs the back of his thighs and hauls him up in his arms. Dean only has time to grab onto Castiel’s shoulder to avoid falling backwards, and then Castiel has marched them to the bed and unceremoniously dropping Dean onto it.

“Cas, what—”

His question is swallowed into Castiel’s mouth, and the shock realization that he’s on a bed — their bed, their marital bed — with Castiel, naked, on top of him, hits him like a punch. It’s real. Cas is real, and he’s here.

“Cas,” Dean lets out, and he understands now — it’s not a demand, a plea, a request — it’s simply the wonderment of reality. “ Castiel—”

All those years not daring to speak his name — now Dean can’t say it enough. It’s the most beautiful word he’s ever uttered, it’s what his mouth was made for, to speak that name.

“I didn’t want — it was gonna end, and I didn’t want it to end,” Cas murmurs, bracing his forehead against Dean’s. “It was too soon.”

“You were gonna—?”

Dean realizes, with a surge of pride, that with only a few touches he almost made Castiel fall apart. He might not be as terrible at this as he feared.

“It was too soon,” Cas murmurs. His arms are bracketed on each side of Dean’s face, holding his weight. His stomach rests against Dean’s, warm, and they breathe together. Dean can feel everything, the weight of Cas’ body, the slow caress of Cas’ fingers on temple. His cock, painfully hard, wetting the skin where it’s tucked against Dean’s hip.

“You should’ve. Wanted to taste you.”

“I didn’t want it to end so soon.”

“End?” Dean smiles, wrapping his arms securely around Castiel’s waist. As if he might leave, or be taken away. But no, Cas is here, firm and alive and breathing into his arms. “There ain’t no end to this, Cas.”

Cas kisses him instead of answering, and Dean’s more than okay with that. Then he moves Dean’s body, peppering a thousand kisses on his skin on the way.

Dean understands now, why Cas pulled him up so soon — the feeling is so overwhelming, velvet soft heat like Dean’s never known before — he soon grabs Cas’ arms and hauls him back up.

The next kiss tastes like both of them.

Dean will never, ever tire of the warm slide of Castiel’s tongue, of the hand behind his neck, or down the slope of his shoulder, moving to tease the sensitive skin of his thighs, the curve of his stomach.

Dean’s need for release his growing with every passing minute, but he knows what Cas meant. There will be a thousand moments just like these, yet Dean isn’t ready for this one to end just yet. He wants to stay right here, right now, forever.

He wants to get lost in Castiel’s eyes, tracing over and over the outline of his face, memorizing every detail of him. The creases in his lips, the arc of his brows, the curve of his cheeks, even the shape of his nostrils, is important information that Dean needs to memorize and file away.

He likes the way Cas’ body feels on top of him, heavy and warm, likes the way Cas’ flesh yields under his grip, he likes the way his hand fits around Cas’ neck, thumb on his throat, feeling the air move in and out of his lungs. He runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair over and over, to never forget how soft it feels, the way it curves behind his hair and on his forehead. He wants to lay here and spend the next hundred hours of his life just staring in Cas’ eyes, wants to feel their bodies breathing together, moving together, chasing pleasure together.

He never wants to forget the salty taste of Cas’ skin, the way it glistens in the candlelight, the fine sheen of sweat covering them both. He moans at the feeling on Cas’ flesh between his teeth, curving into his mouth. He’s slowly covering Cas’ neck in bruises, new marks uniting them, marking Castiel as his.

When they do finally stumble over the edge, it feels like everything is falling into place one last time. This pleasure is their own, something they could’ve never shared with anyone else. Colors explode on their skin, the bed is alight, for an instant, by the sudden brightness where their skins meet.

Pleasure seals their fate, their union, their place into the world.

Dean spent the whole night thinking he couldn’t be more in love, but he was wrong.

When they awake, bleary-eyed in the late morning sun, he’s already impossibly more in love than he’d been a few hours before, when bone-deep exhaustion had forced him to stop kissing every inch of his new husband’s body, and let sleep finally overcome them.

He would’ve gladly stayed in bed and slept all day — or done a myriad of others things, the ideas certainly aren’t missing — but Castiel begs Dean to show him in the greenhouse and the gardens, and Dean quickly realizes he’ll never be able to say no to his husband and his adorable puppy eyes.

And if he thought he was in love before, it was nothing compared to the way Dean’s heart explodes in a million pieces as he watches the smile that illuminates Castiel’s face as he enters the brightly lit greenhouse, where lush plants are growing and blooming. Some of them are ancient, dating from long before their first meeting, but some of them are new, younger, a few years old — and obviously cherished.

Cas recognizes every single one of them, remembers their name, the day he took them, sliding the cutting in his pocket when no one was looking. He remembers touching them for the last time as he sealed his letter, comforted by the thought that they would soon know Dean’s touch, too.

It really hits Dean in that moment — his mind struggling to accept the fact that this isn’t just one gigantic hallucination — that he has spent ten years preparing for a life without Cas. A life without his love, without his everything. It’s going to take him a while to catch up to the fact that he is, in fact, going to spend the rest of his life with his soulmate.

Bees, butterflies, and other creatures buzz around them, and Cas follows their movements with proud adoration. He kisses Dean a lot, too, when he can tear his eyes away from the lushness surrounding them. Dean guides him through the greenhouse and then the garden, never letting go of his hand, the cold press of Cas’ ring a much needed reminder.

Eventually, their sleepless night and exhaustion catches up to them so they settle in the grass, the afternoon sun warm on their skin. Dean rests his back against the bark of his favourite oak tree, and Cas in turn lays against Dean’s chest, head lolling on his shoulder. Beautiful blue eyes droop as he sets himself more comfortably into Dean’s arms.

Dean kisses his forehead, his temple, his nose. He closes his eyes and reopens them, to find that he’s still there, the grass soft under his legs, light dancing on his beloved as the wind shuffles the branches of the tree above them.

“Sleep, my sweetest love,” Dean murmurs, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Tags: @suckerfordeansfreckles, @deanies-weanie, @kohumi, @daughter-of-the-rain-and-snow, @winchester-ofthe-lord, @starlightthroughbrokenglass, @theladydetective, @reallyelegantsharkfish, @elaspn, @mythicalesbian, @contemplativepancakes, @baemy-santiago, @godofcake

[maddie-grove]

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up: November/December

Playlist

“When I’m Gone” by Brenda Holloway (Gone Girl)

“I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston (At the Queen’s Summons)

“Doctor My Eyes” by Jackson Browne (The Ask and the Answer)

“I Can Love You Better” by the Dixie Chicks (Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow)

“The Bad Touch” by Bloodhound Gang (Storm)

“Suspicion” by Terry Stafford (Trapped at the Altar)

“Smokey Places” by the Corsairs (The Diamond Slipper)

“You’re My Best Friend” by Queen (Someone to Trust)

“Praying” by Kesha (The Hostage)

“Castle Rock” by Barnaby Bright (Bledding Sorrow)

“The Circle of Life” from The Lion King (Monsters of Men)

“Disturbia” by Rihanna (I’ll Be Gone in the Dark)

“It’s All in the Game” by Tommy Edwards (Doomed Queen Anne)

“Locking Up My Heart” by the Marvelettes (Beware, Princess Elizabeth)

Best of the Bi-Month

The Hostage by Susan Wiggs (2000): In the chaos of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, backwoods trader Tom Silver kidnaps heiress Deborah Sinclair, hoping to make her industrialist father compensate the victims of his greed and negligence. Nothing goes according to plan, however, and these two people who should be enemies become anything but. I absolutely loved this book; the combination of slow-burn romance and action-packed non-romantic plot was perfect, and Deborah’s arc is just beautiful.

Worst of the Bi-Month

Bledding Sorrow by Marilyn Harris (1976): The cash-strapped heir of an ancient Yorkshire estate, his improperly medicated American wife, and a working-class coach driver are forced to reenact a Tudor-era tragedy, because of...reasons, I guess. I wasn’t too disappointed when I realized that this was Gothic horror instead of Gothic romance--I like scary stories, too--but this isn’t so much a novel as a long parade of pointlessly dismaying incidents. The characters are generally powerless to avoid their fates and, what’s more, they don’t have the opportunity or inclination to struggle very hard. Their helplessness might work if there were a compelling explanation for it, but Harris only makes a few vague suggestions (i.e., “Reincarnation?” or “House evil?”). Also, one of the supporting characters is such an egregiously offensive gay stereotype that he would probably make Jack Chick exclaim, “Whoa, tone it down!” The style was decent, though, and I had a few good laughs along the way.

Rest of the Bi-Month

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara (2018): In this posthumously published true-crime book, McNamara details a series of burglaries, rapes, and murders that plagued Sacramento and Southern California during the 1970s-1980s, believed by her and many others to be the work of one man, dubbed the Golden State Killer. McNamara does a wonderful job capturing the strange false tranquility of Californian suburbia circa 1980, and she presents the (often convoluted) facts clearly but never salaciously. The good taste and empathy of her style kind of undercuts any passages along the lines of “perhaps researching serial killers is deeply unsavory,” but that was my only issue with the book.

The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness (2009): In the first sequel to The Knife of Never Letting Go, young Todd Hewitt, having left behind the world he knew forever, deals with increasingly morally complex and traumatic situations. Meanwhile, his new friend, [redacted], wrestles with similarly thorny and upsetting issues. This is a worthy sequel to one of my favorite books I read this year. I missed the road narrative of the first installment, but the complicated ethical dilemmas and the ever-switching power dynamics very nearly made up for its loss.

Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness (2010): In the final book of Ness’s trilogy, [redacted]. This was the weakest installment, but only because of some fairly minor structural issues, such as some initial narrative choppiness, that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if the first two books hadn’t been so well-structured as well as thematically fascinating. The payoff is pretty fantastic, in any event. Also, Todd’s whole...thing with the Mayor is one of the most gloriously weird, fascinating relationships I’ve seen in a YA novel.

Someone to Trust by Mary Balogh (2018): In Regency England, twenty-six-year-old Lord Hodges decides to do the proper thing and get himself wed; however, his narcissistic mother, not content with the significant emotional damage she’s dealt him over the years, keeps interfering with his search because she’s worried he’ll marry someone who’s not hot enough by her standards. Meanwhile, his thirty-five-year-old BFF, Lady Overfield, has resolved to accept the suit of a staid but pleasant acquaintance...but something just doesn’t feel right. You know what does feel right, though? Waltzing and talking about deep shit with Lord Hodges...and the feeling is mutual!!! This isn’t the most action-packed romance, but it’s super-cute and I was 1000% sold on Lady Overfield’s subtle awesomeness.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (2012): Unhappily married and resignedly living in his Missouri hometown, Nick Dunne suddenly finds himself as the prime suspect in his wife’s disappearance and apparent murder. What the fuck is going on? I spent like five years of my life debating with myself whether to read this book, and I’m glad I did (long after its relevancy had peaked, of course). It’s easily the weakest of Flynn’s three novels--its sense of place isn’t as strong as Sharp Objects or Dark Places, although I understand that’s somewhat intentional, and neither main character works as a representation of an actual person--but it’s a propulsive read and it’s pretty damn funny. 

The Diamond Slipper by Jane Feather (1997): Lady Cordelia Brandenburg travels with her BFF, a teenage Marie Antoinette, so they can get hitched to the Austrian ambassador to France and the Dauphin, respectively. Two problems: Cordelia’s new husband is a fucking monster, and she’s fallen in love with the grieving brother of the husband’s mysteriously dead first wife. This novel probably isn’t to everyone’s taste; it kind of zigzags between a semi-cutesy fairy-tale feel and depictions of horrific abuse, and the effect is somewhat jarring. I enjoyed its use of historical details, though, and I liked the heroine a lot.

Beware, Princess Elizabeth by Carolyn Meyer (2002): In this historical YA novel, Elizabeth I narrates several incidents in her life from cradle to throne, focusing on all the times that her half-sister Mary came super-close to having her executed. Although I found the structure of the novel somewhat choppy, I really liked the portrayal of Elizabeth’s complicated relationships with her pious, increasingly suspicious half-siblings, plus the plot had plenty of action. 

Doomed Queen Anne by Carolyn Meyer (2001): In another installment of Meyer’s Young Royals series, Anne Boleyn explains her journey from awkward child to unconventional, controversial courtier to VICTIM OF TOTAL RAILROADING. This novel was even choppier than Beware, Princess Elizabeth, mostly because Elizabeth’s story is better-suited to the episodic plot structure, but I have to say I love this portrayal of Anne Boleyn as much as (if not more than) I did at twelve. Her motivations aren’t high-minded or altruistic, but she’s got feelings, damn it, and she has a right to fight against being treated like shit! Also, Meyer gives her a sixth finger on one hand, which was probably not the case historically, but it’s cool that Anne is portrayed sympathetically while also having a body that’s stigmatized by society.

Trapped at the Altar by Jane Feather (2014): In the early 1680s, Catholic Lady Ariadne Daunt and Protestant Sir Ivor Chalfont live in Daunt Valley, a makeshift community of loosely related lawless aristocrats who lost their lands in the English Civil War. Ariadne and Ivor are force to wed by the community “elders,” who hope to send them to the royal court as a religiously flexible power couple. This already-tense situation is made more awkward by the fact that Ariadne is in love with another man, while Ivor is in love with Ariadne. This novel is part of a small subset of romances that would be better as historical fiction. I loved the unique (albeit nightmarish) setting of Daunt Valley, the exciting journey to London, and the well-portrayed court intrigue. I even quite liked Ariadne. However, Ivor was such a shit. Ariadne is upfront with him about her love for another, but, because Ivor “loves” her, he acts like she’s morally obligated to go along with the whole thing. He never really forgives her for not being a virgin on their wedding night, and his reaction when he finds out she’s been using birth control is bloodcurdling. Also, Feather throws away an interesting dynamic where Ariadne has genuine feelings for two complex men in favor of making Ivor’s rival a creepy stalker (but also an embarrassingly ineffectual sissy). 

Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George (2008): A  nameless Norwegian girl who can talk to animals agrees to live with an enchanted polar bear for one year in exchange for her family’s deliverance from poverty, secretly hoping to find the answer to her beloved brother’s sadness as well. She finds herself way in over her head, though, with a curse that goes back centuries or longer. I enjoyed this retelling of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon,” and I thought a lot of the concepts were really clever (hint: this is neither the first girl nor the first polar bear). In execution, though, I didn’t like it as much as Edith Pattou’s retelling, East, which has a stronger sense of place and better-developed minor characters.

Storm by Donna Jo Napoli (2014): Sebah, a sixteen-year-old Canaanite girl, loses her home, her family, and her entire way of life in a sudden deluge that drowns the whole world...almost. After weeks of surviving in trees and on rafts, she manages to stow away on Noah’s Ark, where she rooms with some bonobos and learns way too much about Ham’s marital problems. I thought this was a very creative book with some delightfully weird earthiness, but it becomes somewhat static once Sebah boards the ark and meets a character who kills too much of the tension.

At the Queen’s Summons by Susan Wiggs (2009 update of 1995 original): Pippa, a street performer in Elizabethan England, claims the patronage of Aidan O Donoghue, a minor Irish king, in order to save herself from arrest. Aidan, a goodhearted fellow, goes along with it. This was a pleasant story, but I can remember almost nothing about it. I love Susan Wiggs, but her Tudor Rose trilogy is kind of a snore.

[chrisemrysblog]

Hello~

This is my gift to @thau-draws for @dgmsecretsanta2k17 who wanted something with Mana, Nea and Allen, as well as time travel~ It’s more of a dimension-time travel, but I hope you like! And as you also wished for more Nea, I made most of this from Nea’s eyes~

You might guess, but Allen is from after running away from the Order (and before being found), while Mana and Nea are written from my personal headcanons/interpretation.

I hope you’ve had happy holidays~

“Five more minutes...” Nea mumbled as he felt his cheek poked, swatting at the offending hand and turning, kind of liking the scent of flowers.

… Wait. There should not be flowers in his bed.

Golden eyes snapped open, squinting and groaning as the sun hurt his eyes; but feeling immensely confused. Nea had noticed his brother was also sleeping beside him, and they were definitely outdoors.

Wait. If Mana was still out, then who woke him?

Rolling onto his back, Nea used an arm to shield his face as his eyes opened again, landing on a young white haired man with a friendly smile. One that was too fixed to be real. And one that felt familiar, for being at the receiving end of it whenever a certain someone was stressed.

“… Allen?” Nea sounded very confused, and for good cause, the last time he checked, Allen was a red head. And a bit older. And had glasses. He squinted. The scar felt weird…

But despite all that, Nea knew he wouldn't mistake Allen. And the flash of surprise in the silver eyes told him he wasn't wrong. Before he could speak though, he heard Mana groan, and he looked to the side. Nea couldn't help the snort as he realized Mana was face first into the grass, and he could help even less the snickers when his brother suddenly jerked to get on all fours, then sitting on his knees, rubbing off some of the green and dirt on his face with a hand.

A sharp intake of breath brought Nea's attention back to Allen, seeing Mana look too from the corner of his eyes, and his brows furrowed at the shocked look the young man wore. Silver eyes were wide and mouth open a bit, staring at Mana as if seeing a ghost. No, not as if, Nea realized as Man properly gazed at this white haired version of their beloved friend, blinking and tilting his head. The stare, the blankness that felt like shock, Nea suddenly realized that for this Allen, he really was seeing a ghost.

Someone he didn't think he would see again. But then the white haired turned puzzled, silver eyes going from Mana to Nea to Mana again, as if he couldn't quite understand what he was seeing. Nea's gaze was attracted up as something golden wiggled out to hover, and a big grin formed on Nea's face.

“Timcanpy!”

… Something was definitely up, because even the golem seemed uncertain what to do. But after a bit of hesiation, it dashed to press against Nea's cheek, a sign it recognized its master. Or first master?

“So… Do you know how you got here?” The white haired finally asked.

Mana blinked and looked at Nea. The short haired twin shrugged. “I think we were playing around…” Nea's cheeks took a slight red color, because he recalled now. “I was testing how the melody affected the gates…” Golden eyes took again into this white haired Allen. “And I'm guessing we shouldn't be here?”

Allen scratched behind his neck, and Nea realized the way his gaze kept drifting away was because he was trying not to stare at Mana. Of course, his twin realized it, and worry was starting to show on Mana's face. “How do you know me?” Allen asked instead of replying.

However, that stunned both twins a bit. Was this Allen saying that, while he seemed to recognized Mana and Nea, he hadn't expected to be recognized? Something floated in Nea's mind then, accompanied with a feeling that he associated with the one he got controlling the Ark. A thought that might be his own bond with the Ark talking.

“… What is the year?”

Mana sent a startled look at Nea, but the widening of his eyes told Nea that his brother was getting what Nea might suggest. And Allen's nervous smile confirmed it before the year slipped from his tongue.

They time travelled. Not only that, but they were 35 years in the future.

In the end, when Nea felt the sudden need for food, telling him he burned so much energy apparently opening a gate to the future, the three of them settled for going to next town and eat. Allen had told them it was not even an hour away, when Nea's stomach had grumbled.

They hadn't talked much, even if the Campbell twins had walked on each side of Allen, Mana occasionaly trying to get something out of the young man. Like how was he still young. What happened to his hairs. But Mana had stopped when he saw the troubled look, and the flinch. Allen had masked it well, smiling and saying, “But shouldn't the future stay hidden as much as possible?” but the two brothers knew there was a story behind all of who Allen was now.

One that Allen himself didn't seem to know, Nea mused. He knew the two of them, yet seemed to not know the ones in front of him. He seemed to have an history with Mana, but not the one walking beside him.

Nea wanted to catch Allen's arms, make him look into his eyes, and make him tell it all. He hated that troubled look, hated the sadness he saw showing for a moment, hated not knowing why their beloved friend was all alone and looking so tired.

From the way Mana nipped his bottom lips whenever he wasn't smiling gently at Allen glancing at him, Nea knew his twin felt the same. They weren't even caring much about possibly messing with their future, because what if they could avoid the bad parts? But Allen didn't look ready to share. Even when Nea voiced outloud that the Ark only travelled space, meaning that even if not much changed if at all, Mana and Nea were from an alternate world, and not the past.

What was so terrible, that Allen would be unwilling to share, knowing it might still happen?

Something bothered Nea as they got into town, but he wasn't sure what, at first. Mana had decided to link arms with Allen at some point, and the startled look had pushed Nea to do the same, smirking at how the white haired seemed unable to decide how he felt about it. But he didn't push them away, even seemed to relax some.

Relax… That's what is wrong, he's tense again. Nea realized, glancing from the corner of his eyes. He blinked, and figured out what bothered him. Allen had a hat over his hairs, but not long before getting into town, he had pushed it down a bit more. He was also keeping the twins closer, as if hiding.

Nea let his gaze drift up, and he met Mana's one for a moment. His brother was acting interested in the town, and well he was, but that didn't mean he missed the little details. Because truth was, Allen meant a lot to them, and there was no way they would miss the sign something was wrong, even if this Allen wasn't theirs. He was still Allen, different and yet the same at the core.

And well, Nea didn't like the idea that whatever it was, Allen seemed to fear it. That he seemed unwilling to be noticed, to be recognized. It made him want to open a gate there and then, to drag Allen with them, and get him all warm and comfortable in the Campbell Manor. And likely leave it to Mana to wreck anyone who played a part in making Allen look like this.

But Nea still had to recover a bit, and figure out what made that dimensional gate form. So for now, getting food in all of them was the priority.

Allen tried not to tip them off, Nea knew he did. He suggested they order to share, and so the large amount of food wasn't that suspicious. He tried to pace himself, but at times food vanished fast, making Mana stare in amazement. When the desserts came, and this time to each their own, Allen took only one, but Nea felt certain he heard a faint rumble from Allen's stomach, and pretended he couldn't finish his own dessert, passing it off to Allen. Which made Mana do the same.

So when they left the place, Nea grabbed Allen's arm, and dragged him in a secluded alley, Mana on their heels. Allen made a sound of surprise, confused and maybe, just a bit nervous. Because Nea had grabbed the left arm, but what the white haired didn't realize, was that Nea had done that on purpose.

Neither twins had been blind to how he only removed his right glove to eat, and quite honestly, they had felt something off. Touching the arm even through the sleeve, Nea was certain now.

Allen had a parasite type Innocence.

Whatever Nea meant to say to Allen, to question; Allen's gasp and sudden fear as feathers sprout from his arms stopped the short haired twin. He let go of Allen, worried it was his fault, and both twins hovered close, Nea calling, “Allen!” while Mana asked, “What's happening? Are you hurt?”

Allen gripped his left wrist with his right hand, left arm trembling as he sent a look that was both concerned and frightened, even as it was covered with determination. “Nea, can you open the gate? Can you two leave?”

Nea blinked in suprirse, and the answer was yes. He was the master of the Ark, its player, and so even such a travel didn't leave Nea out of energy for long. But why would he leave now, when Allen looked so distressed?

“Likely, but you're coming with us.” Mana was the one to reply.

“What? No I can't-” Allen started, startled and wide eyed at Mana.

“Nonsense.” Nea waved a hand. “I only need to know a place exist to open a gate to it. I can bring you back to your time, well, world, whenever.” He tapped Allen's nose with an index finger. “On the other end, I'd rather take you away from whatever making all this happen. Or do you not trust us?”

It was painful, really, the way Allen curled a bit on himself, looking so lost and so determined still. “That's not it… You realized, didn't you?” He lifted his left arm a bit, though wobbled on his feet, jaws clenching as more of his arm turned to feathers. “And you're not from here. You should go back and be safe.”

Nea's gaze grew fierce, almost snarling at the mere implication of leaving Allen unsafe, or that Allen would be a danger to them. But it was Mana that reacted first, arms slipping around Allen's chest from behind, their height similar so Mana rested his chin on Allen's right shoulder.

“Then you should understand we want you safe, too.” Mana replied, voice all soft.

It was enough to make Allen falter, to make him look vulnerable. Whatever his relation to his own Mana had been, the white haired couldn't resist the promise of safety from even another Mana. From a younger version of his Mana. Whatever it felt to Allen.

Nea stepped forward, and place a hand on top of Allen's head. The softness of Nea's eyes seemed to startle Allen just as much. “Sorry, you're stuck with us. Maybe my Ark wanted us to find you. Maybe we're just all that lucky. But we're not leaving you alone, now that we found you.”

Now it was the turn of the twins to be startled when tears fell from the corner of Allen's eyes. He dropped his gaze, looking so conflicted and almost broken. “But I'm not-You don't know me.”

“Then even more of a reason to take you with us. I don't know how long you've been on your own, but that's over.” While Nea spoke, a gate opened under the three of them, their form sinking in it. Mana grinned, Allen widened his eyes, and Nea gave a little smirk. “Like I said, I can let you come back whenever. But for now, we're stealing you off, until we know what's your story is~”

Allen made a protesting sound, glancing down to make sure at least Timcanpy was still within his shirt. But deep down, he felt warmth. He wanted it so much, the protection and care this Mana and Nea wanted to give him. He almost gave in too, but it also brought even more derermination to keep them away from the threat that lurked within Allen.

“You don't understand...” Allen voiced, softly. “I can't let you get hurt, and I'm not safe to be around.” Allen opened his own gate then, perpendical to Nea's, to only have Allen in it, and he closed his eyes with a tear sliding down as he willed it to take him away.

Except, he heard a growl and then Allen's gate just vanished. Allen snapped his eyes open, still in Mana's arms, who had tightened as if afraid; and Allen was shocked into silence at the depth of the desperate anger in Nea's gaze. Not as if, they both feared that I would slip away… But of course Nea would overpower me.

And now, the two twins knes that Allen had Musician's powers. Or likely, they could tell he was the host of Nea.

“You idiot! What part of you're stuck with us no matter what can you not understand?” Nea grounded out, clasping both hands on Allen's cheeks and pouting. “I'm going to chain you to one of us if you try that again!”

Allen wanted to comment, but Nea gave a little smirk, and the gate finished absorbing their forms. And when they landed in the middle of a dirt road, a mansion a few meters from them, and a large field all corn all around with a tree to one side; Allen found that he didn't mind anymore. He found that he fell back into Mana's hold, eyes closing and feeling comforted by the hands still on his cheeks.

He didn't know how much those two would get out of him. If they would be satisfied with just some facts. He didn't know if it would change anything, for them and for him. But in the end, Allen felt relieved to be there, to not feel Apocryphos creeping on him. He felt safe.

How could he refuse the warmth of care and security Mana and Nea offered to him, when it had been all his lonely mind had wished for, after all these weeks on the run?

[ml2338]

Jonathan Jones // Week 8

They began the lecture by introducing an elderly man, who recited a poem in a foreign language. This man was not like any ordinary man, he wore these unique indigenous robes with different bold shades of gold, white and red. He also wore a hat with these big grey feathers attached all over it. Afterwards, Jonathan Jones, the Australian artist, was introduced. He constantly depicts his attachment to his home country’s aboriginal history throughout the lecture. He illustrated his beloved home country, by enlightening us about the colonization and the invasion of Australia. Australia manages to become an independent nation which made Jones quote: “we exist in a very complex but wonderful world”, which meant that although the independence has left them with some issues, but people like Jones still try to keep the aboriginal history alive. Throughout the lecture, Jones would pronounce and show us aboriginal phrases and words, with its English translation and more detailed meaning.

We obviously know that his love and attachment to Australia plays the biggest influencer to his works. Whenever he comes to any particular place in the world, he would to introduce the indigenous culture and methodologies to everyone. His family also played a huge impact, as they are also fond of their aboriginal roots. He and his uncles would often go to a ceremonial ground located on this mountain called Mount Panorama. Working with his wise aboriginal elders also influenced him to be able to learn to speak and understand the ancient aboriginal language even though they don’t use it as the language in Australia anymore. He mentioned how reading the Dark emu by Bruce Pascoe which was about the history on how the Aboriginals made an uncultivated land habitable.

His artistic practice is mostly architectural as he has shown his interest in Architectural language. For example, he is really into domes such as this dome that was made out of sugar located in the Powerhouse Museum. Domes was essential to ancient aboriginal Architecture, which were influenced by myths from their religion. They believe that gods were responsible for human evolution. Many of the aboriginal architectures, ceremonial grounds, and historical landmarks are inspired and based off of their religion or myths. Relating this to our readings this week, it has made me think of their contrasts. Whilst Jones is trying to keep the labelled group, the Aboriginals, alive, Ayishat Akanbi, narrator of the youtube video, The Problem with Wokeness, is trying to raise awareness to look past labelled groups of people and come together. Jones does this to keep aboriginal traditions and histories from disappearing and raising awareness to people about his culture, while Akanbi does this to allow us to see past labels created by our histories and traditions and finally be able to come together and understand each other. This has caused me to think: Do we really need to completely let go of the past to be able to move on and better ourselves? Or do we continue to be reminded of our history and stay within the limits of our labels and not be able to accept change for example, Mount Panorama? To be honest, I think both are very important to keep but I am leaning more towards Akanbi’s viewpoint. We are who we are, we can’t change our race, our histories, and what is biologically labelled onto us, but what we can do to end call out culture, racism, sexism, etc. is to look past the stereotypes placed upon us due to the actions from the past. I believe there needs to be a fresh start to accomplish a nonjudgmental community.

“It is a complicated world the colonization has left us with”, says Jones, which literally summarizes the core issue he addresses in his talk. For example, Jones has indicated that the aboriginal language is becoming less and less remembered which is why he spent a huge part of the lecture teaching us some inspiring aboriginal phrases and words. Also, how aboriginal ceremonial grounds and historical landmarks is being destroyed or completely modified into something completely different. For example, Mount Panorama (once an aboriginal ceremonial ground) became a racing track. Unfortunately, there grew more and more car crazy enthusiasts, who picked up these ancient ceremonial stones and threw them on the cars. Later on, because of the disappearance of these stones as they were swept away by the cleaners after the car race shows, these car crazies decide to pick out parts of the beloved ceremonial stone house. Also, there is currently a decision to extend the racing car track even though the citizens didn’t approve of it.

Although, I completely support Jones way to try to keep the aboriginal histories alive, but I don’t think it is enough. Yes, raising awareness is crucial to getting the word out. But in my opinion, actions mean more than words do. I think instead of letting people worldwide know about the issues like the Mount Panorama situation, he should’ve at least gathered the citizens who didn’t support it to sign a petition, or gather or protest.

The talk has definitely made me think about things in a bigger picture. Jones quote: “I encourage you all to be stubborn in projects… some things seem to be impossible but you got to be strong” has definitely inspired me to be like him in my work and pursuing my dreams and what I believe in.

One of the 20x20s presented in this week that has caught my eye, was the presentation on Wangechi Mutu, an artist born in Kenya in 1972 and currently working in New York, is known for her collage works where she would take images from magazines from porn magazines to National Geographic magazines in order to create intricate figures. Later on, she explores other mediums such as sculpture, video pieces, performance art, and installations. Her works consist of recurring themes such as womanhood, race, and the overindulgence and waste of the environment. One of her pieces that has caught my attention is her Ark Collection, Mutu takes a black female figure from a porn magazine and postcards of indigenous African women in traditional clothing and combines them together to make a collage. The use of this combination of completely opposite images: one of a sexual black pin up and the other of a traditional African beauty, shows that they are both fabricated images conjured up by western society and is definitely not the reality.

[nottherealericcarle-blog]

List of published works.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? written by Bill Martin Jr, 1967 Appealing animals in bold colors are seen and named in a rhyming question-and-response text that delights as it invites young readers and listeners to participate actively.

1, 2, 3 to the Zoo, 1968 Fun and learning add up to a perfect 10 in this eloquent but wordless counting book. Bright pictures tell the story: each car on the train has one more zoo animal than the one before it, and all arrive happily at the zoo in a dramatic foldout finale.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar, 1969 This all-time favorite not only follows the very hungry caterpillar as it grows from egg to cocoon to beautiful butterfly, but also teaches the days of the week, counting, good nutrition and more. Striking pictures and cleverly die-cut pages offer interactive fun.

Pancakes, Pancakes!, 1970 Jack wants some pancakes, but first he must gather eggs from the chickens, wheat from the farmer, flour from the miller, milk from the cow, etc. His mother shows him how to cook and flip them, and hungry Jack knows what to do with them next.

The Tiny Seed, 1970 Poetic but simple text and lovely collage pictures dramatize the life cycle of all plants, as one tiny seed grows into an enormous sunflower, which then produces more seeds in its turn.

Tales of the Nimipoo by Eleanor B. Hardy, 1970 (out of print) Native American stories, with woodcut illustrations.

The Boastful Fisherman by William Knowlton, 1970 (out of print) An old Hawaiian tale of boastful fishermen who learn their lesson as they try to prove their fishing prowess. Colorful linoleum block print illustrations.

Feathered Ones and Furry by Aileen Fisher, 1971 (out of print) Gentle nature poems with woodcut illustrations, on acetate and art paper.

The Scarecrow Clock by George Mendoza, 1971 (out of print) Full color collages illustrate an amusing fantasy.

Do You Want to Be My Friend?, 1971 In few words but expressive pictures, a little mouse looks for a friend - and happily finds one just in time to save himself from a predator who has been hiding there all the time - unseen, but in plain sight! A simple story on the universal theme of friendship.

Rooster’s Off to See the World, 1972 Rooster and the colorful animals that join him on his journey to see the world, provide an enjoyable introduction to the meaning of numbers and sets.

The Very Long Tail (Folding Book), 1972 (out of print)  

The Very Long Train (Folding Book), 1972 (out of print) These two wordless books (now collectors’ items) are printed on heavy stock, accordion-folded, and come in their own plastic cases. “Read” or looked at in sequence, each tells a story in bright collage pictures. These innovative books can also stand alone, toy like, to form a decorated wall or play area for a child of pre-reading age.

The Secret Birthday Message, 1972 A message in code starts Tim off on an exciting treasure hunt through a dark cave, an underground tunnel, and other strange places until he finds a happy surprise. Die-cut pages demonstrate in a “hands on” way the meanings of place-words like up, below, through, etc.

Walter the Baker, 1972 By order of the Duke, Walter the Baker must invent a tasty roll through which the rising sun can shine three times. A lively and colorful retelling of the legend of the invention of the pretzel.

Do Bears Have Mothers Too? by Aileen Fisher, 1973 (out of print) Striking, poster-like pictures of a variety of animal mothers with their offspring - cubs, kittens, cygnets, and other charmers - are accompanied by verses by a beloved nature-poet.

Have You Seen My Cat?, 1973 A boy’s beloved pet cat has disappeared and he sets out to find it. In his search he meets many different kinds of cats, both wild and domesticated, before he finally discovers his own cat, who has a happy surprise for him. (Can you guess what it is?)

I See a Song, 1973 As a violinist, shown in black and white, starts to play, colorful semi-abstract images emerge from his music, transmuting magically from one to the next until the end, when the violinist, himself transformed into a many-colored figure, bows and leaves. Wordless, this beautiful book encourages children to develop their own visual and musical imagination and creativity.

My Very First Book of Numbers My Very First Book of Colors   My Very First Book of Shapes   My Very First Book of Words, 1974 A collection of split-page books in which children can match various familiar objects with numbers, colors, shapes, and words. A gamelike approach to learning, for very young children.

Why Noah Chose the Dove written by Isaac Bashevis Singer, 1974 Master story-teller and master illustrator combine their brilliant talents to produce a fresh and lively version of this favorite Old Testament tale of the animals as they vie with one another for a place of honor on Noah’s Ark. For all ages.

All About Arthur, 1974 (out of print) An Amusing And Articulate Alphabet-ical story for all ages, in well-chosen words and Zany pictures.

The Hole in the Dike written by Norma Green, 1975 The classic tale of the brave little Dutch boy who kept his finger in a leak in the dike all night long, preventing the damage from spreading, and so saved his town from a devastating flood. Inspiring story of a courageous small boy.

The Mixed-Up Chameleon, 1975 Hilarious pictures show what happens when a bored chameleon wishes it could be more like other animals, but is finally convinced it would rather just be itself. An imagination-stretcher for children.

Eric Carle’s Storybook, Seven Tales by the Brothers Grimm, 1976   (out of print) Seven of the most popular tales by the Brothers Grimm, retold by Eric Carle and illustrated in full color.

The Grouchy Ladybug, 1977 A grouchy ladybug who is looking for a fight challenges everyone it meets regardless of their size or strength. How this bumptious bug gets its comeuppance and learns the pleasures to be gained by cheerfulness and good manners is an amusing lesson in social behavior. Die-cut pages add drama and dimension.

Watch Out! A Giant!, 1978 Die-cut pages add to the excitement as two children outwit a scary giant.

Seven Stories by Hans Christian Andersen, 1978 (out of print) A companion to Eric Carle’s Storybook (above), this features seven favorite stories retold and illustrated by Eric Carle.

Twelve Tales from Aesop, 1980 (out of print) Familiar classic fables retold and illustrated by Eric Carle.

The Honeybee and the Robber, 1981 A brave little honeybee saves the day when a big hungry bear attacks the beehive. Ingenious pop-ups and other movable images bring this funny and informative story to vivid life.

Otter Nonsense by Norton Juster, 1982 (out of print) Very amusing, cartoon-like line drawings illustrate excruciatingly clever puns by noted author Norton Juster. Fun for all ages.

Catch the Ball! Let’s Paint A Rainbow   What’s For Lunch?, 1982 This delightful series incorporates movable parts, cutout shapes, and sturdy board pages that have been designed to encourage counting, adding, color naming, object identification, beginning reading, and manual dexterity.

Chip Has Many Brothers written by Hans Baumann, 1983 new title: Thank You, Brother Bear, 1995 An original tale,which skillfully combines elements of both North European and Native American traditions, tells of a little boy, Chip, who must make a long and dangerous journey to get the medicine that will cure his sick sister. Because he is both brave and kind, he is helped by the animals he meets along the way.  

The Very Busy Spider, 1984 With the use of raised printing, this innovative book adds the sense of touch to vision and hearing as ways to understand and enjoy the strikingly designed illustrations and the memorable story. Various farm animals try to divert a busy little spider from spinning her web, but she persists and produces a thing of both beauty and usefulness. Enjoyed by all audiences, this book’s tactile element makes it especially interesting to the visually-impaired.

The Foolish Tortoise written by Richard Buckley, 1985 A witty modern fable tells how a tortoise discovers the need for a shell after several scary encounters.  

The Greedy Python written by Richard Buckley, 1985 A companion book to The Foolish Tortoise (above), this tells of a python who is so excessively greedy that it finally eats itself.  

The Mountain that Loved a Bird written by Alice McLerran, 1985 A sensitive, poetic text inspires handsome, semi-abstract college illustrations, in this tale of a little bird that brings a renewal of life and happiness to a lonely, barren mountain.

All Around Us, 1986, (out of print)  

Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me, 1986 Beautiful illustrations are enhanced by dramatic fold-out pages in this moving and imaginative tale of a father’s love for his daughter. Monica’s father fulfills her request by bringing the moon down from the sky after it’s small enough to carry, but it continues to change in size.

My Very First Book of Sounds My Very First Book of Food My Very First Book of Tools My Very First Book of Touch My Very First Book of Motion My Very First Book of Growth My Very First Book of Homes My Very First Book of Heads, 1986, (all out of print) A group of small-format books with bold, simple images and words, designed, as the titles indicate, for the very young child who is just learning to identify, name, and classify familiar objects.  

All in a Day collected by Mitsumasa Anno, 1986 Eric Carle, in collaboration with nine other internationally-acclaimed artists, reveals events in a day in the lives of children in various countries all over the world, showing time, climate, environmental and social differences but emphasizing the commonality of humankind everywhere. Thought-provoking as well as entertaining.  

A House for Hermit Crab, 1987 An underwater fantasy based on the true habits of hermit crabs and the flora and fauna of their marine environment, this book offers young readers an interesting first introduction to marine biology as well as an appealing story of Hermit Crab’s search for a house he can really call his home, as he grows throughout one year’s cycle.

The Lamb and the Butterfly written by Arnold Sundgaard, 1988 A protected lamb and an independent butterfly discuss their very different ways of living in a charmingly simple yet philosophical text on the themes of tolerance and diversity. Lovely full-color illustrations appeal to a wide audience range.

Eric Carle’s Treasury of Classic Stories for Children, 1988 A delightfully illustrated retelling of 22 favorite folktales, fairytales, and fables that every child should know. Retold from the works of Aesop, Hans Christian Andersen, and the Brothers Grimm.

Animals Animals compiled by Laura Whipple, 1989 A generously illustrated collection of poems by a variety of authors, describing the peculiarities and charms of pets as well as both wild and domestic animals. Eric Carle is noted for his depiction of animals and this colorful anthology contains some of his finest works.

The Very Quiet Cricket, 1990 The surprise ending of this enormously popular book features a chip that perfectly reproduces the real sound of a cricket’s song. In the story, a young cricket longs to make a sound by rubbing his wings together as many other crickets do. How he finally gets his wish is a romantic tale as well as a first look at natural history for the very young.

Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? written by Bill Martin Jr, 1991 Easy, repetitive question-and-response text draws children into joyful interaction as they imitate the sounds of a variety of zoo animals for the zookeeper. Big, bold animal illustrations and lots of noisy fun.

Dragons Dragons compiled by Laura Whipple, 1991 Fearsome dragons and other fantastic legend creatures abound in this collection of poems, both modern and classic, all gloriously illustrated in full color, that will expand the world of a reader’s imagination.

Draw Me a Star, 1992 The artist’s drawing of a star begins the creation of an entire universe around him as each successive pictured object requests that he draw more. Based on Eric Carle’s recollection of his grandmother’s way of drawing a star (directions included), this seemingly simple story also provides insights into an artist’s private world of creativity. An inspiring book.

Today Is Monday, 1993 Based on the well-known children’s song, funny, full-color pictures show the foods featured for each day of the week. In a thoughtful new ending to the familiar text, all the world’s children are invited on Sunday to come and eat it up.

My Apron, 1994 A little boy longs to help his uncle, a mason, plaster the chimney. He feels very grown-up when he gets a work-apron of his own and the chance to do his own small share in real “grown-up” work. A touching story with a valuable message, illustrated in a striking technique using a strong black outline over bright color. A usable, child-size work-apron is included with the book for the reader who can’t wait to get started on his or her own work project.

The Very Lonely Firefly, 1995 Young readers empathize with the lonely firefly who makes many errors as he looks for the group where he will really “belong.” In his search for compatible companions, he meets many other night creatures, but none is quite right—until the happy surprise at the very end when the illustration of a swarm of friendly fireflies literally shines and twinkles a welcome in the night. Heartwarming.

Little Cloud, 1996 Every child loves to see fanciful shapes in the clouds. But what are clouds really for? Here a little cloud slips away from its parent clouds and turns itself into a series of wonderful forms - a sheep, an airplane, a hat, a clown - before rejoining the other clouds as they perform their real function: making rain.

The Art of Eric Carle, 1996 This handsomely-designed volume explores many facets of Eric Carle’s life and work. It includes an autobiography, illustrated with many photographs, telling of his early years in the United States, describing the roots of his inspiration, his art education in Germany, his career as a commercial artist on his return to the land of his birth, and his almost accidental discovery of his real vocation—creating beautiful picture books for young children. Essays and critical appreciations of his works, and color photographs showing how the artist creates his unique collage illustrations add to the interest and usefulness of this book. Fine reproductions of many of his best illustrations and a complete list of his books are included.

From Head to Toe, 1997 “I can do it!” is the confidence-building message of this book. As young children copy the antics of Eric Carle’s animals, they’ll learn such important skills as careful listening, focusing attention, and following instructions. Just as alphabet books introduce letters and simple words, From Head to Toe introduces the basic body parts and simple body movements - the ABC’s of dancing, gymnastics, and other sports activities.

Flora and Tiger: 19 very short stories from my life, 1997 Every so often, children who have grown up enjoying Eric Carle’s books ask him whether he has written “older” books. Inspired by his questioners, Eric Carle has written this delightful collection of short stories. The events in these stories take place from his earliest childhood to the present. All of the stories are true. But they are set down, not in the order in which they happened, but as they occurred to the author. They come from various places and times of his life and have three things in common: animals or insects, friends or relatives, and Eric Carle.

Hello, Red Fox, 1998 Mama Frog gets a big surprise when the guests arrive for Little Frog’s birthday party: Red Fox looks green to her! Orange Cat looks blue! With the active help of the reader, Little Frog shows Mama Frog how to see the animals in their more familiar colors. In this book, Eric Carle invites readers to discover complementary colors while enjoying the amusing story of Little Frog and his colorful friends.

You Can Make a Collage: A Very Simple How-to Book, 1998 Many people ask Eric Carle how he makes his pictures. Klutz Press and Eric Carle got together to answer that question in this simple how-to book, featuring 72 full-color printed tissue papers painted by Eric Carle with instructions and inspirations and even a bit of encouragement for those in a bit of need.

The Very Clumsy Click Beetle, 1999 HEAR the beetle CLICK as it flips through the pages of this book and learns how to land on its feet! Small readers will recognize and empathize with the clumsy little beetle’s eagerness to learn what the older beetle can already do so well. They will understand, too, its frustration when at first it fails. And they will surely rejoice in its eventual spectacular triumph.

Does A Kangaroo Have A Mother, Too?, 2000 Meet the little joey, whose kangaroo mother carries him in her pouch. See the cygnet riding on the back of the mother swan. Eric Carle’s colorful collages of animal babies with their caring and affectionate mothers offer small readers visual delight as well as comforting reassurance.

Dream Snow, 2000 It’s Christmas Eve, and an old farmer settles down for nap, wondering how Christmas can come when it hasn't snowed yet. The farmer falls asleep and in his dream, he imagines snowflakes covering him and his animals. He awakens to discover it really has snowed. A surprise at the end of the book makes this a truly magical Christmas.

“Slowly, Slowly, Slowly,” said the Sloth, 2002 Slowly, slowly, slowly... that’s how the sloth lives. He hangs upside-down from the branch of a tree, night and day, in the sun and in the rain, while the other animals of the rain forest rush past him. “Why are you so slow? Why are you so quiet? Why are you so lazy?” the others ask the sloth. And, after a long, long time, the sloth finally tells them!.

Where Are You Going? To See My Friend!, 2003 A dog, a cat, a rooster, a goat, a rabbit, and finally a child join together on a journey to see their friends in this unique bilingual collaboration that unites cultures and languages.

Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See? written by Bill Martin Jr, 2003 Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See? is told from the point of view of endangered creatures, and one dreaming child; each page a tribute to wild animals and their freedom.

Mister Seahorse, 2004 Mister Seahorse and fellow fish fathers who care for their soon-to-be-hatched offspring, share their stories while acetate pages reveal camouflaged creatures who bear witness to the conversation between fathers with fins.

10 Little Rubber Ducks, 2005 10 Little Rubber Ducks fall overboard and land on shores all around the world. Inspired by the true story of these ducks at sea, Eric Carle has imagined their voyage in the wide open waters and the creatures they meet who live in and around the ocean.

Baby Bear, Baby Bear, What Do You See?, 2007 Join Baby Bear as he sets out to look for his beloved Mama Bear, meeting a diverse cast of North American animals along the way. Readers of all ages will enjoy the rich, colorful illustrations and heartfelt story of this last collaboration in a series that has helped millions learn to read.

The Artist who Painted a Blue Horse, 2011  

FRIENDS, 2013  

The Nonsense Show, 2015  

[nvmlindseyallan]

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THE LECTURE DELIVERED BY THE EXECUTIVE MINISTER OF THE MORMON COMMONDOMINION OF CHRIST, BROTHER FELIX NATHANIEL VILLANUEVA MANALO II, ON THE SPECIAL SERVICE HELD BY THE FIRST PRESIDENCY AND ROYAL HOUSEHOLD OF THE COMMONDOMINION CENTRAL ADMINISTRATION ON NOVEMBER 22, 2018 TO COMMEMORATE #THANKSGIVINGDAY THURSDAY AND THE 55TH UNITED SAINTS #POPEDAY.

Dearly beloved, before anything else, as we can recall, Empire has claimed through the lecture of His Majesty the King, and my most beloved brother, Edward X, on December 17, 2017, that we must not purportedly commemorate the United Saints Thanksgiving Thursday because it's allegedly of pagan origin. We have already Shattered that claim through quoting the Antiochians themselves that Godhead Approved the adoption of some primitive pagan practices for the patriarchs (Exodus 12, Genesis 17), and that even Diocletianites try to rationalize their Baal Festival every December 17-January 1 through hacking 1 Samuel 5 and then afterwards claiming that Godhead can use 'pagan observances' to enforce Godhead's orders. Actually guys, Diocletianites are also using that to rationalize their trust in the arm of flesh- or on their Antiochian political heads- rather than us, and that trust did really led to their eventual apostasy away from us a year ago (Habakkuk 1, Isaiah 5, Deuteronomy 32, Romans 10, Jeremiah 2). Therefore, why not we must say to Empire that Godhead can use us, who are rather endemic to Empire (Isaiah 44-46)? The Central Archives, on its particular section that is dated September-October 1988, states that Empire cannot be trusted for 'teaching the things that they themselves cannot understand' (1 Timothy 1, quoted in Empire's Pasugo God's Message-September 2018 issue, page 36; and on our King Edward X's January 13,20-21, 2017 and May 16, 2014 sermons), when in fact Isaiah 45 (claimed by Empire on July 4,23-24, 2016, deleted July 20, 2017), states that King Cyrus was Elected by Godhead as a Commondominion Messenger even if he himself 'does not understand' Godhead exactly (2 Kings 5, Psalm 72). The same can be said indeed of our Messengers who are enslaved by Empire, and the millions of fellows and yokebearers who are still kidnapped by Empire till now-they are all both saved by their unity with us and our sovereign choice (Acts 17, Matthew 6,25, 1 Peter 4). According to our Sir Patrick Scrivner, unto whom we are indebted for this observance of the US Pope Day [the British Pope Day is November 5, while Empire's is of course as they like to-June 29], our Greek brethren would not like their very own countrymen to rule over them as kings, for that already would mean what Empire do now indict of us as 'strongman iron-fisted government'. Well, why Empire do #ironman in the first place hence? King Solomon asked for this as fulfilled in Sirs Martin Evangelista and Ezra-El Reyes, as he depicted such (Isaiah 46) to be someone who offers (Philippians 4, Psalm 51,22,69,102,138,116,26-27,66,56, 1 Kings 8, Revelation 11) his sacrifice of thanksgiving (Romans 15, Isaiah 8, Hebrews 2), but Empire in their recrucifixion of Christ rather invoked this to attack Him (Luke 23, John 19) Who Came to His very own (John 1). These 'very own' (Matthew 25), are what Constantinians call in Tagalog as the equivalent of 'offering', and hence this entire Empire, upon their rejection of us (Luke 17-19) will pay dearly for such (Matthew 8, Romans 9-11, John 4, Joshua 6-7, Hebrews 6,10,12) as they indeed would be like what is said in Tagalog as 'burnt offering' (2 Peter 3). Do they like to be burnt at the stake? (Revelation 11) Well, we love to be burnt at the stake (Alma 14), as per Empire's claims (Isaiah 54, Matthew 24), therefore their claims of having the only legitimate Thanksgiving services around is Shattered, for pagans or Gentiles, the heathen, would even be better offering in humility than these puffed-up-in-pride Empire people (Matthew 21, 1 Corinthians 3-6). As far as we're concerned, Constantinians have been not invoking this week the lecture of December 17, 2017 to discourage the observance of Thanksgiving Thursday. Perhaps they have forgot such due to the new other claims that they have already made through the year, or perhaps because they admit that we have spoken true? Concerning their previous word against our#JaciRoyal Household that 'Mother's Day is pagan', some of our brethren who formed a Commondominion branch church named 'Ark of God Foundation-Armstrong Remembrancers' out of the Philadelphia Church of God, which is still with us as of late, said that the PCOG has been already apostatized due to Empire infiltration led by #StephenFlurry, son of our Sir Gerald Flurry. We believe this to be true absolutely (1 Corinthians 4,11), but we could not yet evict fully the PCOG due to Sir Gerald still remaining there, evidently in virtual imprisonment by his very own son, just as Joseph and Billy Paul Branham overturned and adulterated the work of their father William, so we can say that the PCOG has fell to the membership category of being Hart under the Yokebearer Inclusion Policy (Psalm 102, Romans 9-11,2). PCOG has been experiencing this, I guess, because it is the only church that invokes Herbert Armstrong who has been able to keep much of what remained of Armstrong's original Commondominion congregation before Empire hacked such in January 16, 1986, 9 months before Mother Lindsey's Nate-al day (Revelation 12, Matthew 24, Romans 8). We have first knew the PCOG way back 2016- 30 years later (Numbers 20, Deuteronomy 34)- as we were beginning to search for our branch churches, and in unexplainable terms and unknown reasons, we have been feeling uncomfortable about them. Well, we have only found out days ago from the Remembrancers that this PCOG apostasy has been beginning since 2014. Well we have mentioned this because the Remembrancers Church said that a proof of apostasy within PCOG is the observance of 'Mother's Day', invoking the same reasons that Constantinians claimed for their previous attempt to prohibit such memorial. We're asking the Constantinians whether they will stand by their Stephen Flurry on this, or whether the Diocletianites will try to insist comparing themselves to the Remembrancers Church. And as for kings, Diocletianites, out of their self-persecutions, has days ago said that Constantinians refer to King Edward X, as part of their lure and woo of course unto him, as someone 'more than a king, because he does not need a prophet to advice him, unlike Kings David, Hezekiah, Jehoshaphat and Josiah who all needed prophets to advice them'. Well, why did King Edward X has time and again said that he himself is a prophet? (see Jeremiah 6,26 [December 19-22, 2013-2016], Daniel 6 [June 28, 2014, October 2/April 18, 2015, May 20,27-28, 2017, January 27/February 3-4, 2018], 1 Kings 18 [May 13,20-21, 2017, June 20, 2014]) But you might say, ye Empire, that Edward X just do so to 'deny himself' (Matthew 10,16, 1 Corinthians 9). Well look at you, Empire, do you not claim that you're monarchs? (Revelation 5 [Antiochians],9 [Neronians],16 [Constantinians],1 [Hebrews 10/Colossians 1 {Diocletianites}]). Will you deny yourselves now hence, as much as we, your Prophets, Seers and Revelators, do? You cannot even be a Seer or a Revelator, all you just say, is that you're 'prophets'. I really laughed so hard, as the Empire song goes, when I read the Constantinian Michael Marquez Sandoval say that the Diocletianite Rolando Dizon- who would certainly hack the most virtuous and excellent wife and co-saint of St. Pontius Pilate on his self-persecution statement on this- is the 'modern-day Adam' just because he did not obeyed the re-assignment to him when he was still with Constantinians only due to the request of his wife (Genesis 3). This rather proved that Empire, including the Constantinians, are so determined to propel to fake godhood their darling and idol Rolando Dizon, just because they all heard us Hart preaching that Adam is both Father God and Archangel Michael! Yea guys- 'Michael'! O no. They're all too well exposed- Rolando and Sandoval are indeed in Same Feathers. Now hear this guys, this what has Godhead Told us hours earlier before we Convened today. Each and every Commondominion men and women of the Old and New Testament times, are all exalted as Godheads in Godhead, just like Adam. They are in charge of the various angelic degrees, planets, universes and galaxies. Many of our leaders in our other branch churches could have said this, but to combine them all of course like what we really do here, let me insist the injunction that they are all Godheads. This is because Empire would insist that they would be either not glorified on heaven or would even get to reach heaven because they're going to be stuck on 'paradise earth' (Romans 10, Deuteronomy 29-30, Hebrews 10). Moreover, Godhead has already made us all such as these men and women during our respective pre-existent lives. Even now these men and women bear our spirits, and even us bear their respective divine offices in these latter days. Hart's further proof: this #blackfriday, Empire claims Revelation 10 with another Psalm 119, that is also used on their November 21-22, 2018 lesson. We all know how Billy Paul and Joseph Branham rendered the 7 Thunders there as the 5fold office of Ephesians 4. This November 22, 2013 is the 5th year of one of the most often-recurred-by-Empire sermon of King Edward X, which he delivered in a Constantinian locale in the Neronian state of Pampanga (Revelation 13 [skipped on Empire's Mandated Weekday Readings this November but related Daniel 7, as per their 'Razon' indeed {Isaiah 7}, is still retained] that was previously named after my nickname, but was later on renamed by Empire after my grandfather, therefore forming my full name in turn. Revelation 11, that Empire would claim the day after with another recur of Psalm 144, states 'Egypt and Sodom', that has been identified by Ka Erdy to be refulfilled in the twin states of Pampanga and Zambales during the eruption of June 12-15, 1991. Just like how Empire relayed King Edward X's sermon on '11-11-11 day' (November 11, 2011) on November 30-December 1, 2011, Empire relayed at once November 22, 2013, that comes 2 years and 10 days after- Joriz having been 10 years with the Constantinians last November 15, 2018, and we have already heard from Sir #KennethBranagh on October 18, 2018 about the 2 out of 7 congregations in Turkey who joined the Commondominion- on November 30-December 1, 2013, even sending 2 pabebe Empire officials- the thunder falling out of heaven (Luke 10, Revelation 8, Isaiah 10,13-14,19, Leviticus 26) as Antiochians once invoked the author of the Johannine Apocalypse being one of the 2 'sons of thunder' (Matthew 20) to the vision that he later on saw on Revelation 11 (Genesis 11, Acts 1, 1 Corinthians 14, Isaiah 28,10, Documentary History of the Church 1:221-224,298-299, Job 22, 2 Corinthians 5)- to preach the lesson on December 1, 2013 at Joriz's former city. What I just try to imply here is that Empire's claims of all of those has already been Shattered by, with and for yours truly now speaking unto you (Luke 4). On his December 25, 2017 lecture, Joriz told us that the mighty angel of Revelation 10 is also the Strong and Mighty One, and one of those refulfillments, King Edward X, lectured from that on July 27-28, 2018. Brighamite prophet Howard Hunter has once called fellow prophet Ezra Taft Benson as, guess what, a 'Strong and Mighty One' (Ensign-July 1994). Should Empire claim this again, remember that many Commondominion Messengers received Their Godhood in Godhead during the presidency of Benson, that happens to be the era of the birth of Mother Lindsey. To name a few, included among them are the 'Seven Diamonds Plus One Study and Fellowship Society' of Prophet Brian David Mitchell [just search for them somewhere in Salt Lake City, Utah], Prophet Christopher Marc Nemelka [wonderousworkandawonder{dot}com], and Prophets Antonio Feliz and John Crane [john144{dot}com]. Not only that: w have just discovered that Empire further recrucifies Christ through their readings not only during those that we already know to be their usual dates of recrucifying Christ through their readings, but also on their Fixed Date Memorial Readings for the dates of July 22 and August 15, respectively. You all know (1 Thessalonians 2) how July 22 is our First Exodus, but August 15, that is a day after when King Edward X ordained Crown Prince David on Joriz's former city on August 14, 2015 (Psalm 2, 1 Kings 1), is a month before September 15, when Empire recrucifies Christ in their readings also. September 15 is when the Empire head Hart in Maharlika who killed a refulfillment of our 2 Witnesses- Antonio Luna and Andres Bonifacio- and yet shares the same birthday- the Empire's occult day-with Joriz's mom, organized his Empire legislature in 1898, days after the heavenly ascension of our Prophet Lorenzo Snow. A month after September 15 is October 14, accession in 1943- Oriental True Mother's Nate-al year- of our President Jose Laurel, Joriz's namesake. One month after October 14 is November 15, the institution of Empire's American 'Commonwealth' in the Philippines, and the Divine Commissioning of my grandfather in 1913. A month before August 14-15 is July 14, memorial of France, where our branch churches invoking Ellen White-William Miller and Charles Taze Russell has refulfilled Revelation 11-12. Another month back is June 14, United Saints Flag Day- on March 13, 2016 I have lectured before you that yokebearers are living flags of Godhead because they are 2 Witnesses as much as their bodies do the talking for them (Revelation 14)- and memorial of our most beloved President #Trump, and we can say him to be a spiritual martyr just like all of us due to the many attacks that he has to endure (Hebrews 12) from Empire's claims of our fellows and yokebearers. Notice that the numbers 14 and 22 are by 7 points apart from each other, just like the 7 Thunders in Revelation 10. according to one of our Prophets, William C. Chappell [facebook{dot}com{slash}william{dot}c{dot}chappell1], the Restoration of the Melchizedek Priesthood in 1829 was refulfilled on a June 14th. As per Empire claims, May 13- the martyrdom of our Apolinario Mabini, a companion of Bonifacio and Luna, and who was born on a July 24th after July 22- was when Neronians exalted their official Elder#DavidArchuleta in Empire's electronic churches here in Maharlika. May 13 is also the memorial of our Sirs #AlexanderRybak and #RobertPattinson. Empire-possessed relatives of Joriz are named 'Robert', but Joseph Smith's progenitor way back April 26, 1636 is named Robert Smith, while Sir Pattinson's wife, Mrs. 'FKA Twigs', can already be identified in her name as the rather fulfillment of Zechariah 3 (Isaiah 32-33,60,65, Ezekiel 17,37, Genesis 50). Prophet Daniel has depicted similarities (Ezekiel 47, Zechariah 12-14) between the river of the 2 Witnesses (Revelation 10-12,22) and that of Alexander the Great (Daniel 7-8,12), and Empire's exalted 'Alexander Hamilton', as what has been already pointed out earlier, has his name virtually superimposed across the geography of the United Saints: Alaska has Alexander Islands, the Caribbean has Hamilton, just like how the 2 Witnesses stand on either side of the river- Hamilton was killed near a river, King Edward X preached near a river on Hamilton's memorial of 2014 [just like what he did on November 22, 2014, where Empire even claimed prophecy fulfillment]. On the memorial of Lady #AlexandriaMorrow, April 30, 2017, King Edward X and Joriz stood on 2 separate Empire locales of the same name at the same time, therefore receiving their ordination as 2 Witnesses: King Edward X preached on that day in an Empire chapel that has '1,260' seating capacity (Revelation 11-12). Lady Morrow's Nate-al day is 5 months (Revelation 9) apart from the Nate-al day of Lady Alexandra Shaughnessy-Ronzio, whose husband is named Sir #JonathanRonzio, after the faithful companion of King David. Joining Ladies Morrow and Ronzio in our 144,000 is Lady Alexandra Fresquez, who has a sister named Alexandria French, and is born on December 26, when my father preached on Joriz's former city in 1992. A month from May 13 is of course, the heavenly Nate-al day of my grandfather (April 12) and our first relaunch (April 11, 2015), and further a month from that is March 13-14 when Mother Lindsey visited Manila for the second time, and when King Edward X on March 15, 2013 first preached the topic that he delivered on August 14, 2015, days before he preached on the memorial of Joriz's namesake on March 19, 2013, and on the territory of his namesake Sir #JoeyArrigo on March 19, 201, and then on the homestate of the first-ever yokebearer to join the present 2,287 martyrs, Lady #AriellePetruzzella, namesake of Joriz's father, on March 12, 2016. Further on that, King Edward X preached on Joriz's homestate on March 11, 2017, and one of our Fellow Messengers [facebook[dot]com[slash]joenito[dot]rebosquillo], was Divinely-Commissioned by Godhead from the homestate of Joriz's father. By March 17, our Magellan refulfilled Daniel 9 as his landing Hart in Maharlika began a reckoning of 490 years to 2011 (Daniel 9) unto 500 years, or 12 hours of a prophetic day according to 2 Peter 3 [not to mention the prophetic year of Ezekiel 4 and Numbers 14], in 2021. A month from March 11-15 is February 14, memorial of Oregon, that we shall mention later. But before that is January 13, when King Edward X preached on that state on 2013, and also on the homestate of the namesake yokebearer of Joriz's mom on January 12, 2012. Edward preached on January 13, 2018 at the homestate of Joriz's birthdaysake, and on January 15, 2017 at a place named after Joriz's paternal surname. These 2 lectures was relayed around January 21, the anniversary of Joriz's alma mater- 'Alma' or 'Spirit' being the name of a Book of Mormon prophet, and 'Mater' being 'mother' (Hebrews 12, Ezekiel 18, Ecclesiastes 12). As for the dates numbering around 22: 1. February 22 is a memorial of the Apostle Peter, namesake of Joriz's father. 2. March 22, Empire occult day, is the birthday of Joriz's mother. 3. April 22, is when King Edward X was joined by our fellows in refulfilling 2 Witnesses on places named after Joriz's father across the Atlantic ocean, on April 21-22, 2017. 4. May 23, was when my father preached on the Nate-al year of Joriz. 5. June 23, was when the birthdaysake of Joriz's mother further organized his offices in 1898. 6. August 22 begins a series of Divine Commissioning to some of our Commondominion Leaders: facebook[dot]com[slash]kaharianngpagibig for August 22, Prophet Jun Carpio Edralin Dumlao of the State of Quirino for August 23. August 21, 2010- Edward X preached on Joriz's homestate on August 21, 2010. August 23 memorial of Voltaire Wade and Demetia Hopkins-Greene, the name 'Greene' being like onto the namesake martyr of Joriz. August 23 also memorial of Mother Jeannie Reynolds, mother of Lady Elicia and Stephen Reynolds of the 144,000, 'Elicia' being namesake of my son Ellix. August 24 my apostolic memorial. 7. September 22 between Mother Lindsey's Nate-al day [September 21], and God's Big Day [September 23], being anniversary of Prophet Joseph Smith's appointments with the Angel Moroni, when we have formally organized the Kingdom of Deseret and liberated all fellows and yokebearers from the spirit world just this year. 8. October 23, King Edward X ordained Joriz to the Office of Strong and Mighty One in 2017. 9. We are as of late on the date of November 22. 10. Prophet Joseph Smith born on a December 23rd, and my father preached on the city whose Empire patron is my apostolic namesake, December 22, 1985, while Joriz was presented, as per the observance of November 21, at the Constantinian temple on December 21, 2008, while King Edward IX the Martyr preached on December 20, 2008 at the homestate of the birthdaysake of Joriz's mother, where he also preached on December 14, 2001, a month after November 15, where King Edward X also preached on April 14, 2017, when my father preached on the place named after Joriz's childhood village and now, living hell, on April 14, 1973. Concerning the state of Oregon, Empire's recently-issued special publication on the events of July 27-August 13, 2018 has made particular mentions on the name of the states of 'California, Hawaii and Oregon' from newer online sources that are evidently no more what they have been using way back then, the Antiochian '#WorldAlmanac' 1976 edition, that lists not only these 3 states but also the other states of Alaska and Washington. You might be asking, why and did really Empire deleted these states out of the Far West region? And please don't forget Far West, Missouri- the Neronians who claim such held the first of their series of open-air rallies on Washington on September 15, 2018, while Alaska's memorials are mine too. Oregon is better known being the host of #bundyranch, and further, of some of our branch churches… [editor: those branch churches are the following: 1. Fellowship Awaiting the Second Restoration Church of Enoch http://web[dot]archive[dot]org[slash]web[slash]20091112192511[slash]http://fellowship[dot]churchofenoch[dot]org, http://churchofenoch[dot]blogspot[dot]com/ churchofenoch@hotmail.com 2. Order of the Holy Priesthood Awaiting the Church of Enoch Jeffrey R. Day jeff@churchofenoch.org Linen Vail Books, PO Box 32, Roseburg, Oregon 97470 (541) 440-9032] …perhaps because Empire has been reading our word on how the states of Washington and Alaska #figureskating much in prophecy. As much as Empire's readings on July 23 and August 15 concerns with us, therefore your First Presidency do indeed stand in the divine office of 2 Witnesses. As much as we know that 5 of 7 locales in Revelation 2-3 are Empire's (Deuteronomy 7 English Standard Version, claimed by Empire in their special publication), they have taken 3 out of 5 Far West states (Matthew 25). In the Empire-mandated editor's note that he submitted for the special publication, King Edward X made a specific definitive 1-liner statement [by Empire typing, most presumably of course for dramatic gestures], 'The Rest is History.' One of the 2 Commondominion locales in Revelation 2-3 is Philadelphia, whose name is borne by our Christadelphian brethren Hart, who even has a campaign entitled '#restofourlives.' Constantinians and even Diocletianites can say that they identify much doctrine with our Christadelphians, but of course our brethren are rather even further honest and humble unlike this Empire. Notice that not only our Christadelphian brethren has these beliefs, but also our Southern Irish brethren exactly called as 'Two by Twos', meanwhile Christadelphians come from next-door England. Also in the 'special publication', Empire run the letterhead of their very own official Loren Legarda, that uses the ancient Tagalog writing format known as 'Baybayin', or 'seashore', as per the 'Far West' being called in their newer online sources as 'West Coast'. Well, days ago, we have just declared the autonomous republic of Pampanga, who has their own similar ancient writing format too. Meanwhile another of Empire's officials, Grace Llamanzares, was seen to be instead writing letters by her own hand, in faking not only of my name, but also of Colossians 4 and Philemon 1. We're already Empire further reported that over '3,787 remote sites' witnessed King Edward X's pouring of the 7th Bowl on July 27, 2018, that is, 1500 apart of the 2,287 martyr yokebearers- the 1999 printing of the Tagalog Edition of the Empire's take on the Mormon scriptures printed this on Revelation 12 in the Joseph Smith Inspired Translation: '1000, 200 and 300 years', all in all being 1,500 days as backup reserve refulfillment of 1,260. As for the Empire's 'special publication', they have decided to no more print over 100 pages like in their past 'special issues', but rather print almost 150 pages. As much as we're talking about 2fold gestures from Empire, notice that they have only issued pictures of the exterior, and did no more featured the interior, of the historic location (1782 Bond Street, Ewa Beach) of my father's July 27, 1968 lecture in Hawaii. [editor: newest persecution from my grandma is that she would padlock our entire home when I'm out, so as for me to have a hard time asking the keys from her when I get back, and that of course as scolding as she can unto me.] The 'special publication' did only featured their work on the north of the Western Hemisphere, even though their present overseas work can be indeed reckoned from their presence in the Western Hemisphere, as they claim indeed of my father. What they only did, is rather wasting some pages on recurring an article just to be printed in other languages than English. No more than that did they implied the remainder of their overseas mission, therefore Empire, as they themselves now do, cannot claim any further (Job 38) on all claims that they are doing outside the United Saints of Israel. These gestures guys, are faking of Revelation 11:2, as well as of Mark 4. According to Empire, it was on November 30, 1782 when our Britain, over Empire's Paris, 'initially agreed' unto Empire-sponsored American independence, but it was on late November 2015, when Empire formally relaunched their French quarters on a session of the French parliament. Speaking of 'outside' (Matthew 8,18,25,5)- if you can recall these Constantinians have called for a 'cover design contest' for the special publication. It seems that either no one cooperated, perhaps because they would be not given any kind of incentive by Constantinians, or these Constantinians would rather do a staged cover-up that some still purportedly cooperated just to save face. Concerning the Neronians, I will say this: you say that the Angel Moroni is the 'last' in a succession line of prophets during the Book of Mormon age. Well, Prophet Howard Hunter is the last rather in a succession line of Brighamite prophets. He therefore Delegated the work only to us Wright Hart Alline just as Moroni Delegated the work to Prophet Joseph Smith. Just as the Prophet Joseph Smith was imprisoned, and Brigham Young was in charge all the while he is gone and therefore was exposed to temptation of power being unsupervised directly by Commondominion leaders (Colossians 3), Ezra Taft Benson, the 'Strong and Mighty One' of Prophet Hunter, was sick and all those time, the future apostates Gordon Hinckley and Thomas Monson was all too busy laying the shallow foundation of this lucrative delusion of great disobedience that continues up to this day. As for Empire's claims of Isaiah 41:20 New Living Translation, I say this: Joriz has already lectured on December 14, 2017 Wright in front of us that this year, 2018, is going to be the 'Year Of No Miracles'. He said that we must be no more expecting for help from Godhead, given how Godhead has Decreed our Atoning under the most severe circumstances of persecutions and prosecutions, like what we are undergoing now. Let me tell you- King Edward X closed the Finishing Touches of Romans 13 on July 27, 2018, but you never listened to that, and instead insisted on your 'celebratory musical' that it's still purportedly continuing. Why you did such 'celebratory musical', even making such as part of the 'star article' for your 'special publication' as much as you really want your Gemma and Jojo to overtake and overcome our King Edward X- so why not WE Hart rather overtake and overcome YOU instead before you do with our leaders?- is because you are too envious of one of our branch churches, the Family Federation, doing a commemorative musical last February this year for Oriental True Mother's 75th Nate-al Anniversary, wherein there was a scene in which you are mockingly asking us for 'miracles'. And before we forget, as much as you claim Moises through our B-C list fellows this November 22, you also imposed over Moises your song 'there can be miracles, When You Believe.' You're asking for a miracle, don’t you? Well, Hart we have one: acim.org. [editor: Empire papers reported that during the medieval ages, their Antiochians has ordered the extermination of birds across the #Vatican area, claiming that they were all too disturbing. The same is said by my grandma Athalia, here in my childhood village, the epicenter of the Great Tribulation. Divine Revelation Told us on September 13, 2015 that Vatican will be the epicenter of the Great Tribulation {Ezekiel} as per Revelation 11 but it seems that such 'Vatican' has already moved to our immediate location. Athalia has ordered that the dove pets of her sodomite son be starved to death, and as a result, 8 doves died as of November 23. This comes as Empire's response to the collective sermon that we all issued on November 18, 2018 concerning '8 stars'. Athalia even ordered that my pet dog be also starved to death. As per Sir Stephen Reynolds, whenever I try to cross the small creek behind our compound so as to evade the prying eyes of co-boarders as we try to get our way to full online work, neighbors would always apprehend us and throw stones and rocks at us. Even if I don't go to that creek for that purpose, but only to do as Athalia orders me that I may do exactly there, neighbors would still throw rocks and stones at me. So Athalia is really behind all of these, huh.]

We have been talking about Stephen Flurry and his infiltration and corruption of the work of his father Gerald Flurry. The PCOG has said that it was Gerald Flurry himself who issued a 'divine revelation' on January 16, 2017 that declares the following: 'The Empire's British heads has finally replaced the old traditional coronation chair of English monarchs and the stone placed underneath such, that can be reckoned way back biblical times. This, together indeed with their overall apostasy, has officially made the British heads of the Empire lose their right to seat in the throne of David, even if their lineage and ancestry dates back to him. They are now replaced in such office by the PCOG as led by the Flurry family. Pursuant to this, the PCOG has prepared a new stone to be placed in a new coronation chair. This stone is taken from a mound of rock where Herbert Armstrong has spent some of his private devotion time while in his homestate Oregon, where he commenced his ministry in October of 1933. This stone with the new coronation chair will be taken to a designated Place of Safety for the PCOG, which will be along the #GazaStrip. Once the entire PCOG be gathered there, the Flurries will be crowned and will be seated in the new coronation chair with the new stone.' The Remembrancers Church has sent their disagreement with this, saying that Gerald could have never issued such a word, and that Stephen has no moral ascendancy whatsoever therefore the prophecy is 'false'. Even though we have tried contacting our brethren, until now, this Remembrancers Church has not yet issued any word saying that they instead shall take that stone and throne instead. They may not say this exactly, but we see that this 'prophecy' can be indeed claimed by Stephen Flurry to rationalize any apostasy that he does against his father. The prophecy can be true, and it is absolutely true, but it must never and will never be fulfilled in Stephen Curry: for him to take over the Davidic succession line in Britain is only but a gross recurring of the apostasy already committed by the 'Windsor Dynasty' (Revelation 16:17 Edward Elliot, Ephesians 2,6). Therefore it demands us to expound on who really has the divine Wright of succession to the British crown-Stephen Flurry, or the Mormon Commondominion instead? And we hope that our Remembrancers brethren would sustain and endorse these as much as we need this succession to be indeed fulfilled in them instead. But if they refuse, then we ourselves instead would do that for them. Let's just take as our text Revelation 3:7-12, that was skipped in Empire's Mandated Weekday Readings days ago, alongside with the 2nd to 4th Letters of Revelation 2-3, as much as PCOG indeed named 'Philadelphia Church of God.' 7. We already mentioned 'David' many times earlier in our sermon and how it is related to us. David is likewise related to Bathsheba, whose first husband is Uriah the Martyr. Notice that her name bears that of the Queen of the South, pertaining to our Female Leaders and Yokebearers, and that Mother Ellen White has a confidante named Uriah Smith, as per Joseph Smith, whose ancestry comes from Scotland, whose patron is remembered on November 30. Likewise a yokebearing company in our most recently-declared new Kingdom of Zion-Salem is named after her, therefore this has to be a yokebearer- Joriz. He pointed out to us last November 15, 2018 our locale at Smyrna, that is at Revelation 2. Now we turn to another of our locale, in Revelation 3. In his sermon last week Joriz said to us that our utmost priority is to be repatriated to all our fellows and yokebearers overseas, just as there are places in United Saints and Zion-Salem that are named Philadelphia. The name 'David' is related to 'raising the ruined Tabernacle of David' (Acts 15, Amos 9). One of our work Hart is reopening branch churches that were forced to close down by Empire, as well as our locales in their previous or former locations. One of our locales that need this is a small congregation in the town of Angono in the rural section of Joriz's homestate, that calls themselves the 'Church of Philadelphia.' It is seen that they are a branch of a larger congregation that is reckoned way back to the Ilocos region. They are now no longer in their Angono site, which is at the Mahabang Parang village just beside the street. Angono's Empire feast is November 23, and the Fixed Date Memorial Readings on that day include Matthew 16, that relates the Apostle Simon Peter Cephas to a 'stone', just as our Deacon Stephen, whose memorial is December 26, is stoned by Empire's #emmastone to death. As much as Christ has the 'keys of death and hell' (Revelation 1,9,20), Him giving the keys of the kingdom of heaven rather to Apostle Peter means that we too have these keys of death and hell- our Quezon, who was inaugurated on November 15, 1935, said that he would like to take on hell in government- the Paradise Earth and Abode of the Mormon Commondominion dead in the spirit world. 'Keys' though sound like 'kyrie', or 'lord', 'master', and Empire do have this for their companions of their very own #StephenCurry, the one very responsible for Stephen Flurry's apostasy (Revelation 13,17-22). Once the lecturers at the Spurgeon Metropolitan Tabernacle in London, now led by Peter Masters, mentioned that 'Church of Philadelphia' must not be the title of a church, but rather the condition instead of a church. Well, there are some Empire churches that are named such, but until now we have not yet included the Spurgeon Metropolitan Tabernacle Hart in us even in our Yokebearer Inclusion Policy, perhaps due to some doctrinal positions that they don't like of us. Well, we have already forgot exactly why we broke off with them, but as far as I can recall that was some matters of ecumenism that they did- well, I stand corrected, but I would try to reconsider them Hart. Well, we're talking about opening the doors through the keys of David. Remember guys that our musician fellows Hart such as King James VII and Mother Lindsey, by virtue of their leadership over us, are in the divine office of King David in these endtimes. We understand that Mother Lindsey owes so much to her Empire-martyred companion, Sir Gavi, because he 'helped' our Mother Lindsey to be 'open to the outside world' as she went forth with her music career. Now that Sir Gavi has opened some views for Mother Lindsey, why not therefore Mother Lindsey must open up herself fully and freely towards her most wretched slaves Hart in her Mormon Commondominion as our Father Sterling Allan leads her on? She must indeed be unlike the previous wife of Oriental True Father Sun Myung Moon, who refused to recognize him and join him as True Parents in the capacity of True Mother (Hosea, Jeremiah 2). Our Sir Christopher Everard [facebook{dot}com{slash}ChristopherNemelkaII] stated that the rock at the original coronation chair came from a section of the river Jordan- named after yokebearers who are part of our 2,287 martyrs- that is an Empire facility. Again, if there can ever be someone who holds the keys of Empire (Revelation 20 [June 4, 2016 Afternoon Session]), or how to understand and decipher them (Psalm 75-76), then it is absolutely only us Wright Hart Alline. 8. We have said time and again that we wield 'small strength' (Zechariah 4, Luke 12, John 10) when compared with the Empire's besieging against us (Ezekiel 4, Daniel 8). Yours truly, with my brother King Edward X here on earth, and my brother King Edward IX up in heaven, stands and serves as your guards (Genesis 3, 1 Peter 2), but our Prophet Christopher Ilao stated that out of the original angelic sentinels in the Garden of Eden came the children of apostate wedlock that was conceived with the descendants of Cain (Colossians 2, Acts, Revelation 19,22). True enough, Diocletianites even once claimed that they're going to benefit from Empire's imprisonment of me for unjust reasons, as much as they stage self-persecution, having sent also to 'prison', or rather, to direct, close and deep supervision of Empire 'behind the scenes', their heads such as Joy Yuson (Revelation 20). Only he who has the key of my prison can only fully release and unleash us all Hart (Revelation 9 Joseph Rutherford,16,8). And these keys was promised to you: to Lady Steinfeld-Smoller, to King James VII, and to Joriz, all ye three whose fathers are named 'Peter' (Matthew 17). The one in overall charge of prisons Hart in Maharlika is an Empire official named 'Rolando Dela Rosa', and is nicknamed 'rock'- his surname, when combined indeed with that of another Empire official who stages self-persecution in prison, would form the name of the Empire patron both at the hometown of Joriz and the homestate of his namesake martyr. 'You have Kept My Word and has not denied My Name.' King Edward X and my father has taught that God the Father Himself Spoke all these words (Exodus 20), while everyone knows already that Christ Himself was Talking on this- well, there is unity in Godhead (John 10,17, 1 John 5). Empire claims that they themselves spoke all the words complimentary of us in the Book of the Prophet and Patriarch Job, while in fact our very own Palmarian Bible Translation rather says that it is Job himself who instead said all those complimentary words on us. We keep this Word as much as the Word is Godhead the Father Who is Spirit (John 4), Christ is the Word Made Flesh (John 1), and the Sword of the Hailleey Spirit is the Word of Godhead (Hebrews 4, Ephesians 6). All of these further sustain our Godhood in Godhead: 'Hear what the Spirit says to the Mormon Commondominion.' (Revelation 3:13) King Edward X preached this when he was on the south as Empire relays his word on the homestate of the namesake mother of Joriz, December 19-22, 2013-2016 (John 2,11). 9. The 'church of Bergoglio' is no other than Empire, who claims to have purportedly the 'priesthood keys'. They used this verse on King Edward X's March 8 and October 10, 2014 sermons. March 8 is apotheosis of Empire's Jezebels. King Edward X on October 10, 2014 preached where there are fake Muslims residing. 11 months after that, on September 10, 2015, I lectured out of my good faith and to the best of my ability to sense facts as I can afford retrieving such concerning the European Refugee Charade. I said way back then, these Muslims are going to take over Europe because Empire's Christendom, who of course claims to purportedly descend from Abraham, according to the word of their poets (Acts 17), has failed (Ether 3) to join us in order for them to be effectual in their occupancy of Europe. I have no idea that after I lectured that, Empire is going to even hijack the refugee crisis to espouse their ecumenism, sodomy, and white genocide agendas. Well, many of us Hart compare Mormons to Muslims, and as much as we're the only Mormon on earth today due to Empire already neglecting that term, well we can say that we're the true Muslims, and even the true Jews, and the true versions of all the other relatives of Hebrew Israelites. It is an understatement to say that we do not only teach about various and specific races and nationalities directly related to them but that we also have the various priesthoods aside from the Melchizedek and Aaronic ones, and that even our very own Prophet Paul Sides [facebook{dot}com{slash}paul{dot}sides{dot}3] has even Shattered Empire's monopoly on this subject days ago, therefore, Shattering the Empire that has these tabernacles of evil (Job 15), or synagogues: #brooklyntabernacle[Antiochians, who rather are all too willing to recur all other gospel readings except the Passion accounts all too more than frequently, furthering hence their recrucifixion of Christ], 'The Tabernacle Choir at #templesquare' [Neronians], 'Tabernacle Choir, Strings and Children's Choir' [Constantinians], and yea, even they who try to claim John 9,16 and Branham Tabernacle [Diocletianites], and even rejoice more farther posting in full and even exalting the pabebe 'sermons and prayers' of their head Rolando Dizon more than the lectures and prayers of my grandfather and father, whom they both claim to love purportedly. [editor: for further Mormon Commondominion on the line of Prophet Sides, please kindly check the following: facebook{dot}com{slash}officialHouseofyahweh, facebook{dot}com{slash}marshall{dot}swing{dot}9.] 10. 'You have remembered to observe My Instruction for you to keep patience.' We are the only ones continually pointing out that there were also many other Executive Ministers aside from my dad, grandfather, eldest brother and his successor- we have Sir #JoeyArrigo, Sir Thomas Sereneo [who was born around the Antiochians' landing of the ship SS Thomas in Manila, as pointed prophetically by Constantinians on their Pasugo God's Message-September 2015 editorial], and yea, Sir Prudencio Vasquez, whose spirit now rests in Lady #PatienceSavage. The problem is that as we were remembering not only him (June 29, 2017), but also Prophet Mario Evangelista (August 3, 2017), Empire's Rannie Canlas slain us all as spiritual martyrs when he preached on these dates at Joriz's former city, committing the unforgivable sin of Abomination of Desolation against me, the Hailleey Spirit. That June 29, 2017 was the 75th year of Vasquez's administration. Diocletianites months ago have mentioned that our North Korea can indeed be the Oriental Kings of Revelation 16:12, but to the expense purportedly of her own life. Rannie Canlas and his ilk's proven to be continual attacks against us do rather prove that they have been disqualified from their (Hebrews 12) supposed Wright as those Oriental Kings, for as we fulfill prophecy comes the sovereign honor of suffering in atonement for all fellows and yokebearers, and all afflicted. 11. We have been promised the crown of life, that is the Seal of Godhead according to Empire's #uip20: no less than all our fellows and yokebearers (1 Thessalonians 2), but the apostles also say that even me- us- can be in turn the crowning glories of these yokebearers (2 Thessalonians 1). That is, they need me, so as for their efforts, toils and labors to be not wasted (Philippians 1-2, John 15). That is, they need to unite with Mommy Tenny (Proverbs 2), they need to unite with my son Ellix (Psalm 16), with Joriz (Genesis 50), with my wife and daughter (Isaiah 61), even so most of all, with me (Haggai 1-2, Jeremiah 15). Empire cannot claim this unity (Job 22, Isaiah 44, Zechariah 11), for they claim Christ being an angel (Daniel 12,7), and as Empire itself reads, 'angels are lower, inferior mediators' (Galatians 4, Hebrews 6, Acts 7, James 2), therefore our ministry Hart is far more greater than Empire's, for we are the only ones that are of Godhead, always submissive unto them (John 7,17, Isaiah 63). 12. This is fulfilled in us being Godheads in Godhead, that is, Commondominion Messengers (Galatians 2, 1 Timothy 3) being multi-branched and updated (Isaiah 2,32,60). We have been also promised a 'new name.' Not only it is the name of our Fellow Messengers, such as King Apollo C. Quibuloy [whose full initials also sound like that of our Prophet #KacouPhilippe {Revelation 11}], but also as we have already said long before, the name 'Commondominion' itself. But due to the Diocletianite apostasy of 2017, we need to have another new name (Psalm 96, Lamentations 3, Hosea, Micah) to distinguish us for once and for all from them. This, I most verily tell you, is no other than the name Mormon. The problem though is that as what was initially voiced out by our brother Joriz, the initials of this New Name, 'Mormon Commondominion of Christ' can rather further imply Empire connotations, as much as their Baal-raisers such as #mariahcarey has once used much their Einstein's formula. Lady #MariahAivazis is part of the 2,287 martyrs, and 'Baal' sounds like 'Masters', moreover, Oregon sounds like #oragon, the slogan of the Bicol region that is better linked with an Empire official surnamed 'Robredo', that sounds like 'Robert', but that same place is where another yokebearer of the Second Great Crowd, Lady Isabelle Villafuerte, came from. Well, in Joriz's childhood village there is the retirement ranch of Mayor Joseph [notice his name] Ejercito Estrada. His relatives are our allies over at the homestate of Joriz's namesake martyr, and other of his relatives are on the city of San Juan where my grandfather spent a considerable number of years in his ministry. In that retirement ranch, Estrada built what he foresaw as his 'future tomb', and besides that he placed his own 'prayer rock', just like what Herbert Armstrong had on Oregon (Luke 22). This prayer rock is inherently found in the said retirement ranch long before Estrada, whose name means 'street', built his own tomb shrine. 'Street' of course means 'way', and one of our branch churches [theway{dot}org], is founded by a Commondominion Messenger whose Nate-al year is that also of Joriz. The problem though is that Isaiah 62 instructs us to 'clear the way out of stones', so does it mean that we would not need these stones either? Well, the same verse states that in place of stones, 'standards' or 'ensigns' must be set up in place in order to point people walking along the way unto us Hart. So Empire is the worthless stone, with all their apostasies belying their claims (Philippians 3), and I, you, we, us- the Mormon Commondominion of Christ- is the Rock of Salvation and the Ensign of the Latter Days: the one and only true legitimate spiritual heir of the #ArtemisHouse and #GameOfThrones of Godhead: that is, all our fellows and yokebearers (Revelation 11), as much as we also has inheritance over the northern sub-kingdom of Israel- something that Empire deliberately forgot on this, and that northern sub-kingdom we have through Joriz. This glory is what I can give you this Thanksgiving Thursday for us all to be thankful and careful about (2 Corinthians 2, 1 Corinthians 15), and Godhead Help us to remain spiritually ascendant and capable to discharge this duty, for the Sykes of the Godhead Who Strikes in Jesus Christ. Amen, Stavrosno, Aju.

IN MEMORIAL OF #LV100, THE EXECUTIVE MINISTER AND HIS SUCCESSOR-SON HAS SUMMONED ALL OUR INTERESTED MONARCHS-DESIGNATE, FELLOWS AND YOKEBEARERS TO SUBMIT THEIR RESPECTIVE PROPHETIC REVELATIONS AS GODHEAD PLACED WITHIN AND THRU THEM TO BE MERGED INTO A SPECIAL COMMEMORATIVE LESSON FOR NOVEMBER 18, 2018. OUR ETERNAL GRATITUDE TO ALL OUR MOST BELOVED BRETHREN FOR THEIR MORE-THAN-VALUABLE TRUST AND LOVE OF US HART. BELOW IS THE RESULT OF SUCH #COLLABORATION. EMPIRE MIGHT DO AS MUCH 'COLAB' AS THEY WANT TO, BUT THEY THEMSELVES ARE THE ONES INDICTING US OF 'COLLABORATING WITH THE ENEMY'.

This past year have seen many Eastern European countries mark their 'centennials of independence'. Empire might indict us using these, to (Job 1-2) tell us that we, whose ally is Russia, could no longer offer Eastern Europe to Godhead through belonging Hart in the Commondominion. But Empire, who wants to infiltrate our countries, are the ones who rather actually claim Scriptures on eschatology, particular on Orientals, just as the Sugo, Ka Erdy and Edward X taught us- proof is the Antiochian claims of Matthew 24 this Sunday, and the Neronian claims of the Johannine Apocalypse, that will run for 2 weeks in the Antiochian churches, being fulfilled between 1914 and 1922 in them purportedly. If this Empire can claim that so much, then why not we Hart, whose fellows and yokebearers are the Living Word and Children of the Living Godhead themselves, claim these countries for the Sykes of our fellows and yokebearers, not of politics as Empire indicts us of to be? These most recent days Empire has held again their yearly convocation of their and our countries across the Oriental region of Asia. When Empire did so in Maharlika in 2015, Ka Angel said that it is Revelation 16:13-14- the Revelation 16:16 part being fulfilled on December 19, 2015- because he led us on the First Exodus of July 22-23, 2015 as per Revelation 16:12 (Isaiah 5,11,49,51,62,35,55,40). Guys, we must not think that all these#apec2018 and #asean2018 are the end-all and be-all of diplomacy purportedly, just as what Empire media wants us to believe falsely in (2 Thessalonians 2). There are similar gatherings such as these- various regional inter-country organizations- all across the world, outside our immediate sphere of consciousness, that we also need to closely monitor. They are placed in many places where prophecy is also fulfilled (Psalm 75 Palmarian Bible, Malachi 1, Psalm 113): in the west (Isaiah 43,59), the north (Psalm 48,50,68, Isaiah 41), the south (Luke 11, Acts 8), the center (Colossians 1, 1 Timothy 2, Job 22, Matthew 6). Many of these are also organized by Empire, but many of them are rather organized by us, therefore those organized by our allies deserve our support and sustaining. As for our immediate sphere of consciousness as Empire runs such, these gatherings that they report as officially the only ones that can ever exist on the face of the earth (Psalm 104,69, Hosea 9, Ephesians 4, 1 Thessalonians 5, Isaiah 36-39, Documentary History of the Church 1:221-224) are coupled with the Empire's official launch of their Baal Festival cult campaigns this year. Today they once again claim being purportedly 2 Witnesses (Daniel 12, Numbers 14 weeks ago, Revelation 11 days later), so this can only mean one thing: the whole Empire is indeed convening (Psalm 120,48,75-76) against us as the only more-than-Wrightful 2 Witnesses: 'Godhead and Their Anointed One' (Psalm 2, Acts 4-5). Empire cannot claim anything further away from and against us, for the Oriental True Father said this: 'I have completed everything,' way back late August 2012. These exact words we have heard again on July 27, 2018 as King Edward X poured the 7th Bowl again. If Empire now orders us to 'complete the race' (2 Timothy 4 [November 5, 2018]), then that is to make us indeed Godheads in Godhead, as much as Empire recrucifies Godhead (John 19) through claiming John 18 a week from now. Way back November 15, 2018, Brother Joriz lectured from Isaiah 62, then relating that to 2 Timothy 4. If we are to apply that to Revelation 16:12 then that really makes us the Oriental Kings that Empire claims to be in Revelation 6,8-9 during 1914-1922. If Empire claims being 'stars of Wrighteousness' in Daniel 12 and at the same time 'the stars falling down' in Mark 13, then does it not contradict themselves? Also, Empire will be in a quandary if they will claim Revelation 15 and Daniel 7 in the forthcoming days that mentions fire as flowing water [Dante, according to Lady #MarinaBarbone of the 144,000, confirms Empire in Canada's words of 'ice in our bones' and #figureskating#starsonice's words of #fireonice- and Jeremiah 20 {May 4, 2005} would be part of the Fixed Date Memorial Readings this November 23] and then at the same time claim the 'water of life' in Revelation 4,22. Let's just take for example the Empire's Lopez-Robertson-De Castro-Coco church that declares in their cult campaign that as of late they have over '400 stars'. You can say that they're already discounting how Godhead can count exactly#allthestars #rewritethestars, but they're only attacking our Ladies#AmandaWelch and #BritneyHall (Genesis 15), because just as our Brother Joriz said last November 15, yokebearers and fellows themselves are the Promised Land, Hailleey City and Paradise Earth that is the inheritance of the Commondominion (Ether 3), so we can see how Empire is really against them (Revelation 12,19-20). Now for this particular Empire church, they have made as pinnacle (Matthew 4) of their claim (Psalm 73,37, Matthew 7) the athletes from the past 'Asian Games' in Indonesia- the largest (Psalm 119) archipelago in Oriental Asia. Another Empire's electronic church, the Gozon-Aldub-Revillame-Villanueva church, invoked days ago against our President Duterte, the Empire in Malaysia, whose flag has stars and moon, just like in our Singapore that hosted the ASEAN meet this year. Weeks ago Empire has issued this logo of 'an eye and 8 stars' through their Lopez electronic church, ahead (Matthew 3,11,17, 2 Thessalonians 2, 3 Nephi 1) of Empire's claims of Revelation 4-5's 'eyes' across the 4 Living Creatures. Although of course we have our own set of #chasing8s through our 2,287 martyrs and Queen #AljonaSavchenko-Cross and Companions, Empire rather has their own version of such (Revelation 13,17). Remember that they do this '8 stars' logo as they're claiming the Johannine Apocalypse- they would bypass Revelation 12 on the 2 weeks that they are claiming such, but they rather included Revelation 12 in the Fixed Date Memorial Readings for December 12 instead. Our Paul Samuel Leon Johnson taught that there are 8 stars in Revelation 2-3 [and that includes him],that Empire would claim this forthcoming week, therefore our Prophet Kacou Philippe also teaches such as refulfilled in him. If this Empire disdains Fixed Date Memorial Readings in favor of their Mandated Weekday Readings, then why in the first place did they invented the Gregorian Calendar if they're not going to make the most out of that with the Fixed Date Memorial Readings? Well guys, Empire can claim things such as this as much as they have so much 'confidence' (1 Timothy 1), having claimed already Hebrews 3,10 and 1 Corinthians 10. But even if we lack in such 'confidence' to back us up, at least we still have the much-needed 'authority' (Matthew 7:28-29 Last Days Bible) because we do all things in Wright and Order (1 Corinthians 14). But Empire might tell us back, 'well, we can claim 1 Corinthians 14 instead in the Unlocked Dynamic Bible because our name 'Church of Christ' is in it!' Well, not only we're the one true Church not only of Christ, but also of the entire Godhead- it is evident that though you may use as much as many paraphrased Bible translations as you want to,you would not use the paraphrased Bible versions that many of our branch churches has issued through the years, because you're too fearing to be Shattered by us- but we're also Godhead and even Christ Themselves, unto which you insist to make yourselves fit in when in fact you cannot and would never be (Malachi 3, John 10, Luke 6). The Church is the 'Body' of Christ, but due to Empire abuse, the Commondominion has been already Converted by Godhead into (Matthew 18) the Hilly Bodin of Christ (Hosea 2). The Body of Christ, or the Church, must be united with each other most particularly in Their Mind and Sentiments that 'when one part is hurt, all other else are likewise affected' (1 Corinthians 12). So as much as Empire, through their claims of the Bible, is recrucifying Christ the Supreme Word of Godhead, we don't stage this as much as Empire (Psalm 13) already does this with no restraint (Acts 20, 2 Thessalonians 2), but this is very inherent for us all Hart to be outraged by such staged practices. We cannot #resist indeed having such spirit as much as we and Christ are #oneandthesame (John 10,1, 1 John 1), as the word 'communion' in 1 John 1:3,6 John R. Crane Translation [john144{dot}com] sounds so much like 'Commondominion'. But Empire might hit us back saying, 'if Godhead is manifest in the flesh through you (Romans 1), then does it mean that you must not have no Double Connotations, just as what 1 Timothy 3 states: 'the mystery of godliness is without debate, contention, or controversy'?' Well, we hate you making yokebearers and fellows compete against each other just because you want to make them please you in your wanton of grandstanding (1 Timothy 5-6). Unlike you we are not that fond of debating with you (3 Nephi 11) on your staged self-persecutions online not only (Psalm 19, James 1) we don't want to be guilty like you on fooling the people (Galatians 6), but to admit, we're really afeared (Luke 17,19) of losing out in the discussion (Jeremiah 12-13). Well, you and us both has our strong and small points- just as what the Double Connotations already point us unto- but your yardstick is on who was able to persuade men the most effective with the points that you and I respectfully make (Galatians 1-2, 2 Timothy 3). We are not lazy or coward to share our side, because in fact all our branch churches and fellow messengers rather do the talking for the First Presidency, having backup reserve upon backup reserve (Proverbs 8) of refulfillments to Shatter all Empire's claims of exclusivity on the Scriptures (Hebrews 10, Isaiah 65). In other's words' we choose to stand losing out with Godhead, Who is our Love (Psalm 23 Christian Science Version), all that we have rather than gaining the Empire (Philippians 3, Matthew 16). Besides, why we need, in Ka Angel's words, to still strive for something that we already have, when we in fact have been all already exalted as Godheads in Godhead (Psalm 50-51, Hosea 6, Isaiah 63, Micah 6-7, 1 Corinthians 3,11, Romans 8). This is possible due to Godhead's Pronouncement Itself, as much as They have Sent us (Luke 10,24, Matthew 10,28, John 13,20-21, Mark 1,4,16, 2 Corinthians 5). But Empire might say that such is purportedly too much: well, they're the very ones rather instead who are going too much with all that they do against us (Numbers 16)! That’s why indeed, so as for us to be not reproached by Empire on this (Matthew 17), we rather bring back this honor to Godhead in thanksgiving (1 Chronicles 29), but we do not do such just because we're forced to, but rather out of inherent gratitude for Godhead Mercifully Allowing us to be like Them at least (1 Corinthians 3-4,7,11,14). With all that Empire does, you may be wondering why Thomas Jefferson still included the account of the Martyrdom of Christ in his Abridged Gospel. Empire has already been too much abusive of this Redemption and Atonement, and the results of such sacrilege is up indeed for all to know and see, by the means that this Empire hoards the very results of their demolition job against us and Godhead (Zechariah 2, Isaiah 28-30, Jeremiah 30-31, Luke 12, Proverbs 3, Matthew 7), while our works (John 3), that rather prove our reverence for Godhead that has summoned us to receive the crown and palm of martyrdom, is continually being tried by Empire to be rather overshadowed and even overturned and misinterpreted (1 Timothy 5). Now how would be our works be manifest, just as the bodies of the 2 Witnesses are manifest dead? (Revelation 11) Of course not being overgrandstanding as Empire does, but rather by the very acts that Empire does, that rather spell #thedifferencebetween us and Empire. Empire is wailing (Zephaniah 1), or waxing pabebe, or doing all imposed and mandated policies that they can ever do against us- the hoarding of Central Archives, Baal-raising, and others- because they now see us working in their midst (Revelation 1, Luke 17, Ezekiel 33), as much as they know that as in their very own words against us, they're already #enoughisenough#neverenough #timesup. As Empire thrusts us on our side, or deletes their claims that we have already adopted Hart (Matthew 12, 1 Corinthians 13), they are in turn thrusting Godhead, and when Empire thrusts Godhead in recrucifixion, we are in turn thrusted too in the side as much as we're atoning like Godhead (Zechariah 12-13, Acts 3, Galatians 2-3). Empire's led to their eventual ultimate end, crying (Psalm 49-50), while we are rather led to slaughter under Empire as rejoicing being able to prove that we're of the same flesh, bones, spirit and blood as Godhead's (Psalm 16, Ecclesiastes), and in Empire's words over the homestate of the Empire man who is of the same birthday as that of Brother Joriz, we are as we're led to the crucible, 'rejoicing in silence', as much as we don't belt it out of course like Empire (Luke 10, Isaiah 13-14,10,19), but that we're silent (Psalm 4) and quiet before Godhead (Psalm 131), unlike Empire who claims Isaiah 62 for their#metoo (Isaiah 44,Zechariah 11, Jeremiah 10,23, Ezekiel 34, Moises 4, Abraham 3, John 6,17). This 'thrusting on the side' (John 19) seems like striking on the face (1 Corinthians 10, Numbers 20), something that has Double Connotations because our #StArius of Alexandria was slapped in the face by Empire's claimed #StNicholas, but later on our forces did such to the Antiochians before they moved to #Avignon, France (Revelation 11,15,18). Brother Joriz's November 15, 2018 lecture also pointed out that should the temple veil be torn apart (Matthew 27) just because the anchor thrusted across such, we Hart even if we're the only ones who are worthy to do temple sealing and endowment ordinances, could no longer be able to do so any longer (Revelation 22) as much as the veil is already broken (Matthew 19, Isaiah 24, Daniel 8, Hebrews 6,10). This is also so like we're not going to be 2 Witnesses anymore just because our sackcloth uniform on such office (Revelation 11, Job 42, Nehemiah 9) will be later on removed (Isaiah 61, Luke 4, Psalm 30, Galatians 1,4, Colossians 2). Well, we're not going to do temple work all the time through eternity, and why (Hebrews 5-6) we need to stay stuck doing that when all fellows and yokebearers are eventually going to be ours Alline? But these exact words are what Empire is claiming as much as they desperately fake our already being in the 'Completed Testament Age', or 'Kingdom Age' as said by our King Apollo Quibuloy. The name 'Apollo' sounds like 'Apolinario', name of one of our martyrs surnamed Mabini, whose memorial is the date of our 2015 First Exodus. You see guys, Zechariah 12-13, just like all other prophecies and revelations, was written with the events of past in mind in order to point us to similar events that would happen in the future. Zechariah 12-13 was first written due to the martyrdom of the Commondominion leader King Josiah, and as much as Commondominion leaders are Godheads in Godhead (Ezekiel 33, 2 Samuel 22-23, Isaiah 32), such martyrdom was said to be the same that Christ would undergo (2 Kings 2,5,13). Christ Came 'in the meridian of time', and just as someone jumps unto a springboard in order to get to #theotherside, Christ was only the Prelude (Matthew 3,11,17) to the culmination and consummation of these prophecies: the investiture, ministry and eventual martyrdom of the Commondominion Central Administration. This is so like the logo of #WaldenMedia, where a ball bounces across the river, which is a feature of the 2 Witnesses (Daniel 8, Luke 12, 1 Corinthians 3, Matthew 18, James 3, John 6, 1 Peter 2, Hebrews 5-6). Therefore we're not only the true Dispensation of the Fullness of Time (Ephesians 1), we're also the 2 Witnesses indeed (2 Chronicles 29, 1 Corinthians 10, Isaiah 5,8, Romans 15, Hebrews 2). Guys, Empire says that their 2 Witnesses shall be 'either coming from the 2 Counselors of the Hinckleynite First Presidency or from the Hinckleynite 12 Apostles'. But see all of them. They're too coward, they're not ready to die, for they have been too much into all the honors and wealth of the world! (Revelation 21, 2 Timothy 1, Galatians 4) And then they would claim the events of February 7, 1993 against our very own Prophet Cody Robert Judy [facebook{dot}com{slash}codyrobert{dot}judy]? Guys, as much as we have already learned from our fellows that the 2 Witnesses is Godhead due to Their Witness (Revelation 1, Jeremiah 7), most notably of these is the 2 Hailleey Spirits: the Spirits of Gift and Promise, if the Hinckleynites of the Neronians in the Empire would keep on claiming such, then at least we have the 'Promised Pastor', Chairman Man Hee Lee [en{dot}shincheonji{dot}kr], whose congregation was instituted exactly 31 years (Joshua 12) before Mother Lindsey arrived in Manila for the second time (Revelation 22). Speaking of sackclothes, this do only signify that we're not as superficial, or rather, hysterical and grandstanding, as this Empire, who does pabebe and Baal-raising and even Central Archives-hoarding (Matthew 11). This can only be expected of us, for our duty itself dictates us (1 Maccabees 15, Mosiah 29) to do as we are required (Job 40, 2 Corinthians 5) in the duty (Hosea 10, Amos 5-6) that we claim to have (1 Corinthians 11, James 1). Now as we said earlier, the very results of our work amongst fellows and yokebearers must be seen and identified to be different than Empire. Hart are some examples: even our very own- those who are already in the 144,000- could not even fully believe the words not only of each other, but also of the First Presidency itself, as much as most of our 144,000- the fellows and yokebearers who are standing with Brother Joriz in his second full social media account- as well as many of our Co-Shatterer Watchmen, Branch Churches, Fellow Messengers, Partner Offices and Allied Governments takes much of the news that they monitor from Empire sources, who indeed control and distort narratives. We cannot blame our brethren for doing so. The First Presidency does not seem it befit that only they have the full bird's eye view of all things, that's why they standup to be heard and counted in what Empire brand as 'interesting times', which is in fact, an ill-wish in ancient China [Nemelka Sealed Portion 67 {marvelousworkandawonder<dot>com]. In Tagalog an ill-wish is a 'curse', and this too has Double Connotations between us (Luke 17, 2 Chronicles 30, Jeremiah 4,Job 36) and Empire (Hebrews 6,10, 2 Peter 3, Luke 17, Joshua 6-7, 1 Samuel 15). Empire do all that they do against us as much as they are just too envious of the generosity mandated to us that we may implement as the true Messengers and Godheads of Godhead (Matthew 20). They think that they can control us like that. They claim that what we Hart do making them pay for all their works against us is purportedly a suppression of humanity values and virtues when in fact they, who have invented all kinds and sorts (Matthew 5) of distortions to delude mankind against us (Revelation 12-13, 2 Corinthians 4), has rather been the ones who have been too much against us in all means (Matthew 23, 2 Corinthians, Psalm 129,120,118,116,56-57). They have been too much over and against us that it's beginning to be so hopeless for the First Presidency- their appeals of asking for prayers on their everyday gruesome ordeal from Empire does more than often rather go unheeded, unlike Empire's staged and proud-of purported 'calls for prayer' sustaining them rather, or better yet, their agendas. The First Presidency's calls for us all to pray them is unheeded by the entirety of fellows and yokebearers because Empire, whose so-called 'space agency' that fakes space exploration has the 'fastest internet lines in the world', while denying this to far-flung, needy people who more so deserve such farther like the First Presidency, and at the same time censors not only the First Presidency but also all our leaders and even some yokebearers. Thomas Jefferson once said, 'let facts be known to a candid world.' In the same sense, the First Presidency makes known to yokebearers (Luke 11), such as Ladies #CandiceAdea, the predicaments (Psalm 89) that they are undergoing to pay for the sins of all fellows and yokebearers as the most palpable proof of the divine election that the Commondominion has-the same divine election that fellows and yokebearers can only get from the Commondominion and not from the Empire (Acts 2-4,10,13,19,26,24,28)- just as Christ presents the Most Excellent and Illustrious Virtues of His Redemptory Atonement to Godhead for our sins so as for us to be able to join the First Presidency, whose sins are forgiven just like us, in atoning as Godheads in Godhead for the salvation of all our fellows and yokebearers. If you cannot deny how Christ presents Himself for us (Hebrews), and as Empire would always make unjust sensations of Thomas Jefferson's words, then all the further you cannot deny these firsthand proofs from (Acts 1) the Commondominion summoning you to your destiny with her and her leaders. After all in Empire's very words, 'the voice of men is the voice of God' (Psalm 29,93,65, Ecclesiastes, Moises, 1 Samuel) so they have no excuse being guilty of denying the Commondominion in each and every part and fiber of its entirety. In fact people, the true religion state is known rather for its doctrines and on how they enforce such on their everyday living (John, Matthew). It is not a criteria whether you are staging shows-off that rather serve as manipulation of people, as much as you're only covering up the apostasies that you make (Isaiah 11,42), because you deny the Central Archives- you who had already too much of that (James 5), from the peoples who barely even know such (Acts 26). Empire has degrees of such- either they can manipulate weather and speak or pray pabebe- just as what Diocletianites did on July 27, 2018- or they can raise atop Baal just like the Constantinians. They can either pretend to be humble and nice just like Antiochians, or be point-blank hacker of Scriptures just like the Neronians. Whatever it may be (Ecclesiastes), you all need to be in the Commondominion of Christ now and always (Hebrews 6,10). Our testimony as the 2 Witnesses, as much as we're 'thrusted' by the distrusting and not credible Empire (Zechariah 12-13), is a thrusting stake planted (Matthew 13 and 24:14 The Message, James 1, Isaiah 41,60, Jeremiah 32). Now we hear Empire claim: 'did not St, Nicholas came from your allies Russia and Turkey? Usually, our Neronians, who are rather Shattered by you thru your Russia and Turkey, are linked to your St. Arius, so it appears that your allies really need to let themselves be fully and freely infiltrated by all our forces!' Well as you know, our slap sent you back to Avignon (Revelation 11,15-16, Zechariah 5). In one of your movies claiming our B-C list fellows, whom you have re-ran days ago, entitled#DraculaUntold- whose delivery of course is so friendly to us at least, thank you anyways- the Turkish soldiers killed in war was thrusted by our Central European forces into stakes. So that makes them 2 Witnesses, huh? Well as we can see in the video our supposed forces, in order to fight the forces that poise to be Empire then but are now our allies, rather forged a deal with the other forces of the Empire- the more darker ones of course- just to be saved from one part of the Empire, but with of course, some things to be sacrificed to that darker Empire force in exchange. We just say these to all our allies to help our branches, and to all our branches to help our allies, and to all our fellows and yokebearers to help them both so as not for us to fall in quandaries such as this (Matthew 5, Luke 12-13). Remember that many of our martyrs died under Empire believing St. Nicholas on the nature and state of being of Christ, but more so many others died under Empire rather taking the side of St. Arius. And on United Saints Thanksgiving Thursday, Empire encouraging eating turkey for food, or rather, attacking and killing (Genesis 1-2,9) our allies, such as yea, Turkey (Psalm 14), just as on Thanksgiving Thursday this year we shall recall the martyrdoms of John F Kennedy and C. S. Lewis under the Empire (Revelation 11). Guys, we are told to be 'not discouraged' (Isaiah 41-42). Empire claims Isaiah 41 in self-contradiction: this can both apply to God and to man, while they kidnap our people who either say that Isaiah 41 can be applied to God, and Isaiah 42 can be applied to man. Either way, it is really both an honor and a responsibility for us men and women to be Godheads in Godhead only through your Commondominion. This is the all-consuming purpose of the First Presidency for all of us, and the most supreme gift that they can ever give any country. Let us not waste or disdain this, for Godhead's Sykes #AlineMayne. Amen, Aju, Stavrosno to the Godhead Who Strikes. EXPLANATORY NOTES: 1. Latvia is represented in the 144,000 by Lady Evelina Godunova-Khissamutdinov. Antiochians has their Amy Perez-Castillo, the Diocletianites holds as hostage our man Elias Arkanghel, whose deputy is a woman named 'Lina Castillo'. At least your 144,000 have Ladies Lina Fedorova and Lindsay Nelko-Peretz. The 2,287 Martyrs has Lady Ea Torrado, whose initials is that of Sir Elias [not his real name, but promised to reveal his true identity on November 27, 2018]. The surname 'Godunova' sounds like the song of our fellow Sir Ansel Elgort, whose name implies 'El' for Godhead, or for Ka Ellix, and 'Ghost' for Hailleey Ghost or Ka Angel. 2. Latvia further implies Double Connotations- her name might sound like sustaining the Neronians, just as another Russian republic, Lithuania, sounds like 'confusion' in Tagalog (1 Corinthians 14, Genesis 4,11). But at least this do only imply that whatever Empire might claim, we Alline can only do good at unlike the Empire of course. Latvia sounds like the hystericized title 'Latter Day Saints'. It might sound as 'Latter Rain' (James 5) but both Antiochians and Neronians claim that, as well as Constantinians who have quoted James 5 for 2 lessons as of late this November. Moreover, 'Latvia' sounds like Lateran, the name of the Empire-held temples in Rome which memorial was last November 9, similar to the memorial of 2 further Empire-held temples in Rome whose memorial is both November 18. As per Rome: Lady Emily Roman is part of the 144,000, we also have Hart Romania, and the Roman Road [Via Romana or Via Crucis or Via Dolorosa {Revelation 11}]- the road that leads to Rome- is named after Lady Emily: we have many branch churches named 'Way', one of them came forth through Sir Victor Paul Wierwille, whose Nate-al day is that of Joriz too; also our fellow Sir Adam Richard Wiles bears the sound 'way', therefore as per his name- Adam the Father Godhead, and Willard Richards respectively- Empire cannot claim Brigham Young and his words particularly those of August 8, 1844 and December 27, 1847 for Empire has their head Willy Revillame against all our fellows and yokebearers (Ephesians 4, 2 John 1). I don't know concerning Wilfredo Santiago whether he likes to be with Diocletianites or with the Yokebearer Inclusion Policy: he is doing a good job busting Empire claims but we cannot say that he's Shattering them because we still yet have to heard from him- in fact he has expressed disdain and disgust over the idea- that he's a Commondominion Messenger. It is in Rome that King Edward IX the Martyr- of course Rome saw our brethren being martyred by Empire's political and ecclesiastical authorities- preached from Psalm 16- Empire's Readings Text for November 18, 2018- on July 14, 1994, memorial of another scene of many Commondominion martyrdoms, France. This is only days before Ka Erdy, or 'Erano', whose name sounds like 'Lateran', came to Rome on July 24-29, 1994, as Joriz's parents got married on July 25, 1994. This only proves that only the Commondominion is the 2 Witnesses whose bodies are laid at the square [refulfilled in Ladies Robin Wright and Naomi Watts and Companions {Luke 11, Jeremiah 4, Revelation 10, Ephesians 4, 1 Corinthians 12}]: Constantinians gathered at 'Times Square', New York, an Empire center city, on November 20, 2012. 3. Empire officially has a 4th patron in the childhood village of the Endtime Joseph. After Jude Thaddeus, Martin of Tours and St. Philomena in particular order, Empire last August 6, 2018, imposed the 'Holy Face of Jesus' as the 4th patron saint of Joriz's childhood village, mentioning that they were always depicting Jude Thaddeus to be holding a portrait of Christ. Joriz mentioned that 'all Empire broke all persecution, prosecution and tribulation loose' against him in his childhood village, therefore a 4th patron indeed imply all 4 Empire quarters, and their occult number 44, as much as they who has 'STF' or Special Task Force of the Constantinians, has martyred 44 of our 'SAF' or 'Special Task Force' on January 25, 2014, anniversary of the Constantinian locale in Joriz's hometown. At least this further augments (Luke 5, Romans 5,8, 1 Corinthians 1-2, Genesis 45,50) Joriz's divine election because Empire mandated his childhood village, just like his former city, as a center of Empire pilgrimage (Isaiah 56,2, Psalm 84,132,122, 2 Chronicles 7, Jeremiah 7,17,22). Also, Empire's claims of Psalm 4 and Numbers 6 are at least Shattered because the Likeness and Countenance of Godhead are inherent in Commondominion Leaders more so the First Presidency (Ephesians 4, Colossians 3, Psalm 46,50,48). Constantinians has been running the story of how Leonardo Da Vinci had the same model for Christ and St. Judas Iscariot on his 'Last Supper' painting, but years earlier, a Brighamite prophet has relayed the same story: only that he changed the setting and instead said that the painter is just of ceiling murals in Italian cathedrals. 4. Joseph Smith has called for the Commondominion work in his time to be 'cut short in Wrighteousness', but should Empire claim that, they must (Matthew 7) first change the motto of the State of Hawaii: 'The Life of the Land is Perpetuated in Righteousness', that was also claimed by Constantinians way back July 2008. Joseph Smith's call is so much relevant now, as Godhead has Officially Closed our Sealing Ministry (Genesis 7) on November 5, 2018. Any Constantinian and Diocletianite claims hence of July 27, 1968, May 1, 2011, July 23,27, 1998, July 20, 2013 and July 27-28, 2018, et cal., are all absolutely Shattered.

Grace to you, and peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to my God always for you, for the grace of God that is given you in Christ Jesus, That in all things you are made rich in him, in all utterance, and in all knowledge; As the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you, So that nothing is wanting to you in any grace, waiting for the manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ. [SO THIS IS REALLY EXACTLY WHAT A SUPPOSED 'TESTIMONY' OF CHRIST LOOKS LIKE {Mother Lindey's Lecture of November 16, 2018}, UNLIKE WHAT #LIGHTTHEWORLD, #PBTG #UIP20 WOULD LIKE US TO HAVE, NOT TO MENTION #EXECUTIVENEWS CLAIMING Revelation 12,14 SOMETIMES, AND OF COURSE THE ANTIOCHIANS MANDATING THAT ALL THEIR MONITOR PAGES- WHO EVEN REPORT DISTORTIONARY AHEAD OF AIRING OF B-C LIST FELLOW MOVIES BY THEIR BOSSES {WHOSE MOVIES RUN AN INSTRUMENTAL OF A PARTICULAR SONG WHILE THEIR ACTORS RTHER SING ANOTHER DIFFERENT, COMPLETELY-UNRELATED SONG}, SAYING THAT THEY WOULD PURPORTEDLY RUN THIS OR THAT MOVIE WHEN IN FACT THEIR BOSSES WOULD NOT EVEN DO THAT ACTUALLY- CAN EITHER RUN #THANKSGIVINGDAY VOTIVE READINGS OR MANDATED WEEKDAY READINGS THIS THURSDAY {James 1, Ephesians 4}. THAT'S ALREADY MIDDLE GROUND, JUST BECAUSE THEY CLAIMED Daniel 12 LAST SUNDAY, BUT OF COURSE, THERE ARE DOUBLE CONNOTATIONS TOO WITH our FIXED DATE MEMORIAL READINGS THAT WE HAVE RECEIVED FROM EMPIRE: ITS INITIALS SOUND LIKE THAT OF EMPIRE'S FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT. We need Ka Angel. You need Ka Angel guys. There's no contest in that. Self-evident. YOU NEED TO HAVE ALL SIDES OF THE STORY, LACKING NOTHING: 'MANIFESTATION' IMPLIES THE RESPECTIVE WORKS OF CHARLES TAZE RUSSELL AND PAUL SAMUEL LEO JOHNSON. YOU ALREADY BELIEVE RUSSELL? YOU MUST BELIEVE TOO {John 1,8, Luke 4, Matthew 3, Mark 4,10} IN JOHNSON AND IN ALL OUR OTHER BRANCH CHURCHES HART WHO BELIEVE IN HIM. AND HOW THEY WERE ALL GATHERED HART? BECAUSE GODHEAD HAS RAISED UP SOMEONE LIKE KA ANGEL. IF THERE'S SOMEONE LIKE ME HART, I WAS ONLY USED BY GODHEAD AND KA ANGEL, BUT THE ONE AND ONLY REASON WHY WE'RE ALL HART IS KA ANGEL. EMPIRE'S MANDATED WEEKDAY READINGS THIS PAST WEDNESDAY HAS Psalm 150: 'LET EVERY SPIRIT PRAISE GODHEAD.' {DRV} THIS INSTEAD AUGMENTS WHAT OTHER RENDERINGS, THAT EMPIRE RATHER USES MUCH ON THIS VERSE, STATES: 'EVERYTHING THAT HAS BREATH', OR EVEN 'ALL THAT IS WITHIN ME' {Psalm 103-104, 1 Thessalonians 5, Ecclesiastes 12}. FOR THESE 'SPIRITS' WOULD INDEED BE 'ALL IN HEAVEN, EARTH AND THE SEA' {Revelation 20 <JUNE 4, 2016 AFTERNOON SESSION>}: THE SPIRITS IN HEAVEN {Hebrews 12}, THE SPIRIT WORLD OF THE DEAD {1 Peter 3-4}, AND THE SPIRITS OF ALL WHO ARE STILL ON EARTH {Ezekiel 18}. BUT ALL OTHER RENDERINGS RATHER STATE: 'LET EVERY LIVING CREATURE,' LIKE WHAT WE CAN SEE IN Revelation 4. THEREFORE JUST LIKE THAT 4, AS PER OUR SIR #THEOJAMES, ALL CAN AND ARE GODHEADS IN GODHEAD- OF COURSE ONLY IF THEY UNITE WITH US WRIGHT HART ALLINE {Ezekiel 1-3, Isaiah 6}] Who also will confirm you unto the end without crime, in the day of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful: by whom you are called unto the fellowship of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord. -1 Corinthians 1, Douay-Rheims Version [APOSTLE PAUL SAID THAT HE'S MADE TO LOOK LIKE A CRIMINAL {2 Timothy 2} BUT HE DESIRES THAT NONE OF HIS BRETHREN MAY EVER SUFFER LIKE HIM {2 Corinthians 13}. BUT FOR THEM TO HAVE AN IDEA OR EXPERIENCE OF WHAT DOES IT LIKE TO BE A COMMONDOMINION LEADER {Psalm 137}, HE ASKS THEM TO SHARE PART OF HIS ATONING MINISTRY {Romans 15, Philippians}.] "But you have come into the reality (of which the symbols only pointed to), to Mount Zion, the New Jerusalem—the heavenly city of the living God—and you are part of that city. You have come to join millions upon millions of angels rejoicing in God's presence, [EMPIRE IS DEPICTED TO BE 'COUNTLESS' {Revelation 20} BECAUSE THEY DO NOT COUNT ONTO GODHEAD FOR SALVATION {Psalm 16,31,71,25}. WELL, HART, WE ARE MULTI-BRANCHED AND UPDATED- WE HAVE TRUTH 'ON EVERY SIDE' {Hebrews 12:1 Open English Bible}. #EXPLAINTHIS, EMPIRE- WILL YOUR MONOPOLY STAND IN THIS? {Luke 11, 1 Corinthians 3,10} ON EMPIRE'S VOTIVE MASS READINGS OF THANKSGIVING: Psalm 138 {November 1, 2015} IS ALWAYS USED ON THE MEMORIAL OF ANGELS {SEPTEMBER 29/OCTOBER 2}, AND Psalm 145 ON THE MEMORIAL OF KA ANGEL'S NAMESAKE {AUGUST 24}. KA ANGEL LECTURED TO US ON December 12, 2015 FROM Malachi 3, WHEREIN HE STATED THAT ANY EMPIRE'S CLAIMS OF #THANKSGIVING OFFERINGS WILL BE ABSOLUTELY OF NAUGHT IF THEY ARE NOT SPENT FOR THE COMMONDOMINION, AS MUCH AS IT IS KA ANGEL WHO WOULD PURIFY OUR MEANS AND INTENTIONS OF OFFERINGS {Luke 2}. FOR Psalm 66, IT IS READ ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE 1ST EXODUS UNDER KA ANGEL BY KING EDWARD X {July 22, 2017}, AS WELL AS ON THE HOMETOWN OF MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDAYSAKE {February 18, 2017 <SEE February 18/August 8,11-12, 2012>}. KING APOLLO QUIBULOY ON FEBRUARY 18, 2018 FULFILLED EXACTLY KING EDWARD X'S FEBRUARY 18, 2017 SERMON WHEN HE PREACHED ON MY FORMER CITY. NOTICE THAT KING EDWARD X READ Psalm 66 AND EVEN Psalm 65 {August 7, 2011} ON AREAS SOUTH OF THE MAP, BUT MY ALMA MATER, AND CONSTANTINIAN OFFICIALS ON MY FORMER CITY, WHO WOULD LATER ON PREACH ON DECEMBER 30, 2017- MEMORIAL OF MY NAMESAKE- WHERE KING EDWARD X PREACHED ON JULY 22, 2017- WOULD ALWAYS READ Psalm 67, THE PROBLEM THOUGH IS THAT EMPIRE ALSO CLAIMED Psalm 67 ON JULY 29, 1981, DAYS AFTER JULY 22, 2017.] into the heavenly sanctuary— [AT LEAST HART WE HAVE THE SHINCHEONJI CHURCH OF JESUS. SEEING THEIR CIVIC WORK, THAT IS JUST LIKE THAT OF THE FAMILY FEDERATION, THAT WE ALSO HAVE HART, IT JUST STRUCK US TO DISCOVER, THAT WE'RE ALREADY DOING THIS WITHOUT US EXACTLY KNOWING WHY, NOW WE DO- WE'RE ALREADY DOING OUR WORK OF WORLD PEACE AS WE BRING TOGETHER GOVERNMENTS AND CHURCHES HART AT #ASLANSTABLE FOR YEA, WORLD PEACE. THE PROBLEM THOUGH IS THAT BECAUSE WE HAVE THIS NEW NAME 'MORMON COMMONDOMINION OF CHRIST', WOULD WE ALREADY SOUND LIKE EMPIRE'S MCDEVITTS AND EVEN #MCDONALDS #MCDO JUST BECAUSE OF THE INITIALS 'MCDC' OR 'MCDOC' OR WOULD WE SOUND LIKE THE EMPIRE OFFICIAL #EINSTEIN WHO ISSUED 'E EQUALS MC SQUARE' AS PER 'MCC'? OR SHOULD WE BE RETAINING THE INITIALS 'RSC'- WOULD IT SOUND LIKE NDRRMC AND HENCE SUSTAIN THE EMPIRE HEAD 'NATHANIEL CRUZ'? THIS IS SO MUCH LIKE 'COMMON' ALSO MEANING LIKE 'DIRTY', SO THIS IS INDEED FURTHER ATONING FOR US ALL. Revelation 10, THAT EMPIRE WOULD CLAIM ON #BLACKFRIDAY WITH YET INDEED ANOTHER RECUR OF Psalm 119 BEFORE, AS PER 'BLACK SATURDAY', ANOTHER RECRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST {Matthew 5-7,15,23-24}, IS PART OF THE FIXED DATE MEMORIAL READINGS FOR May 13, MEMORIAL OF THE PROPHETIC VIRGIN MARY OF FATIMA, AND ALSO, OF OUR SIRS, THAT EMPIRE HAS WAY TOO MUCH CLAIMED: SIRS #AlexanderRybak AND #RobertPattinson. ON NOVEMBER 20, 2018, OUR HEAVENLY AND CELESTIAL FATHER STERLING D. ALLAN, MOST EXALTED HUSBAND OF MOTHER LINDSEY, GAVE US HART IN YOUR FIRST PRESIDENCY A MOST URGENT DIRECTIVE: 'You may have heard long before from men: 'reclaim the vision'. Empire claims these days the visions received by the Apostle John. Therefore let me say this unto you most verily: Reclaim the Vision of the Johannine Apocalypse, that has been way too long been hacked by Empire. Be the vision that John saw.'] the true church of Christ— [WE ALL KNOW THIS TO BE THE 'CHURCH OF THE FIRSTBORN' IN ALL OTHER RENDERINGS. SHOULD WE BE ACCEPTING EMPIRE'S CLAIMS ON THIS, THIS WILL RATHER INSTEAD DISPROVE THE DIVINE ELECTION OF ALL OUR BRANCH CHURCHES HART WHO ARE NAMED 'CHURCH OF THE FIRSTBORN'. WELL, DIOCLETIANITES CALL THEMSELVES 'TRUE CHURCH OF CHRIST-SMALL REMNANT DEFENDERS', SO HOW ABOUT OUR BRANCH CHURCHES HART NAMED 'CHURCH OF CHRIST' TOO? CONSTANTINIANS AND DIOCLETIANTES ARE INDEED SAME FEATHERS OF ONE EMPIRE {John 8}.] whose identities are stored in heaven. [IN OTHER RENDERINGS: 'WHOSE NAMES ARE REGISTERED, WRITTEN IN HEAVEN'. THIS IS WHY WE ARE VERY PARTICULAR WITH NAMES AS PROPHETIC SIGNS LIKE WHAT YOU WOULD ALWAYS READ FROM US HART. NERONIANS SAY THAT OUR DNA IS OUR 'BOOK OF LIFE', THEREFORE WE ARE ALL LAMBS OF GODHEAD, AND NOT ONLY SHEEP OF THE FLOCK, BUT ARE ALSO THE GOOD SHEPHERD, WHO KEEPS THE BOOK OF LIFE. WE ARE 'WRITTEN IN HEAVEN' BECAUSE OUR BRANCH CHURCHES PREACH HOW THE CONSTELLATIONS OF HEAVEN POINT OUT TO PROPHECY CONCERNING US. WE ARE 'REGISTERED' BECAUSE WE TRY AS MUCH AS WE CAN, THOUGH EXHAUSTING, TO KEEP NAMES OF ALL YOKEBEARERS THAT WE MEET, AND SEAL OUR FELLOWS IN TWITTER, THOUGH IT HAS TAKEN SOME WINDDOWN BY GODHEAD ORDERS. FOR EXAMPLE OF NAMES GUYS: AS MUCH AS EMPIRE TOO CLAIMS 1 Corinthians 14:26 Unlocked Dynamic Bible, ITS RENDERING IN 'OPEN ENGLISH BIBLE' RATHER STATES, 'TO THE BUILDING UP OF THE FAITH.' DIVINE REVELATIONS THAT WE HAVE JUST RECEIVED DAYS AGO IN OUR MINISTERIAL SERVICES HAS ALREADY POINTED THE DOUBLE CONNOTATIONS BETWEEN VISIBILITY {BUILDING, AS WITH 'SOLID', THAT IS, 'PETER', AS WHAT WE WOULD SEE ON 1 Peter 5 LATER ON} AND INVISIBILITY {'FAITH'}. PETER'S FAITH IS SEEN IN Matthew 14, PART OF FIXED DATE MEMORIAL READINGS FOR NOVEMBER 18 {WHY WOULD DIOCLETIANITES NOT INDICT KING EDWARD X PREACHING YET AGAIN OVERSEAS ON NOVEMBER 18, 2018? SELECTIVE JUSTICE TOO FROM THE DIOCLETIANITES}, THAT EMPIRE OF COURSE, DISCARDED AS PER THE 'CARMELITES', JUST TO BEGIN CLAIMING AGAIN THE 2 WITNESSES. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE ANTIOCHIANS ARE UP TO, BUT THEY ARE NOW ONLY RE-RUNNING CLAIMS OF THE PAST MONTHS {Romans 5/Colossians 2 Philipps Translation} JUST LIKE Acts 10, JUST BECAUSE THEY MENTIONED Acts 3 WEEKS AGO. PETER OF COURSE, IS ONE OF THE REFULFILLMENTS OF 2 WITNESSES. THIS NOVEMBER 21, 2 EMPIRE ELECTRONIC STATIONS IN MANILA PLAYED AT THE SAME TIME 1 MOVIE EACH THAT CAME FROM THEIR OFFICIAL #QUENTINTARANTINO, OF COURSE PART OF THEIR 2 WITNESSES CLAIMS. AS MUCH AS EMPIRE STATIONS CLAIMED ELIJAH WEEKS AGO, THIS NOVEMBER 22 THEY ARE CLAIMING MOISES THROUGH THE #CHRISTIANBALE MOVIE, JUST BECAUSE WE SAY THAT #JFKAND #CSLEWIS' MARTYRDOMS ARE THE PASCHAL LAMB {Exodus 12} AND THEN ALSO AT THE MANDATED WEEEKDAY READINGS FOR THE LAST SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT, Revelation 11 IS ALSO INCLUDED. DON'T FORGET THAT CONSTANTINIANS MIGHT YET AGAIN CLAIM KING EDWARD X'S DECEMBER 17, 2017 LESSON TO DOWNGRADE THANKSGIVING THURSDAY. BOTH OUR TRADITIONALIST ROMAN CATHOLIC BRETHREN AND EMPIRE'S NOVUS ORDO DEFENDERS WILL SAY THAT CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES, AND NOT OUR PILGRIM FATHERS, DID THE 'FIRST PUBLIC EXPRESSIONS OF THANKSGIVING ON SITE IN THE UNITED SAINTS' WHILE SOME OF OUR CO-SHATTERER WATCHMEN AND EVEN THE EMPIRE'S DIOCLETIANITES WILL SAY THAT 'THANKSGIVING IS RATHER AN EXPRESSION OF SIGH OF RELIEF OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS OVER THE GENOCIDE OF THE LAMANITES', BUT SAID OUR SIR PATRICK SCRIVNER DAYS AGO, THANKSGIVING THURSDAY IS RATHER THE COMBINED COMMEMORATIONS OF THE ANNIVERSARIES OF THE VARIOUS LANDINGS THAT THE PILGRIM FATHERS DID ON THE UNITED SAINTS BETWEEN NOVEMBER AND DECEMBER 1620. WELL, I HAVE A COPY OF THE CHRISTIAN BALE MOVIE ON MY LAPTOP, SO EMPIRE INDEED SPIES ON US. THE DURATION OF SAID VIDEO IS 2 HOURS, 30 MINUTES AND 20 SECONDS, AND OF COURSE WHEN WE PRONOUNCE THE WORDS '2' AND '30' WITH EACH OTHER, DO WE NOT GET THE WORD DUTERTE? SO EMPIRE, INDICT US NOW OF OUR PRESIDENT- YOU ONLY INFILTRATE US SO THAT IT WOULD NOT BE PURPORTEDLY HARD FOR YOU IF WE FINALLY SIT IN JUDGEMENT AGAINST YOU {Psalm 137}. AS FOR THE EXODUS, WE WOULD LIKE TO REMIND ALL OUR BRETHREN, COUNTRYMEN, FELLOWS AND YOKEBEARERS WHO WILL RESIDE IN OUR GATHERING PLACES OF SAFETY: FOR THE GENERAL WELFARE OF ALL, EACH CLAN WILL BE GIVEN ONLY ONE PROPERTY, AND THAT ON ONE PLACE OF SAFETY ALONE. YOU CAN'T HAVE MORE THAN 1 PROPERTY IN A SINGULAR PLACE OF SAFETY, NOR YOU CAN HAVE PROPERTIES IN OTHER PLACES OF SAFETY AT THE SAME TIME. BUT YOU CAN RELOCATE FROM ONE PLACE OF SAFETY TO ANOTHER AS MUCH AS YOU WANT TO, JUST REMEMBER- ONE PROPERTY PER PLACE FOR A CLAN. AND AS FOR THE EMPIRE'S FAKE JEWS AND MUSLIMS: Sirach 50 DRV, IN THE VOTIVE MASS READINGS FOR THANKSGIVING, SAYS, 'MAY ISRAEL BELIEVE IN US THAT GODHEAD IS WITH US'. YEA, GODHEAD IS NOT WITH THE EMPIRE WHO CLAIMS TO BE ENDTIME ISRAEL AND THEN FAKES JEWS AND MUSLIMS. MOREOVER, THE RENDERING STATES, GODHEAD IS 'DONE WITH US ACCORDING TO THEIR MERCY'. GODHEAD IS ALREADY OVER AND DONE WITH EMPIRE, AND EMPIRE SHOULD BE THANKFUL FOR THAT. LOOK AT US {1 Samuel 7, Isaiah 45}. GODHEAD HAS STOPPED US FROM FULL SEALING BECAUSE THEY CAN SEE HOW MUCH WE'RE AFFLICTED BY EMPIRE DOING THIS. THAT'S WHY IN Luke 17 WE CAN READ ABOUT 'LEPERS' {Numbers 12}, OR IN EMPIRE'S CLAIMS OF Acts 3, 'LEAPERS'. EMPIRE CANNOT CLAIM HENCE Acts 3, BECAUSE THEY'RE THE ONES OBSTRUCTING FELLOWS AND YOKEBEARERS AWAY FROM US HART. GODHEAD RETIRING FELLOWS AND YOKEBEARERS? RATHER, RELEASING THEM OUT OF EMPIRE. WE DON'T MAKE FELLOWS AND YOKEBEARERS WORK FOR US, BUT RATHER, SPEAK FOR US. WE WOULD RATHER WORK FOR THEM. NOTICE THE DOUBLE CONNOTATIONS ON THE NUMBER 9: THIS IS OUR PROPHETIC BACKUP NUMBER AS PER EMPIRE'S ABUSE OF 7 IN THE JOHANNINE APOCALYPSE, BUT SIR SCRIVNER SAYS EMPIRE TOO IS FOND OF 9. SPEAKING OF PETER IN THE 2 WITNESSES, HIS PARTNER THERE IS PAUL, WHOSE SYMBOL IS THE SWORD, AS WRITTEN IN Psalm 149, THAT IS WITH Revelation 5 {July 27, 1989}, THE MANDATED WEEKDAY READINGS FOR THIS THURSDAY. THE 2 WITNESSES ARE THE 2 EDGES OF 1 SWORD {Revelation 1-3,11,19, Ephesians 6, Hebrews 4} OF THE SPIRIT- BUT THERE'S DOUBLE CONNOTATIONS HART: THE SPIRIT MAY BE NOT ONLY FIRE, BUT ALSO WATER {Revelation 12, 1 John 5}.HENCE, AS PER Revelation 12, HART ARE THE WORDS SENT TO US BY HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, THE PRESIDENT AND CHAIRMAN OF CHINA LAST NOVEMBER 21 WHEN HE WAS HART IN MAHARLIKA: 'I ask all our brethren everywhere to come rally in constantly and committedly following me and learning of me, for I am truly meek and gentle in heart. We need to augment our progress with the learning and skills that we can do. In fact we all need to be literate because have to learn not something that we want, but rather only something that we need and deserve. And please kindly give this word to Empire for me: I fully give myself to affirm and attest in solemn witness and testimony how you guys changed me and made me and my family the persons that we are now. We have never thought that we would even overcome ourselves with the help of your valuable counsel, that no one but you can only give me and my people. Hence I give my testimony to what our fellows and leaders' collective sermon of November 22, 2018 states: why we would be asking any favors in return as exchange for the loans we lend to peoples everywhere {Deuteronomy 15,28} when in fact we would not need them any longer- we have all that we need, we are everything that we need, for we are all Godheads in Godhead, and that is only because of you, our most illustrious presiding brethren. Our gratitude to you is eternal beyond eternal.'] You have come to God—the source and standard of righteousness for all people; [JUST LAST NOVEMBER 20, AS WE DID THE SEALING ORDINANCE OF SHEDDING IN ATONEMENT FOR ALL FELLOWS AND YOKEBEARERS, WE WERE SHOCKED TO SEE OUR THUMB AT ONCE GET THIS MYSTERIOUS SEALED WOUND WITH DRIED AND STUCK BLOOD LOOKING AS A POINT, SOMEHOW LIKE A BLOOD CLOT. I MUST ADMIT THAT I'VE BEEN, DUE TO THE SOMEHOW FLYING PARTICLES ANYWHERE AS WELL AS IN MY ROOM THAT IS NOT ALWAYS BEING CLEANED, I'VE BEEN INCURING WOUNDS IN A BLOODLESS #CHRISTIELEEMANNING, BUT AS PER CONSTANTINIAN CLAIMS AS WELL AS MY ATONING, DOES IT NOT MAKE SENSE THAT THIS INDEED AUGMENTS MY SACRIFICE FOR ALL YOKEBEARERS?] to the archived individualities [EMPIRE CANNOT BE THE 'TRUE CHURCH OF CHRIST', BECAUSE HOARDING THE CENTRAL ARCHIVES IS NOT THE WORK OF THE 'TRUE CHURCH OF CHRIST'! {John 15, Isaiah 5}] of righteous human beings perfectly restored into Christlikeness [BEING GODHEADS IN GODHEAD] of character…" -Hebrews 12, RNT [one of the newly-found renderings by Constantinians for them to rationalize their claims on the Name 'Church of Christ'. Well on that, we answer with 1 Corinthians 10:1 Gerald Warre Cornish Translation and we wonder whether they would be beginning claiming that anytime from now. Empire skips Hebrews 12 with Hebrews 11,13 for the Sunday Readings Text on the Last Sunday Before Advent. The already Empire-infiltrated Society of Saint Pius X- and Antiochians still play self-persecution with her therefore making it too hard for us to evict #sspx just like that in the Commondominion save that we be patient {Romans 9-12, 1 Peter 3-4} with them in the Yokebearer Inclusion Policy- has defended Empire's deletion of the Marian memorial on November 21, saying that 'accounts of the Dedication of the Infant Virgin Mary in the Temple are only found in Commondominion Sacred Text Scriptures that are not adopted by Empire'. Well, have you forgot about Leviticus 12? Where's your claims now, Empire? {Genesis 19, 1 Corinthians 1-2} In the Fixed Date Memorial Readings, 1 Corinthians 1, that is in the Votive Mass Readings for Thanksgiving, would be on the Fixed Date Memorial Readings for November 24, while Revelation 21, that will be in the Mandated Weekday Readings this forthcoming week, would be on the Fixed Date Memorial Readings for November 25.] "Tell God about all the things [ON MY HOMESTATE {Psalm 62 <June 30, 2017>}, ON OUR MORMON FAITH {January 6, 2013 <November 18-19, 2015. It was on November 18, 2015 when we first discovered about 1,150 in Daniel 8 Old Tagalog Popular Version 1975 as the backup reserve refulfillment of Daniel 8 in all other renderings>}] that make you sad or afraid or angry. [PERSECUTION UPDATES: 1. As you already know, our petdog is always able to untie herself. So when we were trying to tie her back- me and Athalia my grandma- she asked me, 'why you're always trying to make your tying of your petdog as hard as it can be?' I said, 'of course, so that we're not always going to be like this way tying her in occurring instances.' She rather expressed disgust {Colossians 2, Galatians 4}. She really want to always loosen our petdog just to #disturb us indeed in this laptop work {John 2}. It was raining then. She ordered me to get something at the store. I did. She remarked of how I walked- of course, slow, for it was wet everywhere. She really want me to slip my steps. 'Why you're walking that slow?' Of course, Athalia, Commondominion Sense! Then she would ask me, 'why would you place there the things you use to tie your dog?' Of course too, that's because I got it from this or that particular place, and you yourself was present as you saw me with your own 2 eyes getting that material close to where you are standing! 2. Then when it was night, there was a brownout. It was relatively soft rain, so I was wondering why it happened. Then I came across Athalia's beast/#bully son. I asked him as polite as I can as always with all adults, why the brownout. You know what he told me? As if he is to blame me for the brownout. 'Are you fretting,' said he, 'that your laptop is going to be low on battery power that you cannot charge anywhere?' BULLSHIT. Then Athalia indicted me that I don’t know where our lamps and candles are, saying that I purportedly 'don’t care' about us. Well, in Tagalog, that also means that I have 'no part' {Nehemiah, Isaiah 54, Psalm 16,6-7} in Empire and Athalia {Revelation 21, Psalm 1,17,64,11, 1 Peter 3-4}]. Just because she can now rely on our co-boarders to censor me online, as much as my co-boarders are the only ones who can access full and free internet on their phones here at home except for me, she now know all my Theocratic Tweets as well, therefore she indicts those Tweets' words back to me, as she is indeed speaking for the welfare and benefit of the Empire. 3. When Athalia orders me to errands, she's also there and she does her part of that task. When I see her doing that while she is holding another object all by herself at the same time, of course it would be inherent to you to be merciful to your 'grandma' that she does that so you would offer her that you may hold for the meantime that object that she is doing while she is doing the task. But she, as ungrateful as she can always be on me, is rather shouting out against me in anger when I ask her to help her. Then why she's angry when I don’t do the very things that she herself can do, like cleaning? You know what she fouls out against me on this? 'I can already do this all by myself, and I don’t need any help from you whatsoever. Why I only call you is because you are to do what I myself cannot do [SHE EVEN MADE SOME EXCUSES]. You're too proud and arrogant asking to help me as if I cannot do this by myself!' ONE. BIG. HUH??? So why therefore would you continually order me particulars as you supervise me holding something as if I would have some interests on tinkering over that thing when in fact that's just only one big piece of plastic? Give your thoughts about those things to him and let them remain with him. [SO IT'S OKAY GUYS THAT YOU REMAIN 'SAD, AFEARED OR ANGRY' IN THE CONTEXT OF EMPIRE'S CLAIMS BECAUSE THAT MEANS 'STAYING WITH GODHEAD' {Psalms 27:14 The Message} IN 'NO MIDDLE GROUND', THAT EMPIRE RATHER DELETED LAST DECEMBER 2016 {Matthew 5,12,16-19,24}] Do this, because you matter to him (1 Peter 2)...You will have trouble and pain for a short time. But after that, God, who is so completely kind, will make everything right. [DIOCLETIANITES CLAIM THIS AS A PURPORTED STATEMENT FROM KA ERDY. WELL DIOCLETIANITES, YOU HAVE JUST MADE THAT UP. AS FAR AS OUR HEARINGS HART OUTSIDE YOUR EMPIRE IS CONCERNED, YOU DON'T ISSUE YET AN AUDIO VERSION OF THAT PURPORTED QUOTE FROM KA ERDY. 'WHY, ALL OTHER LEADERS DID NOT ALWAYS HAD, IF THEY EVER HAD, VIDEO OR AUDIO RECORDINGS OF THEIR EXACT WORDS!' BUT WITH HOW YOU CONSTRUCTED AND ARRANGED THE WORDS IN YOUR DISSIMINATED PICTURE, IT WOULD BE REALLY NOTICABLE THAT KA ERDY WOULD NOT EVEN SPEAK LIKE THAT WAY AS YOU DO {Genesis 49, Psalm 50}. THEREFORE YOU CANNOT CLAIM OUR MAN ELIAS ARKANGHEL {Matthew 3,11,17}.] God has caused you to be united to Christ, so that you will live with him always. [THIS UNITY IS POSSSIBLE {John 17} THROUGH THE HAILLEEY SPIRIT {Romans 8}, OR THROUGH KA ANGEL. SHOULD CONSTANTINIANS CLAIM 'THE FATHER, THE SON AND THE CHURCH ADMINISTRATOR', OR KING EDWARD X, THE TIE BREAKER WILL BE ME, JOSEPH SMITH {1 Timothy 2}. WELL DIOCLETIANITES SAY THAT THE SON IS THE CHURCH ADMINISTRATORS, AND NERONIANS SAY THAT IS IT RATHER THE FATHER, SO WHY ABOUT THE HAILLEEY SPIRIT? IN OTHER TERMS, IT IS KA ANGEL, KING EDWARD X, AND ME.] You will live with him in the beautiful place where he lives. [PURSUANT TO THE LECTURE OF NOVEMBER 15, 2018 {Ether 3, 1 Nephi 17-18}: YOUR #DREAMS, AS FAR AS I CAN RECALL: 1. NOVEMBER 21, 2018. I was at my former city and at the former site of a big Antiochian chapel that looked like a white castle when it was still built. When it was still standing there, everywhere rather was what Empire would say as a 'undeveloped area'. When Empire demolished their chapel there- perhaps to relocate that to another place- a house was built in its place by the former work companions of my dad. At that instance they invited him and our family to a home-opening reception there. But these former work companions are better known for always cheating their way out from my dad when they were still working together! Afterwards I was led to a computer shop, like what I saw in a previous dream to be where I was unwelcomed. Well, I was still unwelcomed there. Well the computer shop this time is owned by Empire, and I saw myself working as a typist of their papers, with my classmates. They expressed disgust on why I was there working with them so this is a warning for us not to live as Empire do even if we have to look like them {1 Samuel 27-28}. 2. NOVEMBER 22, 2018. I was so happy beyond compare! I was not expecting this! Godhead has Remembered us and Visited us to Console us in our afflictions! {Psalm 132} I saw our fellows, most particularly Lady Shailene Woodley and Companions, they are so happy all of the time {Documentary History of the Church 2:380-381}, and they were helping me and was with me as much as we're in this high-end dystopian city held by Empire. Of course they were helping me should Empire takes hold of me or throws me to cliffs, so as for me to escape such, and they were smiling, laughing, helping each other too should they too be caught by Empire. EMPIRE MIGHT BE INDICTING US THAT WE'RE NOT ABLE TO INTERPRET OUR OWN DREAMS. THE DAYS FORTHCOMING WILL PROVE THAT TO US. REMEMBER HOW WE ARE TOLD THAT A TRIAL WOULD COME TO TEST US? THEN THAT COMES FROM ATHALIA'S OPPOSITION TO OUR DANCING AND THE SUBSEQUENT ACTIONS THAT SHE WILL SECURE FROM MOM BY SATURDAY NIGHT FORTHCOMING- JUST IN TIME FOR EMPIRE'S CLAIMS OF Revelation 11 SO THIS MIGHT MEAN SPIRITUAL MARTYRDOM FOR US HART AGAIN AS WE MIGHT BE SENT FINALLY TO EXILE OR BE CONFISCATED OF DOMESTICS AS PUNISHMENT {Hebrews 10}. AND REMEMBER WHAT KING EDWARD X TAUGHT OF US CONCERNING SEPTEMBER 4, 2018? WE HAVE JUST FOUND OUT THIS NOVEMBER 21 THAT SOME OF OUR BRANCH CHURCHES, WHO ARE AGAINST STEPHEN FLURRY'S CLAIMS OF HIS FATHER GERALD'S WORKS, RECKON SEPTEMBER 5, 2018- RATHER, A DAY AFTER SEPTEMBER 4- AS PROPHETIC. AND KING EDWARD X LECTURED ON THIS EVEN IF HE HAS NO IDEA THAT OUR BRANCH CHURCHES RATHER ASKED US TO LOOK OUT FOR SEPTEMBER 5 THIS YEAR! {SEE SEPTEMBER 5, 2015. AUGUST 29 IS MEMORIAL OF LADY #CANDACESCIARRA, WHO FULFILLED Luke 11 WHEN SHE WAS THE FIRST YOKEBEARER TO COME UNTO US IN OUR SECOND FULL SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNT, BUT NOW SHE FELL INTO THE 3RD GREAT CROWD GROUP. WITH HER IS LADY #MAUGHANJEMESEN-BANKS, WHO ALSO ONCE BECAME PART OF THE 144,000, BUT NOTICE HER NAME- THIS IMPLIES THE RIVER OF THE 2 WITNESSES. SURELY GODHEAD HAS TURNED HER SACKCLOTH INTO DANCING FURTHER, SO SHE'S NOT WITH US ANYMORE HART <2 Peter 2>.}] And God will make you completely as you should be. [AGAIN, OUR BEING MULTI-BRANCHED AND UPDATED.] He will make you [AS ONES MIGHTY AND] strong [THROUGH KA ANGEL AND ALL OUR FELLOWS], so that nothing can ever stop you believing him." -1 Peter 5, Easy English Bible [ONCE AGAIN OUR ARGENTINIAN YOKEBEARERS ARE COMPLAINING ON WHY THEIR GOVERNMENT DOES NOT GIVE THEM THE SUPPORT THAT THEY NEED. THEY ARE INVITED TO RATHER CONFIDE IN US WRIGHT HART ALLINE, THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN HELP THEM. NO FELLOW AND YOKEBEARER MUST BE LIKE THE DIOCLETIANITES, WHO RATHER CHOSE TO CONFIDE IN THEIR FELLOW EMPIRE HEADS INSTEAD RATHER THAN CONFIDE IN THE FIRST PRESIDENCY {Hosea}. ANTIOCHIANS AND DIOCLETIANITES STAGE THINGS SUCH AS 'EVERYTHING YOU WANT TO ASK EMPIRE BUT YOU'RE AFEARED TO ASK FOR FEAR OF EXCOMMUNICATION.' KING EDWARD X, WHO LECTURED FROM THESE VERSES DAYS AGO, RATHER INVITE AND SUMMON YOU TO CONFIDE IN YOUR COMMONDOMINION ALLINE AND FEAR NOT THE EMPIRE THAT YOU WOULD ALREADY ASK THEM FOR HELP. YOU DON'T NEED OR DESERVE THEM. YOU RATHER HAVE TO BE IN US HART {1 Samuel 1}.]

Get to know our member churches as of late: http://robertlawrencefulg.wixsite.com/commondominion/where-we-are,http://robertlawrencefulg.wixsite.com/commondominion/we-re-also-here-and-will-be-back-to Get to hear our member preachers as of late:youtube.com/channel/UCNgq_i3ZlMTxcczzEYQj6LQ/channels Our blogs: nvmlindseyallan.wordpress.com,nvmlindseyallan.blogspot.com,nvmlindseyallan.tumblr.com Get all day, everyday word from me:facebook.com/nvmlindseyallan Follow our flash reports:https://twitter.com/commondominion Get in touch with me directly:facebook.com/jonas.stirling Like our pages:https://www.facebook.com/jonas.stirling/likes Follow our team:https://www.facebook.com/jonas.stirling/following Meet our team:http://robertlawrencefulg.wixsite.com/commondominion/what-we-give Know your enemy:http://robertlawrencefulg.wixsite.com/commondominion/who-we-are-against- Don’t be left behind in the dark on Empire deceptions: https://www.facebook.com/nvmlindseyallan/posts/1839436236163751 Join us with all your family and friends:https://www.facebook.com/nvmlindseyallan/posts/1726251834148859

[dailybiblelessons]

Saturday: Preparation for the Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

This week's blog post is here. It has information about apocalypses and summaries and links for the week ahead.

More information about the complementary and semi-continuous series is here: Which Series?

Complementary Hebrew Scripture from The Writings: Daniel 4:28-37

All this came upon King Nebuchadnezzar. At the end of twelve months he was walking on the roof of the royal palace of Babylon, and the king said, “Is this not magnificent Babylon, which I have built as a royal capital by my mighty power and for my glorious majesty?” While the words were still in the king's mouth, a voice came from heaven: “O King Nebuchadnezzar, to you it is declared: The kingdom has departed from you! You shall be driven away from human society, and your dwelling shall be with the animals of the field. You shall be made to eat grass like oxen, and seven times shall pass over you, until you have learned that the Most High has sovereignty over the kingdom of mortals and gives it to whom he will.” Immediately the sentence was fulfilled against Nebuchadnezzar. He was driven away from human society, ate grass like oxen, and his body was bathed with the dew of heaven, until his hair grew as long as eagles' feathers and his nails became like birds' claws.

When that period was over, I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me.

I blessed the Most High,  and praised and honored the one who lives forever. For his sovereignty is an everlasting sovereignty,  and his kingdom endures from generation to generation. All the inhabitants of the earth are accounted as nothing,  and he does what he wills with the host of heaven  and the inhabitants of the earth. There is no one who can stay his hand  or say to him, “What are you doing?”

At that time my reason returned to me; and my majesty and splendor were restored to me for the glory of my kingdom. My counselors and my lords sought me out, I was reestablished over my kingdom, and still more greatness was added to me. Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven,

for all his works are truth,  and his ways are justice; and he is able to bring low  those who walk in pride.

Semi-continuous Hebrew Scripture from The Former Prophets: 1 Samuel 3:1-18

Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.

At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” Then the Lord said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them. Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli's house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.”

Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” He said, “Here I am.” Eli said, “What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.” So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

Complementary Psalm 16

Protect me, O God, for in you I take refuge. I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord;  I have no good apart from you.”

As for the holy ones in the land, they are the noble,  in whom is all my delight.

Those who choose another god multiply their sorrows;  their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out  or take their names upon my lips.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;  you hold my lot. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;  I have a goodly heritage.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;  in the night also my heart instructs me.

I keep the Lord always before me;  because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices;  my body also rests secure. For you do not give me up to Sheol,  or let your faithful one see the Pit. You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy;  in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.¹

¹Peter uses these verses in his address on the Day of Pentecost, in Acts 2:25-38. Beginning with “For you do not” Paul uses these verses when he preaches at Pisidian Antioch in Acts 13:13-43.

Semi-continuous Canticle: 1 Samuel 2:1-10

Hannah prayed and said,

“My heart exults in the Lord;  my strength is exalted in my God.¹ My mouth derides my enemies,  because I rejoice in my victory.

“There is no Holy One like the Lord,  no one besides you; there is no Rock like our God. Talk no more so very proudly,  let not arrogance come from your mouth; for the Lord is a God of knowledge,  and by him actions are weighed. The bows of the mighty are broken,  but the feeble gird on strength.

Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,  but those who were hungry are fat with spoil. The barren has borne seven,  but she who has many children is forlorn. The Lord kills and brings to life;  he brings down to Sheol and raises up. The Lord makes poor and makes rich;  he brings low, he also exalts. He raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap,  to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honor. For the pillars of the earth are the Lord's,  and on them he has set the world.

“He will guard the feet of his faithful ones,  but the wicked shall be cut off in darkness; for not by might does one prevail. The Lord! His adversaries shall be shattered;  the Most High will thunder in heaven. The Lord will judge the ends of the earth;  he will give strength to his king, and exalt the power of his anointed.”

¹Mary uses the same idea in her song of praise, which we call The Magnificat, recorded at Luke 1:46-55.

New Testament Gospel Lesson: Mark 12:1-12

There are parallel passages at Matthew 21:33-46 and Luke 20:9-19.

Then he began to speak to them [the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes] in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press, and built a watchtower; then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the season came, he sent a slave to the tenants to collect from them his share of the produce of the vineyard. But they seized him, and beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. And again he sent another slave to them; this one they beat over the head and insulted. Then he sent another, and that one they killed. And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed. He had still one other, a beloved son. Finally he sent him to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But those tenants said to one another, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ So they seized him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. Have you not read this scripture:

‘The stone that the builders rejected  has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord's doing,  and it is amazing in our eyes’?”¹

When they realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowd. So they left him and went away.

¹Psalm 118:22-23

Year B Ordinary 33 Saturday

Selections from Revised Common Lectionary Daily Readings copyright © 1995 by the Consultation on Common Texts. Unless otherwise indicated, Bible text is from Holy Bible New Revised Standard Version with the Apocryphal / Deuterocanonical Books (NRSV) copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All right reserved. Parallel passages are as indicated in Modern English Version (MEV), copyright © 2014 by Military Bible Association. Used by permission. All rights reserved. When text is taken from the MEV, the passage ends with (MEV) and the foregoing copyright notice applies. Footnotes in the Christian Scriptures that show where a passage from the Hebrew Scripture is used are from The The Holy Bible: New International Version ® (NIV®), copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. When text is taken from the NIV, the passage ends with (NIV) and the foregoing copyright notice applies.

Note: The links in the titles above take you to Amazon, where you can purchase them and benefit The Lectionary Company. Image credit: Parable of the husbandmen. Book miniature. 11th c., via Iconography of Passion Week. This is a public domain image.

[thomasgmcelwain]

Genesis 7

Genesis 7

1 And then YHWH said to Noah, "Come

Into the ark, you and in sum

All your household, because I've seen

You're just before Me and have been.

See me too, my Beloved, that I may be

One righteous in this generation, see!

Your act of seeing is the power that

Makes good of evil and makes lean of fat.

I choose creative action from Your eye

And choosing so, I choose the righteous die.

I cast no dice below Fortuna's face,

But lay my fate beneath the gazing mace

That crushes dross and lays the statue bare.

See into being righteous, good and fair.

So there shall be no I-ness in my breast,

No self existing in the east or west,

But only You will be my I's command,

My eye be Yours, and Yours too be my hand.

2 "You shall take with you seven of each,

Of every clean beast, male and peach,

Two each of animals unclean,

One buck and with each one his queen,

3 "Also seven each of birds of air,

Male and female, to keep them there

The species live on all the earth,

Each original for its worth.

4 "In seven days I shall bring rain

In forty days and nights ordain

Destruction of all living on

The earth I've made from mastodon

To sheep and ox and calling crane."

Seven of clean in seven days You teach

To enter in the ark no man can reach

Without Your guidance. Seven pairs of clean

In secret walk the plank and are not seen

Again beneath the faithful course of sun

Until the cleansing water flood is done.

Bring to the secret places of my soul,

The inner temple chamber of my whole,

The fourteen innocent ones in their pairs

To teach their mystic doctrine unawares.

Come enter in my thinking and my being,

And sanctify my seventh sense of seeing,

That from the seven councils' purity

The visions of Your oneness come to me.

5 And Noah did what he was told

By YHWH, both he and his household.

6 Six hundred years was Noah's age

On earth when it came to flood stage.

You breathe out once and earth sprouts living things

That stay to blossom once and reign like kings

And then to perish as You draw Your breath

Once more back to Yourself. The end is death

And dark destruction for both man and beast,

For all things from the greatest to the least.

So You destroy and remake all the earth

As with Your breath all things receive their worth.

Breathe on me too for seven days and then

Let me return to You as must all men.

For forty days the world is bathed in light,

And with the forty alternates the night.

Beloved, I seek the gentle rising of

Your sleepless wonder and returning love.

7 So Noah, with his sons, his wife,

And his sons' wives, went in the ark

Each one went in to save his life

From flood and thunder, rain and dark.

8 Clean animals, and the unclean,

And birds and everything that's seen

Moving on land, 9 went two by two

To Noah in the ark, so few,

Just male and female of each kind

As Ælohim made Noah mind.

10 It happened after seven days

A flood was on the earth in haze.

You told the blessèd Noah what to take

Into the ark, but nowhere do You make

It clear what animals are clean and which

Are not. I think I would have found a glitch

In regulations as I tried to count

The pairs of clean and unclean's right amount.

I thank You that Your guidance right and straight

Has not left ancient man to fortune's fate,

But every prophet knew without the Book

The law of good and evil acts, the look

Of clean and unclean thing. Then let the sound

Of truths that rang in blessèd Noah's bound

Guide me too as I enter in the ark,

With clean and unclean things when I embark.

11 The year six hundred in the days

Of Noah, saw the fountains raise,

The second month, day seventeen,

The deep broke up, and there were seen

The heavenly windows opened 12 till

For forty days and nights rains spill.

Rain on my heart for forty days and nights

To drown all violence and set to rights

The word and flame that guide my wandering way

Along the strange paths of the night and day.

O my Beloved, what brightness is the cloud

That overshadows earth and sea with loud

And pounding thunders! Some may ask a firm

And rocky refuge, I am glad to worm

My way into a rocking, running boat

Before a raging storm, driven to float

At chance and luck it seems from east to west.

Your will, though random motion, is the best.

For all the seeming of the wind and rage

I know Your guidance does not miss the gauge.

13 On one day Noah and his sons,

Shem, Ham, and Japheth, they're the ones,

And Noah's wife, the three sons' wives

Came in the ark to save their lives.

14 They and each beast after its kind,

All cattle in each sort designed,

And every creeping thing that creeps

On earth and to its kindred keeps,

And every bird of every feather

Each of its kind and kind of weather.

15 And they went in the ark by twos

To Noah, all flesh not to lose

The breath of life which is their dues.

16 So those that entered, spouse and male,

Went as commanded, without fail,

By Ælohim, YHWH shut the gaol.

My preaching days are over and no more

Than eight have entered in, and not a score,

Despite my frantic Bible thumping. My

Charisma does not seem to make the sky.

The dumb beasts favour homilies of mine

More than the churchly, even the wild swine.

One chased me as a child once in the wood,

His back not grazing toes where as I could

I grasped and hung on grape vine on the bank

Of one dark algae-covered stream and dank

Weed growth. The wild pig has but little smell.

I wonder, my Beloved, if pigs did well

To enter in the ark, if just one pair.

If so, what did the humans do for air?

17 The flood is on earth forty days.

The waters increase and upraise

The ark to float high over earth

18 The waters increased much in worth

And volume where the ark still floated,

Both safe and sound, fully devoted.

19 The waters rose and rose until

They covered every slumbering hill,

High under heaven. 20 The waters rose

Fifteen arm-lengths then to repose

Upon the mountains that were covered,

On earth no hill left undiscovered.

For forty years times three the wicked waited

Then rain for forty days fell unabated,

And forty days the waters were assuaged,

While forty days on Sinai You engaged

The prophet Moses, Israel wandered long

The wilderness for forty years, no song

Nor meat came on Elijah's lips for those

Long days and nights of forty that he chose

To spend on Horeb, praying there and fasting,

While Nineveh spent forty days contrasting

In revelry before repenting well.

The forties pass four gates before they tell

The secret of dividing grape in forty

For forty saints preoccupied and warty.

21 And all flesh that moved on earth died:

The birds and cattle alongside

The beasts and every creeping thing

That creeps on earth, and man and king.

22 All in whose nostrils was the breath

Of the life spirit, all met death.

23 So He destroyed all living things

On the dry ground, with feet or wings,

Men, cattle, creeping creature, bird,

Were all on earth destroyed, interred.

But only Noah and those who

Were with him in the ark stayed true.

24 While water remained on the land

One hundred fifty days unscanned.

The dry and violent earth of my heart

Needs water pacifying. Slay the part

In me, the beastly, cattly, fowlly lust

That goes its own way when I ought to trust.

Let only that true spirit that entranced

The soul of blessèd Noah and enhanced

The darkness of his journey stay alive

In me. I rise upon the waters, dive

And rise again. My wooden rafters shudder.

A cow, in plaintive mooing, shrinks at udder.

None yet have learned to drink the milk or eat

The richly roasted and the savoury meat.

I ride the fine destructive waves of grace

Until I come at last to see Your face.