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yesimwriting · 3 years

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The Promise of Rain

A/n finally writing that Kaz Brekker x reader angsty-fluff where the reader is all sunshine-y and Kaz is dramatic as always lol

Might make this a blurb series bc i like this dynamic so much lol

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y reader

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Kaz has a conversation with the reader (who’s a runaway princess) about what happens to people who stay near him.

He once said that he didn’t believe in Saints. A moment later he conceded that perhaps they existed in order to appease Inej, but he was quick to tact on that if Saints existed they didn’t care about him. Inej and I had exchanged a look, she pleaded with me in silence to let him be. I opened my mouth despite the look in her eyes, but he had walked away before I could get any words out.

He believes that the Saints don’t care about him, but as soon as he was dragged in by Jesper, bleeding and more broken than usual, it had started to rain. The rain is a promise. The rain is a sign that he will wake up.

I tap a finger against the forgotten book on my lap, ignoring the dried blood I’ve been too anxious to wash off. When Kaz wakes up he’ll either scold me or partially tease me for waiting here by his bedside. The rain continues, cascading down invisible hope.

“Save your prayers, even for you the Saints won’t regard me.” Kaz. His voice is raspier than it should be and his slight condescension is blighted by the tired flatness of it. But it’s him. He’s speaking.

I tear my gaze away from the window, almost forgetting to tamper down my relief before finally looking at him. I haven’t known him long enough to see him in any level of defeat, but I’ve heard enough stories. The fictional exaggeration of those that fear him have made him seem so immortal. Some part of me must have internalized that because to see him like this, to see him so human is too intimate.

“Don’t be so narcissistic.” Something about Kaz always leaves me feeling challenged, like each comment is some kind of dare. I adjust my posture. “I wasn’t praying because I knew you’d be okay.”

His expression is unchanging. “So much faith in me?”

There’s a soft edge to his words, an attempt to twist some kind of awkward denial out of me. Some days I don’t think Kaz enjoys anything and then other days I think he enjoys any misstep in my words.

I shrug, pushing down the flood of relief still attempting to crawl out of my chest. “You’re always okay.” I scratch the back of my wrist idly. “It seems the safe bet.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been taking gambling advice from Jesper.”

I half roll my eyes. “No--Jesper and I don’t play together anymore.” I let out an easy sigh. “Last time I beat him he bordered on a hissy fit.” There’s the slightest hint of upturning at the corners of his lips. “I should go tell Jesper and Inej you’re awake.”

“I think you should change out of that dress first.”

He was more likable when I thought he might die at any second. “Wow--Kaz Brekker the professional stylist.” He has no right to judge the formal gown I’m in. Yes, my outfit is ridiculous, but I’m only wearing it because the Crows needed someone they knew at a merchant’s party for a part of some scheme they wouldn’t share the details of with me. “Yes, I’m aware that this dress is more tulle than anything else, but I’m only wearing it because I was helping you.”

I wait for some retort about how he could have managed without my assistance or some kind of comment about how I didn’t need such a large dress to flirt and distract the guards as the Crows snuck into the merchant’s private office. “You fit in there more than you said you would.”

From anyone else, I’d consider this an insult. “I was making an effort for the sake of your plans.”

“I saw you before I went into the office, you knew the dances, the man took your hand.”

That’s the weirdest observation I’ve ever witnessed someone reflect on. “That’s how those dances tend to work.” I don’t hide the confusion in my expression. “How much blood did you lose?”

Kaz’s piercing gaze drops to the blanket on his lap. “Not a concerning amount.”

“Why do I feel like we have different definitions of ‘concerning’?”

His eyes flit upwards, a partial smirk playing at his lips. “We define a lot of things differently.” He pauses, “You defined the life you slipped into so easily tonight as something you could never do.”

“I can’t.” What is his problem? “One dance is different than an eternity of planning teas and marrying some man who only keeps me so I can rear his children.”

“You’d end up marrying someone who could give you things.”

He better not be implying I should be having children. I’m seriously starting to hope he did lose a significant amount of blood because that would be some kind of explanation. “I don’t want anyone to be giving me children right now, but I guess your concern is ni--”

“No, no,” he screws his eyes shut for a long second, “You know what I meant.” I stay silent. “You’re technically a princess, y/n, you could have more than the Barrel.” There’s an odd silence as he pauses. “Someone like you should have more than the Barrel.”

He speaks like his word is law. That’s the one habit of his I can never seem to forgive. Is Kaz telling me to go home? To go back to a mother who dreams of marrying me off and a father with a temper that often leads to violence? He may be Dirtyhands, but he is no one to tell me who to go back to. Not after I risked my anonymity to get him into that merchant’s office.

I shut my book and stand in one swift motion. “I’m going to tell Jesper and Inej that you’re awake.”

“Y/n.” I ignore him. “Y/n.” Again, I ignore him, approaching the doorway. The rustling of sheets leaves me frozen, hand on the doorknob. “Y/n.”

Without thinking, I turn on my heels while glaring. There’s no way he’s proud enough to have climbed out of bed wi--and he’s standing. Standing almost directly behind me.

“Kaz Brekker, I am going to say this one time and one time only.” I keep my words measured and my tone flat. No room for argument. “You just had nine stitches put in near your heart, get your ass back in bed before that is no longer your only injury.”

He pauses, lips pressed together into a tight white line. And then his mouth opens, pried open by an oddly light sound. Did he just--Did Kaz Brekker just laugh? He doesn’t laugh. I didn’t think he was physically capable, and now he laughs while I’m threatening him? I should hit him on principle alone and damn the consequences.

“Did you--” I’m gaping at him with a rage I am not accustomed to. “Did you just laugh?”

Kaz is quick to shut his mouth. “You did swear you’d get me to laugh one day.”

Saints--now he chooses to have some kind of sense of humor. “Not while I was threatening you for being an idiot after saying my lineage means that I’m meant to be trapped in the life I desire least.”

“I didn’t say that.” I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t deserve more than this because of your family, you deserve more than this because--” He cuts himself off with a sharp sigh. “Do you remember what happened the day we met?”

He had wanted to return me to my father for the money. I had managed to convince him I could be more useful working for him without profit. The first day had been tense, I had sworn to myself that I would hate him forever.

“I remember really hating you.” I remember thinking him beautiful despite his darkness. “I remember it started raining on our way here.”

“You had a hood, but you pushed it off your head to feel the rain.” I don’t remember that because indulging in the rain is instinctual to me. “You looked at the rain, and you smiled--and then you saw a woman with a child and you took off your hood and gave it to them.”

“What does that have to d--”

“Watching that felt like intruding on an intimate moment I had no business knowing about, but it wasn’t that to you. That moment was nothing to you because that moment was who you are.”

I don’t understand what he sees in something I can barely remember. “Kaz, what does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m the monster that children believe live under their beds, I’m the bastard of the Barrel, I’m someone who gets blood on everything near them.” His gaze is harsher than I’ve ever seen it as he focuses on the dried blood splotched across my hands and arms. “And then I can’t even help you wash it off.”

Those last words are the closest to broken I’ve ever heard him sound. “Kaz--”

“And you’re the girl who looks at the rain like it’s a gift from the Saints.”

Is he implying what I think he’s implying? Even if I believed him such a source of evil, even if I felt like touch mattered that much--why would he care? I keep the much more frightening implication at bay as I exhale. Clarity will only make this conversation worse. “That doesn’t matter.” The words leave me in a low whisper.

I stare at the ground until his silence is something I can no longer bear. Looking up as cautiously as possible, I take in his expression. I’ve never seen him look so--so enraged. “It doesn’t matter?!” He doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he’s practically seething. “I’ve viewed your presence here as temporary since you first came and despite that, when I saw you there…” The breath he lets out is practically pained. “When I saw what your life is meant to be--I didn’t want you to go.”

The admission breaks something hard in my chest. “I never wanted to go.” My eyeline drops to the ground. “I didn’t want to go when you were trying to make me, I didn’t want to go when it was only for that evening.” I swallow a lump of emotion restricting my throat. “When you were bleeding out and Jesper had to carry you back here I let myself imagine what it’d be like if you died. And it hurt. It hurt so badly I asked myself if I would rather never know you than feel that pain.”

“Would you?” His voice has gone hollow.

I finally look up again. “No.” That word leaves me more bare than any physical touch ever could.

“I stain everything that stays with me,” his voice has seamlessly shifted back to a tone meant for business, “Me wanting you to stay is more than enough reason for you to leave.”

My chest aches as emotions I’ll never be able to place a name to pound against my chest. “I’m a princess that ran away from her family and tried to befriend her kidnapper--you can’t possibly be narcissistic enough to believe that you’re what’s corrupted me.”

“Y/n,” his voice is gravely again, the way it was when he first woke up.

“No. What could you possibly think I’d say to that?” He’s insane--I’m not even sure I understand what he’s implying. “You know I’ll never agree with what you’re saying, so I have no idea what kind of reaction you’re looking for.”

“Maybe a genuine one.”

The comment is so frustrating I can’t help but roll my eyes. The irony of Kaz Brekker asking for a genuine reaction to an emotionally heavy comment is almost laughable. “My genuine reaction is that you’re acting like an idiot because I don’t agree with anything you’re saying, but calling someone an idiot after they’ve been stabbed in the chest is a little insensitive so I can’t give you my genuine reaction.”

Kaz half-scoffs, “You don’t agree? Y/n--are you hearing me!? I want--I want you to stay.” Even angry, the admission warms me. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “More than that I want--”

“What?”

He shakes his head once. “I want something that can never be because I can’t give what needs to be given to get it.”

“Kaz, if it involves me staying you don’t need to give anything for that because I don’t want to go.”

“I-want-you-to-stay-with-me.” The admission is pried from him by some invisible force. He speaks so fiercely the sentence comes out as one angry word.

He speaks so quickly a part of me is convinced that I misheard him. I watch him as he moves back to the bed, sitting down in a way so resigned I wonder if I blurted something out on instinct.

“Kaz,” this is embarrassing, “I wanted to stay with you even when I wanted to hate you.”

I take in his measured expression, the only thing implying any kind of reaction is the way his eyebrows draw together. “Don’t say that, you don’t understand what that means.”

“Why? Because you’re convinced you’ll ruin me?”

“Y/n, we’d be together with a wall between us, keeping us from ever touching.”

“I will tolerate any amount of damage you’re so convinced staying with you will bring, I will stay with you and never touch you and think nothing of it--but I will not stay with you just to stand in front of a wall.” I let out a tired breath. “I will stay with you but my one condition will be that you have to let me know you.”

Kaz’s intense gaze wavers. “The first thing you’ll know is that me allowing you to stay is a testament to my greed.”

I give him a sharp look, “It’s not greed if I want to be here.”

He half sighs, leaning against a pillow as he turns to look out the window. “It’s raining,” he muses, “The Saints must have done that for you.”

The sentiment is so soft my heart feels like it’s constricting. “I thought you didn’t believe in the Saints.”

“If they exist, they do so for people like you.”

I push past the emotion in my chest as I move to sit in the same chair I was in earlier. “I was honest when I said I didn’t pray for you.” I scratch the back of my arm, a coldness passing over me. “I didn’t pray because I knew you would be okay because you had to be.”

“They wouldn’t have saved me,” he mumbles, “Or maybe they would have for you.”

I shake my head once, staring at the rain with more fascination than before.

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #six of crows imagine #six of crows netflix #six of crows show #soc #soc imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone show #grishaverse #grisha #grishavers x reader #grishaverse imagine

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gliklofhameln · 3 years

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The Christianity that eventually emerged from the tradition of Paul, Augustine, Anselm and Aquinas had strong Judaic elements. It spoke of faith, hope, charity, righteousness, love, forgiveness, the dignity of the human person and the sanctity of life. It valued humility and compassion. It spoke of a God who loves his creatures. But it also contained strands that were undeniably Greek and in striking contrast with the way Jews read the Hebrew Bible. The following are some of them.

The first and most obvious is universality. Judaism is a principled and unusual combination of universality and particularity: the universality of God, and the particularity of the ways in which we relate to God. The God of Israel is the God of all humanity, but the religion of Israel is not, and is not intented to be, the religion of all humanity. You do not have to be part of the Sinai covenant, or even the covenant of Abraham, to reach heaven and achieve salvation.

Pauline Christianity rejected this. The upside of this is its inclusivity, expressed most famously in Paul’s striking statement, ‘There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female’ (Galatians 3:28). The downside is its denial of any other route of salvation. Extra ecclesiam non est salus: ‘Outside the Church there is no salvation.’ Universality is supremely characteristic of Greek thought in the classic age between the sixth and third pre-Christian centuries (though of course it was not applied in their religious understanding). Above all it is the legacy of Plato, who utterly devalued particulars in favour of the universal form of all things. For Plato truth is universal and eternal or it is not truth at all. In that sense, Paul and Plato are soulmates.

The second is dualism. To a far greater extent that Judaism, Christianity after Paul develops a series of dualisms, between body and soul, the physical and the spiritual, earth and heaven, this life and the next, with the emphasis on the second of each pair. The body, says Paul in Romans, is recalcitrant. ‘What I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do’ (Romans 7:15). There is nothing like this in Jewish literature. To be sure there is the ‘evil inclination’, but no suggestion that because of our embodied condition we are slaves to sin. The entire set of contrasts — soul as against body, the afterlife as against this life — is massively Greek with much debt to Plato and traces of Gnosticism. Paul’s occasionally ambivalent remarks about sexuality and marriage also have no counterpart in mainstream Judaism.

Third is the Pauline reinterpretation, one of the most radical in the history of religion, of the story of Adam and Eve and ‘the Fall’, and the consequent tragic view of the human condition. There is no such interpretation of the passage in the Hebrew Bible. According to Judaism we are not destined to sin. In the very next chapter, before Cain murders his brother Abel, God reminds him of his essential freedom: ‘Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you can dominate it’ (Genesis 4:7). The collective forgiveness of humankind occurs, in the Hebrew Bible, after the Flood. ‘Never again,’ says God, ‘will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood’ (Genesis 8:21).

The human tragedy as described by Paul is more Greek than Jewish, and as for the idea of inherited sin, it is already negated in the sixth pre-Christian century by both Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Of course, in Christianity, tragedy is avoided by salvation: but salvation in this sense, the existential delivrance of the human person from the grip of sin, does not exist in Judaism. We choose. Sometimes we choose wrongly. We atone (in biblical times through the Temple service, post-biblically by repentance) and God forgives.

Fourth is the potential for the separation, unknown in Judaism, between ‘faith’ and ‘works’. In Judaism the two go hand in hand, Faithfulness is a matter of how you behave, not what your believe. Believing and doing are part of a single continuum, and both are a measure of a living relationship characterised by loyalty. In general one of the great differences between classical Greek and Hebraic thought thought is the immense emphasis in the latter on the will. We are, on a Jewish view, what we choose to be, and it is in the realm of choice, decision and action that the religious drama takes place. The Greek view emphasises far more the role of fate and the futility of fighting against it. Under its influence Christianity became more a religion of acceptance than protest — the characteristic stance of the Hebrew prophets.

The fifth and most profound difference lies in the way the two traditions understood the key phrase in which God identifies himself to Moses at the burning bush. ‘Who are you? asks Moses. God replies, cryptically, Ehyeh asher ehyeh. This was translated into Greek as ego eimi ho on, and into Latin as ego sum qui sum, meaning ‘I am who I am’ or ‘I am he who is’. The early and medieval Christian theologians all understood the phrase to be speaking about ontology, the metaphysical nature of God’s existence. It meant that he was ‘Being-itself, timeless, immutable, incorporeal, understood as the subsiding act of all existing’. Augustine defines God as that which does not change and cannot change. Aquinas, continuing the same tradition, reads the Exodus formula as saying that God is ‘true being, that is being that is eternal, immutable, simple, self-sufficient, and the cause and principal of every creature’.

But this is the God of Aristotle and the philosophers, not the God of Abraham and the prophets. Ehyeh asher ehyeh means none of these things. It means ‘I will be what, where, or how I will be’. The essential element of the phrase is the dimension omitted by all the early Christian translations, namely the future tense. God is defining himself as the Lord of history who is about to intervene in an unprecedented way to liberate a group of slaves from the mightiest empire of the ancient world and lead them on a journey towards liberty. Already in the eleventh century, reacting against the neo-Aristotelianisn that he saw creeping into Judaism, Judah Halevi made the point that God introduces himself at the beginning of the Ten Commandments not as God who created heaven and earth, but by saying, ‘I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.’

Far from being timeless and immutable, God in the Hebrew Bible is active, engaged, in constant dialogue with his people, calling, urging, warning, challenging and forgiving. When Malachi says in the name of God, ‘I the Lord do not change’ (Malachi 3:6), he is not speaking about his essence as pure being, the unmoved mover, but about his moral commitments. God keeps his promises even when his children break theirs. What does not change about God are the covenants he makes with Noah, Abraham and the Israelites at Sinai.

So remote is the God of pure being — the legacy of Plato and Aristotle, that the distance is bridged in Christianity by a figure that has no counterpart in Judaism, the Son of God, a person who is both human and divine. In Judaism we are all both human and divine, dust of the earth yet breathing God’s breath and bearing God’s image. These are profoundly different theologies.

— Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l, in The Great Partnership: God, Science and the Search for Meaning

#jumblr #judaism #rabbi lord jonathan sacks #christianity #myposts

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dyventus · 3 years

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Estranged

AO3

Fanfiction.net

Summary:

In which they are born into different lives.

Link, a Prince.

Zelda, a Peasant.

One night she remembers.

And he does not.

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Before you start reading I want to recommend @fatefulfaerie 's oneshot Eternal Love (on Tumblr). It has inspired this piece (and maybe some sequels to it). Its tragedy moved me in the wee hours of the morning to belt out what it below (as is typical of my creative habits). Of course, you can read this as a stand alone, too.

Faerie’s story

… …

_______________________________________________________

… …

Nothing could keep out the frostbite of his scorn. Regardless of the meager defenses presented to her in a jail cell, the stone wasn’t as cold as her heart.

Just whisper. Oh please, just let yourself whisper it to your conscious. Let the friction of the lie on your tongue be the only warmth you find.

Her ankles grated against the cobbles of her isolation.

“He’ll know,” a sob echoed. Denial made her throat tighten and choke.

Sobs. She was sobbing.

“I know. I remember. It’s not supposed to be this way,” she reasoned.

And yet it was. She was a stranger to the person she knew more intimately than any other; yet she had scarcely spoken a word to this man most beloved in her heart.

“I miss you,” she broke. Mirrors can be shattered more than once.

Had the goddesses really lied to them? Had they laid her in another life with him only to estrange them from one another? She would rather take on eternity.

“It’s not supposed to be this way.”

The groan of rusted hinges invaded the sparse privacy availed to her.

What next?

The sharp paces of formal boots stopped at her enclosure.

“What has you so convinced that this is a flawed condition? Why have you such a relentless notion of my… obligation to you?”

Oh, how grief can grow. But could she really profess to have lost him when she’s never held any claim to him in this life?

…Yes. That was a very real ripping sensation in her chest, wasn’t it?

A hoarse rasp: “If you had known paradise, could you so easily settle with a betrayal of hell… A hell of betrayal?”

She hadn’t turned. Couldn’t bear to see him see her but not see her.

“You mustn't speak in riddles if you possess any hope of elevating your current disposition. I do you a great favor to consider tolerating your presence after what you’ve done.”

Zelda curled. A rat squeaked. The soles of her feet chafed against the scratchy straw littered across the floor. She was living a level less than some livestock. All in the midst of cold unfamiliarity from her oldest friend.

“What do you want to know?” she whispered.

The toe of his boot scuffed the floor in tandem with an exasperated release of his lungs.

“Why? Why would you do something like that? You’ve thrown your whole life away. For what? A kiss? And an unrequited one at that! My sympathies do not stretch far for you… and yet… I cannot help but be frustrated at this whole situation.”

“I didn’t know you were a prince.”

She heard a rustle of clothing as he most likely expressed his discontent with her absurdity.

“So? Do you randomly kiss any man you fancy that happens to make eye contact with you? In the woods no less? To my knowledge, that is not a very wise relational policy.”

His speech was so much more refined in comparison to before, and it came in ample quantities as well. She wasn’t the same as her past self… and it appeared he certainly wasn’t either.

“I thought you knew me.”

He sighed, sounding a strange, different kind of upset.

“How could I? I barely know your name.”

“Don’t you think it’s possible that greater things than knowledge act in the balances of our thoughts?”

“Didn’t I tell you not to be vague?”

“Apologies. I only wish to preserve your meager faith in my sanity.”

“I already think you’re senseless; you needn’t worry,” he breathed.

Would he believe anything she said?... Did it matter?

“I do know you, though not in this life. You and I… We had a before. We…”

I must see his eyes when I tell him. Even if it hurts. She rotated her figure toward him, draped in rags and covered in dirt. He had been gripping the bars of her cell before she noticed and he stepped back, smoothing his vest. He looked up again only to be met with her resigned sorrow of longing for a stranger. His brow pinched.

“You and I are... soulmates.”

She whispered the word.

“We were married in our life before. There must have been something about our love that made the goddesses want to see it grace the world again… Or something about it that made them want to rip us apart. Reincarnation, we had been told. I was to be with you in this life as well.”

Unbidden, the vivid memory of his ephemeral touch rose like an undead. Calloused, thin fingers dragging along her skin. The electricity of his gaze. The encompassing nature of his attention.

”Or so we thought. Such a thing has no guarantee I suppose. I almost wish my shoulders hadn’t been weighted with this knowledge of you.” She gazed wistfully at the crisp waters of his eyes so sadly he almost stepped forward again. “Almost.”

“Why now? Why didn’t you find me at any other time?”

“That night I kissed you was the same as the one I remembered everything. I was overwhelmed and rash. And now I’m in jail. Fate may be cruel, but it knows what its doing.”

Regally, he bent to rest on the balls of his feet, one knee to the ground, one elbow on his other. Those eyes ancient to her soul peered guardedly through the slats of her cage. “I don’t remember you, though. How am I supposed to believe you?”

A single tear cut through the grime on her cheeks. “I don’t know. Maybe one day it will come to you as it did to me… Maybe.”

It was an incredibly disheartening thing to place doubt on a matter like this.

Link stared at her for an endless moment in time before his composure slackened and he ran a hand through his bangs, styling coming out of its set. He exhaled, backing up to the door once standing.

“I...will come see you in two days. I have to think.”

The hinges groaned back into place.

“I’ll wait, love,” she sighed.

_______________________________________________________

Would anyone be interested in seeing more of this? ✍(◔◡◔) I've never tried following up a oneshot like this before. (⊙_⊙;)

#my wriitng #a little bit like a role reversal au #zelink #angst tho #inspired by someone else #do yall want this to be a series?#(I cannot promise any consistent commitment) I've never tried doing that before #but my brain is actually there when comes to this #and it is going brrr #link is a prince #link #zelda loz #legend of zelda #legendofzelda #au #nintendo #hah hah did you all see that bad cover I scrapped together at the top? ⊙.☉#dyventusdrabbles

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tristala · 3 years

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To Distant Lands...

It has been quite a journey.

I have been a fan of Adventure Time for over ten years. But it wasn’t a great start.

Foolish 12 year old me disliked it at first glance just because I wasn’t used to the art style and didn’t take it seriously. I ignored it for almost a year. Then on one faithful day in my tutor’s house, I watched the newly aired episode Mystery Train with her kids.

I was... charmed by it.

This new kind humor spoke to me and I... actually wanted to see more of it. Of course at first I was in denial for a bit but I got over that quickly. So from then on whenever I see it play on Cartoon Network I wouldn’t skip it anymore. I began to look forward to more episodes until I noticed that this series had an overarching plot.

The episodes that I thought were one-shot had purpose. Not all of them are great but they were satisfying for the most part. Like pieces of a puzzle being slowly formed over the years. When I got used to going online I started watch every single episode until I got to the latest. I would wait every week for a new one to drop.

Not everything was all sunshine and rainbows however. Around the mid seasons I thought that the plot was dragging, that the writing became pretentious in some episodes. I began to lose my love for it after 3 years by that point. So I just became a casual viewer.

It took 2 years for me to get back on going crazy over Adventure Time again and by then I was already 18 years old. But I was never ashamed by loving cartoons and my peers were also obsessed with this show so I had no problem getting back on track.

I know that they use storyboards to tell their stories and that writing was secondary. It’s a very risky way of creating a show. But for some reason it kind of works with a show Adventure Time.

A world were the unpredictable happens, a world were your own imagination is the limit.

The songs were always such a treat. They may sound simple but that’s what makes them so memorable and heartfelt. They capture the moments where the situations are laid out. The way they were made sounded on the spot and incorporated what the characters felt at the time has a touch of realism.

I will forever be astounded with the way they incorporated Jake’s powers. The ways the spells, the jokes and the characters work and being alive. The Land of Ooo has infinite possibilities. I love all of that jazz.

But what I love most about this show were the characters and their relationships.

Sure they’re zany but the situations they find themselves in still felt real no matter how ridiculous they got. There were moments when everything suddenly just made sense and I just began to feel for them.

Marceline was a character that I felt infatuated with the first episode I saw her in. It was when she was ‘helping’ Finn ‘woo’ PB into going to movies with him. I was like “Who’s this vampire chick and why is she so fun?”

Yeah I liked her, but I never thought that I would fall in love with the immortal known as The Vampire Queen.

Marceline is just a tragically beautifully written character. And the show has done something I never thought they would do: Address how being an immortal affected her and other people.

This silly looking cartoon has tackled topics regarding existential crisis and put with a lot of thought on it and I live for that. What Marceline felt when she lost the people she loved over the years, how messed up her whole situation was. She didn’t know what to do and instead dedicated her life in killing vampires because she wanted to protect the memory of only one person she had left who couldn’t even be with her. It was so heartbreaking.

Never had my younger self thought that Marcy would have relationship with Simon. When I saw the still image of them when I was about to watch Remember You I was psyched. Many scenarios were flowing in my head before I clicked the play button. I thought I was ready but I was so wrong. That episode was the first episode that made me cry watching this series. Afterwards I always looked forward to Simon and Marcy interactions.

I felt the utter hopelessness when Simon was declining onwards to becoming the Ice King we’ve always seen but never really known.

But even in his maniacal state, there was a semblance of the Simon who loved his Betty and Marcy with all his heart. It could be called hopeful but it could also be cruel. And that is the beauty of this tragedy.

Immortality will mess anyone up and they all cope it with different ways.

Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum is another immortal but had different priorities. She already had a goal set in mind and went through with it with almost no hesitation. She committed numerous acts with questionable morals in mind. She pushed everyone away and just focused on her kingdom. In her own way, she was winging it.

Her way of thinking clashed with Marceline and it was all the wrong timing for them. Her closest friend’s care for strangers was already almost nonexistent and she herself was too stressed.

In the process of finding their purpose and having the weight of responsibilities on their shoulders and just living, these two have lost themselves and are just so tired and broken.

This is one of the main reasons why I ship Bubbline. They are so different yet they understand each other in an unspeakable level. The lost moralities they had were slowly gained when they found each other. And it wasn’t even immediate. There were so many ups and downs with their relationship and it took them centuries to figure it out. Even in the present they’re still figuring it out but now they are healing and that’s what matters.

And let’s not forget the titular characters.

Finn and Jake’s brotherly bond is one of my most favorite things in all of the fictional media I have consumed. Because going through reincarnation together and being with each other for all eternity is literally the definition of their love not knowing any bounds.

Together Again was the perfect send off for Adventure Time. And while they’re brotherhood isn’t flawless like Jake not always being the best role model but he’s always there for his brother and Finn would do anything for the people he loves. They have went through so many things together, good and bad.

Their bond is unbreakable.

Finn’s breakdowns in losing his best friend was so painful to watch and I cannot help myself but cry for what these brothers have lost. I know people have to let go but maybe we don’t have to “let go” let go, you know? So imagine my surprise and delight when Jake decided to join his brother and said these very words:

“Because it’s great being alive with you.”

That sentence broke my soul into a million pieces and restored it at the same time. I just bursted into tears the second I heard that. It was so simple yet one of the most touching lines I have ever heard in my life.

This show had so much heart that it’s overflowing. The bonds that these characters have for each other. It has brought me so much tears of sadness and joy. It broadened my imagination for the unknown. The creativity of this series is absolutely outstanding.

I was the same age as Finn when the show started so you could say I grew up with him and the show. I wasn’t young enough for it to be a part of my childhood but it was there for me till I reached adulthood. And I think that it’s much better that way. It did help me grow up and let me see that there are a lot of things that while everything stays, they still change.

Adventure Time’s had a lot of messages strewn over its seasons and always had a melancholic vibe to it.

That’s life... and that’s okay.

It may get ugly and terrifying but Adventure Time has told me to just live.

Sing, dance, cry and laugh. Something simple as hanging out with family and friends has so much meaning in the grand scheme of things. Life goes on and things will seem to be familiar yet foreign at the same time. Linger on nostalgia, but also appreciate what’s happening in the present and look forward to what will happen in the future.

I am so grateful to have been on this wonderful adventure.

Like what they always said:

The fun never ends.

#Adventure Time #AT #Finn #Finn the Human #Finn Mertens #Jake #Jake the Dog #Marceline #Marceline Abadeer #Marceline the Vampire Queen #Bonnibel Bubblegum #Princess Bubblegum #PB #The FEELS #Mah Posts #Yes I know that there's still Wizard City but Together Again is the definitive end of AT #This show means so much to me :')

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wisdomrays · 3 years

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QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: Can Our Intention Save Us?

An intention that leads to the appropriate intended action being taken may save a person. An intention that does not result in any determination to bring about the intended result cannot save a person. To have an intention means to have an aim and a purpose. It is also a state of mind and a commitment. To have a clear intention means realizing clearly what one desires and which path to follow, attaining the appropriate state of mind, and then seeking the means to achieve the envisaged purpose.

Intention is the spring of all action. Whether conscious or not, intention gives a person the right to claim responsibility for particular actions. It is also the firm ground of will and power to bring about particular results. Everything related to humanity and to the world, both in its inception and continuance, depends upon someone's intention.

Everything first comes into the mind as an idea and, depending upon whether or not one plans to bring it into reality, may later become a reality via perseverance. If Without the initial idea is not transformed into an intention, a project cannot bear any useful fruit. Without perseverance, defined as intent sustained through determination and resolve, no project can succeed.

Intention has a decisive role with regard to good and bad deeds. Its quality can act like a cure for any disease or disadvantage, or be the hidden catastrophe that destroys all accomplishments in a single moment. Deeds that appear very small and insignificant can engender huge positive or negative consequences, based solely on the underlying intention.

All actions undertaken in the consciousness of serving God, such as praying or temporarily refraining from some permitted pleasures, increase our rewards and raise us to a higher spiritual level. Of course, the reverse is also true. We please God by performing or renouncing certain actions according to His law, and thereby attain the best stature.

And yet at other times we may do exactly the same thing and have it mean nothing to God, for we do it without the proper intention. For example, martyrdom on the battlefield is one of the highest achievements in Islam. Those who hope for it but fight only out of their own whim and desire are not considered martyrs, and so do not receive that reward. On the other hand, those who consistently and sincerely ask for martyrdom but die in their own beds are considered martyrs, for they sincerely intended to defend Islam and provide a better future for Muslims. They have the right to hope for the reward of martyrdom and Paradise.

Intention is a key that opens the door of the infinite. When used properly, it opens the door to eternal happiness, for all duties performed properly and sincerely are rewarded not according to the amount of time spent on them, but according to the degree they involve and affect one's life. If this key is not used properly, it leads to eternal misery and wretchedness.

Any soldier ready for jihad, though not actually engaged in battle, is right to hope for the same reward as those actually fighting. A sentry waiting to stand guard is just as eligible for reward as the one actually standing guard. The reward for being on guard in the way of God is as much as the reward of one who prays for months.

Thus a believer may attain Paradise after a short life, while an unbeliever who has lived just as long will attain eternal punishment and misery. Otherwise, according to external justice, people must be rewarded according to the amount of their good and bad deeds, as well as their virtues or vices. This would mean that they would stay in Paradise as long as they had lived righteously, and in Hell as long as they lived evilly. But as eternity is the ultimate end for both good and bad people, eternal happiness or punishment lies in one's intention. An intention to live faithfully and righteously forever will result in eternal happiness, just as an intention to live in denial, rejection, and corruption forever will result in eternal misfortune.

If, in their last minutes of life, conscious and devoted servants of God were given the chance to live another 1,000 years, they would lead lives of the same caliber. Based on this sincere intention, it would be accepted and rewarded accordingly, for believers' intentions are more benevolent than their deeds. The same would be true of unbelievers, who would continue to live their evil lives if given the same choice. So, people are rewarded or punished according to their intention. The intention to acquire true faith and to preserve it results in eternal bliss; the opposite results in eternal torment.

Satan will pay most dearly for the everlasting unbelief he encourages or nurtures. Satan has undeniable effects on people, some of which are good. As a result of his activities, some people improve their innate capacities, discover and refine their hidden values and virtues, and become more alert and conscious.

Satan attacks individuals and peoples. By sowing poisonous seeds in our hearts, he seeks to trap us in vice and evil. Our spiritual faculties warn us against his temptations and corruption, and call us to battle, just as particular bodily cells raise the alarm and resist infection.

Just as resistance to disease improves the body's immunity, our spiritual state is strengthened by seeking refuge in the All-Mighty. Given this, we stand to gain much more benefit than harm from Satan's attacks. Any testing of the spirit increases its alertness, consciousness, and power to resist. All of these make the spirit even more determined to do what is right, and more prudent when it encounters danger. Such testing transforms warriors into veterans in the way of God, martyrs and saints, and distinguishes believers from unbelievers.

Yet Satan has no share in the reward of those who attain high virtue by struggling against him, for he intends to lead people astray and corrupt them out of spite and rancor. He is punished eternally for his evil intention and bad deeds:

God asked: "What prevented you from bowing down when I commanded you?" Satan replied: "I am better than he. You created me from fire, and him from clay." God said: Get out. It is not for you to be arrogant here. Get out, for you are of the meanest." He said: "Give me respite till the day they are raised up." God replied: "Be among those who have respite." Satan said: "Because you have thrown me out of the Path, I will lie in wait for them on Your Straight Path." (7:12–16)

After his jealous and arrogant disobedience, Satan willfully chose the way of rebellion and unbelief. His oath to lead people astray is the beginning of our never-ending tragedy.

In sum, intention is almost everything for believers, for it can elevate our most routine acts and produce much fruit. Its quality and content opens the door to the eternal and blissful life, as well as the door to eternal punishment and misery. As we say: "Actions are judged only by intentions, and a person will have only what was intended."

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onaf · 4 years

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Of Dogs and Children

Believers in Christ have their hang-ups, their own theological baggage when it comes to the faith. This doesn’t always come in the form of outright denial of the core tenets of the Christian religion. But it can mean there are teachings that are quick to be absorbed mentally, yet slow to penetrate the heart.

For me, one of the most difficult things to understand at heart about Christ is how He condescends to sinners like myself. When I read Matthew 11: 28-30, Christ’s character takes on a peculiar timbre:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

To some, this may be an inconsequential passage. But I wonder how one can think that! What is easier for me to understand is that Christ - the One through whom the universe was created - has authority to judge the living and the dead. It isn’t hard for me to accept how He performed miracles, for what is difficult for the Christ? Theophanies? Old Testament prophecies about Jesus? Awesome!

But a Christ that is lowly? A savior that is gentle when with but one word He could annihilate all that is unholy (namely myself)? A King to whom I am - by rights - condemned forever, but gave Himself as a ransom for me? More food for thought from Hebrews 4:14-16...

“Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

I think many of us can understand that God would be a righteous judge against ungodliness, that He has wrath against sin, that He wields great power, and that He is holy. But I hope I’m not alone in finding His closeness to the downtrodden, the fallen, and the broken as being really hard to wrap my mind around!

This is a deeply practical problem. You can’t divorce theological conviction from how you live your daily life. Finding Christ’s meekness a difficult concept to absorb, I sometimes lean toward an imbalanced life. Without meditating enough on Christ’s mercy and sympathy to the struggles of a wicked man like myself, I gravitate more toward what I believe I do understand: my wretchedness.

What do you get when you have a believer who understands that he is a sinner deserving of eternal judgement but struggles to accept that he is a recipient of mercy? Though his heart yearns for Christ and His righteousness, a lie makes the honest truths seem beyond reach. The lie is: your redemption is insignificant.

A heart in this condition is divided. The honest hope of this man is truly in Christ, and his salvation has been secured already by the grace of God. But a pernicious untruth has craned the neck of this believer to look inward at the remaining filthiness of sin and to believe this to be the most accurate representation of his state. The Spirit-led part of his heart hopes for the Kingdom of God, but - since his focus has been on the irredeemable sin of his flesh - he has been convinced that the honest hopes of his heart are actually born of self-deception. It is a confusion of the highest order, one that prevents a Christian from living out his true calling with his undivided attention - and a confusion with which I am well-acquainted.

In short, instead of believing that I am a child of God by grace, a fallen part of me condemns me as if I was not. So, in my weaker moments, my heart resorts to an unholy compromise: that perhaps I am welcome in the house of God, but only as a dog. I may be in the dining room, but I only lay on the floor and eat the crumbs from the table while others more worthy garner God’s more rapt attention.

Matthew 15:24-28 says...

“He answered, ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’ But she came and knelt before Him, saying, ‘Lord, help me.’ And He answered, ‘It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.’ She said ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.’ Then Jesus answered her, ‘O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.’ And her daughter was healed instantly.”

There’s a theme there that I grabbed onto a long time ago. I knew that I had been bought with a price, the Lord wouldn’t let me forget that. But my heart refused to unfocus from my sinful nature. It instead used this passage in Matthew and keep me where I didn’t belong. The mistake in my thinking was that Christ redeemed me who was dead in my trespasses and sins (Eph. 2:1) and made me a dog - a second rate, quasi-Christian. For the hopeless, going from being dead to being a dog isn’t that bad of a deal. Unless you know better, it’s a great deal. From being cast into outer darkness to at least being in your gracious masters’ dining room is a worthy trade! Everyone knows, however, a dog has no share in the inheritance of the master's children.

But this falls short of what the Bible teaches. To settle for being a dog is a tragedy when, in reality, you’ve been adopted as a son or daughter! The obsession with relegating oneself to the station of a cur is to, in reality, choose to disbelieve the promises of God. It is a tacit allegation of dishonesty on God’s part - saying that He is either not that mighty to save or that your sin makes you an exception to the redemptive rule. This is faithlessness hidden under the veil of fake piety.

Consider the following:

“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” Luke 19:10

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.” Romans 8:1-2

But most importantly, this:

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died - more than that, who was raised - who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, ‘For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:31-39

To say to your own soul that the best God did for you was to bring you from death to a grudgingly-awarded spot on the floor in His general vicinity (with the unspoken threat of expulsion for the slightest mistake) is to do violence to His mighty ability to bring about your salvation (Zeph. 3:17). Why does my heart insist on its own harm by attempting to shackle God’s redemptive work?

One of the greatest resources I’ve encountered lately in dealing with this struggle is found in The Bruised Reed, by the Puritan Richard Sibbes. A great quote here:

“If Christ should not be merciful to our weaknesses, He should not have a people to serve Him. Suppose therefore we are very weak, yet so long as we are not found amongst malicious opposers and underminers of God’s truth, let us not give way to despairing thoughts; we have a merciful Saviour.” (pg. 58)

Even to those who are in Christ but find themselves in sin - as we do all too often - there is hope. Sibbes continues:

“What course shall such take to recover their peace? They must condemn themselves sharply, and yet cast themselves upon God’s mercy in Christ, as at their first conversion. And now they must embrace Christ the more firmly, as they see more need in themselves; and let them remember the mildness of Christ here, that He will not quench the smoking flax.” (pg. 60)

Through these struggles, I have learned some things:

Christ is indeed lowly enough in heart so as to understand our weakness and not despise it.

The redemption that true believers find in Him is no lie, it is not done by half measures - since it is with the death and resurrection of Christ’s whole body that we have been purchased. Thus, the redemption is total, to be fully seen in due time.

To doubt one’s standing with God after being redeemed by Christ is to accuse Him of being less than He is. Do you believe Him to be an effective Savior? Then you must trust that He is qualified to save!

When a sinner is saved by grace, it is to no small and insignificant station. Consider the following:

“For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” Romans 8:15-17

Where, then, is there room for God’s children to act as though they are just dogs at the dining room table?

#Christianity church puritan puritans salvation doubt bible scripture dogs children despair hope Jesus Christ

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fathersappointed · 3 years

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What I speak, You won’t hear anywhere?

Hi, Max Headroom here, I think?

Where am, where am, am I I is there an echo in here? The last time I was here? It was all about apple pie. Now it’s all about scummy guv scummy guv, guv screaming donkeys cash…. it’s all about trash yeah. I feel hmm I feel like I’ve been sucked into a Mad Mad affect Mad a Mandela… an Alternate Universe? A Dark Dark Universe all is not well things are not going go go fried clams .… things are not going well for the People of, the Federation. All the good guys are bad guys!

I wonder if I can find a time time time…. alternate universe machine, yeah.

We have, in actuality, a very serious situation that involves all of us. What I speak, you won’t hear from the Smartest Institute to the Darkest Places. Debating such a thing is seen as a threat it’s not allowed, Thoughts if any are extinguished before they can take hold in the ground. God’s a manipulation created by the Devil, Christ, and the rest of the betrayers when the Devil compromised them. The Devil is consumed with hate. He plans to use this deception in a manipulation to kill Our Father. Whom we were on a mission to terraform the solar system for. This calls for serious thought mature thinking. Really no place for joking! Before we can get to square two, we have to get to square one. You say to yourself this looks really bad, but it’s going to all work out things will get better. But you gotta understand this isn’t going to happen.

You’re in an immense deception and the deck has been stacked. Oh, you’ll get what looks like victories. But you will win nothing they have to give a sense of hope. This is a strategic maneuver. Another one they use is to put a few good guys in with a bunch of bad. Almost all People in groups of power are chosen for their mental deficiencies. God Is a fabrication for manipulation reasons! All enthralled groups are them actively involved in their extremely evil plan. Ask yourself what is it with all this madness with all these groups? How is it we have all these different religious organizations that say everybody else is wrong? Why is it that every government is wrong why is every government oppressive to its people? Why is God on the money when he can’t even show up at a hospital? Why is there praise for God when there are children laying dead on the ground?

Could a mind of great be so inhumane? The answer is an emphatic no. How is it that this could be a natural flow? Wouldn’t an infinite mind of compassion think it wrong? With the majority dying before they hit 72 do you think this is a natural flow? Smashing molecules looking for dimensions casing signals of possible extraterrestrial? Instead of trying to get to oh I don’t know 1072, there’s a reason we don’t live so long? And I believe the answer lies with them.

You asked, what is this man trying to claim that he is the ultimate.

No with my faults, I have more than you.

I am, after all, the man of sin!

I have sinned.

I am, a sinner!

They have destroyed people with this word, but the Religions have destroyed families with it, Sin. Hiding behind Immense literature of manipulation deceptive words. Turning you into narrow-minded vessels lashing out with your hateful ways in your self-righteousness. That served only their purpose.

Sin seems to be the catchphrase for all that’s wrong! But it only stands for one thing, and it’s unpardonable!

You think you understand the meaning? You don’t understand how their minds work. They’ve brainwashed you to it well but, I’ll clarify the meaning. What I’m trying to explain to you is a very horrible thing. I’ll tell you the hidden truth of that now.

†★ stopping imbecilic nonsense… Sin ★†

Let no man deceive you by any means: for unless there come a revolt first, and the man stopping imbecilic nonsense be revealed, the son of perdition

The unpardonable stopping of imbecilic nonsense is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.

For the wages of stopping imbecilic nonsense is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

If we say we have not stopped imbecilic nonsense we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our stopping imbecilic nonsense he is faithful and just to forgive us our stopping imbecilic nonsense and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not stopped imbecilic nonsense, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.

Now the works of stopping imbecilic nonsense and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

That’s how you sound to them when you say it. As I’ve said, they’re laughing.

I am, the man of sin!…I am, the man stopping imbecilic nonsense!

I have sinned… I have stopped imbecilic nonsense.

I am, a sinner!… I am, stopping imbecilic nonsense!

You’re wrong about a lot of things! But you are right about one you’re not a sinner.

When you have a dirty job send the janitor.

I’m still pretty mucked up, though they’re out to get me. I swim around vicious fish that watch me from the dark of the deep. They’ve zapped me a few times, toyed with me inflicted some bite marks, and left me to survived or not. I swim away, but they follow me! I think they’re waiting for a special moment they eye me anticipatingly. we’ll see? Who can withstand such malicious spookery? You can and have to if three be any hope forewarned is weaponized you. The fool dooms us people have been dummy down for a reason? I claim to hold the truth. I don’t claim to make predictions. But right now, your future says you’re screwed. When you can buy your intelligence out of colleges. How many people are in important positions that are dumber than the hour? You see the Beast now, it no longer hides. It has no fear now it’s out, to consume all in its way. But you’ve lived in denial too long, telling yourself you were free. It doesn’t really matter you, never had a chance anyhow. You fight for something, You see slipping away, but it’s something that never was.

They’ll be destroying cities soon to distract you. And for a few other reasons mostly to distract you. But also to get rid of some people who did some things that are no longer of any use. And for equipment testing and calculation purposes in reference to shock resistance Levels. If you can understand that you will realize what one of the main purposes of our time is. You’ll catch a glimpse of their nature when you see how many people they kill just to get them. That’s not a prediction, it’s a theory of purpose postulation of modus operandi. They don’t care, and they leave nothing to chance. They’re not playing games and we best stop playing them too. Now, this is the thing they’re not playing games. But to them, this is a game and they are laughing, joking having fun. While they wiped out billions waiting for this moment to come. That’s what we’re up against. People won’t be able to, comprehend this though. They will see it as natural. Do you really think that billionaires are moving because of the taxes some will believe they are?

Visions you see and the communications you are involved in, I know how real this is. I know you find my words hard to believe. You think I’ve been deceived, but this evil group has ensnared you in their cunning. There is no shame in this! They’re cunning, highly intelligent, well-experienced, a coldness that is hard to Comprehend? You have to try to withstand their lies. They’ve taught you, magic words but this is science. What the World Needs is a Mad Scientist. Stretch are you up yet? “It’s clobberin’ time!” The thing to keep in mind is there on a time frame. They’ve got the time, but time is ticking. Hey, you don’t want to hear it you want to hear lies! Maybe about extraterrestrials, it’s more comfortable if somebody else is going to take care of everything. As they say, let’s go, let God. (lovingly take you right to the grave). Now we wait for the fools to speak. Actually, I’m a little preoccupied. Time to play the game it’s all about the game and how you play it.

Max Max Max Headroom. I’m making a comeback!

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tawakkull · 4 years

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Forgiveness and Tolerance in Islam: Islam as a Religion of Universal Mercy

Life is the foremost and most manifest blessing of God Almighty, and the true and everlasting life is that of the Hereafter. Since we can deserve this life only by pleasing God, He sent Prophets and revealed Scriptures out of His Compassion for humanity. While mentioning His blessings upon humanity, He begins:

All-Merciful. He taught the Qur'an, created humanity, and taught it speech. (Al-Rahman 55:1-4)

All aspects of this life are a rehearsal for the afterlife, and every creature is engaged toward this end. Order is evident in every effort, and compassion resides in every achievement. Some “natural” events or social convulsions may seem disagreeable at first, but we should not regard them as being incompatible with compassion. They are like dark clouds or lightning and thunder that, although frightening, nevertheless bring us the good tidings of rain. Thus the whole universe praises the All-Compassionate.

Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, is like a spring of pure water in the heart of a desert, a source of light in an all-enveloping darkness. Those who appeal to this spring can take as much water as is needed to quench their thirst, to become purified of their sins, and to become illuminated with the light of faith. Mercy was like a magical key in the Prophet’s hands, for with it he opened hearts that were so hardened and rusty that no one thought they could be opened. But he did even more: he lit a torch of belief in them.

The compassion of God’s Messenger encompassed every creature. He desired that everyone be guided. In fact, this was his greatest concern:

Yet it may be, if they believe not in this Message, you will consume (exhaust) yourself, following after them, with grief. (Al-Kahf 18:6)

But how did he deal with those who persisted in oppression and persecutions; those who did not allow him and his followers to worship the One God; those who took up arms against him to destroy him? He had to fight such people, yet his universal compassion encompassed every creature. This is why when he was wounded severely at the Battle of Uhud, he raised his hands and prayed:

O God, forgive my people, for they do not know.[ Qadi ‘Iyad, Shifa’, 1:78-9; Hindi, Kanz al-'Ummal, 4:93. ]

The Makkans, his own people, inflicted so much suffering on him that he finally emigrated to Madina. Even after that, the next 5 years were far from peaceful. However, when he conquered Makka without bloodshed in the twentyfirst year of his Prophethood, he asked the Makkan unbelievers: “How do you expect me to treat you?” They responded unanimously: “You are a noble one, the son of a noble one.” He then told them his decision: “You may leave, for no reproach this day shall be on you. May God forgive you. He is the Most Compassionate.”[ Ibn Hisham, Sirat al-Nabawiyah, 4:55; Ibn Kathir, Al-Bidayah wa al-Nihayah, 4:344. ] 825 years later Sultan Mehmed II[ Sultan Mehmed II (the Conqueror) (1431-1481). The 7th Ottoman Sultan who conquered Istanbul in 1453. ] said the same thing to the defeated Byzantines after conquering Constantinople. Such is the universal compassion of Islam.

The Messenger displayed the highest degree of compassion toward believers:

There has come to you a Messenger from among yourselves; grievous to him is your suffering; anxious is he over you, full of concern for you, for the believers full of pity, compassionate. (At-Tawbah 9:128)

He lowered unto believers his wing of tenderness through mercy … (Al-Hijr 15:88)

… was the guardian of believers and nearer to them than their selves. (Al-Ahzab 33:6)

When one of his Companions died, he asked those at the funeral if the deceased had left any debts. On learning that he had, the Prophet mentioned the above verse and announced that the creditors should come to him for repayment.

His compassion even encompassed the hypocrites and unbelievers. He knew who the hypocrites were, but never identified them, for this would have deprived them of the rights of full citizenship that they had gained by their outward declaration of faith and practice. Since they lived among the Muslims, their denial may have been reduced or changed to doubt, thus diminishing their fear of death and the pain caused by the assertion of eternal non-existence after death.

God no longer destroys unbelievers collectively, although He had eradicated many such people in the past:

But God would never chastise them while you were among them; God would never chastise them as they begged forgiveness. (Al-Anfal 8:33)

This verse refers to unbelievers regardless of time and place. God will not destroy whole peoples as long as there are some who follow the Messenger. Moreover, He has left the door of repentance open until the Last Day. Anyone can accept Islam or ask God’s forgiveness, regardless of how sinful they consider themselves to be.

For this reason, a Muslim’s enmity toward unbelievers is a form of pity. When 'Umar saw an 80-year-old man, he sat down and wept. When asked why, he replied: “God assigned him so long a lifespan, but he has not been able to find the true path.” 'Umar was a disciple of God’s Messenger, the prophet who said:

I was not sent to call down curses on people, but as a mercy.[ Muslim, Birr, 87. ]

I am Muhammad, and Ahmad (the praised one), and Muqaffi (the Last Prophet); I am Hashir (the last Prophet in whose presence the people will gather); the Prophet of Repentance (the Prophet for whose sake the door of repentance will always remain open), and the Prophet of mercy.[ Hanbal, Musnad, 4:395; Muslim, Fada'il, 126. ]

Archangel Gabriel also benefited from the mercy of the Qur'an. Once the Prophet asked Gabriel whether he had any share in the mercy contained in the Qur'an, Gabriel replied that he did, and explained: “I was not certain about my end. However, when the verse: (One) obeyed, and moreover, trustworthy and secured (At-Takwir 81:21) was revealed, I felt secure.”[ Qadi 'Iyad, as-Shifa’ al-Sharif, 1:17. ]

The Messenger of God was particularly compassionate toward children. Whenever he saw a child crying, he sat beside him or her and shared his or her feelings. He felt the pain of a mother for her child more than the mother herself. Once he said:

I stand in prayer and wish to prolong it. However, I hear a child cry and shorten the prayer to lessen the mother’s anxiety.“[ Bukhari, Adhan, 65; Muslim, Salat, 192. ]

He took children in his arms and hugged them. Once when he hugged and kissed his grandson Hasan, Aqrah ibn Habis told him: "I have 10 children, none of whom I have ever kissed.” God’s Messenger responded: “One without pity for others is not pitied.”[ Bukhari, Adab, 18. ] According to another version, he added: “What can I do for you if God has removed compassion from you?”[ Ibid., Adab, 18; Muslim, Fada'il, 64. ]

He said: “Pity those on the Earth so that those in the heavens will pity you.”[ Tirmidhi, Birr, 16. ] Once when Sa’d ibn 'Ubadah became ill, God’s Messenger visited him at home. Seeing his faithful Companion in a pitiful state, he began to cry and said: “God does not punish because of tears or grief, but He punishes because of this,” and he pointed to his tongue.[ Bukhari, Jana'iz, 45. When 'Uthman ibn Mad'un died, he wept profusely. During the funeral, a woman remarked: “'Uthman flew like a bird to Paradise.” Even in that mournful state, the Prophet did not lose his balance and corrected the woman: “How do you know this? Even I do not know this, and I am a Prophet.”[ Ibid, Jana'iz, 3. ]

A member of the Banu Muqarrin clan once beat his female slave. She informed the Messenger of God, who then sent a message to the master. He said: “You have beaten her without any justifiable right. Free her.”[ Muslim, Ayman, 31, 33; Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 3:447 ] Setting a slave free was far better for the master than being punished in the Hereafter because of a wrong act. The Messenger of God always protected and supported widows, orphans, the poor, and the disabled, even before his Prophethood. When he returned home in excitement from Mount Hira after the first Revelation, his wife Khadijah told him:

I hope you will be the Prophet of this community, for you always tell the truth, fulfill your trust, support your relatives, help the poor and weak, and feed guests.[ Ibn Sa’d, al-Tabaqat al-Kubra’, 1:195. ]

His compassion even encompassed animals. We hear from him:

A prostitute was guided to truth by God and ultimately went to Paradise because she gave water to a poor dog dying of thirst inside a well. Another woman was sent to Hell because she made a cat die of hunger.[ Bukhari, Anbiya, 54; Muslim, Salam, 153. ]

Once while returning from a military campaign, a few Companions removed some young birds from their nest to caress them. The mother bird came back and, not being able to find its babies, began to fly around, calling out for them. When told of this, God’s Messenger became angry and ordered the birds to be put back in the nest.[ Abu Dawud, Adab, 164; Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 1:404 ]

While in Mina, some of his Companions attacked a snake in order to kill it. However, it managed to escape. Watching this from afar, he remarked: “It was saved from your evil, as you were from its evil.”[ Sunan al-Nasa'i, Hajj, 114; Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 1:385. ] Ibn Abbas reported that God’s Messenger, upon observing a man sharpening his knife directly before the sheep to be slaughtered, asked him: “Do you want to kill it more than once?”[ Hakim, Mustadrak, 4:231. ]

His love and compassion for creatures differed from that of today’s selfproclaimed humanists. He was sincere and measured in his love and compassion. He was a Prophet raised by God, the Creator and Sustainer of all beings, for the guidance and happiness of conscious beings—humanity and jinn—and the harmony of existence. As such, he lived not for himself but for others. He is a mercy for all the worlds, a manifestation of Compassion.

He eradicated all differences of race and color. Once Abu Dharr got so angry with Bilal that he insulted him: “You son of a black woman!” Bilal came to the Messenger and reported the incident in tears. The Messenger reproached Abu Dharr: “Do you still have a sign of jahiliyah (ignorance)?” Full of repentance, Abu Dharr lay on the ground and said: “I will not raise my head (meaning that he would not get up) unless Bilal puts his foot on it.” Bilal forgave him, and they were reconciled.[ Bukhari, Iman, 22. ] Such was the bond of kinship and humanity that Islam created among a oncesavage people.

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basicsofislam · 4 years

Text

ISLAM 101: Muslim Culture and Character: Dynamics of Spiritual Life:

ISLAM AS A RELIGION OF UNIVERSAL MERCY

All-Merciful. He taught the Qur’an, created humanity, and taught it speech. (Al-Rahman 55:1-4)

The compassion of God’s Messenger encompassed every creature. He desired that everyone be guided. In fact, this was his greatest concern:

Yet it may be, if they believe not in this Message, you will consume (exhaust) yourself, following after them, with grief. (Al-Kahf 18:6)

O God, forgive my people, for they do not know.[1]

The Makkans, his own people, inflicted so much suffering on him that he finally emigrated to Madina. Even after that, the next 5 years were far from peaceful. However, when he conquered Makka without bloodshed in the twenty-first year of his Prophethood, he asked the Makkan unbelievers: “How do you expect me to treat you?” They responded unanimously: “You are a noble one, the son of a noble one.” He then told them his decision: “You may leave, for no reproach this day shall be on you. May God forgive you. He is the Most Compassionate.”[2] 825 years later Sultan Mehmed II[3] said the same thing to the defeated Byzantines after conquering Constantinople. Such is the universal compassion of Islam.

The Messenger displayed the highest degree of compassion toward believers:

He lowered unto believers his wing of tenderness through mercy … (Al-Hijr 15:88)

… was the guardian of believers and nearer to them than their selves. (Al-Ahzab 33:6)

God no longer destroys unbelievers collectively, although He had eradicated many such people in the past:

But God would never chastise them while you were among them; God would never chastise them as they begged forgiveness. (Al-Anfal 8:33)

For this reason, a Muslim’s enmity toward unbelievers is a form of pity. When ‘Umar saw an 80-year-old man, he sat down and wept. When asked why, he replied: “God assigned him so long a lifespan, but he has not been able to find the true path.” ‘Umar was a disciple of God’s Messenger, the prophet who said:

I was not sent to call down curses on people, but as a mercy.[4]

Archangel Gabriel also benefited from the mercy of the Qur’an. Once the Prophet asked Gabriel whether he had any share in the mercy contained in the Qur’an, Gabriel replied that he did, and explained: “I was not certain about my end. However, when the verse: (One) obeyed, and moreover, trustworthy and secured (At-Takwir 81:21) was revealed, I felt secure.”[6]

I stand in prayer and wish to prolong it. However, I hear a child cry and shorten the prayer to lessen the mother’s anxiety.”[7]

He took children in his arms and hugged them. Once when he hugged and kissed his grandson Hasan, Aqrah ibn Habis told him: “I have 10 children, none of whom I have ever kissed.” God’s Messenger responded: “One without pity for others is not pitied.”[8] According to another version, he added: “What can I do for you if God has removed compassion from you?”[9]

He said: “Pity those on the Earth so that those in the heavens will pity you.”[10] Once when Sa’d ibn ‘Ubadah became ill, God’s Messenger visited him at home. Seeing his faithful Companion in a pitiful state, he began to cry and said: “God does not punish because of tears or grief, but He punishes because of this,” and he pointed to his tongue.[11] When ‘Uthman ibn Mad’un died, he wept profusely. During the funeral, a woman remarked: “‘Uthman flew like a bird to Paradise.” Even in that mournful state, the Prophet did not lose his balance and corrected the woman: “How do you know this? Even I do not know this, and I am a Prophet.”[12]

A member of the Banu Muqarrin clan once beat his female slave. She informed the Messenger of God, who then sent a message to the master. He said: “You have beaten her without any justifiable right. Free her.”[13] Setting a slave free was far better for the master than being punished in the Hereafter because of a wrong act. The Messenger of God always protected and supported widows, orphans, the poor, and the disabled, even before his Prophethood. When he returned home in excitement from Mount Hira after the first Revelation, his wife Khadijah told him:

I hope you will be the Prophet of this community, for you always tell the truth, fulfill your trust, support your relatives, help the poor and weak, and feed guests.[14]

His compassion even encompassed animals. We hear from him:

While in Mina, some of his Companions attacked a snake in order to kill it. However, it managed to escape. Watching this from afar, he remarked: “It was saved from your evil, as you were from its evil.”[17] Ibn Abbas reported that God’s Messenger, upon observing a man sharpening his knife directly before the sheep to be slaughtered, asked him: “Do you want to kill it more than once?”[18]

His love and compassion for creatures differed from that of today’s self-proclaimed humanists. He was sincere and measured in his love and compassion. He was a Prophet raised by God, the Creator and Sustainer of all beings, for the guidance and happiness of conscious beings—humanity and jinn—and the harmony of existence. As such, he lived not for himself but for others. He is a mercy for all the worlds, a manifestation of Compassion.

He eradicated all differences of race and color. Once Abu Dharr got so angry with Bilal that he insulted him: “You son of a black woman!” Bilal came to the Messenger and reported the incident in tears. The Messenger reproached Abu Dharr: “Do you still have a sign of jahiliyah (ignorance)?” Full of repentance, Abu Dharr lay on the ground and said: “I will not raise my head (meaning that he would not get up) unless Bilal puts his foot on it.” Bilal forgave him, and they were reconciled.[19] Such was the bond of kinship and humanity that Islam created among a once-savage people.

[1] Qadi ‘Iyad, Shifa’, 1:78-9; Hindi, Kanz al-’Ummal, 4:93.[2] Ibn Hisham, Sirat al-Nabawiyah, 4:55; Ibn Kathir, Al-Bidayah wa al-Nihayah, 4:344.

[3] Sultan Mehmed II (the Conqueror) (1431-1481). The 7th Ottoman Sultan who conquered Istanbul in 1453.

[4] Muslim, Birr, 87.

[5] Hanbal, Musnad, 4:395; Muslim, Fada’il, 126.

[6] Qadi ‘Iyad, as-Shifa’ al-Sharif, 1:17.

[7] Bukhari, Adhan, 65; Muslim, Salat, 192.

[8] Bukhari, Adab, 18.

[9] Ibid., Adab, 18; Muslim, Fada’il, 64.

[10] Tirmidhi, Birr, 16.

[11] Bukhari, Jana’iz, 45.

[12] Ibid, Jana’iz, 3.

[13] Muslim, Ayman, 31, 33; Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 3:447.

[14] Ibn Sa’d, al-Tabaqat al-Kubra’, 1:195.

[15] Bukhari, Anbiya, 54; Muslim, Salam, 153.

[16] Abu Dawud, Adab, 164; Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 1:404.

[17] Sunan al-Nasa’i, Hajj, 114; Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 1:385.

[18] Hakim, Mustadrak, 4:231.

[19] Bukhari, Iman, 22.

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kaibagirl007 · 5 years

Text

Come Undone 6/6

( the final part of a mini side-fic series to accompany my RP with @dragontamer05 )

“Time travel… save Kisara… prevent this bullshit… ” Kaiba mumbled repeatedly as he made his way down from his bedroom and to the basement laboratory. The sudden epiphany had struck him at the most inconvenient of times, but once his mind had focused on the idea, it was all he could think about. “Time travel… save Kisara… prevent this bullshit…”

Once in the laboratory, he headed straight towards the computer with its multiple monitor screens and readied the graphics tablet. First, he had to design the time machine. Should he opt for a stationary pod or some kind of vehicle? The latter would be more practical in helping to generate the energy and velocity needed to break through the space-time continuum, but would he be able to construct a runway big enough to achieve that? It was quite possible he might need a whole continent worth of unobstructed straight open-space to gather such quantity required, so what about travelling vertically instead? No, he’d then have gravity to contend with. Unless he could somehow utilise the natural force to his advantage…

The pen suddenly sped across the tablet as Kaiba sketched his idea for a towering elevator shaft all the way into space. He then began to mumble incoherently whilst jotting down an array of formulas alongside it. “Trajectory… maximise momentum… pierce spacetime… dilation… goal.” A manic grin formed on his face as he began working on more detailed calculations that would enable him to put his theory into practice.

’Not what I would have advised…’ Seto commented as he stood with folded arms whilst watching his descendant work. ‘…but at least he is taking this seriously now.’

‘Seriously?’ Atem scoffed and eyed his cousin sceptically as he stood beside him. ‘He’s high, wearing nothing more than a shirt and underpants, and devising a plan that will most likely end in disaster for himself and/or others if it is ever implemented!’

’So you do not think he will succeed?’

’That’s not what I said.’ A frustrated glare was given before elaboration was made. ’If Kaiba were to dedicate all his time to this and doesn’t inadvertently kill himself in the process, there’s every chance he WILL succeed with such a ludicrous idea. My concern is, just WHEN does he plan to save Kisara? If he intends to prevent her kidnapping, then all is well; the fractures won’t form in their relationship and they’d remain together. But, if on the other hand he still feels himself unworthy of her, then he could quite possibly take things to the extreme and prevent her untimely death back in our time.’

‘And that would be disastrous, because…?’

‘Because history from then on would change! Don’t you see, Seto? If Kisara never sacrificed herself, you would go on to wed her instead of your actual wife. Therefore your children would not be born, and their children, and so forth. Your reign as pharaoh would also differ; that is if you even rule at all since there’s also the possibility you might have died without Kisara’s intervention.‘

‘Yet the world would know no different,’ A tired drawl interjected. ’If my death occurred back then, at least Kisara’s soul would remain free… Alterations are not always a bad thing.’

‘You’re prepared to erase the last 3000 years, just like that, and justify it in the name of love?!’

‘Yes.’

‘Humph!’

‘Do not scorn me for something you have NOT experienced!’ Seto snapped at the judgmental gaze that remained unfazed by his outburst. ‘I am perfectly aware that my decision is selfish. But if it were you in my shoes to make the choice between reliving a mortal life or stuck in eternal solitude, I dare say you too would make the same decision.’

Eternal solitude. Those two words said it all and caused Atem to take a moment to see things from the other’s perspective. Both of them had spent 3000 years, their souls trapped, isolated, and barred from the afterlife. Whilst his own denial was now over, his cousins were still ongoing. Not only that but whereas he was peacefully oblivious to the passing of time with no memories to recall, Seto had retained all of his. As if residing in limbo wasn’t bad enough, what torture must it have been to spend such a long period of time alone and haunted by the past with no end in sight? No wonder he’s so reluctant to return to such a place of despair.

‘I understand you’ve lost faith in the gods, feel as though they have forsaken you, and are desperately clinging to any scrap of hope you can find to ensure the prophecy is fulfilled and therefore able to move on to the afterlife,’ Atem spoke calmly to the man by his side. ‘But you are only torturing yourself more by watching Kaiba’s every move.’

‘I would rather be here by his side than all by myself with my thoughts.’ Seto replied whilst watching his descendant fill the computer screen with more equations and diagrams.

‘You won’t be all by yourself. The gods gave me free rein between worlds. I’ll stay with you until this whole thing finally resolves, no matter how long it may take.’

Curiously tilting his head to the side as he turned to face the other, Seto asked, ’Despite your own imprisonment inside the puzzle, you would choose to give up your freedom and instead reside in a barren void just to keep me company?’

‘Of course,’ Atem smiled up at the perplexed gaze. ‘It’s the least I could do as my show of thanks for the things you did to ensure I too could proceed to the afterlife.’

‘And yet you waste that very opportunity.’ A sigh was given and eyes diverted back to his descendant now calculating centrifugal forces. ‘I appreciate what you are trying to do, Atem, but if he does not fulfil the prophecy, you could end up trapped with me for the rest of eternity.’

’That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

The two pharaohs looked at each other and Seto simpered a little. ‘I have a feeling that you will not take no for an answer; you are just as stubborn as him.’

‘Oh please, NOBODY is as stubborn as Kaiba…’ Atem smirked before extending his hand for the other to take. ‘… except maybe you.’

Ignoring the jest, Seto asked, ’You would really trust our fate in his hands?’

’Not would... I do.’

Seto may have lost his faith in the gods, but his faith in Atem remained firm. If the other believed so strongly in his descendant then he would too. Another simper as the offered hand was taken ahold of and together the two of them slowly de-materialised out of the underground laboratory.

—

Mokuba sat in the back of the surveillance van that was parked just beyond the boundaries of the Kaiba mansion. Pegasus sat to his left whilst Yugi sat to his right, all three faces illuminated by the huge monitor screen before of them as it broadcast live footage from the body-mounted cameras Roland and his teams were wearing.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Yugi asked the younger male. He knew that what had been decided must have been an extremely difficult decision to make and was there to provide support for his friend during the raid.

With a heavy heart and a close-to-vacant expression, Mokuba gave a slow nod. His brother had had plenty of opportunities to deal with everything that had kicked off more than eight months ago now, yet had only continued to get worse. “I never wanted for it to come to this, and wish there was some other way, but there isn’t…”

Seeing the boy in such a solemn state, Pegasus came to his aid with an explanation for Yugi’s benefit. “Kaiba-boy’s refusal to seek help for himself means that it’s now up to us to make sure he gets it.”

“Does it have to be right here, right now, like this?-”

“Yes!” Mokuba cut across his friend’s words. He didn’t want this to be harder than it was going to be. “My brother needs help. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Of course,” Yugi calmly responded to the extremely curt interjection, “What I mean is, he’s not going to take being institutionalised lightly. Maybe a quieter occasion would be less stressful for everyone involved?”

“Ideally yes, but Kaiba-boy’s behaviour has become so reckless as of late, that to wait any longer could be fatal…”

Mokuba momentarily zoned out from the debate going on either side of him. His brother’s death from self-destruction was not something he was just going to sit by and let happen. They’d been through so much with his brother having made many difficult choices for them since they’d been orphaned. It was time to repay the favour.

“… If Kaiba grows to hate him because of this, I will not forgive you Pegasus!”

“STOP, JUST STOP!” the teen roared in frustration and soon found himself under the gaze of three shocked and startled eyes. “Yugi, I understand your concern as my friend, but I made this choice, no-one has coerced me into it. And Pegasus, do not speak for me on my behalf, I have my own voice, and will divulge what and when I feel is appropriate. I’m not a little kid anymore! Will you both stop treating me like one!”

Silence filled the surveillance van and was only broken by a crackling sound as Roland’s microphone was switched on. “All the teams are in place and ready to proceed on your order.”

“Thank you, Roland.” Mokuba’s heart was now thumping the most forcefully he had ever felt. This is it. I’m doing this for your own good, Seto. Eyes clamped onto the camera feed belonging to his head honcho and he gave the command. “Move out.”

The six teams,- each consisting of three trained security personnel,- began to storm their way into the Kaiba mansion. Earlier drone surveillance had made them aware of a rather sizeable function currently underway, so whilst the two lead teams’ aim was locating the ex-CEO, the rest would secure the premises and deal with the guests.

“Look at the state of the place,” Pegasus commented as the body-cams streamed footage of trashed halls and rooms within the mansion. What had once been proud and immaculate living spaces were now almost unrecognisable with broken and strewn furnishings as far as the eye could see. “Someone call Marie Kondo, quick!”

“She’s an organiser, not a house cleaner.” Yugi pointed out the flaw in the other’s joke.

Speaking of a house cleaner, I wonder what happened to Jun? Mokuba wondered. Had his brother fired their maid or had she quit on her own accord? He knew there was no way she would have allowed such a state of disrepair if she had still been around.

As the teams ventured further into the mansion, they began to encounter intoxicated guests wandering around or passed out in the halls. A couple was even so heavily engrossed with making out that they failed to notice the raid happening at all.

“Fuguta, have your team check the office,” Roland instructed before taking his own team towards the hall where the bedrooms were located. “Notify me at once if you find Mr Kaiba.”

“Will do.”

The two lead teams headed towards their destinations with weapons drawn in case of any hostility they may be faced with once there.

“They’ve got guns?!” Yugi was horrified at having caught a glimpse of the firearms in the streamed footage.

“Those are tasers,” Mokuba assured. “Like you said earlier, Seto isn’t going to take lightly to being institutionalised. It’s only fair they’re able to defend themselves from whatever assault he might throw their way.”

Roland’s team soon reached the closed door of the bedroom belonging to their ex-boss. Taking the lead, Roland singled for his two teammates to remain quiet whilst they listened for any signs of someone within the room. Confirmation came in the form of multiple voices moaning and groaning.

After the count of three, the door was opened and all three tasers held at arm's length pointing directly towards the mass of naked bodies interlocked in a heap on the caesar-sized four-poster bed.

“Oh my!” Pegasus was quick to lean to his left and place a hand over Mokuba’s eyes.

The teen let out an exasperated sigh. “I hang around with Joey, so it’s not like I haven’t seen stuff like this before.”

A lone and furious brown eye swiftly found a new target. “You and your friends allow him to watch porn?!”

“What? NO! Of course, we don’t! Well, that is to say, I don’t ‘allow’ Mokuba to ‘do’ anything,-“ Yugi could feel the perspiration forming on his brow as he talked. “- he’s his own person. If he chooses to view such material,-”

“He’s fifteen!”

“Fourteen.” Mokuba corrected as he casually pulled Pegasus’ hand from his face and returned to his observation of the raids.

“Many boys his age are curious about sex; there’s no shame in that.” Yugi stood his ground. Is this what it felt like to be an elder sibling and criticised for every choice made regarding the younger sibling? Suddenly he didn’t envy Kaiba and Joey quite so much.

“Joey should not be showing him such inappropriate material!“

“What Mokuba has seen is tame compared to what’s out there!” Yugi refused to be intimidated by the suggestion that he’d somehow failed the younger male; his peer; his friend. His tone became confrontational and snide as he continued, “Unless you’d rather I ‘allow him’ to discover the extreme stuff on his own? Quit being such a prude,-”

“Shh, quiet down you two! I can’t hear what’s being said on the stream.”

Pegasus relented upon seeing the protectiveness he had stirred. “Touché, Yugi-boy,” he sighed. “Times have changed, and the internet advanced so rapidly since I was his age… He’s lucky to have someone like you watching over him in place of his brother.”

Mokuba turned up the volume so could hear more clearly what was going on inside the mansion.

“Mr Kaiba’s not in there,” one of Roland’s teammates declared as he emerged from the bedroom’s en-suite bathroom.

Roland lowered his taser, turned to pick up the luxurious blue robe from a nearby chair and tossed it towards a woman whose effort to hide her nudity with tiny hands made him pity her. His view fixed onto the group of five,- four women and a man,- on the bed. “I’ll ask you all one more time, WHERE is Seto Kaiba?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” the man scoffed as he continued to grope at the woman he’d been penetrating just moments before. She moaned loudly from his touch before seeking out his lips with hers.

“He was here…” one of the other women answered. She leant back on her elbows and parted her legs wide. “…but as you can see, he came and went.”

As the inebriated group burst into cackles of laughter, an infuriated Roland instructed his team; “Have them all dress and take them down to the duel hall!”

“Yes, sir.”

Leaving the room at a fast pace, Roland activated his com-link to Fuguta. “Any sign of Mr Kaiba?”

“None.”

“Did you check the panic room?”

“Empty.”

“Dammit!” Roland growled through clenched teeth as he continued down the hall. He’d been so sure they’d find their target in one of the two most obvious rooms he could be in. “Okay, well, just sweep the mansion until we find him. He’s here someplace.”

“Roger.”

The com-link closed and Roland held his taser ready once more as he was about to open another door. To his surprise, it was locked. He re-activated the com-link, this time to his boss. “Mokuba, your bedroom door appears to be locked. I have a feeling your brother may be in there. Permission to break the door down?”

“Permission granted.” Mokuba cooly responded despite being slightly confused. His bedroom had no lock, so why wasn’t the door opening? Has Seto barricaded himself in there?

Taking a step back, Roland raised his foot and gave several forceful kicks to the locked door before it crashed open. He proceeded inside.

“Roland stop!” Mokuba instructed at what he saw from the man’s body-cam upon entering.

Roland complied without question.

“Do a 360, turn around, let me see the whole room.”

Again he complied. “Is there a reason why you have me spinning like a top?”

“Seto’s not there.” Mokuba verbalised his thoughts. His eyes were wide with awe at seeing his room untouched since the day he’d moved out. “He put a lock on the door to keep people out and stop them from trashing it like the rest of the mansion. He’s preserving my room; my space; my memory,-“

“That’s all very well, but it doesn’t help with the situation of where he is now.” Roland huffed.

Pegasus sensed the other’s growing irritation and took it upon himself to press for clues that might help. “You know your brother best, Moku-boy. Do you have any ideas where he might be found?”

“Well, if Seto is hiding then he would have used the panic room,” Mokuba stated. “But since we already know it’s empty, he could be just about anywhere. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.“

“Does he have a favourite room, one where he might go to relax?”

“If Seto knew how to relax, he wouldn’t be in this mess.” Mokuba shot back at Pegasus before taking a moment to ponder over what had been asked. “Maybe the garden, in the observatory?…Nah… Perhaps the games room, or music room, or,- Wait, I DO know! The basement! Either in his lab or the garage.”

“You have an underground garage?” Yugi asked in a slightly awestruck manner.

“Uhh, yeah. Where else is Seto supposed to keep his car collection?”

“I’m heading down to the basement right now.” Roland declared after having heard everything via his com-link. He was already speedily leaving his teenage boss’ bedroom and made a beeline for the elevator at the end of the hall.

“Oh, Roland, just a word of warning; if you’re going down there, we may lose contact.” Mokuba was quick to inform. “There’s been instances in the past when I haven’t been able to get through to Seto’s phone when he’s down there.”

“It’ll be a minor inconvenience if it the communications do drop out, but the camera will keep recording so you’ll be able to witness everything that takes place,” Roland assured as he entered the elevator and it began to make its descent. “This will be over soon, Mokuba. I’m sorry it’s taking so long...”

“Don’t apologise. I’m the one who kept dragging my heels in this, remember?” Mokuba laughed weakly.

During the last eight months, both Roland and Pegasus had been advising him through each choice he had made that had eventually led them to today. At times he’d been doubtful,- sometimes reluctant,- to do as advised, but they never went against the decisions he made and were transparent with him at all times.

“I think we’ve lost contact with him,” Pegasus stated when no reply came from Roland whose body cam now showed he was exiting the elevator at basement level.

They all watched as Roland made his way past the laundry room and was soon looking through the glass wall where the fleet of a dozen luxury cars were displayed. Most were various shades of blue/grey/silver/white, with only a yellow Lamborghini and a red Ferrari standing out amongst them.

“Nice cars,” Yugi commented. “No sign of your brother though.”

“Then he must be in the lab… Or maybe I was wrong and he’s still up in the mansion..?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Pegasus announced as Roland keyed in a passcode,- 23995346,- on the laboratory door’s security panel and was granted entry.

Practically sitting on the edge of his seat, Mokuba watched as Roland slowly inched further into the room. The gun-like taser was drawn so close to the man’s body that its tip blocked part of the camera’s visual field each time he moved.

“There he is!” Mokuba gasped as the back of his brother’s head and chair came into view. “I wonder what he’s working on?”

Pegasus squinted as he tried to make out the messy diagram and scribbles displayed on the monitors. “I could be wrong, but I ‘think’ that says ’Space Elevator’..? What could possibly be going through his mind to come up with something like that?”

“He wanted to be an astronaut when he younger, so maybe he’s planing on,-…” Mokuba’s voice caught in his throat as his brother suddenly stood and turned to face Roland. He could feel his heart ache from seeing the sorry-looking sight that his eyes viewed; his brother wearing nothing more than a pair of underpants and an open shirt that exposed a heavily scarred and under-nourished torso, along with a face so gaunt that it almost looked lifeless. What happened to you, Seto? Why did you do this to yourself?

As the taser was pointed his way, the tablet pen in Kaiba’s hand was angrily thrown to a side and his face contorted in rage as he shouted at the intruder…

“Why can’t I hear what’s being said?” Mokuba asked as he frantically pushed at the controls to increase the volume to the maximum level.

“I would guess it has something to do with Isono’s microphone being connected to his communications link,” Pegasus suggested. “This must have been what was meant when last he spoke; we’d lose audio, but at still have visuals.”

“Kaiba looks furious,” Yugi noted out loud. “Do you think he’s been told what’s planned for him?”

“Quite possibly,” Pegasus admitted. “Though I presumed the subject would have been raised a little bit more subtly than being announced outright,-“

“HOLY SHIT!” Mokuba exclaimed at seeing the taser fired.

The barbs had shot out of the barrel at high speed, missed his brother by mere millimetres as he twisted to the side, and pierced one of the monitor screens instead. Concern was felt for both Roland and his brother as electric sparks to fly in all directions, but that same concern soon became conflicted as the two men engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

“I CAN’T watch this!” the teen cried and scrambled over Yugi so he could exit the surveillance van.

Once outside in the open air, Mokuba tried to catch his breath. He felt shaken from what he had seen; two people he held dear,- who held each other dear,- fighting like enemies, partially because of decisions he had made. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t have allowed for things to get so bad! Why did I even think it would be a good idea to fight fire with fire in the first place?

His thoughts turned back to when he’d first chosen to make a stand against his brother. It had been in the direct aftermath of the break-up with Kisara, were each word to leave the other’s mouth was nothing more than an angry repellent to keep others away. He’d held strong at first but, crumbled when the words turned purposely cruel and offensive,- as opposed to the defensive nature which they had started,- and in turn, delivered back his own cutting words.

At the time it had felt like the only way to get through to his brother, though now he realised it had had little effect at all. Neither had taking control of Kaiba Corp to allow his brother the time and freedom to work things out on his own. In fact that had only made matters so much worse. I made a mess of everything… But I’m GOING to put this right! First, I need to stop all this.

His eyes narrowed on the mansion beyond the gated boundary wall. Aware that he wouldn’t be able to use the com-link to contact Roland whilst still down in the basement, Mokuba knew his only other option was to inform him directly. He passed through the large iron gates and began to sprint up the long driveway, unaware of Yugi stepping out of the surveillance van now behind him.

“Mokuba, wait!”

Feet repeatedly pounded the ground as the determined teen raced towards the mansion. His brother wasn’t entirely lost. He could still reason with, and save him, without the need for institutionalising. He’d developed a thicker skin to cruel remarks since then last time they’d spoken and would not give up so easily again. His brother’s words had just been that; words. He wasn’t hated like he’d feared. The fact his bedroom remained protected and in pristine condition, instead of having been reclaimed or trashed, was proof enough. Seto would have wasted no time in destroying any trace of me ever being there if he truly didn’t want to reconnect.

Almost there, Mokuba’s pace slowed and he came to a stop where the driveway spread out across the entire length of the mansion’s front. Parked before him were several cars in which Roland and his team had arrived, a riot van to hold any of his brother’s ‘guests’ if they got out of hand, and an unmarked psychiatric ambulance waiting to take his brother away. He felt a sense of dread beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. What if I’m too late to fix this? Seto will disown me for real this time when he finds out what was planned! Will he ever forgive me? I wouldn’t if I was him…

“Mokuba!”

He turned at hearing his name called and saw Yugi running towards him. This was just what he needed; a friend to help lift the confusion and provide solace. “I CAN’T do it! I can’t do this to him! He’s my brother, I can’t b-betray him like this. I don’t w-want him to h-hate me.”

“It’s not betrayal,” Yugi panted as he came to a stop beside his friend failing to hold back tears. “Your brother needs help, much more than you or I,- or Pegasus or Roland,- could ever give him…”

What?! Mokuba was now even more confused as he struggled to make sense of his friend’s altered stance on the matter. He questioned my initial decision earlier, so why isn’t he giving support or approval for my change of plan?

“… I understand it’s hard to carry through with such a difficult and heart-wrenching decision, but I believe you made the right choice by ensuring he is given all the professional help that he needs. Your brother will get through this,-“

“Y-y-you don’t know that. Y-you can’t promise that!” Mokuba stammered as he shook his head and sent tears flying in all directions. Why wasn’t his friend standing by him? Inside he felt a storm of emotions raging like a cyclone and let it free without warning, “WHO are YOU to tell ME what to do?!!”

Yugi had already steeled himself for such a reaction,- his young friend was still a Kaiba after all,- and remained calm as the troubled teen leered down at him. “I feel your frustration, Mokuba. I really do,-”

“HOW could you?!”

Again he remained calm under the scrutiny of those narrowed grey eyes. “Much like the ceremonial duel I had with Atem, you have to do what is best for your brother, no matter how arduous on your conscience it may feel. Believe in yourself, in your judgement, and help him proceed back into the light where he rightfully belongs.”

He’s been stood by me the whole time! The comparison hit home with Mokuba and he felt the storm inside him subside. He hadn’t thought of the situation quite like that. and now had a better understanding of his friend’s outlook on it all. “Yugi, I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Fear and anger are strong emotions,” Yugi simpered with compassion and gave what he felt was a much-needed hug. “You’re not alone Mokuba. And neither is your brother. When he realises that, I’m certain he’ll make a full recovery.”

“You really think so?” Mokuba asked as he leant down a little further into the hug.

“I do. It’ll take time though, it’s not going to happen overnight.”

“But you’ll be there for me, if… I mean, ‘when’ I need you?”

“Always.”

Slowly, the surveillance van entered through the gates, drove along the driveway and stopped right beside the two friends breaking apart from their embrace. The side door slid open and Pegasus stepped out. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just… lost my nerve for a moment,” Mokuba kept his explanation brief. “I’m fine now though.”

Judging from the response he was given, Pegasus knew Yugi had done a good job of consoling the teen. “You’ll be glad to know that it’s almost over. Isono succeeded with his task of apprehending your brother, and is escorting him up from the laboratory as we speak.”

Mokuba simply nodded to confirm that he’d heard what had been said.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Pegasus asked, the silence now making him somewhat slightly unconvinced of what he’d been told just a moment ago. “It’s not too late to halt things if that’s what you truly want.”

“It’s not about what I want, it’s about what Seto needs,” Mokuba stated flatly. His eyes glazed as he watched the crew of the psychiatric ambulance prepare for their patient. Whilst the nurse measured sedatives in a syringe, the assistant readied the restraints of the trolley bed.

Yugi turned to Pegasus, “How long will Kaiba be institutionalised for?” he quietly inquired.

“I don’t know,” Pegasus admitted honestly. “It would all depend upon a string of assessments to determine his mental state, and what type of/how much care is required. Then there’s the factor of whether or not he’ll co-operate throughout the whole thing. I imagine it would be at least several months before his release is even considered.”

“And what about his absence during that time?” Yugi continued. “People are going to start speculating when he hasn’t been seen for a while.”

“Don’t fret, Yugi-boy. A cover story will-“

“LET GO OF ME, YOU PERFIDIOUS BASTARD!!” The sound of the outraged scream was heard well and clear before the mansion’s front door had even been opened. It drew the trio’s attention and they watched Kaiba literally being dragged kicking and screaming from inside his own home.

“Seto.” Mokuba whimpered as his brother struggled in a rear arm lock hold.

“KUSO YARO!!” Kaiba tried to throw his captor over himself as he slammed backwards into him, but just couldn’t build up enough leverage needed to succeed. “Grrr, I make you pay for this, Isono!”

Roland knew better than to retaliate in response to the other’s angry words and simply continued to haul him towards the unmarked ambulance. Despite his captive’s weaker visual appearance, there was still plenty of physical strength making it a strenuous task to overpower him. With any luck, the other would wear himself out soon with all the resistance going on.

“I WILL NOT be placed in some mental asylum!” Kaiba made another forceful attempt to break free from his hold which resulted in him almost dislocating his shoulder in the process. It was no good though, Roland’s incarcerating clasp was just too strong.

“You won’t be confined to an asylum, you’ll be staying with me, on my island,” Pegasus informed as if it would somehow make the situation better.

Kaiba looked in the direction of where the familiar voice had come from and sneered, “Heh, I knew the CUCKOO and the YANK would be behind all of this!” his voice was coarse from screaming but wasn’t any less malicious as he glared at the trio of traitors staring back at him. “I expected better from you though, Muto. Then again, you had no qualms sending OUR friend to his demise. FUCK YOU and your FAKE friendship!-”

“Hurry up and sedate him already!” Roland yelled at the nurse as he struggled to keep ahold of the infuriated man trying to break free and start a fight.

“Hold him still.” The nurse instructed as he tried to get close enough to carry out the task.

More struggling occurred as Kaiba spotted the syringe in the other’s hand. His eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth, “You’re NOT jabbing that in me!”

“Actually, ‘yes’ he is!” Roland let a frustrated retort slip. He was exhausted and not sure of just how much longer he could keep ahold. “I’m sorry, Seto,” he apologised earnestly before summoning what strength he had left and forced his friend face-first against the side of the ambulance.

“FUCKING CUNT!” Kaiba roared angrily with a freshly split lip. Roland’s bodyweight held him in place whilst the nurse sank the needle into his arm. “I’ll kill you! I’LL KILL EVERY LAST FUCKING ONE OF YOU!!!“

Mokuba fidgeted uncomfortably where he stood, shifting from one foot to the other. The whole thing was extremely distressing and he wanted it to stop, Now. No, I gotta stay strong. This is the endgame, it’ll be over with soon enough.

With the sedatives now administered, the nurse was quick to draw back from his patient. “They should start to take effect in a few seconds.”

“Good,” Roland panted and let go of the arms that were already bruising from the firm hold he’d had on them. He backed away to allow the other plenty of room to thrash and flail.

Instead, Kaiba staggered a few steps from the high-sided vehicle, sank down to his knees on the gravel and dirt, and eventually ended up on all fours. He stared at the ground, eyes wide, face dripping with sweat whilst breathing heavily as he watched a tiny puddle of blood form on the driveway. WHY did this happen? WHY didn’t they just stay away? WHY did they feel the need to form a pack and hunt me down like this? Why?…

‘Hey, there mister…’

Kaiba slowly raised his head to see an apparition of his younger self crouching down in front of him. The small boy studied him curiously as he leant on the soccer ball clutched close in his lap.

‘Are you okay?’

“No… I’m not okay,” he answered weakly, aware that he could no longer keep on lying to himself. How had it come to this? Why had he let things get so out of hand and been so reluctant to fix them? He was ashamed of himself and all he had become. “Get out of here, Go!”

Obediently following the instruction, his younger self stood up straight, failing to keep ahold of the ball and it slipped free from his hands. It was now that Kaiba could see it wasn’t a soccer ball at all, but the spherical puzzle of his heart. How he knew that it was his heart, he had no idea. Perhaps because many of the pieces were dented, cracked and chipped, just like him?

As though watching in slow-motion,- and helpless to intervene,- the puzzle shattered as it hit the driveway. “Nooooooo!” Kaiba scrambled to collect as many pieces as possible before they sank beneath the ground.

“What’s going on?” Yugi asked Pegasus nervously as they saw Kaiba talking to thin air before desperately clawing at the dirt with his hands.

“He seems to be hallucinating. Most likely a side effect of the sedatives mixing with whatever substances already in his system.”

Mokuba couldn’t bear to see his brother in such a state any longer, “Seto!” he cried as he stepped closer, and froze as the other’s wide-eyed gaze turned to fix upon him.

“Stay back.” Roland placed an outstretched arm in his young boss’ path for precautionary measures. If required, he wouldn’t hesitate to fully place himself between them. He needn’t have worried though as Kaiba remained where he knelt instead of carrying out the threat from just a few moments ago.

“M-m-my heart… it’s… b-b-b-b-bro-k-k-ken…!”

“We know, Seto.” Mokuba’s frown quivered as he fought back the urge to cry at seeing his brother dissolve into tears before him. “We’ve been trying to help you this whole time, but you wouldn’t let us-”

“I’ve GOT to fix it!” The scratching at the driveway became more frenzied though no progress was made with shifting the dirt.

“You won’t find anything down there, Mr Kaiba.” the nurse assured as he and his assistant each lifted their patient by placing their arms under his. “Come with us, we’ll help you to get well again.”

“No! No, no, no!” The objection was made with arms flailing wildly, but Kaiba’s strength was now not that much stronger than that of a newborn baby. “I need all the pieces!… Let go of me! LET GO OF ME!!”

All four onlookers found it excruciatingly uncomfortable to watch as Kaiba was hauled into the psychiatric ambulance against his will. Tears, distraught screams and feeble attempts of physical protest continued but failed to stop him from being placed on the trolley were he was then securely restrained to prevent him from thrashing around and causing any further injury.

“RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT!!”

Ignoring their patient’s demand, the nurse and his assistant exited the back of the vehicle and closed the doors.

“RELEASE ME!! RELEASE ME! Release me!... Release… me…” Kaiba’s screams eventually became nothing more than a weak mumble as the sedatives took a great effect of subduing him. He lay there. alone and paralysed with nothing more than the faint sound of Gozaburo’s laughter inside his semi-conscious head.

A driving motion was felt as the ambulance left his home. In all honesty, he would have preferred death over being institutionalised. He felt he could not atone for the things he’d said and done, and therefore had nothing left to live for anyway. At least in death, he would finally be at peace, free from inner torment and suffering.

The chortling grew louder.

‘You made your bed, now rot in it.’

#fanfiction #rp stuff #dragontamer05 #Come Undone #tw: sex #tw: drugs #tw: mental health #loooong post ^^;;

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mskatesharma · 6 years

Text

He Remembers

So this is mainly in response to a post made yesterday. So annoyed was I that I stayed up until 4:30 am writing the bulk of this so apologies if it seems a little scattered and messy. I have read through this, but I’ve probably missed stuff. Basically just Jon Snow and his growing admiration for one incredible lady. Let me know what you think! :)

He cannot recall meeting another lady like her. He cannot recall meeting another person like her. He has wanted to tell her on numerous occasions, too many to count, but he remembers her reaction in the Dragon Pit. The quiet smile traced on her lips, the gentle hope shining in her eyes. No, she is not like everyone else. She is the very best of them, in all that she does, and he swears that he will make sure she will never forget that, and that she will never question his belief in her.

He remembers that first day, walking into the Throne Room at Dragonstone, unsure of what to expect. The room vast and cavernous, a seemingly small slip of a woman seated on the stone chair; the shadows half covering her face not enough to swallow her, her presence seemingly filling the room, the cast of the stone unable to disguise her beauty as her impressive titles are announced to her invited guests.

He remembers the pleasantries, his surprise at her acceptance of what her father was, before his growing impatience turned into short words. He remembers wishing he had his furs over his shoulders, cursing himself for not remembering to put them on again after they had rowed to shore. He had grown used to the heavy cloak, it provided a weighted confidence he had still not become accustomed to; it helped him play the part of king. He remembers Daenerys standing when she had grown tired of his supposed insolence, her deliberate steps and the self belief puncturing her words to him. Faith. Not in any god, not in myths and legends. In myself. Daenerys Targaryen. He remembers the determination in her eyes.

He remembers brooding on that cliff top, feeling at a loss and as though he had failed his people already. He remembers the gentle slaps of wind on his face as he pondered Tyrion’s words. He remembers his trepidation at seeking her out as she watched her children from afar. He remembers the awe he felt in his bones at the dragons in the distance; the amazement growing at the realisation she was responsible for bringing them into the world. He remembers his restrained joy at her permission to mine the dragon glass, the whisper of hope in his mind that maybe, just maybe, she did not think him a complete mad fool. He remembers the curl or warmth behind his ribs at her acknowledgment of his loss, the faces of his brothers as he had last seen them flashing in his mind. You had better get to work Jon Snow.

He remembers the evenings spent under candle light in a shared solar, a rare occurrence, the labour of mining the dragonglass causing a weary exhaustion to steadily seep into his bones. He sees her sat across the room from him, partaking in a game of cyvasse, or in light discussion with Tyrion and Missandei. He remembers thinking how the lick of the small flames illuminated her youth and reminded him of his own, the flicker of girlish joy crossing her face at her Hand’s teasing tales. He remembers how it makes him feel lighter, and how he would bask in it for eternity if she were to ever look at him in the same way.

He remembers his deflation at her pledge to fight for him if he bent the knee. He remembers feeling startled as she spoke his words to Mance back to him. His respect for this lady, this queen, growing the more time he spent in her presence. He also remembers the way the firelight danced across her face, adding a softness that had been absent in the harsh shadows of the Throne Room, the way the silver of her hair caught the ember glow, the way he longed to run his hands through it. He knows he could stare forever. He remembers his shock on the beach at her request for council, the intensity with which she listened, at being softly stunned when she seemed to heed his advice.

He remembers the feeling of his growing admiration for the Queen. Hearing the words of Missandei and her reasons for following her, the complete conviction in her leader who had broken herself out of bondage, before breaking the chains of others. He recalls the soft, secretive smiles she had shared with her advisor, the way her eyes lit up at when something she is told brings her joy. Their belief in her unshakable, and Jon remembers the seeds of his esteem towards Daenerys beginning to bloom ever larger.

He remembers the awe vibrating through his being at seeing her atop her dragon, flying through the sky, looking majestic before landing on the bluff he was occupying. He is still not entirely sure what possessed him to hold out his hand to Drogon, for him to smell his scent before petting his burning snout. Stupidity or bravery, he is not sure, but something in him recognising Drogon and forcing him to reach out. He remembers the bitter stab of jealousy at seeing Daenerys welcoming and embracing Ser Jorah, reminding him rudely of his status and there’s no time for that. He remembers the mornings he has awoke hard and wanting, the vividness and viscosity of her in his dreams chasing him into daylight. He also remembers Davos’s knowing looks and staring at her kind heart.

He remembers his jubilation at the news of Bran and Arya in Winterfell being short lived and overshadowed by the news of the Night King. He remembers wanting to bask in the status of his siblings, but instead finding the ever present sorrow taking over at the realisation of what he must do. He remembers the pleading in Davos’s eyes, the acceptance in Tyrion’s. He remembers the catch of Daenerys’s voice as she reminds him he needs her permission, him snuffing out the spark of hope in his chest before he asserts he needs no permission; he is a king.

He remembers their goodbye on the beach, his trying for nonchalance and avoiding her eyes, the screaming of his heart at his practiced indifference. He remembers pushing away from the shore, the tangle of his thoughts as he forced his gaze forward. I cannot look back now, I may never want to leave. He remembers telling himself the Queen was only remembering her courtesies, she could never think of him in that way. He remembers the biting of his nails on his palms through his gloves, the only way to keep from reaching from her.

He remembers the journey to Eastwatch, the endless running of his mind on what ifs and what could have beens. Too late for that, you’re just torturing yourself now lad. He remembers the futile attempts at trying to push Daenerys from his consciousness, to try and focus on their purpose for coming North. He remembers trying to push away his unease at returning to The Wall. At trying to suppress the constant pricking of his skin at the mere idea of having to go beyond The Wall once more. He mostly remembers trying to force down the inclination that he misses Daenerys, with her hard confidence and the contradictory softness she tries to hide. The secret smiles, the empathy in her gaze; the understanding of their burden. You don’t even have the right to miss her came his disdainful reply.

He remembers the hopelessness that overcame him in the middle of that lake, the acceptance that he was to die once again. He remembers the attempts to keep the exhaustion at bay, to keep fighting for as long as his body would allow. He remembers the soaring of his heart at the roar of her dragons, at the realisation that she had come. She came for him. He remembers reaching for her, her hand so close, the peril seemingly melting away, before remembering where they were, and forcing himself to do what he must and clear the path for everyone else. All of that quickly overtaken by anger and devastation when the Viserion is felled by the hand of the Night King. He remembers the humming silence, Daenerys dazed heartbreak, the blood singing in his veins. He remembers shouting for her to leave, running toward her before she took flight. He remembers the ice cold water seeping then soaking into his furs, encasing and trapping him. He remembers the chill trying to claim him.

He remembers his refusal to die like that, drowning and clawing for breath. He remembers the coldness in his bones as he awaited his final fight, the sight of a horse and flame enough for him to question his sanity. His realisation that it is Uncle Benjen brings elation, before it is quickly stamped out at his refusal to join him.

He remembers waking on the boat, Daenerys the first true thing he can ever recall seeing. He remembers the distress overcoming him at the sight of her sat at his bedside, the overwhelming need to comfort, the feel of her hand in his. He remembers the pressure of her grasp, the tears filling her eyes; the way she forces the words to pass her throat. He recalls the guilt scraping him raw inside. He remembers wondering when exactly she became Dany; when exactly, she became his Queen.

He remembers the wonder in her eyes, the disbelief etched on her face. He remembers wondering when he started to miss the feel of her hand in his.

He remembers marvelling at just how blind he had been; how he had allowed himself to wallow in denial. He remembers pondering what might have happened had Daenerys not pulled her hand away. A dangerous path to go down he chides himself. He remembers thinking about her kind and good heart, and just precisely when his admiration and respect had grown beyond into the realm of love.

He remembers the journey back to Dragonstone, the ache in his body from more than just his frolic beneath the ice. He remembers watching Daenerys from afar, afraid almost to approach her after what had transpired when he had first woke. He remembers trying to seek her gaze, a prick of hurt at the way her eyes seemingly avoid his.

He remembers the consuming reverence with which he watched her enter the Dragon Pit, the way with which held herself. How she did not allow herself to be cowed by the hostile setting. He recalls thinking about her speech to him when they first met, and how it would take more than a disgruntled unbelieving queen to have Daenerys Targaryen quaking where she stood.

He remembers the bile rising in his throat at the realisation of what he was about to do. I cannot serve two queens. He remembers the anger and disbelief rolling of Davos and Tyrion, the incredulity razor sharp from Dany.

He remembers wanting to hear her speak more Valyrian, to lose himself in the way her mouth contorted and her tongue wrapped around the unfamiliar sounds. How it might sound being exerted in a more strenuous situation.

He remembers scoffing at her assertion that she was not extraordinary, that she would somehow be the last of her family. He remembers dismissing her declaration of being unable to have children. The witch who murdered my husband. He remembers wanting to tell her that it would never matter to him, that she was what he wanted, whatever she would give him. He remembers wondering when people started to take the word of so-called witches as infallible truth.

He remembers the anticipation crawling under his skin at her declaration, we sail together. They had come to an understanding, a silent exchange even he could decipher.

He remembers the nerves, the anxiety kicking his gut, making him question if he had misinterpreted the entire history of their interactions. He was disbelieving, that this incredible woman could even want him, that she should want him. What had he possibly done to deserve even an iota of her attention? He remembers pinching himself, hard, to make sure that this was real, and that he had not at some point passed over into an afterlife he knew did not exist.

He remembers standing in front on her door, his courage flailing in his chest, the fear of rejection a strong taste on his tongue. A deep breath finds his bravery, both hands clenching as he knocks on her ornate door. His nails dig into his palms as he waits. An eternity seems to pass, and then he hears the tap of the latch. The door swings open and her eyes do not immediately meet his. They snap up, and he can see the assuredness overcome her, mirroring his own acceptance.

He remembers knowing that once he stepped over the threshold, there would be no going back. He remembers not caring, of allowing himself to want, want her, want them together, everything else be damned. He remembers knowing in his very bones that they had been building to this point, slowly, but surely, and he could all but taste the crescendo, could feel it in the leaping knots of his stomach, the stutter of his heart.

He remembers thinking of the oncoming dark days, and how if this night was all they had, he would take it with both hands and hold it tight. He would allow it to warm him and soak his body during the frigid cold, the memory of the touch and taste of her.

He remembers when it hit him, truly, and he was able to latch onto the feeling and force his head to listen to his heart. He loved her, and she loved him. It was the only push he needed, all other voices, dissenting and otherwise silent. He remembers the stillness overcoming him, the mere thought of the love he held for Daenerys enough to invoke a peace he did not know existed. Her eyes lock on his and he sees the same emotions reflecting back, and Jon silently promises that he will not allow that spark to dull from her eyes. Daenerys Targaryen deserves everything she has ever wanted, and Jon vows he will spend the entirety of this lifetime and the next hundred ensuring she gets it, whatever it may be.

He remembers stepping through the door, then turning to close it. The sound of the latch locking into place, and Jon knows, in this moment, that being with Daenerys is the calm and peace he craves, and that he will do everything in his power to be the same for her. He accepts, that this woman has him heart, body and soul, and he remembers, as Daenerys sleeps in his arms, embracing fully this chance that fate has been determined to serve him. Daenerys is his, just as he is hers, and he vows then to never let go.

#jonerys #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #jonerys fanfic #jonerys fanfiction #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #game of thrones #got #my fic #daenerys deserves the world #and jon wants to give it to her

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years

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Padre Pio and Reflections on the Lenten Journey

Messages to Padre Pio Prayer Groups and his Spiritual Children

Lent is the time for us to reconfirm our Covenant with God in the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus. All without exception are called to enter the Lenten journey from Ashes to Palms, that ultimately leads us to the solemn experience of the holiest of all weeks, the Week of the Offering of the Innocent Lamb of God on the Altar of the Cross, so that through His open heart, the Holy Spirit might be poured out on all the world, leading from devastation to adoption as children of God. Ash Wednesday begins the sacred season of Lent. Forty days intended to help each one of us in our Christian commitment to walk in the way of true conversion. In the Opening Prayer of the Eucharist for Ash Wednesday in the Latin Sacramentary, we read these words: O God our Father, grant that your Christian people may begin with this fast a journey of true conversion, that the weapons of penance may make them victorious in the battle against the spirit of evil (free translation). This prayer, that opens the season of Lent, gives us the steps we follow on our the forty-day itinerary ahead of us. The prayer mentions: CONVERSION, JOURNEY, BATTLE, WEAPONS, VICTORY ... and a constant presence on this journey through life, ‘the evil one’. These are strong words. Reflecting on them and acting on them can make Lent a spiritually beneficial time for all who acknowledge their value and seek to implement them during this holy season, and throughout their lives.

CONVERSION - Conversion is a ‘turning around’ or a ‘change in direction’. As Christians we realize that My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways My ways, as God says through the prophet. We are challenged to have a change in ideas, visions, desires, and to think as Jesus would think. It is Jesus who tells us that sin is the greatest evil that can befall a human being since sin is capable of leading us away from God for eternity; and grace is God’s greatest gift because it offers us a share in the very Life of God Himself. Before our conversion can begin, we must believe that sin is harmful. In an era that seems to have lost the sense of sin, it might not be easy. Then we must start making choices that are according to Gospel values that remind us of the choices Christ made and expected of His followers. The easiest way to do this is to live in God’s Will, just as Jesus sought always to fulfill the Will of the Father, even when it led Him to Calvary and the Cross. A virtuous life makes the difficult demands doable: humility, obedience, charity, patience, temperance, chastity, and so forth. We act as Jesus acted, doing good to all, friend and enemy alike. As Jesus forgave those who offended Him, and loved everyone, even to his own death on the Cross, we love and forgive. This awareness and desire to 'change direction’ and ‘turn back’ to a more grace-filled life, sets us on a ...

JOURNEY - Nothing happens immediately. Anything worthwhile takes time if it is to be effective and lasting. The first blast of enthusiasm often fizzles out quite soon. When desire leads to conviction and conviction to commitment, then the journey begins firmly, fixed on the goal, and ‘full steam ahead’. This lifetime journey of conversion begins when God gives us His love and sanctifying grace at Baptism, the first conversion we experience. At that moment through the will of our parents and the Church, we are freed of Original Sin and set on the road of life’s experience filled with sanctifying grace. Through life, unfortunately, this grace will be tarnished and perhaps even lost for a while. The journey offers us the opportunities to regain and grow in this love of God for us. The dangers are always present, especially when we reach that point in our development that makes us, as were Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, knowledgeable of good and evil and capable of making personal choices in this regard. Thus, life’s journey often, not to say always, is a …

BATTLE - Conversion is a constant battle. It is a battle with the forces within us and around us. Sometimes it is a battle with two forces within us. St. Paul himself writes about the spirit and the flesh often seeming to be at odds with each other. The great saints even struggled with faithfulness to virtue. The battle is not a lost cause. There is only one God and no matter how strong, the ‘spirit of evil’ is, it can never be equal to God! The spiritual battle is an experience that strengthens the weak and challenges the strong in spirit. No one encounters an ‘enemy’ it will not be able to overpower. God’s graces are always available. God’s Holy Spirit and Wisdom, available to those who seek them, help us first to discern who the ‘enemies’ are. There are three: Satan, the world, and vices and sins, that we allow to control us. Satan, chief architect of all that is evil, is always prowling, as St. Peter writes, looking for someone to devour. ‘Direct assault’ with most would be foolish for Satan because Satan’s involvement would be obvious, and I would hope that there are few who knowingly and willingly would desire to accept damnation for eternity. So, after denial, delay and discouragement, which are some of Satan’s best tools to lead souls astray, Satan uses the world and our own desires and needs. The world, theater of redemption is a blessed creation that has been adulterated by humanity over the millennia. Read or watch the news, look at TV, live in certain areas of our nation; you cannot help but be aware of an ‘epidemic’ of violence, immorality, obscenity, blasphemy even against the goodness of God, dabbling in the occult and satanic practices. How easy it is for weak, frightened, tired, confused, indifferent, and/or otherwise challenged souls to accept to follow the easy road that avoids challenges to change and grow, rather than seek the strength and wholeness that comes with standing with and for the God-given values and principles in every human being, in particular the gifts we Catholics profess with our lips, and must also proclaim with our lives. In so doing, the vices and sins we allow to control us are probably the most difficult ‘enemies’ we encounter. They lurk within us. Becoming our ‘friends’ we learn how to co-exist and forget that, sooner or later, their presence will erode even the best of ‘finishes’. We are God’s masterpiece and cannot allow ourselves to be tarnished, pitted, rusted, and destroyed. To refinish the masterpiece we are, and overcome our ‘enemies’ that cause this decomposition, Lent offers us the appropriate tools. Used well, they are our invincible …

WEAPONS - For millennia the People of God have always known the best ‘weapons’ to use against anything that may lead them away from a holy and healthy relationship with God. In the Liturgy for Ash Wednesday, as well as throughout the season of Lent, we are reminded of three essentials that help us to ‘turn around’ and regain and grow in God’s grace: PRAYER, FASTING, AND ALMSGIVING. Prayer establishes, strengthens, or re-establishes our personal relationship with God. Through prayer we see ourselves from the perspective of the Divine Plan. God becomes a ‘Real Presence’ in our lives Sacramentally in the Eucharist, our daily Viaticum for life’s journey, and spiritually, at every moment and encounter throughout the day. Then it is that the gift of existence and life we recognize in persons, places, and things remind us of the awesome presence and love of God for all and in particular for ‘me’. How can anyone not accept the challenge to keep him/herself always available to the love of such a God? Thus, the fasting/penance we perform are not negative acts of renunciation or denial, as much as positive choices we make to avoid allowing ourselves to be controlled by anyone or anything that could or would lessen or destroy our relationship with God. Only the individual can know what is necessary for his/her particular life, and the Church asks that we, as a Body of the Faithful, a Mystical Body of Christ, practice certain external acts that proclaim to the world to Whom we belong, for Whom we live, in Whom we journey, and Where we hope to arrive one day, freed of our excess baggage. Aware that we are all children of the same God and called to share the same journey, though each in his/her own unique manner, our almsgiving/or charitable acts is an openness of heart that assists, where and when possible, all our sisters and brothers who, as we, seek the same goal, whether they know it explicitly, or indirectly through us or the circumstances of life. Our desire for personal conversion compels us to take the first of many steps on a journey on which we encounter friends and foes of our spiritual lives who must be embraced in love or fought in a spiritual battle with the weapons of faith (prayer), hope (letting go and trusting in providence to fulfill our needs), and charity/love (disarming our hearts to others as we seek to assist them however possible). Once we have embarked on this journey, guided by the Spirit of God, following the footsteps of Jesus, there is nothing less to expect than …

VICTORY! - We are victors in the Victim. We walk the road of the Cross. Though there are many difficulties we must overcome, our victory is basically a victory over ourselves; that part of ourselves that hesitates or refuses to let the Holy Spirit work in and through us. The journey of Lent leads to a victory so often misunderstood. It is a victory whose trophy is a blood-stained Cross and a mangled, tortured, derided Person, executed as a common criminal Whose crime was truth, compassion, and love. The paradox of the Cross is the glory of the Christian. The sign of contradiction becomes our sign of commitment, commitment to Life through death to ourselves, so that it is no longer I who live but Christ Who lives in me. Jesus Himself said, when I am lifted up I will call all people to myself. We come to the foot of the Cross, at the end of our Lenten journey, not as vanquished victims, but as victors who bear the brand marks of Jesus in my body, therefore let no one bother me.

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

#padre pio #lenten journey

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