#I want more people to marvel at the glory of creation with when we go out into the field

[babsbabbles]

Modern atheistic scientists: There was nothing and then there was. The universe is younger than we thought actually. Life is so unlikely to have evolved, it is considered an impossible occurance. The reason we should preserve life and biodiversity is because every living thing has inherent value simply by being alive. Humanity may be more unique than we expected.

Bible-believing christians:

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion Though We Sow With Tears, We Shall Reap With Rejoicing

#DailyDevotion Though We Sow With Tears, We Shall Reap With Rejoicing Psalm 126 When the LORD restored the captives of Zion, we were like those who dream. 2Then our mouths were filled with laughter, and our tongues were shouting happily. Then it was said among the nations, "The LORD did great things for them." 3The LORD has done great things for us – we are glad! 4O LORD, make us prosperous again as the streams return in the South. 5Though you may sow with tears, you will reap with shouts of joy. 6Though you may go out weeping, carrying your seed bag, you will surely come home singing, carrying your sheaves. This psalm of ascent seems to be written after the exile to Babylon. While the LORD used the hand of the wicked king of Babylon to punish His people for their idolatry, He now uses the wicked king of Persia to restore them back to their homeland. It had been seventy years and no doubt most of those two and a half generations who were alive at the beginning of the exile were no more. Only the youngest who may have had only a glimmer of Zion's former glory were still left. Yet, while in exile, the LORD used His prophets to re-educate the people in the ways of the LORD. They knew of Israel's former glory. Now to be actually going home must have seemed like a dream to them. Since they were returning home as a nation, to their own land their mouths were filled with laughter and they shouted happily. In remembrance of this restoration, this psalm was written to be sung as they ascended Mt. Zion to the Temple of the LORD. Those who perhaps were converted later in life or who fell away and were reconverted, know the feeling of living for a short time as if in a dream. They remember the weight and burden of sin, guilt and shame being removed from them. They remember being delivered from the bondage of darkness to the marvelous light of the LORD. Those who were baptized as babies and never fell away may still feel this when they go to the LORD's Supper, private confession and absolution or even the public absolution at the beginning of the service. Yet both must drudge along the Way of happy destiny, as the final verses address. I do see these first several verses being fulfilled in their totality when the LORD Jesus Christ returns and His kingdom reigns on earth without hindrance. When we shed these mortal bodies weighed down by sin and receive from the LORD Jesus Christ an immortal, imperishable, and glorious body like His, it will indeed be like a dream. The nations declared the LORD has done great things for them. While the nations opposed the Jews rebuilding of the city walls and the Temple, nevertheless, when the LORD fought for the Jews and had them succeed, they could do no less than declare the LORD has done great things for them. We join in the hymn the LORD has done great things for us. More loudly and greatly shall we sing this when Jesus takes us from this veil of tears into His marvelous light. The nations will agains say how great the LORD is as He delivers us from their hands on that great and terrible day. So we petition the LORD to make us prosperous again. Before we experience that truly awesome life in the resurrection of our flesh and creation though, we shall sow with tears. Jesus promises in Matt. 5, "4Blessed are those who mourn - they will be comforted." So in Matt. 10 Jesus says, "38If you don't take your cross and follow Me, you're not worthy of Me. 39If you find your life, you'll lose it, but if you lose your life for Me, you'll find it." Again in chapter 16 He says, “If you want to follow Me, deny yourself, take up your cross, and come with Me. 25If you want to save your soul, you will lose it. But if you will lose your soul for Me, you will find it." In Rom. 8 Paul says, "we share in His suffering in order that we may also share in His glory. 18I think what we suffer now isn't important when I compare it with the glory to be revealed to us." So yes, in this life we will sow with tears but we shall at the end of the age reap with shouts of joy. We will come home singing carrying the sheaves, the fruits of our present suffering. Heavenly Father, preserve us in the faith as we sow with tears in this age, we may have glimpses of the glory to come and at the end experience the joy of glory. In Jesus' name we pray.Amen. Read the full article

[stanning-reyna]

Her Future - A dark Annabeth fic

Chapter 4

Locating minor gods was an easy task. Most had a lot more free time than the 12 Olympians and came to camp regularly to see the cabins honoring themselves or simply to visit with their children. But camp, surrounded by her friends and siblings, was no place to go about the business she had, so Annabeth devised a system. 

Her and Percy would wander out into the woods with a picnic basket, supposedly going out for lunch. In the dense trees they would wait for whatever deity had visited that day to leave main camp, and once far enough away from people, they would jump into the god’s path feigning being lost and strike up a conversation. From there, it was all up to Percy.

Annabeth, of course, explained to him what role each minor god needed to play. When and where they were needed, how much commitment it would require, and so forth. She had put so much time into planning out every minute detail that it was foolproof already and she simply needed people to get on board. There was no space for “suggestions” from others- people’s suggestions were only ever a polite way of saying you’re wrong.

It was really something to watch Percy work. Annabeth never had much time to admire his talents while they were fighting for their lives, but now, in a less threatening situation, she could sit back and appreciate his way with words. It was different than Luke’s manipulation; Luke utilized fake compassion like it was nothing and ended up making Annabeth feel confused about absolutely everything. 

Percy, on the other hand, was shrewd and straightforward with what he said, leading the conversation where he wanted it to go. It was his number one survival tactic and had saved Annabeth’s life more times than she can count.

“Perhaps it’s poor luck that you two are unable to find your way back to camp in this rain. Though I will say, that isn’t my doing” the deity said. Sheets of cold rain had begun pouring down around them sometime in the past 5 minutes, stinging their faces, but the two demigods weren’t deterred quite yet.

Tyche, the greek goddess of chance and fortune, stood before them in a pale green toga, an overflowing horn in one hand and blindfold in the other. Her curly brown hair wasn’t damped by the rain- a modest display of her godly powers. Annabeth had seen plenty of divine beings before in all their glory, but still she plastered a look of amazement onto her face.

“We were just hoping so badly to meet you. I’ve heard you’re the most marvelous of all Zeus’ children,” Annabeth said, shoving all the innocence she could into her voice.

“Thank you, my dear, but you are wrong about that. My father is the titan Oceanus,” Tyche responded. She looked up to the heavens dreamily, standing that way for a moment, until she was seemingly pleased with herself and began to meander into the words. Quickly, Percy spoke up, drawing her attention back to themselves. 

“But I’ve always heard that Zeus is credited with your creation. Isn’t he the one that gifted the Greeks with good fortune through you?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion for effect. The goddess turned back towards them sharply. Just as intended, he had struck a nerve. 

“That’s absolute foolishness. Zeus hasn’t done a single thing for the Greeks in his life. It’s been me who’s granted them prosperity, me who’s warned them of dangerous risks. That good-for-nothing sorry excuse of a king has no right to play the hero. Don’t you children believe a word he says.”

The demigods nodded eagerly in response. This resentment was just what they needed to tap into, and it seemed to be overflowing in the goddess.

“He’s lied to everyone, yet he still gets whatever he wants. Isn’t that what qualifies a person for bad luck?” Percy said, his ingenuous voice hiding the powerful implications of what he said. Tyche stood over them for a moment as if in deep consideration. He took the moment of silence as an opportunity to instill another idea in her head. “Doesn’t Zeus’ temple at Camp Jupiter sit over a fault line?”

It was a simple enough observation. Yes, a fault line ran through California and reached to Temple Hill, but they had never experienced any tremors there. New Rome had excellent technology for detecting possible earthquakes. But say the reports went unchecked for a day, just by chance. And an earthquake occurred, just by chance. One that, just by chance, only damaged Jupiter’s temple. That could cause some serious upheaval on Olympus. That might even result in a shift in power, if played right. And Annabeth knew how to play it right.

AN: Heck yeah we’re gonna mess with Zeus. Thanks for reading! All chapters under the tag ‘her future annabeth”

[insingersfall]

Are dreamers descendants to fallen angels?

So I’ve been thinking a lot about the origin of dreamers, especially in relation to Ronan’s faith and his anxiety about creating life - a job he feels should be exclusive to God.

This is going to be long so the short story: Maybe dreamers are descendants to fallen angels?

Here’s my long ass thesis on why I think so:

Since CDTH I’ve seen this quote a lot:

In a wider sense it doesn’t have to mean anything, just a powerful ending to Bryde’s cheesy monologue about Ronan being too good for basic humanity, but I immediately read it literally.

-       do you long back?

And just two pages afterwards we get this:

Coincidence? I think not.

Bryde knows what Ronan is and where he comes from - the sky.

The question of “what am I” is something Ronan struggles with during the entire course of TRC and a vital part of his storyline.

And it’s always this:

Not who am I, What am I.

During the first four books Ronan struggles both with this huge existential dilemma of “what” and with more mundane questions regarding “who” he is. I think Ronan’s coming of age-arc, especially the “why do you hate yourself”/ “I don’t” - scene in TRK is one of the most moving scenes in YA. I read that as being about “who” he is. And In CDTH he’s older, he’s figured a lot of shit out. There are no negative feelings left about him being gay for example. Not in relation to his family, himself or to his religion.

But he still has a lot of negative feelings and anxiety about being able to create life. He still struggles with his identity as a dreamer alongside his identity as a catholic.

Ronan being religious adds so much to his character and this is why I can’t help but read A LOT into the religious symbolism. And it’s there.

Maggie herself posted this a while ago to clear up why Ronan gets so mad in BLLB when the copy of him dies. It clarifies multiple things - that Ronan is very much stuck in toxic masculinity and refuses to show vulnerability while also being very vulnerable, as well as how the situation mirrors his suicide-attempt, which is obviously triggering. But for this theme I want to highlight these two paragraphs:

“First, the setting. Adam is not religious, but Ronan is, and St. Agnes is a place he goes with the broken remains of his family. Now Ronan takes Adam — someone Ronan has only just allowed himself to admit internally that he likes, a lot — not just to the church, but to a private part of the church Ronan frequents on his own. “

And

“But to Ronan, it’s not just a copy. It’s a person who just happens to look like him. Remember that Ronan has spent his life loving dreamed people just as hard as real people. Ronan has spent enough time with Matthew and Aurora to know that even though they came from dreams, their feelings are real. They are not disposable. This other Ronan is really terrified, really in pain, and really dying.

And the real Ronan killed him. He’s killed someone.”

This is one of the very few times Maggie has explained something that isn’t explicit in the book. As we know Maggie is a major spokesperson for “the only things canon are the things in the book” but here she adds additional information. Why? Because it’s really, really important to Ronan’s character. Both the religion and his feelings about creating life. Especially these two combined.

He hates himself for a lot of things, and he hates himself for the ability to create -and therefore take away- life. Something only God is allowed to do.

Well yes Adam, maybe there are two gods in this church. Or something like it.

So - fallen angels? What does that mean really?

The story of fallen angels differ a lot from religion to religion, I’ll focus on the Christian tradition since that’s what our lord and savior Ronan Lynch would like. There isn’t a lot of Bible stories about it, it’s more of a tradition arising from later accounts in religious texts and poetry.

The Devil is a fallen angel who together with a bunch of other angels rebelled against God and was expelled from Heaven to Earth.

In some older interpretations the “angels” on Earth had children with humans and created giants, who in time became demons. Or, if you’re writing YA fantasy with a religious MC, maybe these descendants of angels became dreamers.

Lucifer rebelled against God because he too wanted the power that God possessed.

“Lucifer apparently became so impressed with his own beauty, intelligence, power, and position that he began to desire for himself the honor and glory that belonged to God alone. The sin that corrupted Lucifer was self-generated pride.” 

I sure think that sounds like Bryde, and it sounds a lot like the sin Ronan fears God will judge him for.

And on the subject of the Devil. Who in this series is often referred to as a “devil of a boy?”

It’s our man, Ronan.

A quick search of the word “Devil” in the Raven Cycle (1-4) led me to a number of passages, mostly as part of a saying, but at some occasion to specifically describe someone, or as a direct reference to someone.

Ronan, Niall, Kavinsky and Aurora. Dreamers and their dreams.

Coincidence? I think not.

The same search in Call Down the Hawk I would say really confirms this recognition of mine. It has for starters this wonderful paragraph:

But it also broadens the parable to all of the Lynch brothers.

The upper quote about the three brothers all being handsome devils is the only time not even Matthew can avoid the metaphor. A character who up until then has only been compared to an angel.

Contradiction? No, not in the question of descendants to fallen angels.

A creature who are - by definition - both angel and devil, savior and sinner, companion of God as well as a child of Satan.

We don’t know for sure yet how one becomes a dreamer. But we do know that it in some way it’s inherited. In some peculiar way from parent to child. From one devil father to one of his devil sons, the one he created together with another one of his creations. Because Ronan therefore is a clone of Niall? Is Hennessy a clone of her mother? Kavinsky one of his parents? Maybe the next two books will tell. Regardless I still like the idea that they all descend from the first angels on earth, mixing with humans.

I also just have to mention that Ronan not only dream of the sky, but also on multiple occasions dream about flying. Not as a bird, but with his own wings.

So what do I think this will mean in the big scheme of things?

Not a lot honestly! I’m not even sure I’m arguing that this will be a plot point.

But I do think the paradoxical identity in descending from something so torn between good/evil is fucking perfect for Ronan. Someone who’s constantly torn between his own fuck-ups and wanting to do the right thing.

Who creates marvelous life in form of magical animals, angelic brothers and light where there needs to be light, but who also creates monsters, horrors and dangers.

Who wants to protect the world from climate change and protect the people he loves from danger and for all we know might instead accidentally end the world.

Who turns to God and fears hell at the same time as he’s presenting himself to the world as a devil of a boy.

I just think it’s beautiful, whether Maggie has a storyline planned with this or not.

So I’ll just end this thread with the upper picture and with the quote describing Ronans’ birth.

[opes-magnas]

The Funeral

How would it be, if you could see your funeral unfold?

I can’t believe they let the casket be open! Gosh!

I can’t look at myself that way, of course no one wants to look at themselves devoid of life and rotting away but it was much more harder for me to be another entity (which I didn’t believe to exist) and just stand there letting my body lay there when I desperately want to wiggle into it, like a cosy blanket that covers your toes when it’s cold but sadly that’s what death means, its finality only hits you only after it scoops up your soul, from the tiny little nest in your body and sets it free, to float in the air, to become one with the soil, to flow like water, to burn like fire or attain peace if that’s what you were destined to for, be one with the most singular core of the universe, which I am yet to know because I’m still here.

With death also comes revelation of secrets which were hidden in plain sight that everyone looked for but never actually desired it or wanted it only for the sake of knowing it. It’s like that tiny voice inside your head which speaks to you and you know everyone also experiences the same thing but no one really speaks about it or wants to prove it.

Wow! death did make me philosophical which I never was, but now I’m not Scarlett Hamilton I’m just a lost soul detached from its anchor, I don’t even know why I’m here, but the weird part is I can still feel strong emotions towards all the people I loved or even hated, I can see my daughter crying a river out, those salty tears roll down like beads stringing along a long pearl necklace I once wore.

Yup, now it’s just getting started, maybe I have willed myself so hardly too able to witness the grandeur of the world just once last time before I go wherever I’m supposed to. So my metaphorical body’s shaking at the thought of being a spectator to my own funeral.

The service started and I was standing on top an empty chair in the last row, I saw my husband standing near the casket with my four other brothers. He’s still as handsome as the first time I laid my eyes on him, I still can’t believe that I landed him, he is like way out of my league.

Those deep blueish green eyes, which appear like the sea bed whenever sunlight hits on it at very specific angles and brings out this certain depth, a mystery, which I would try to unravel every time I gazed into them and one day while eating French toast in a small Parisian cafe I made a rather curious analogy to this one puzzle that I just couldn’t get right, a continuous clockwork ticking and every second it’s different and that can never be brought back and a mystical creature might pop out any moment and he laughed his wide goofy grin which made his dimples appear distinctly. His platinum blonde hair slightly below his ears almost caressing them lightly, I can still remember the way I used to run my fingers through it like it just happened this morning, oh! It did. I’m happy that was the last thing I did before you know, I died. The rippling of muscles can still be seen underneath that black suit he’s wearing, which I picked out for him to wear to the his big Oscar after party. Everything just feels so real yet so far away, I’m right here, but I’m a world away from him. I guess I felt this way when we had a big fight about well I don’t remember what and honestly it was stupid but we stopped talking and when I was sitting right next to him, I felt miles and miles away from him. It was the worst.

I’m longing to have another moment with him, just to tell him that I’ve loved him until my very last breath, literally, that no one else could ever have made more of an impact on my life other than him, and I just have so many things to do.

Funny, now I want to do so many things when I’ve wished to die like a thousand times or probably even tried to. But now since I’m really dead all I want to do is live another moment.

Shaking off the deathly feeling, yeah now I’m definitely in the second stage of grieving, “the acceptance”.

The service started with the father saying some kind words about how I always was such a big donator to the church funds, honestly I did it because I didn’t know what to do with the money I had, it might come of snobbish but that was the truth. Now I’m being applauded for an act I did, not in the intention everyone believes it was done.

Now, I wish was more spiritual than I was, to actually believe there is something out of reach which I thought wasn’t possible cos the motto I always believed in was, ‘There are no boundaries to the knowledge you can unearth. Science can become quite lonely, even when you’re the most alone, if you could just believe you have one other person with you, God, it would be so splendiferous just to never be alone.

Focus, you insipient fool, focus! these are your last moments on this beautiful world, you’ll probably be eternally damned to the meadows of asphodel to have time to ponder upon the tiny nuances of life, right now take in as much as you can, you probably won’t remember Darcy, Ophelia, Zoheth or for that matter Zeke when you leave.

Then, my best friend walked up to the podium, I could the rivers of mascara gushing down, unrestrained, like the mighty rivers, sparing no one who stood in the way, right now the only things that stood in the way were tiny mountains of acne, pimples which were barely visible, but as she always said I was omnipercepient, but that was arrogant on my behalf to actually believe it deep down.

Euphemia, ‘the well-spoken off’, ‘the one who martyred for what she believed in’, is actually what her name means, and I was always awed like how her parents could have even the slightest clue that she would one day live up to the glory that her name had already bestowed on her.

Somebody, in some late night show once asked me to describe Euphemia as a scent. I sat baffled for a minute, because I thought of her as this limitless person who couldn’t be bound by timidity of just words but I did try my best.

I distinctly remember the first time all of my green roses (that’s something I call my gang as, I identified each of them with these characters from Oscar Wilde’s books the first time I met them, and I do hope someone gets this reference for once)

We went hiking to the grand canyon, we climbed uphill all day long soaked with perspiration, but when we reached the peak, I had to remind myself to breathe as I felt so awed by nature, like those slightly purple pink rock mountains rising majestically as in a challenge to the sky, splitting the clouds into an shards of glass when they’re broken, but reflecting the dazzling light in all its glory all across, in every colour I could ever imagine about, huge trees appeared like chess pawns moved here and there by the will of these cordilleras, I just relished every moment I saw this marvellous creation.

Then at night we lit this bonfire, which emanated a strange crackling and pungent smell at first but it soon felt so familiar. Warm and fuzzy that I felt I’ve been discerning this forever. That is how I think Euphemia would be if I could ever convert her essence into a scent.

She pursued her full lips, biting the inside of her cheek, knotting her overly expressive eyebrows into this broken bridge, contracting her face into a lemon being squeezed out of its limit, I could feel the turmoil she was in just by glancing at her. She gripped the mic with her freshly manicured nails and began to speak in a tone I’ve heard her use only a few times.

“Scar, I wish you were here with me…. umm I don’t know what you would want me to say though we talked about every single thing on earth, being the twisted sisters 2.0, but we weren’t dark to begin with.

As you always said, with every end there is a new beginning, as today marks the end of your mortal life here, I so want to reminisce the beginning we had which some might say is odd but we were never normal to begin with.”

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I was walking towards me to be dorm, on broken cobblestones, just thinking of how small electrons can be and walked up the creaky wooden stairs and reached ROOM 27 , and I knocked the door and heard a ‘come in’ and dragged my two very huge suitcases in to see her standing there.

She scuffled over in her very high heels thumping methodically against the floor and when I was just about to measure its oscillation period with my pulse rate, she hugged me.

I’m not hugger nor am I a “people person”, so I responded with an awkward side hug and my face buried in her brown curls cascading down to her shoulders.

You must be Scarlet, the genius whiz kid! Hi, I’m Euphemia Clarke, I’m an undergrad in English lit, women studies and philosophy. So?

Umm… I’m scarlet Hamilton, I’m a grad in theoretical and quantum physics and English lit.

But, your of my age, how could you be a grad student? Yeah, I forgot momentarily that I’m in the presence of the next greatest scientist here, ooh we’ll be buddies in English lit. But why English lit? It seems like an odd choice for a science person to be interested in... And your also doing a double degree... what can’t you do! I must bagged the lottery in roommates cos you’re just a dream to be with and ooh nice dress huh... Zara 2018...chic, edgy and makes a statement... thank God! You have a nice taste, I couldn’t possibly live with a horrible makeover gone wrong nincompoop, I would just die a thousand deaths before that.

Uhhh...

Yeah?

Um... I should get settled in, then I might have to go and take a tour of the library, it’s pretty huge and also do some other admin stuff, so I guess I’ll see then.

Shut up, I’m going to help, it literally took an army for my room to be done, I came like 2 days early just to do some painting work, what colour do you like? We could...

My head kept spinning and jumping on ropes just to catch up with her, all I could hear was an echo of words and she did a graceful swirl and smiled at me, “we’re going to be just fine.”

I had the chance to then observe her like I did everyone, a “perfect body” some magazines would say, slender, about 5’2, a brunette with deep green eyes , her eyebrows deserved an award for all the jumps, somersaults, backbends they did and her smile made me feel like I was tasting honey on a warm summer afternoon at centennial park.

I certainly can’t be friends with her, she’s one of the high and mighty sorority girls who went on a shopping spree to Dior, Chanel and Marc Jacobs and spent like $500,000 dollars buying a pair of fur coats and heels and wanted to become a socialite fluttering at parties being ‘the pretty one’ and marry some rich guy and came to colleges like Yale only cos ‘daddy’ paid whoever was looking at her essays to look the other way.

God! Am I judgmental?

(Some months of awkward conversations later)

We were walking to English lit together and she was strutting like a Ralph Lauren model on a runway in ridiculously high heels and just took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze without even looking at me and held the door open.

Today we were discussing about ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and because I’ve almost read the book a hundred times I was very excited to what kind of discussion we were going to have, I have looked at the book from my perspective which is can vary from a hopeless romantic to a strong feminist depending on what kind of mood I’m in, I want to see the book how a person who doesn’t believe in love, feminism, freedom sees it, obviously I will take it offensively but my curiosity multiplies by the second.

She and I spilt as we walked into the class, she went towards the back.

I found my seat in the middle of the amphitheater like classroom, which I think was chosen for English literature class specifically just to add that glamour, majesty and that extra pinch of drama that old English prose gives off. Clever.

Ms. Dalloway started reading the book, which opens with an immortal statement, “It is truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of good fortune must in want of a good wife.” Why don’t we kick the class of by a discussion on this iconic statement? Anyone up for the challenge?

Aah. Scarlet, not you again, I sincerely hope the next time you will allow the other nitwits here to use the fragments of their brains left. But, go on, you certainly are the person to speak about this book.

I think what that sentence means in plain English is that any man who is rich and handsome wants a trophy wife just to look at him as if he’s the greatest and adore him like a silly schoolgirl and basically smother and mother him and nurse his big giant ego.

I think this sentence is truly aptly describes how the society was and is, women are always reduced to matter of objects traded between men and valued only for looking pretty and being a social butterfly and the main goal in their life is to be a human incubators or rather baby machines. On a more serious and highly unfair note of beauty standards, however ugly the man is, he wanted a small waisted, thin, fair maiden from a “good family”. I mean women almost killed themselves trying to please men, wearing those corsets as tight their lungs could probably burst, lead powder as kohl and what not, just so men could feel valued, I don’t know even they even knew what self-respect meant. Jane Austen is a genius, she almost gave a jist of her novel in the very first sentence.

I don’t think she is the right person to speak about this book, Ms. Dalloway, she has only the view of a feminist, when one talks about a book, and it must be from an unbiased view.

All heads turned towards who spoke, even I was surprised that Euphemia could even think about anything other than her Manolo Blanik pink lacy heels she bought yesterday.

I think this story is totally unrelatable, yes I am a woman but it didn’t make it any easier for me to relate to it, I mean like everyone sees Miss Bennet as a prime example of Feminism, strength and how women can make their own way and stand by the things they believe in. But, she is as shallow, narrow as the other women and a big bully. She makes fun of Mr.Bingley because he is isn’t tall, handsome when she herself believes that women must not be judged for their external beauty. Men and women having equal opportunities, isn’t that what feminism means, and isn’t she being a huge hypocrite when she is going against the very ideals she believes in? She also mocks Caroline, who calls her family out on their shit. So, that makes her exactly the same as the others.

That was when I knew she would be my best friend.

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“Yeah and that’s how I knew she would be my best friend, because she stood by what she believed in, actually it is funny my name means the saint who married for what she believed in and her name means wealth and both of us embodied what each other meant and then had an epiphany that we could be what we were meant to be since we were born by looking at each other.”

I will be eternally grateful to Scarlet for making me more than a pretty girl, a woman who was a force of nature, who couldn’t be stopped by these insipid little men. I love you my dear, I always have. The only regret I have is I didn’t say it as often as I wished to. I love you, you have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

Oh, Mia, I know, I know…

I saw her walk down the aisle and I remembered the day I walked her down the aisle to her husband and she looked at me and told, “You have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

She looked at Zeke and nodded and went and sat next to Jake who kissed her cheek ever so tenderly and squeezed her shoulders just like I used to and she broke.

Many others spoke, like my mum, whose sentences weren’t distinguishable because of her crying and how God should have taken her instead, and it is so terrible to live after your child had died and looking at my face which was full and pink now shrivelled and almost passed out just to be caught by Papa, who couldn’t look her in the eye.

Mama always loved me dearly, I was the only girl out of 4 boys who were tough, burly and never asked for a kiss and a hug before running off to school, chatted with her late in the night explaining how she saw the world from her tiny green emeralds for her eyes and asked her flaming red hair to be combed into braids and always was willing to hear family gossip.

Well, papa wasn’t as warm and gooey as mum but he loved me , I knew it when he was hard on me to study better even when I got straight A’s and had skipped grades but didn’t give my brothers a twat when they scored less than adequate. He believed in me, which is more than I ever could ask for.

Maybe my cold and hard side was because of him, I was very analytical and logical and never let my emotions interfere with my decisions except when I said yes to my husband.

I never said this thought out loud, not even thought about it to myself, I was never a warm and gooey person who went around telling people how much I loved them, so it comes as quite a shock to me that I could even think of it. Maybe death brings finality to little things that were left out.

Saying the word still gives me chills, which reminds me again that we are never ready for things unless forced upon us. Whoever thinks they are ‘ready’ for life, they mostly never are, I never was.

My children came up, Darcy held Ophelia and Zoh like a fierce lioness protecting her cubs, I knew I raised her right, she took the mic and started speaking so confidently, she turned her steel grey eyes and looked right at me, a sharp light baring through my soul, almost as if she could see me and nodded her head right at me.

“Sorry, mum I haven’t shed a tear for you, even though the cessation of this hasn’t quite hit me yet, but I could see the differences already, nobody told if this black dress was appropriate or if my looked okay and Ophy and Zoh relied on me completely. I am sorry, but I know you never expected me to cry, but I think I know well enough to tell you expected me to be great. I still remember you whispering in my ear, before I entered Harvard, “Be Great or Nothing”, and those words were repeated by me in the break of dawn every day. You were what I wanted to be, independent, brave, most of all I was grateful to God to be blessed with the lottery in genetics. So, ma, that’s what I’m going to be, great.”

I saw the way her eyes sparkled with fear, fierceness almost as if her heart had broken into a million pieces yet she was holding it together not for the sake of putting on a show, but for herself. All I could do was smile, a huge grin actually, all the time I wanted them to be ordinary people, but she proved me wrong, greatness runs inn our blood.

Zoh and Ophelia, my little babies, I wasn’t worried about them either, they did cry though but chanted this one sentence together, “ Vincit qui se vincit .” and the three of them bowed before my casket, touched my feet, an intense bolt and I could hear them whisper together, non-duco ,duco.

An intense bolt of lightning shot through me, I looked at my arms they became almost transparent now. I could feel myself fading away, being sucked into but, I was ready to go before hearing his voice one last time.

My children, I was proud of myself to have raised them, but I looked at the sky above me and thanked the Gods for giving such Brave and strong humans into me. Thank you, thank you.

I was so lost in the maternal glory and satisfaction, I didn’t notice Zeke passing out on the podium before he even uttered a word.

He slowly swayed down, his eyelids shutting down on his beliquent violet eyes gleaming with distress and grief, his hands went upwards in a dramatic manner and his knees buckled down and landed with a thud on the floor, out of habit his eyes frantically searched the room for me before giving out a guttural scream in my name.

Suddenly, everything moved so slowly, people sauntered about as glaze leisurely dripped of a cake, none could hear me screaming, scratching and pushing past everyone to hold him.

The next thing I remember is sitting in a rushing ambulance moving like those cars in video games, twishing and twashing around other vehicles but never actually touching them. I could feel his heartbeat getting fainter and fainter and his hand grappling to my side. I put all the strength I had left in me to push his intense desire to be with me.

The doctors were speaking in a feverish pitch and everyone was so focused on saving him, my reality jilted and I was back in the Lake District National Park, the glacial ribbon like water was still the same, where the sky kissed the tip of peak Windermere who was stretching into the sky, looking for lost love, the purple pink flowers scattered around, the manifestation of temptation, no one resisted in plucking them out ,, the reflection trees into the almost ice like water gleamed like crystals, miles and miles of grass stretching infinitely and in it were a thousand insects, chirping and hooting and going by their lives not knowing the amount of tragedy that has befallen the world and a plaid picnic spread over with all my favourites which included my person.

I remember this day, the day of my betrothal to my beloved.

Ezekiel, the same serene look on his face, his mouth puckered into a smile that tugged at his dimples, his platinum hair swaying the wind and his hands beckoning me towards, as much as I wanted to go, I stood rooted where I was. Even if I moved an inch, I somehow became aware of the repercussions, the loss of his life, the more intense his desire to stay with me, the less will he has to live.

Dr.Burke once said, “With all medical realities being equal, why does one person live and another die? I believe there is a mind, body and spirit connection.”, if Zeke doesn’t want to live, no matter how much the odds that favour him, his body will defy everything to be with, me.

Our love, was the kind of love that came around once in a lifetime, the pure love which doesn’t expect anything in return but just loves not because of the looks but because of the thoughts, the feelings and mostly the heart. I loved Zeke with every inch of my body, every cell in my being and it tears my heart to leave him alone, but I won’t be selfish today. He still has a lot left to do, his time hasn’t come yet, and death hasn’t knocked upon his door so I’m not going to slip the key to it.

He smiled, “Scarlett, my sun, my moon and stars, come, please. You know why, I can’t live another minute knowing you’re not there to lay my head upon your lap and talk about how our day went, or to see your chest collapse and fall with every breath, the comfort it gives me, just in  knowing your alive . No, no, no!!”

I know, but you must always remember that I will be live as long as there is a place for me in your heart, I will live in those times your remember me and smile, I will live in those moments where you and the kids look up to the sky and say my name, I will live as long you draw breath, do you wish to kill my legacy? Do you? Go back Ezekiel, go back, I will wait for you.

His face contorted into a fit of rage, sorrow, despair and he walked near me and starting thrashing wildly, kicking his arms and legs in all inhumanly directions, screaming, yelling and when I looked into his eyes and gave him one last look, he stretched his arm out to lightly touch my fingertips and whispered,” Goodbye, my love, I will live for you.” as he knelt before me the same way he did that day.

I felt myself being swirled into a whirlpool of light, stretching me into long into infinite bounds, suddenly filled with power and just the feeling of being complete and then darkness enveloped everywhere.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

— Whoosh, a gust of wind blew over his face, almost caressing him. —

His eyelids fluttered open just a little, just enough to a peek at what is around him.

“Where am I? “

Daddy, you fainted at mum’s... umm... funeral and had a heart attack on the way, but now you’re okay, I sent Ophelia and Zoheth home, they persisted to stay but they had to go to school, that’s what mum would have wanted. You were muttering something in your sleep about seeing mum... Did you actually see her?

Yes, I did, she convinced me to stay. Go home, and take rest, you need to get back to college, remember what we promised mom? We are going to keep our word. Go.

She came and hugged him and gave a toothy grin and said,” Yes.” and closed the door behind her.

Thoughts flooded Zeke’s mind, he could remember clearly what happened at the lakes, and he knew what he was going to do. He clutched at his wedding ring and gazed outside his window knowingly. Even dead, Scarlet had made him a better man.

Scarlett I hope your happy.

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“What I want in my life is willing to be dazzled, to be cast aside by the weight of facts and maybe even float a little above this difficult world.” ~ M.O.

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Love,

Lady Lazarus

(picture and prompt from: pinterest)

[lawrenceop]

Holy Land Retrospective - Day 8

Reminder: clicking on the link for each photo (links are all in red text) will take you to the Flickr page where you can see the photo in larger sizes.

Start with DAY 1, or flip through DAY 2, DAY 3, DAY 4, DAY 5, DAY 6, or DAY 7. Or just read on!

PHOTO 37: This would be our last full day together as a group, and we began the day with a journey, just over an hour, to Mount Carmel on the slopes of which is built the ancient port city of Haifa. From here, one looks out into the Mediterranean, where Elijah had seen a little cloud that was a sign of rain after a long drought in Israel that had been a consequence of the infidelity of God’s People; the little cloud came to be regarded as a symbol of Our Lady, from whom God’s grace would rain down upon the earth. For after God had worked a marvel and Elijah had triumphed over the 450 false prophets of the idol Baal who had their shrine on Mount Carmel, a great fall of rain returns to the land as a sign of forgiveness and of grace because the people of Israel had turned back to the one true God. This is recounted in 1 Kings 18:17-46. Mount Carmel, therefore, is a place of conversion, of spiritual renewal, and tells of the power of God to save us. It is also the spiritual heart of the great Carmelite Order in whose 19th-century church of Stella Maris (Star of the Sea) we prayed. 

Here in the Carmelite church, the sanctuary is built over a cave where Elijah sheltered. The Latin inscription reads: Hanc Aliquando Speluncam Incolvit Magna Ille Prophetarum Dux et Patrem Elias Thesbites, “At one time this cave held that great leader and father of all the prophets, Elijah the Thesbite.”

The Carmelites believe that religious life began on Mount Carmel, centred around this cave as hermits began to gather here in solitary prayer, after the example of Elijah. As their Constitution says: “From Elijah, Carmelites learn to be people of the desert, with heart undivided, standing before God and entirely dedicated to his service, uncompromising in the choice to serve God’s cause, aflame with a passionate love for God.”

As we have seen over the past week in the Holy Land, God often reveals his wonders and works his marvels among people who live in caves. Why? Living in a cave grounds us in our humanity, I think. For, according to Scripture, we humans, the children of Adam, are created from adamah, the dust of the earth. As such, we are people of the earth, dwellers on the earth, our being is connected to the earth from which we receive our existence and sustenance. Modern man in non-agrarian societies, some even living in the skies, is much removed from this fact. But Adam was, indeed, the first gardener, called to tend the earth of Eden (cf Gen 2:15), and so, too, the new Adam, Jesus Christ, was seen as a gardener on the first Easter morning for he was tending the new garden of creation that had been restored by his death and resurrection (cf Jn 20:15). Each of us, therefore, has a garden to tend, namely the soil at the very heart of our earthly being which God makes fruitful with his Word, and on which the rainfall of his grace falls (cf Matt 13:3-9, 18-23). Let us, by God’s grace, then, be “good soil... who hears the word and understands it; he indeed bears fruit, and yields” (Mt 13:23)

Like Plato’s cave-dwellers, our pilgrimage to these caves of the Holy Land brings us to stand at the mouth of the cave, and there, to see the light of truth concerning our being, our place in salvation history, and the lives we live. What are we doing with all that God has given us? Consider the experience of Elijah on Mount Horeb:

“And there he came to a cave, and lodged there; and behold, the word of the LORD came to him, and he said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" He said, "I have been very jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the people of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thy altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away." And he said, "Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD." And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. And when Eli'jah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him, and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" – 1 Kings 19:9-13

PHOTO 38: After lunch in Haifa, our next and final holy site was the town of Cana in the north in Galilee, not far from Nazareth. Here the Franciscans established themselves in 1641 although the present church is from the early 20th-century. I presided and preached at the Mass here, during which the married couples who were present were invited to renew their marriage vows.  

“Now six stone jars were standing there, for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim.” – Jn 2:6-7

In our imagination, we often think of these jars as being much smaller, the kind that we could pick up perhaps. But St John is clear about their capacity, and beneath the church in Cana, excavations had unearthed various artefacts including this example of a monumental stone vessel. Once again, like the caves, we are confronted with something hewn from the rock of the earth. For, once again, we see in the miracle at Cana a sign of what God wants to do for us human beings. Christ wants to transform us with his grace, elevating us beyond our human nature to share and partake in his divine nature (cf 2 Peter 1:4). Hence, he turns water into wine at the wedding feast, for when, by grace, Man shares in the divine nature, the soul is wedded to God, the divine Bridegroom. 

“He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the steward of the feast." So they took it. When the steward of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, "Every man serves the good wine first; and when men have drunk freely, then the poor wine; but you have kept the good wine until now." This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” – Jn 2:8-11

PHOTO 39: Also beneath the church in Cana are the excavations of a 4th-5th century synagogue on this site. Pious pilgrims have stood here in prayer, and some have left their prayer intentions here, and others have left money as a votive offering. 

However, the story of Cana, and indeed, all we have seen on this pilgrimage points to the generosity and gratuitousness of God’s grace. He gives us everything freely, beginning with life itself, and then with the gift of salvation in Christ, and the gift of eternal life in heaven. All is grace. Thus, no money nor any worldly good can ever buy or earn his favour. 

However, God does demand something if we are to receive his favour, his graces. He asks of us something more costly still, more precious than money and jewels, more all-consuming than a pilgrimage. He asks us to follow him (cf Mt 4:19). He asks us to entrust our lives to him (cf Lk 14:27). Or as Mary, the best of all disciples said in Cana: “Do whatever he tells you." (Jn 2:5) The invitation to Christian discipleship which transforms the water of our lives to become like the best of wines is extended to us daily. For God’s love and mercy is without end (cf Ps 136). Therefore, on the great pilgrimage of life, the Lord Jesus says: 

“If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake, he will save it.” – Luke 9:23-24

Returning to Jerusalem that evening, we had a final festive meal together in our hotel, and I did not return to the Holy Sepulchre because (as was the case on most nights) we had inspiring talks from our spiritual leaders, and on this night, we had an evening of reminiscences and farewells. 

Tomorrow: Final hours in Jerusalem, with a visit to the Dominican friars, and to the Holy Sepulchre one last time. 

[rucbarthatbowtiesarecooldw]

Sunday Morning Session

Elder Garrit W. Gong

- Come believe and belong

- When we covenant all we are we can become all we are.

- By losing our worldly selves in covenant belonging, we find our best selves

- God’s ordinances provide guideposts on the covenant path

- 1 covenant belonging centers in Jesus Christ as mediator in the new covenant

- To belong by covenant is: that i may be comforted by the

- We may lose faith in God, but he never loses faith in us. In other words, His porch light is always on.

- However often we stumble and fall. . . . God will be there for us

- 2 the Book of Mormon is evidence we can hold in our hand

Sister Cristina B Franco

- His work and His glory is to enable each of us to receive all of His blessings.

- As His hands we are important to His plan

- It is very simple: every day before I leave my house I pray to Heavenly Father to lead me to someone who needs the gospel in their life.

- I’m smiling because I’m happy

- “1 we can all pray for the desire to help with the work

- 2 we can keep the commandments ourselves, faithful members will always have the spirit with them

- 3 we can pray for inspiration of what we can do to share the gospel with others”

- “how great shall be your joy” - D&C 18:10,15-18

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf

- The journey will be challenging, even dangerous. The possibility that he might not return is great, but the adventure is calling.

- We were also invited to go on an adventure, and would go through many sorrows and trials along the way.

- We accepted the challenge to go on our own great adventure of “there and back again”.

- On this adventure the path holds many hills, and holes, and metaphorically even spiders, trolls and even a dragon or two

- 1 you need to choose to incline your heart to God, strive each day to find Him, learn to love Him. And then let that love inspire you to learn and follow his teachings and keep God’s commandments.

- 2 Discipleship is not about doing things perfectly, it’s about doing things intentionally.

- God loves you no less when you struggle than when you triumph.

- It is your choices that show what you truly are, far more than your abilities - Dumbledore

- Discipleship is like learning to play the piano - at first you can barely even play chopsticks! But as you practice you can get better

- 3 take upon ourselves the name of Jesus Christ, and not being ashamed of being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ.

- True disciples love God and His children without expectation of anything in return

- When you fill your heart with discipleship you leave no room for anger, judgement, or shaming.

- Come and see, find out for yourself how the path of discipleship will be rewarded. Come and stay.

- God does not need to sell the restored gospel. You merely need to not hide it under a bushel.

- If you and I have felt the stirrings to share the joy of gospel living, today is the day to join the Savior on his path of discipleship.

- It is time to begin.

- Come and see what this marvelous and adventurous journeys all about. Along the way you will find Christ.

- Now is the time to commit fully to seeking God

Elder Walter F Gonzalez

- “Lord if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean” - our Savior always wants to bless us

- Whatever the result, His will will be the best for you.

- As we come unto him, God will come to our rescue, weather to heal us or to help us through hard circumstances

- Jesus Christ is a God of Love, hope, healing. He wants us to be clean.

- In Nazareth, the narrow road, That tires the feet and steals the breath, Passes the place where once abode The Carpenter of Nazareth. And up and down the dusty way The village folk would often wend; And on the bench, beside Him, lay Their broken things for Him to mend. The maiden with the doll she broke, The woman with the broken chair, The man with broken plough, or yoke, Said, “Can you mend it, Carpenter?” And each received the thing he sought, In yoke, or plough, or chair, or doll; The broken thing which each had brought Returned again a perfect whole. So, up the hill the long years through, With heavy step and wistful eye, The burdened souls their way pursue, Uttering each the plaintive cry: “O Carpenter of Nazareth, This heart, that’s broken past repair, This life, that’s shattered nigh to death, Oh, can You mend them, Carpenter?” And by His kind and ready hand, His own sweet life is woven through Our broken lives, until they stand A New Creation—“all things new.” The shattered [substance] of [the] heart, Desire, ambition, hope, and faith, Mould Thou into the perfect part, O, Carpenter of Nazareth!”

Elder Gary E. Stevenson

- kids painted dog

- Confused skunk with kitten lol

- Do we sometimes confuse satan with a black and white cat instead of a skunk?

- Command the enemy of your soul to go away. “Get thee hence satan”

- You have been blessed with the gift of Heavenly help

- We have prophets

- Scriptures

- Prayer

- Through His servants God speaks to us

- He gives them commandments designed to lead us to Him

- Satan always pretends to be something he is not, tries to pass things off as not evil, disguises consequences of sin as something else. . . Camouflages dark things as something that is fine

- “Wickedness never was happiness”

- Spirit speaketh truth and lieth not

President Russell M. Nelson

- Love God and love your neighbors

- includes those of other faiths or beliefs

- I.E. EVERYONE

- Church is service and helping others

- Go hungry to help others who are hungry

- Give all you have +more

- Service: helping everyone

- Refugees

- Hungry people

- EVERYONE

- Charities

- Charity is the PURE LOVE of CHRIST

- small part of the global humanitarian aid and outreach of the Church of Jesus Christ

- Because of YOUR helping hands

- Latter-Day Saints build strong families and communities, wherever they live

- Our greatest joy comes from helping our brothers and sisters

- Caring for others as much or more than we care for ourselves is our joy.

- Living that second great commandment is the key to becoming a true disciple of Jesus Christ.

Side note AGAIN.

All of the apostles agree on what is said in conference. Their views do not differ one from the other. They are servants who all speak the word of God in unison. They have different ways of speaking as they are from different walks of life, some more straightforward, others with kinder tones. BUT THEY ALL SPEAK THE TRUTHS OF GOD UNIFIED IN HIS WORK AS HIS SERVANTS.

[sherryaptx4869]

Cycle Decoded

This is my first Senhaku fic also on ao3.

A bit OOC 😬 This took place sometime around chapter 86 of the manga. Some spoilers ahead 😊

After returning from the oil exploration mission, Senku noticed a big acne perched atop Kohaku’s nose. He dismissed it, teenagers get it ten billion percent of the time.

“You can take a rest while the others prepare for the provisions needed in our biggest project yet- going to the side of the earth where the petrification light started. There are tons of tasks delegated to everyone so basically everyone’s plate is full.”

“I can’t do that. I have to help anyone who needs assistance. And you said that everyone’s plate is full, might as well share the burden.” Kohaku crossed her arms in front of her chest taking on a defensive stance.

“Tch, such a gorilla! Where do you even get that unlimited strength?” Senku tried to convince her by goading her.

However, despite Kohaku flipping him off, he saw the exhaustion on her face as well as on Chrome’s and Ukyo’s faces. The trio travelled by foot after all.

“You know, taking is a rest is part of the job. How will you perform ten billion percent when your limbs are about to fall off from exhaustion, you lioness?”

“Well I’m not a lioness for nothing,” she smirked.

This banter did not go unnoticed by Yuzuriha. It’s been quite some time since she’s surrounded by lots of people. She wondered how the Ishigami villagers who were only used to seeing each others’ familiar faces are taking this new development on their daily lifestyle.

Yuzuriha is about to pass by the arguing duo on her way to the crafts room when Senku caught her attention. They stood a few steps away from Kohaku who remained rooted in her spot. They talked out of earshot while looking at Kohaku every now and then. Kohaku felt funny especially they kept on looking at her while Yuzuriha’s face was reddening a bit.

When it is apparent that Senku finished whatever he is telling Yuzuriha, Kohaku exclaimed, “I’ll enlist Ukyo’s help for that magnificent hearing he’s got and eavesdrop from even a hundred paces from you.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try lioness. Later!” Senku waved and went to see updates on how the others are doing.

Before Kohaku has the chance for a witty retort, Yuzuriha led her by her arm.

“Kohaku, let’s go to the crafts room and take your measurement. We have plenty of cloth to work with after all.” Yuzuriha practically beamed and bounced her steps while dragging Kohaku. She can imagine different designs for Kohaku and she can’t wait for Kohaku to try them on like she did with Kinrou and Ruri.

Kohaku gave a bewildered look at Senku’s retreating back before following Yuruziha’s lead.

Inside the crafts room, Kohaku spotted different assortments of clothes, and cloths yet to be sewn into Yuzuriha’s beautiful creations. She saw a wood carved in the likeness of a human form in the corner. “Is this for target practicing?” she asked.

“Oh no, that’s a model for wearing clothes I designed. It’s called a mannequin.” Yuzuriha answered.

Yuzuriha measured the bust of Kohaku with a string. Kohaku sat there quizzically looking at dresses, clothes and a number of other clothing articles while Yuruzuha did wonders with her nimble fingers and agile hand movements. After a few nips, and stitches here and there, Yuruzuha handed her a small fabric.

“This is called a bra, and you clasp it here at the back, adjust the straps here and here so it fits snugly.” She explained to Kohaku, while showing how the straps work.

“Er, thank you, did Senku ask you to do this?” Kohaku asked after she changed into the article. She found that the texture and softness of the material somehow made her more comfortable than wearing what she was accustomed to use as animal skin for breast binds.

“Well he may or may not have,” Yuzuriha answered vaguely with a smile blossoming her face.

“Uhm, I have to talk to him again. Thanks for this Yuzuriha!” said Kohaku as she dashed off.

She found him talking to Gen, Chrome and a few other people from their generation who jumped ships from the Tsukasa Empire to the Kingdom of Science. She marvelled at how Senku’s charisma and manipulative stunts brought them the kind of manpower they need in order to bring back the glory of their lost civilization.

After Senku received updates with how their projects were moving along, Gen and Chrome left the two of them alone. She watched as Senku slumped on a chair and cracked his neck.

“You look tired,” she commented. She sauntered towards him and just stood by him.

He looked up only to see turquoise orbs meet his crimson ones.

“That’s rich coming from you.” He laughed. “We only moved 1 millimeter from where we started and there’s lots of work that need to be done. With that prospect, get excited!”

“Well, speaking of excited, did you ask Yuzuriha to make me this?” she asked as she gestured towards her chest.

“You don’t go around showing that to everyone, idiot!” Senku replied while looking away.

“No one’s interested 1mm of what you’re wearing.” He added while touching the back of his neck.

“Surely if you were the one making stuff, there has to be a scientific reason behind it right?” Kohaku prodded. She sat on the table with her arms crossed.

“You are a valuable ally of the Kingdom of Science and it won’t do if you’re not in your best element of ten billion percent.”

Kohaku stared at him with a big question mark written on her face.

“Why, what do you think is up with me Senku-sensei?” she asked.

“The past months I’m with you guys, it can’t be helped that I noticed. I pretty much know your cycle like the back of my hand,” Senku smirked.

Kohaku stood up abruptly, disbelief written all over her beautiful face. “You’re keeping tabs on my monthly cycle?”

“So as not to awaken the gorilla in you,” Senku in a low voice, “like now.”

“Hah! And how sure are you Senku, that you are correct?” Kohaku subconsciously took a step back.

“With your grumpiness level, I would say you’re having PMS right now.” Again that goofy smile.

“PMS?” Kohaku repeated.

“Premenstrual syndrome. You feel tired , irritable, bloated, you have acne and you’re feeling sore and tender breasts.”

As Senku rattled on the symptoms, Kohaku can’t help but agree for once with what Senku is saying.

“From when you got back, it seemed that your breasts grew bigger with the way the fabric of your dress was stretched more than usual. I figured, the increase in your estrogen caused your boobs to get bigger and progesterone made your milk ducts puff up making your breast feel tender and heavy. I asked Yuzuriha to make you a firm, supportive bra. You tend to move a lot and a good-fitting bra will help the pain associated with excess swaying of your breasts. And that’s why you feel grumpy is because of all the discomfort.”

“The what now? As usual, I don’t understand 1mm of what you’re blabbing on.” Kohaku deadpanned, though she did not miss the fact that Senku is looking at her. And he even knows her body clock at that!

“Bottom line is, it just means that your body is getting ready for a baby.” Senku stated matter of factly.

“WHAT!?” To Kohaku’s amazement, her fist connected to Senku’s face that put him in a much-needed sleep.

“Oops, that was a bit much,” she muttered to herself while she placed a sleeping Senku on his sleeping mat and covered his form with a blanket.

“Oh Kokahu-chan. Leaving already?” Gen greeted Kohaku as she was about to exit the crime scene.

“I might have accidentally knocked out someone to sleep,” was her sheepish reply.

After three days.

“Since every preparation for our numerous projects are well underway, we’re planning to go to the hotspring to gather some sulfur powder, would you like to come?” Chrome asked Kohaku.

The hike will take about a day by foot. The party consisted of Chrome, Senku, Suika, Ruri, Kohaku, Gen, Taiju and Yuzuriha. Chrome took the lead while Kohaku brought up the rear. With her abdominal cramps, she figured she could take it easy by walking slower. And there’s Senku whose physical stamina needs major overhaul.

Upon arriving, Kohaku wanted so badly to take a dip in the warm water but something held her back. Although the warm water looked inviting, she sat on a boulder satisfied to dip her thigh and her legs, keeping her center and the rest of her upper body out of the water.

The others did the same, they looked for spots that will keep them relaxed as they bask in the hot spring before they go on a long and arduous journey towards the source of the petrification light. Chrome and Senku are inspecting the rocks right off the bat. Taiju helped them position their tools before joining Yuzuriha at the hot spring.

Yuzuriha watched as Senku approached Kohaku. It is interesting indeed. She remembered how more than a year ago, the three of them were so desperate to escape Tsukasa. In the same place, Senku met his demise while practicing the one that he loves- science. But before that, she did not fail to notice how Senku discretely gave space to her and Taiju to talk privately. Senku wasn’t the odd one out in their group, he just felt he’s not one to be a romantic type. He is the intellectual who does not have time to fool around with feelings. Today however, she watched as Senku approached Kohaku who was sitting by herself and not taking a dip as the rest of the gang. Only Kohaku and Senku are not in their bathing wear.

“You managed to knock me off unconscious.” Senku told Kohaku.

“Are you mad that I made you sleep?,” she retorted.

“No, either way I couldn’t ignore my exhaustion button anymore, you just made it sooner.”

“You’re welcome,” Kohaku smiled. She splashed a little of the water running on her feet.

“Why don’t you take a full dip?” Kohaku asked Senku who made himself comfortable by claiming the seat beside her.

“Why don’t you? Besides, I came here to collect sulfur powder.” Senku noticed how badly Kohaku wanted to jump in the water.

“You always think of work.” She stared at their party, how everyone loved the rejuvenating power of the warm water after hard days of work, apparent in their faces.

“It never hurts to be prepared. Especially a lot of the reagents were knocked off after the battle with Hyoga.”

“You know, I might take up Ukyo for his offer,” Kohaku visibly winced when the cramps in her abdomen demanded the pain to be felt.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Senku asked when he saw Kohaku grip her abdomen.

“The cramps in my abdomen are very uncomfortable “

“There is rose geranium oil back at the lab. You should use it when we get back. Suika collected the plants Pelargonium roseum. Gen and Chrome obtained the essential oil by hydrodistillation for three hours.”

Senku launched into a lengthy explanation of her anatomy and physiology, but seeing Senku in his best element does bring a smile to her face.

“The abdominal cramps are from prostaglandins which make your uterus contract helping to shed the endometrium out of your body.”

“You seem to know more about my body than I do.”

“I also know when your cycles are, mind you.” Senku said with that irritating smirk.

“What the hell?” A nerve found its way on her temple again.

“So what’s up with Ukyo?” Senku interrupted her before she get too violet and knock him down again.

“I think he’s good at mapping on the ground, he’ll be of tremendous help to the Kingdom of Science. I also wish to learn how he fully utilizes his hearing capabilities… ”

Senku’s mind wandered while Kohaku gushed about how amazing Ukyo is. He is brought to attention when Kohaku mentioned how Ukyo saved Chrome from falling when he caught Chrome with his arrow just when Hyuga and Tsukasa dealt him the killing blow.

“Care to repeat that again?”

“He said it will be totally okay for him to teach me archery. It will be so cool to fight from a distance,” Kohaku repeated while glancing at the spiky-haired man beside her.

“Is that right,” he said with a devious smirk.

“You look like a villain right now Senku. Stop making that face, you’re creeping me out.” She admonished him.

“All right, just stay put while I do this.”

Senku kneeled, balanced one of Kohaku’s legs above the water and perched it on his lap.

“Okay you’re freaking me out. I can still fight you know,” Kohaku threatened. She looked around and saw Ruri and Yuzuriha glanced their way, but they quickly averted their eyes when they caught her looking right back at them. It seemed like they were prying on such a private moment. Which isn’t because Senku is doing something weird again.

“Lo and behold the pelvic and menstrual busting powers of scientific knowledge.” Senku told her dramatically.

“There is a pressure point around your ankles called spleen 6.” He explained as his fingers located the inside of Kohaku’s left leg just above the highest point of her ankle. Then with four fingers width up her leg, he gently applied deep pressure behind her tibia (bone) and massaged the area for 4-5 seconds.

“This pressure point effectively alleviates pain and menstrual distress,” he said as he gently propped Kohaku’s leg down.

“Wow, so this pressure on my leg will trigger something in my gut?” Kohaku asked excitedly, eyes twinkling.

“Yes, and there’s a lot of pressure points that produce significant pain or other effects when manipulated properly.” Senku added.

While still on his knees, just before the sunset, the golden hour has approached. While everyone around them were soaking the healing power of the hot spring and minding their own business, Senku leaned over to Kohaku and she let out a small yelp from the sudden onslaught. When he finished, there is a small yet noticeable bruising on her neck from where Senku sucked on her skin. “This will help Ukyo mark out territories” his traditional smirk in place.

Unknown to them, Gen laid back and watched all of it unfold.

“Humans are such silly creatures. When they lose something they thought they had for sure, that’s when they stress and feel the most loss. Many psychological experiments have been conducted on this especially in love and relationships.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when Senku-chan experienced this himself.”

[lothirielswan]

Writing Introverted Individuals: Guide and Sources

Hi Awesome Adventurers! So I’ve had to write about a few introverts on my journey through writing so far, and I’m sure you can find a butt ton of stuff like this, but I wanted to make this easier for you guys and offer up some things that I’ve found. Scroll down to see insightful videos, characters, tips, and more!

First off, here is a list of well-known characters in fiction that are incredibly introverted to study (no, there are no spoilers listed with character descriptions):

Ron Swanson — from Parks and Rec. Ron is definitely very far down the spectrum and could be considered the “stereotypical introvert.” Ron Swanson avoids and nearly despises any social conduct with people, yet he does it in a comical way. If you are writing an incredibly antisocial introvert with zero respect for other life forms, I’d look into Mr. Swanson (bonus: you get to watch Chris Pratt, our lovable extrovert, at the same time!).

Loki — from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The star of Tumblr. I’m sure all of you are familiar with him, and the best thing about watching Loki is seeing his introverted nature compared to the biggest extrovert in the nine realms: Thor. This gives us both sides of the spectrum, and it’s a great thing to watch when you’re trying to differentiate the traits of extroverts and introverts. Loki proves that introverts can be funny and witty, but most accurately shows the con of being the introvert: constantly feeling neglected/left out of things.

Everyone from the cast of The Big Bang Theory, besides Penny — well, not quite, but this show has tons of introverts and is one of the best sources to watch. One thing to keep in mind from this is that The Big Bang Theory is focused on a group of close friends—introverts have social circles, too. Introverts can be loud and boisterous around people they know well (the show has multiple examples of this). However, when these introverted individuals are put in a more crowded setting, some get social anxiety, some can’t talk to women, and some find it exhausting. This show is a landmine for studying introverts, and I extremely recommend it for this topic. 

Tyrion Lannister — from Game of Thrones (I’ll repeat this again because I know you: NO SPOILERS). Tyrion is more social for an introvert, but it’s been shown that he likes to spend his free time in solitude. Tyrion is a very independent thinker (a big introverted trait) and is very well read. However, he jokes with people, he is gifted with words (just because introverts have a reputation for talking much does not mean that they are not witty), and is sexually active.

Hope Van Dyne (the Wasp) — from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Hope has a very direct way of thinking, and prefers getting stuff done instead of dealing with “fluff.” Hope also had a very cold, loveless background, and while introversion can be considered genetic, it’s interesting to note how the background/backstory of a character plays a role in the level of introversion. 

Bruce Banner — from the Marvel Cinematic Universe (played by Mark Ruffalo). This little cinnamon roll keeps to himself, I recommend watching him onscreen and how he interacts with his Avenging coworkers (when he’s less green!). Especially in social situations, where you’ll notice that Dr. Banner is very quiet and keeps to himself.

MARINA — No, Marina, is not a fictional character; she is a singer that is very real, but she deserves a spot on this list of “introverts to watch”. I’ve listened to Marina’s songs for years, and every album shows the struggle of how introverts struggle to just be in the world. One of her most famous albums, Electra Heart, actually describes her trying to change herself to fit in with this extroverted world. If you want to know more about introverts, I suggest listening to one—and this one sounds like a goddess. 

Some of you may be new to introverts, so bring over some books and blankets to wrap yourself in like a burrito as we explore/review this: what is the introvert?

Okay, there are a lot of myths associated with the Introvert that we should dispel here: NOT ALL introverts are stuck-up or shy, however, their independent nature sometimes leads people to make these assumptions. Instead of thinking of introverts as the Grumpy Cat and extroverts as the excited golden retriever, let me differentiate them a little:

The main difference between introverts and extroverts is how their bodies react differently. When people hang out with friends, it releases a “happy” drug in our body called dopamine. Introverts and extroverts react differently to this.

When extroverts hang out with friends, this releases dopamine in their body, which energizes them and makes them feel good. However, with introverts, dopamine can be overstimulating and overwhelming, making most introverts start to feel tired after hanging around people. This being said: introverts do not hate people. Interactions have a tendency to fatigue them over time. But this reaction can affect introverts’ opinion on social activities, and can discourage them. Back to sciencey terms, there is a drug that introverts experience that they cope better with than dopamine: acetylcholine. This drug is more of a “slow burn” feel to it, that is turned on when you focus on something or are doing something creating like drawing. Introverts favor this chemical reaction, hence their desire for independent activities. (You can find more about this here)

Introverts also tend to be decisive thinkers, and are at peace when in solitude. As the writer, it’s up to you to decide how sensitive your introvert is, but please, do not make the mistake of assuming your beautiful creation hates people for no reason! 

I’ve written about a couple introverts by now, and I am one myself, so here are some experiences, tips, and suggestions on what introverts go through:

What I said above is true about getting overstimulated: I met a good friend of mine about a year ago, and I remember we were hanging out at a Wendy’s (this was back when I was just getting to know her), and after 1-2 hours I just started to feel tired, out of it. There wasn’t anything wrong with her, or me: over time, I could spend more time with her before that tired feeling set in again. Other introverts also experience things like this, but it may not be at the same rate.

Now you understand introverts, and that is awesome! But most people don’t. And that’s a good thing to keep in mind when you’re writing: when you have your introverted character interacting with others, depending on the other character, they may be critical of the introvert’s natural ways. One thing introverts face the most is getting talked over/interrupted when they try to speak. Be aware of your introvert’s unique presence!

Introverts are also very perceptive: they are brilliant observers, and catch more things than the average bear. This seems like something quick to dismiss, but hear me out: introverts can be as perceptive as the deaf. Another personal experience: I cannot tell you how many times I’ve spoiled shows for myself, not because people tell me outright, but because I simply browse the internet (with no intent at all whatsoever), I see pictures, I overhear little details; I start picking up little clues that don’t say it outright but it hints, and eventually I go, “crap, not again.” This is how the introvert’s mind works: it can catch the smallest things, and they’re usually smart enough to stumble onto the right conclusions (this sounds cool, but it can be a real pain in the ass). 

I hope this has been helpful so far! Here are a few links I found to videos on Youtube that have some more insightful information about introverts: 

8 Strengths of Introverts

The Power of Introverts: Susan Cain (TED talk)

A Day in School as an Introvert (the Struggle)

Thank you so much for reading, Awesome Adventurers! I’d love to hear what you think about introverts or if you have anything to add, and if you’d like to talk more about this, go ahead and shoot me over something! I hope this helped you out before you go write your fantastic story that will light up the world! Love, fortune and glory to you!!

[hellyeahheroes]

Post-OMD/Slott’s unused Spidey characters: Alpha a.k.a Andrew Maguire

So there was an ask about Alpha and it was about what happened to him, and yeah, it was just as @filipfatalattractionrblog​, otherwise known as the admin, said, Slott got tired of him and dumped him on someone else where they got written into obscurity. And that is like a thing Slott or the writers of Post Brand New Day did constantly. He did it with Cindy Moon, he did it with a bunch of Spider-verse characters, he did it with Yuri Watanabe, he did it with Mr. Negative, Screwball, he did it with the entirety of Parker Industries and Horizon Labs. He even did it with Superior Spider-man. The moment Brand New Day started, Spider-man was tossed around a bunch of writers where they all started trying to race to create the next MJ love interest replacement. So there are even more characters that Slott didn’t create that are very under utilized. Not to mention characters created prior to One More Day/Brand New Day didn’t have much fucking screen time during this and thus did not receive any development. So characters like Liz Allen, Phillip Chang, Betty Brant, Flash Thompson(although he got to be Agent Venom), Randy Robertson, Glory Grant, Mary Jane Watson until fans complained, and even Aunt May which made the whole One More Day deal redundant. 

Old school Spider-man constantly hung out with his clique. Post One More Day Spider-man didn’t seem to have many friends outside of his Spider-man persona. And the partnerships that he did make didn’t last.

So, this is where I will go back and detail those lost characters starting with Andy because he is the most egregious. Then I speculate if they can come back, what role should they have.

I fucking hate Andrew Maguire. And apparently, I am supposed to hate him according to Slott, but I believe that is a cop out. He wanted this character to work. Regardless, Andrew Maguire serves as the Peter Parker without any of the selflessness and virtue. “So...Eddie Brock?” No, not as cool as Eddie or as well written.

And subtlety is not a thing for Slott. If you noticed, the character is named after the two Spider-man actors at the time, Toby Maguire and Andrew Garfield. People say it is a tribute, I personally think he was mocking them. My opinion, but you already know that.As you can see that the origin is pretty much a This Loser Is You trope which is weird because it’s insulting for fans of Spider-man, a character that is renown for being a superhero with everyman problems, to have a character who exists to say Peter is exceptional and you are not.

Andy goes on a Field Trip to Horizon Labs and meets Peter Parker who is about to unleash his newest discovery, Parker Particles. Which by the way, feels like an accomplishment for Peter, but Slott just had to twist the knife on that and have Reed casually say that he discovered it first and decided to leave Pandora’s Box be. Fuck Reed Richards. Anyways, as expected, Parker’s experiment went to shit and Andy decides to to perform his one solo act.

And Alpha is born. 

Okay well, first, Horizon had to settle with Maguire’s parents to avoid lawsuits and Any became the mascot for Horizon labs and then Alpha is born. So they do a check on his powers to see what the kid’s got.

He has the strength to lift a ton which is weaker than any Spider-man, he is bulletproof, has enhanced speed,has energy projection. So if you are following those useless ass stat charts on Marvel wiki, his chart would be...

Intelligence: 2 Normal

Strength: 4 One Ton is his max

Speed: 3 It just says enhanced speed so I am going to assume he can’t break the sound barrier

Durability 5 Bulletproof

Energy Projection: 5 Long Range single energy type blasts

Fighting Ability 2 Normal

What we have here is a powerhouse. Oh and he has a caveat. He can only use one power at a time at the moment. And he is only growing more powerful because Mr. Fantastic points out, Andy is embedded with Parker Particles which are tied to the expansion of the universe. His powers are only going to grow. So Mr. Fantastic decides to place Andy Maguire under Peter Parker’s care. Thus making Alpha Spider-man’s sidekick.

Alpha because no one else in the world has self-control without an Uncle Ben dying decides to market himself as the next best superhero. He gets marketing deal with Horizon to market their inventions, and he also becomes a pop sensation and media darling. Gets the girl that he was pawning after, Chrissy Chen, who I do like btw. I mean he is living the life, amigo.

His new girlfriend even makes him a fan page. 

And this is where there is some credence to the idea that Andy was meant to be hated because the comment section tears him apart with meta commentary. He is called a poochie which is a synonym for Scrappy, a term tor fan hated characters. Which, again, what is the point of a character that we, the fans, are meant to hate? It is counter intuitive and a waste of time. I mean people like Golden Booster, Slott. I just don’t get why bother with this? Of course, Andy’s set up in his origin follows the same beats as Slott’s other creation, Cindy Moon, who he wanted to be liked and cried racism when fans hated her as well.

This is endemic to Slott’s run as a whole. He doesn’t get Spider-man. He wanted to create Iron Man instead of making Spider-man stories. And when he introduces new characters, he doesn’t properly want to build them. Like Kamala Khan had 3 issues of character development before she became a superhero. Her origin was fleshed out. Miles had 5 issues and 14 issues to have a proper origin. Andy literally has just 1 issue that can’t even be considered an origin. It is not his origin story. It is just another problem for Peter to solve and that was the problem with Cindy Moon. She wasn’t a character but a replacement to Felicia Hardy who Slott went and tarnished to begin with.

So Alpha gets annoyed with those comments and decides to prove the haters wrong. Peter has been keeping track of Alpha the entire time so he intercepts him before he does anything wrong. Spider-man takes him under his wing and makes him his side-kick.

First, no. Spider-man has turned down sidekicks from Black Cat without super powers, Ollie Osnick, Sally Avril, and a few others. Miles’ isn’t his sidekick, student, or anything. Miles is his own hero who Peter feels responsible for and he sort of hangs out with.Spider-man doesn’t do sidekicks nor would he take them on if offered. He barely does team-ups and only out of propriety and necessity. So him donning Andy as such is out of character and kind against theme.

Second, the dialogue here does not match Peter’s tone.He is too sarcastic and cavalier about things. Peter is one of the most restrained heroes in Marvel in terms of his power usage. He knows what Andy is capable of. He wouldn’t be so casual. He would be on him like white on rice. He knows the seriousness of Andy’s situation. If he teaching Andy, he would refrain from fighting unless he has to. Peter was a teacher. He should know how teenagers are because he has dealt with them. It is like....okay.

Anyways, Andy being the ambitious little scamp decides to take over and do his own thing.

Okay, this is when I kind of knew that Slott would be an okay Fantastic Four writer.And he doesn’t waste any time reminding people that he is the most powerful hero of all time. 

Ben is beside himself because the little shit used his catchphrase in public, Johnny is ribbing on Spidey because he created a monster, Sue is trying to keep the peace, and Reed is annoyed because of Parker’s terrible decision of telling a teenager that he is the most powerful being in the universe. 

Reed tries again, and reminds Peter that Alpha is his responsibility. He has to essentially babysit Alpha for free. Meanwhile Alpha is letting his newfound success go to his head. He decides to two-time the girl that he was pining for...or he only liked because he felt that she was the best that he can get. You see, Andy is the guy who thinks as people as material to gain. He doesn’t mind using them, but once he outgrows them, he dumps them.

It is like Slott just wants to create the biggest asshole in Spider-man. And I guess that’s okay, but again, to what end? Is Andi going to be a bad guy? No. Is he going to be a reoccurring character? No. So why bother creating him if other writers won’t bother and fans hate him?

After this, Miles Warren aka the Jackal captures Andy easily and Peter has to find the little fuck because he is ,”Peter Parker’s responsibility.” Yeah, I am tired of that too.The Jackal wants to clone Alpha and repopulate the world with his own Alpha Males. No I am not kidding, that is what he calls them. Anyways, Peter tries to stop him but not before Miles Warren congratulates him of “out mad sciencing” him and creating Alpha. 

....I am already bored with this comic so I will speed it up. Jackal unleashes the clones, clones don’t have the Alpha powers because the power is not tied to Alpha’s genetics, Alpha breaks free of the harnesses and kills all of the clones, and saves himself sort of. Well not before saying even more alarming shit.

This is it. This is where he will learn, right? This is where Alpha makes a turn and become the little scamp that we hope for.

Well...can’t say that I am surprised. 

Peter gets fed up and conspires to take his power away from Alpha because the kid just can’t be trusted with them anymore. He is far too dangerous and honestly, Peter was right, but he was wrong the rest of the time.

Here is the thing: Alpha should have never been given these powers and allowed to keep them in any capacity.Peter should have suggested of taking them away from the very beginning and so should’ve Reed Richards and every hero who tested Andy. And I get it, it’s a little hypocritical of a blog about teenaged superheroes to say this, but there is a difference between the teens we usually cover and characters like Alpha. Alpha is in it for the glory and fame. He never has a redeeming moment. He is never humbled and is too self-centered to be humbled.Making him the strongest teen ever without proper guidance and knowing his parents were trying to mooch off of him and didn’t give a shit how much it effected his son, and only cared because of a profit margin should have been a dead giveaway. Someone should have spoken to his therapists or teachers and figured what kind of kid Andy was. It shouldn’t have taken issues of Spider-man testing it out because it was a bad idea from the start.

Alpha continues to use his power irresponsibly until the Avengers demand that Spider-man call him in to deal with Terminus. Alpha does so as he travels from Japan to Manhattan to deal a huge blow.

So good news is that Alpha got stronger. Bad news is that Alpha took out all of the airplane controllers in the vicinity so all planes are about to crash all over the New York area. So think 9/11 except on 30 buildings or so. The Avengers go into scramble mode and try to immediately rescue the civilians which by the way was the first rule Spider-man told Alpha. Guess who isn’t trying to save any civilians? 

So Alpha utterly failed this day. He made a bad situation worse and it shouldn’t have taken this to finally bench Alpha. The moment he disobeyed Peter, was the moment he should have been stripped of his power. I am being serious. But whatever, Alpha gets stripped by Spider-man.

So Alpha got powered down and is normal again.

But wait, there is more. Otto took over Peter’s body and preceded to give Andy his power back, but only a little of it this time. Andy moves to Pittsburgh, his parents divorced, and becomes the new hero of the Burgh. But he accidentally kills someone using his Alpha power, his power has been shown to be cancerous and he unknowingly gave his mom cancer and he doesn’t know it, the person he supposedly killed comes back and becomes this huge cancerous alpha powered villain named Zeta, Alpha stopped Zeta, and then another criminal blackmailed him to stop Andy from fighting crime or he will kill his whole family. And that was it for Alpha.

Can this character be redeemed?

Yes. 

Honestly, Alpha was saved in his mini in my opinion. I know, I didn’t post any pictures because that mini looked like shit. Again, however, the story wasn’t bad and did redeem him a little. He should have been in Miles Morales spot when it came to Marvel’s PS4. He was more suited for it and most of Marvel’s PS4 was Slott’s Spider-man run anyways. It had Yuri, Screwball, Mr. Negative, a sympathetic Doc Ock, and shit. All of these are hallmarks of Slott’s writing.

What would I do to introduce him back to the Marvel fold?

First, Alpha isn’t Godly anymore. He is like a low rent Nova. That stat chart that you saw in the beginning is where he is at now. So as long as he stays at that level, we are good. Second, his new predicament of being blackmailed by a criminal creates an interesting scenario. I would think a criminal would love having a bad guy under his thumb. So I suspect this bad guy, Boss Jimmy Cohen might think of expanding with his brand new super pet.Let’s say Alpha becomes his own enforcer and forces him to. Alpha’s mom dies of the cancer that he accidentally gave him and becomes Zeta 2.0.

So Andy after dealing with a ton of despair decides to come back and help Boss Cohen expand his empire in New York. He starts in Brooklyn, and you know where I am going with this. Andy meets Miles, Spider-man II. I am against having Miles inherent Peter’s characters, but Andy is basically an unused character. He might as well go somewhere so why not with Miles Morales who is getting an expanding list of rogues anyways. A reluctant fallen hero would be an interesting addition.

As for Chrissy Chen, I don’t like wasting characters at all, especially one that is just off the edge of Spider-man mythos. Chrissy still goes to Midtown High. And so does Lana Baumgartner. Instead of creating another character, just have her be Lana’s confidant just like Miles has with Ganke. 

And that is all folks. Now I will be doing a bit more on the forgotten characters of Post OMD Spider-man. A lot of them aren’t teens, so I will cover them on my other blog. I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.

@ubernegro​

[setabane]

Lulwama - Queer - She/Her

I.

drinking red wine out on a black canvas wrapped balcony, i watch as she slyly smiles at me in the cool summer darkness. the corners of her mouth so tender. silently folding into themselves. then rising soft from the rifts like steam whistling out of a steel tea kettle. our laughter a magnet pulling us closer to communion. closing the distance between our shallowing breaths. in the dark i say i think the cicadas sing because they have lonely bones too. she says they sound more like a wind chime choir: alone does not always mean lonely. points my eyes towards the moon’s milky white ring. and i think to myself– this is what the whole journey is all about. gathering that which will begin to harvest the light in us.

II.

in the pale ailing moonlight i gently slide my wanting tongue over hers. clumsy hands hungering and greedily grabbing at the damp sticky clothes clinging soft to our shimmering backs. how she marvels at me. gawks as if i were one of god’s most beautiful creations. her lips are the canvas on which i draw my breath. and i am always left breathless the first few moments of her fingers gliding smoothly into the well of my wetness.  how loud we howl out that old broken hallelujah. with each mouthful of skin we bunch between our jagged teeth we are inching each other closer to home. to a higher belonging. i tell her not to be kind or polite with me. i want it rougher than usual. raunchy. i tell her to sink her fevering claws into my neck. to have no mercy. i want it dirty. i want it filthy and raw and rife with enough heat to burn down all of god’s country.

III.

this moment is the beginning of the burning ceremony. here is where we finally surrender our heavy laden expectations of one another. i’ve heard that expectation can be a sure fire road to suffering and my god have we not yet endured this life long enough love? so fuck it let’s just fuck all the pain away. start hard. drive me fast like one of those fiery red race cars. mount me like a wild rodeo bull while i buck and pant and plead. until we reach the crescendo of our most primal wanting song. she calls me jericho after the killing is done. this healing is absolutely glorious. clean. leaves you cleaved. verily this is the glory of the journey. salting the wounds with embering touch. people waste so much precious time living in the shame of everything. come now. let us both stop all this pretending. there is too little time left to live the rest of this lifetime as anyone else but ourselves. so go right ahead and lick me a pristine baptism. leave me holy and with prayer knees buckling. lick me raw all the way to the bare bone. marrow and all. that is my kink.

IV.

“ga se ngwao ya rona”

they said i was not allowed to love you. you, who dug the hymnal out from the foliaged corpse. you, who found me all broken hearted and mosaiced a blooming garden out of what was not yet hardened by the fear. us touching that which is said to be untouchable. thawing the aches in our light slivered bodies. melting slow into warm truth. again and again. drawing loops of halos over the deepest bruises with our parched lips. taking each other to heaven with nothing but our own naked bodies. iridescent. writhing sweetly with fingers interlaced. fucking as if it today were our last day here on this earth. harder i say. dog me down real good. there is no room on this bed for saints or sinners. no more labels and their cultural bullshit. just two people trying hard to outrun the worst things they have done so far together. shaking the sheets empty of anything resembling regret. trembling on the verge of their softest blessing yet. utter release.

V.

you, who quelled the nervous beasts in my head with lingering stare and silvered touch. us speaking in tongues at the top of our lungs. scratching the scripture into the arched backs of one another. all night long we sang alongside a whole host of angels. reclaiming the narrative of our sovereignty. the alchemy of two dead wild things thrusting and biting. toes curling. creating white light from the bottom of the shadow pit…and how tenderly you held my trembling body in the aftermath. swirling your thumb tip gingerly ‘round the top of my knuckle peak. as if siphoning the clearest water out of the mudcrack ridges. how softly we sank back into these honeyed earth bodies. as newly winged creatures. freshly miracled. mirror images of god herself. so high were we off of the euphoria smoke. our coming undone equal parts charring and grace making. we were not born abominations. neither were we ever lost causes. when i say that i want to leave this earth having lived a rich life, loving her is what i mean.

VI.

you wonder what she sees when she looks at you

you wonder if it frightens her to see that you are

made up entirely of fractured glass and old bad habits

how easily she could break you if she wanted

[burliforti]

Rose of England

My entry for the Good Omens fanwork exchange arranged by @transarmageddon. I created this based off a prompt from @vecieminde. The prompt that I was most heavily inspired by was “Aziraphale and Crowley exploring an abandoned place which glory days they might have witnessed”. Full disclosure: I am a bit of a history nerd and so one abandoned place turned into many which turned into a road trip across rural England with a pit stop in Wales. At certain times I veered a bit further from the main prompt than I was hoping but I hope you still enjoy! (About 9.5K and no warnings apply. I’m having a beta review it and then I’ll probably post to AO3) Heavily inspired by the Vera Lynn album “Rose of England” (I am bad at titles and simply borrowed that.) Definitely recommend a listen, it’s a wonderful album. Fic under the cut.

Prologue: London

It had been three weeks since the very last day of the rest of their lives. Not surprisingly, in the aftermath of perhaps the most chaotic week in all of creation Aziraphale and Crowley had been having some difficulty slipping back into their old routines. The sudden lack of oversight was a relief but left them both with a degree of freedom that they weren’t quite sure what to do with. Crowley no longer had to plan elaborate schemes to generate widespread low-grade evil and Aziraphale found himself without his usual laundry list of miscellaneous miracles and holy interventions, leaving both with a sudden and dramatic increase of spare time. Heaven and Hell had, apparently, taken their warnings to heart and had left them alone. 

They managed to slip into parts of their old routines. Aziraphale would go out to lunch in small french bistros and read Virginia Woolf in the plush reading chair in his study. Crowley had continued to scheme for a time out of habit but eventually tapered off to random pranks and messing with people who drive below the speed limit on highways and members of parliament. His house plant hobby had flourished into a full horticulture obsession. The apartment whose predominant palette had been black and grey for several decades now found itself green, green, and green. He wasn’t really one for flowers, preferring varieties such as ferns, ivy, and more recently, mosses. Crowley had acquired an impressive and wide array of mosses, spanning continents and centuries, quite literally finding himself with the only remaining iteration of certain ancient mosses (Crowley’s imagination did not know that these had gone extinct. He simply remembered soft, curling greenery on teak trees and there they had appeared). 

Aziraphale had also picked up a few hobbies. He had a tendency to do so. Dancing, magic, prophecies. They weren’t exactly phases (for he did still truly enjoy all of these things), but Aziraphale had a meandering mind that was always eager for new knowledge. Recently, he had come across an antique store looking for any interesting books. Instead, he had left the premises with a vintage camera that stood on a wooden tripod, that by all accounts should not have been able to work anymore, but miraculously, did indeed take photos. This began a new collection of vintage cameras and various other photographic contraptions. He particularly enjoyed taking pictures of nature (trees were much better at sitting still than wily serpents who would fidget and blur the images). Eventually, Crowley bought him a polaroid camera. He was annoyed of being forced to sit still for the negatives and dealing with Aziraphale hauling his many apparatuses on their walks. The polaroid was a bit newfangled for Aziraphale’s taste, but he enjoyed not having to develop negatives and being able to immediately see the images. Crowley did not mind this hobby as much as he had others (nothing could be worse than the magic. As long as taking photos of birds and elms prevented Aziraphale getting into card tricks or whatever nonsense than he would limit his complaints.) Yet even as they settled into old routines and found new ones, both beings found themselves on edge despite the apparent resolution to most of their problems. You see, Aziraphale and Crowley were bored. And Aziraphale had just the idea. 

“A vacation?” Crowley replied as they sat in St James Park, sitting on a bench watching the ducks bob in and out of the water. 

“It’s been so long since we left the city. Not since all that nonsense, and even that was barely two hours outside London. Before you mostly got around for work, and since our, well, retirement, I don’t believe either of us has really traveled much. Thought it might be a nice change of pace.” 

“And where exactly were you thinking?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular. Although there are a few sites that I’d like to revisit. It’s been so long since I properly traveled. Human beings have created some truly marvelous places.”

“Destroyed just as many too.” 

“And then rebuilt. I’m sure even you have an old spot or two you wouldn’t mind revisiting.”

Crowley paused, considering this with a great amount of reluctance. “I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve been ‘round the countryside.” He replied, begrudgingly. 

Aziraphale’s face lit up in a bright smile. “Splendid! I suppose there is no point in waiting around. I’m already packed, I will see you at the shop tomorrow, bright and early!” 

Crowley looked at him in disbelief. “Tomorrow?!” 

Rochester Castle

Crowley did arrive early, although it wasn’t a particularly bright October morning. He pulled up in his Bently and had hardly gotten out of the car when Aziraphale burst through the shop door, hauling a large two-piece antique luggage set and two vintage cameras.

Aziraphale flashed a brilliant smile “Good morning, dear boy!” Crowley walked over to Aziraphale and grabbed the luggage out of his hands. “Let me take that.” Aziraphale let him take the bags and took the cameras in both arms. “Why, thank you.” Crowley dragged the luggage toward the Bentley. “What on earth do you have in here? You’ve been wearing the same outfit for over a century.”

“Books, mostly. Some light reading I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Hardly light,” Crowley complained, lifting the luggage into the trunk with great difficulty. Aziraphale carefully laid out the camera equipment in the backseat, with the exception of the polaroid which he kept in a small camera bag over his shoulder. Crowley slammed the\trunk and sauntered over to the drivers side.

“So where are we off to, angel?”   

“Well I didn’t want anything too adventurous, and I know you’re hard-pressed to leave your vehicle. Perhaps a week or two, just in the countryside. Breath of fresh air, maybe even revisit some old favorites?” 

“Fine by me.”

“And I thought it best to start south and work our way up. What do you think?”

“Any destination in mind?” 

“Oh, not really. It’s been so long since I’ve been that farther south than London.”

“Ever been to Rochester Castle? Less than half an hour from here.”

“Rochester? Off the Medway? Shouldn’t that be at least an hour– Crowley slow down!”

They arrived 40 minutes later. Aziraphale was not incorrect in that it should have taken an hour and Crowley had also not been mistaken in that it could have been merely half an hour, but at Aziraphale’s continued pleas of “Slow down Crowley!” they had met somewhat in the middle. Luckily tourist season tended to slow down this time of year. The employees of the estate had kindly left them to their own affairs. Aziraphale had picked up a brochure and was reading it as the two of them explored the keep. 

“They say it had originally been given to Bishop Odo, probably by William the Conqueror.” 

“Never met him.” 

“Oh you weren’t missing much, I didn’t find him to be particularly charming. Although it is possible that I insulted him upon our first meeting. Never could wrap my mind around french. All that gender and tense. Feminine chairs and male houses, utter nonsense.”

“I believe houses are also feminine.”

“My point! Completely arbitrary. And the tenses, what language needs nine different types of past tense? They live such short lives I don’t see the point.” 

Crowley let Aziraphale rant as they continued to stroll along corridors and in and out of almost accurate historical reimaginings of bedrooms and parlors. Crowley hadn’t been to Rochester Castle since the Peasants’ Revolt in 1381. He really had absolutely hated the 14th century. He had gotten so fed up, in fact, that he had whispered in a handful of ears of ‘injustice’ and ‘revolution’. He hadn’t had much of an end goal in mind, just anything to shake up that dreadful century. It hadn’t really gone anywhere, unfortunately. He didn’t see much of Aziraphale that century, not with the war and the plague. Such a bore and with awful fashion. It had been such a relief when the Renaissance properly took off. 

“You’ve been awfully silent, Crowley.” 

He quirked an eyebrow over his glasses. “Let’s go to the gardens.”  

They made their way into the Castle’s exterior and into the gardens that encircled the estate. English roses, bright Dahlias, twisting ivys, and sweetly scented Begonias dominated the courtyard. Aziraphale was enjoying the vibrant colors and heavenly floral perfumes while Crowley glared critically at pests and withering leaves. 

“I think this is going to be a marvelous holiday.” 

Crowley wandered over to one of the bushes and picked one of halfway decent begonias, sauntering back over to Aziraphale. He walked directly in front of him and stopped just shy of the other man. 

“If you say so.” He replied, pinning the flower to a blushing Aziraphale’s lapel. 

“Oh, no need for all of that.” He said waving his hand toward the plucked stem. An even more vibrant flower bloomed in its place.  

“So,” Crowley asked, returning to his place by Aziraphale’s side, “where to next?” 

Bodiam Castle 

Aziraphale had asked one of the local historical guides, who suggested Bodiam Castle, which was an hour south of Rochester Castle near Robertsbridge in East Sussex. She had also suggested a local family run pub for lunch. Aziraphale had given Crowley a wide-eyed look to which Crowley could only roll his eyes and say “Yes, yes alright. It’s your holiday, angel.” Aziraphale had taken note at some point of the increase of Crowley’s use of ‘angel’ to describe him. He had subsequently filed away the observation to ‘thoughts that need no further introspection or deliberation’. They ate (or Aziraphale ate) a slow and peaceful lunch. He seemed to enjoy his fish and chips and was particularly impressed by the tartar sauce (homemade apparently, an old family recipe). The batter was also very pleasant but he didn’t much care for the chips. Crowley picked a few off of his plate absentmindedly. They ate mostly in silence, Aziraphale enjoying the fish and Crowley enjoying Aziraphale. 

They continued on their journey, arriving in Robertsbridge in significantly less than an hour (much to Aziraphale’s terror). Aziraphale had in fact once visited Bodiam Castle, many years ago during the war of the roses. It had been abandoned in picturesque ruins for decades but had been restored in the early 20th century. Crowley and Aziraphale explored the property. While the exterior had been well preserved, the interior was now in ruins. 

“It had been quite nice when I had visited. I was presenting as a clergyman on the road back in those days, you know. Made seeking shelter much easier and people would listen to me, which was quite helpful on certain occasions.”

“I imagine it explained all those Bibles you carried with you.”

“Well yes, I suppose that’s true.” 

“There is still a beauty to it now, albeit a different sort of beauty.”

“Seems like regular old ruins to me.” 

“You don’t feel any sort of, oh I don’t know, whimsy or appreciation?” 

“I don’t really go in for whimsy, angel.”

They continued to explore for quite some time, Aziraphale taking full advantage of their solitude and the picturesque ruins by taking many photographs, both with the antique camera on a tripod and the polaroid. Aziraphale had started off carrying the larger camera but Crowley had soon taken over after a passing mention of discomfort by Aziraphale. They made their way outside, strolling along the edge of the moat as the sunset. 

“Oh, what a beautiful sky it is tonight. Crowley, do you mind putting down the camera? I’d like to get some photos, lighting is simply marvelous.”

“Not like we’ve seen the sunset a million times already. The same sky and the same sun for 6,000 years.”  

Aziraphale ignored him, setting up the camera into the correct position. The tripod was close to the water's edge, overlooking the horizon. Aziraphale watched the sky change from red, orange, and yellow to deep purple and pitch black from behind a camera lens. Crowley watched Aziraphale burn brilliant in a fiery sky to softly glowing in the moonlit night.   

Tintagel Castle

Crowley suggested the next location: Tintagel Castle. It was quite a ways away on the southwestern coast but he insisted that the view was worth it, and besides it had been ages since either of them had been to the Celtic sea. It was by far the longest drive they had undertaken so far. A direct route would have taken five hours (perhaps three with Crowley behind the wheel), but Aziraphale had asked if they could drive past the channel on the way there and Crowley wasn’t exactly in the habit of denying any request or desire the angel had. With the scenic detour, the drive should have been close to 7 hours but ended up closer to five anyways, accounting for a lunch break.

Aziraphale was able to manage (tolerate, more accurately) Crowley’s breakneck speeds on the lonely country roads. Rolling hills with the occasional grazing livestock and farmhouses turned into rocky cliffs and blue-grey waters. Aziraphale enjoyed the picturesque landscapes and lack of the usual urban chaos, while Crowley enjoyed the lack of other vehicles and an open road where the speed limit was hardly a thought. They hadn’t talked much, Aziraphale occasionally putting on a CD (he didn’t quite grasp the concept at first but he was getting the hang of it.) Most of the disks had been left in the car and forgotten for more than a fortnight, and Crowley could only tolerate ‘We Will Rock You’ by Benjamin Britten or ‘We Are The Champions’ by Handle so many times. Thankfully, he had remembered to bring in some CDs from the apartment that had yet to become a compilation of Queen’s Greatest Hits. Aziraphale preferred classical, so they listened to Bach, Vaughn Williams, Holst, and various other (although predominantly British) composers. They were listening to Simple Symphony (actually by Benjamin Britten) when Crowley finally slowed and pulled into a half-full parking lot. Luckily the castle and surrounding expanse were quite large and the two could easily keep away from any crowds.

They explored the ruins of a castle for a time, Crowley relaying stories of his time in Richard of Cornwall (both from his time in the castle and during the Barons’ Crusade. Aziraphale had been preoccupied at the time by some work further west in Southampton.) Eventually, the crowds started to bother both of them and they naturally wandered away from the ruins and over the large bridge. 

“You know I rarely made it out to this part of the country, but it’s quite lovely.  The view is spectacular.”

Crowley squinted and peered upwards towards the gathering clouds. “Looks like it might rain.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would only take a slight miracle to ensure clear skies until the end of our visit. I was thinking for after– oh!” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide as the unfortunate combination of a strong gust of wind off the sea and a damp patch on the footbridge made him stumble and lose his footing. Before he could find purchase on the guard rails he felt two hands reach out and grab his arms, helping him upright. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley who in turn looked down at him in concern. 

“You alright?” 

Aziraphale laughed nervously, brushing himself off. “Oh yes, I’m quite alright, just taken a little off guard I suppose…” He trailed off. There hadn’t been any danger really, the footbridge had quite a high railing and Aziraphale had wings for heaven’s sake but peering down at the cold water crashing up against the stony cliffs made his head spin for a moment. “Thank you.” He finally said. 

Crowley made a noise of displeasure in return, “Can’t have you being discorporated middle of your vacation abandoning me in Cornwall of all places.”

“Our vacation. Besides, you suggested Tintagel.” 

“Ngk.” 

Neither of them made the first move, remaining stationary on the footbridge for another beat. 

“You can let go of me now, Crowley.”

He looked down at his hands which were indeed still wrapped around the other's arms. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he let go, refusing to look at the other as they continued on.  

Glastonbury Abbey 

Aziraphale insisted they stop by Glastonbury Abbey the next day, tentatively starting northward. 

“I’m shocked you never made it out there yourself back in the day, dear boy. Frightfully important, I can recall quite the drama and importance for quite a long stretch of time. Second only to Westminster.” 

“I avoided abbeys as a general rule. Parishes, monasteries, cathedrals, whole lot of them. Not exactly my scene.”

“Shame really, some truly exquisite architecture. The food wasn’t exactly top-notch, but some of the better dining from that era at any rate. I’d imagine you’d be quite fine now, been in ruins for centuries.” 

The sky was clear and blue, the grass a vibrant green. There were a few tourists who were wandering about the grounds but left the two beings be. They wandered through the decrepit cathedral, ceiling completely gone and missing good portions of the walls. While Aziraphale doubted that any previous blessings were still in place, Crowley was wary and remained outside of the ruined Holy buildings. 

“It really was quite a marvel. I had the occasion to visit on a number of occasions throughout the centuries, sent here quite often for holy interventions, miracles, enlightenment, heavenly visions, the whole nine yards as they say. You’re sure you never made it over here during, well, the Arrangement?”

Aziraphale quieted at the last two words. He had always been much more prudish, more embarrassed regarding their previous understanding. Perhaps it was because Crowley had much more experience rebelling and bending rules, but if they were being honest with themselves (although they rarely were), Aziraphale also had a fair bit of experience bending rules, he was just more adept at making excuses for it and felt much more guilty about it afterward.  

“Nope. Besides, I believe the heyday of the great Abbeys predated our agreement.”

“I suppose that’s true. Those old Catholics enjoyed their drama. I tried to stay out of it mostly, politics was never really my forte. I recall having to give a vision to one of the old Abbotts back in the 12th century. Something about inspiring a new sermon, I can’t quite recall.”

Crowley made some noise to indicate that he was still listening (which he was in fact doing. He liked to put up an air of indifference but he always listened, and Aziraphale knew this.) 

“You know I was able to get a first edition of “On the Antiquity of the Glastonese Church”? Signed by William of Malmesbury. Wonderful historian, and splendid company. He had a terrific collection at the Malmesbury Abbey and was kind enough to give me a number of his books, all with signed inscriptions. Later in his life, he was kind enough to gift me some of the notable works in his personal collection. His second edition of Gesta Regum Anglorum is a classic.”

Aziraphale continued to ramble on as they explored the Abbey grounds. Crowley listened quietly but intently. Their conversations usually involved both of their active participation but Crowley had never minded whenever Aziraphale would stumble into his ramblings. They occasionally reminisced, exchanging amusing stories and recounting shared adventures, but on that rare but treasured occasions a topic would arise and Aziraphale could literally talk for days on end, one story spilling into the next. Crowley’s original thought to describe it had been cute, but that couldn’t possibly be it.     

“It’s impressive how long these have stayed standing, even if they have fallen into a bit of disrepair.” Aziraphale finally quieted, inviting a response from Crowley. 

“‘Spose. They always did like to show off. Always obsessed with posterity.”

“And these are hardly the oldest, even just in England. And we’ve been there for all of it.” Aziraphale spoke softly, his eyes unfocused as he gazed far beyond the old Abbey. Crowley glanced at him. He had a tendency to be sentimental after these long trips down memory lane. Crowley himself had never quite at the proclivity for the sentimental. 

“And they’ll keep building places of worship and keep writing history books. Come on, I saw a sign for a nearby for an italian restaurant, we’ll grab you some lunch.” 

Bath 

After lunch, they drove a bit farther north to the city of Bath. This had been the largest city they had visited so far. They stopped by bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the town, preferring the larger space, quiet countryside, and easy parking it provided. They took the day to explore the city, visiting various historical sites. They walked by the Abbey (although they did not venture inside as a courtesy to Crowley), Pulteney Bridge, strolled down Royal Crescent, popped briefly into Holburne museum but quickly left when Aziraphale got fed up with the minor inconsistencies and incorrect speculation. They continued their walk and eventually came across a beautifully restored Georgian home with a bronze plaque that reads: 

Here lived William Herschel 

A.D. 1781 

and a sign above that that read ‘Herschel Museum of Astronomy’. It looked to be mostly vacant, which made sense seeing as it was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday during the school year, with the peak of the tourist season being a few months behind them.

“Oh, I remember that fellow. Quite the eclectic man; astronomer, biologist, musician, and composer, though if memory serves his scientific career fared better than his artistic one. I saw the premiere of his eighth symphony and you know, I really did enjoy it. I’m not sure why he’s been relegated to the background of classical composers. I suppose now it’s so strongly dominated by Mozart, Haydn, Shubert, and a few other fellows that it didn’t leave much room for others. Truth be told I think Haydn might be slightly overrated. You write 107 symphonies but only a handful are noteworthy in any way. You knew him, didn’t you? I recall you hanging around with the Royal Astronomical Society for a time before sleeping through most of the next century.” 

Crowley hummed in acknowledgment. “Yeah, hung around with that lot periodically end of the 18th century. He and his sister, Caroline, pushed the field miles forward. Shall we head inside?” 

Crowley held open the door for Aziraphale and they headed inside the quiet Georgian household. They handed over a few pounds to the receptionist who put a little stamp of a planet with stars on each of their right hands.  They quickly passed through exhibits pertaining to more recent events, preferring to linger in the sections that focused on Herschel and his discoveries. 

“I liked him. Quite sharp. Corrected a few older discoveries, which I appreciated. It was annoying having to sit through some of those Royal Society lectures calling some of the star clusters nebulae. He and Caroline discovered and cataloged a boatload of nebulae, clusters, comets, the like. Nice to finally have your work properly appreciated after nearly 6000 years. We used to gossip about the bores over at the Royal Society and I helped get Caroline get a paid position at the government. I mean why would they be paying him but not her?”

“That was very kind of you, Crowley.” 

He made a face of displeasure in return, “Hardly. If she hadn’t been employed who else would have discovered my comets and cataloged my nebulae? Quite proud of those, you know, and no one there to appreciate all my hard work. ‘Oh look at the beautiful waterfalls, the beautiful forests’, please. Hardly any craftsmanship in a waterfall. Some rocks and a river. But a planetary nebula? A red dwarf? Combustion, gravity, electromagnetism, a delicate balance of helium, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and however many other elements. When old Will finally got that telescope of his up and running, the look on his face when he saw them all, it was like finally, someone can appreciate some true artistry. I will say the nerve of those two constantly referring to it as ‘the heavens’. Heaven wished it looked like that.”

Aziraphale looked wistfully at a newer photo of the butterfly nebula. “You know, during all that time it took humans to properly observe the cosmos, I appreciated it. All the stars and nebulae, pulsars and supernovae. I wasn’t able to get out much personally, but I was lucky enough on a few occasions. It was breathtaking. And on earth, we can see much farther than they can, even with some of their telescopes. I’ll spare a glance here and there when I get the chance, and it really is unparalleled.” Aziraphale stopped, still looking firmly at the nebula in front of him. He spoke softer this time. “Dare I say it, maybe even more beautiful than anything here on earth.” A pause. His head turned slightly towards Crowley and met his eyes beneath the shades. “Or rather, almost anything.” 

Crowley’s head snapped violently back towards the image, not daring to look back at Aziraphale. Earth had been almost entirely God’s pet project, the vast majority anyways. Some details had been relegated to other angels. But the earth had always truly been Hers. Aziraphale’s proclamation of the superior beauty of the cosmos was… a lot to process. Not to mention the meaning of the angel’s pointed glance at him. It was a bit too much for Crowley. He coughed, still not meeting the other’s eyes. 

“Off to the Baths then?” 

Kenilworth Castle 

“Kenilworth, now this is a real castle,” Crowley said, picking away at the grapes on the fruit platter. They had driven north from Bath that morning, exiting the South West and entering into the West Midlands. Crowley accompanied Aziraphale to a hearty breakfast before their departure. They continued to avoid the main roads, Crowley speeding through old dirt roads in the countryside. Aziraphale would point out every herd of sheep, every single baby calf, every mangy looking old goat while a look of utter delight and whimsy. He had become completely enamored with the countryside and Crowley was beginning to worry about how he would ever get him back to the city. 

“Oh look at those horses! There’s a small black foal, isn’t it just darling? Shall we stop by to say hello?” 

Crowley glowered at the animals that were grazing the field they were driving past and pushed down even harder on the gas in response.

“You’re no fun, my dear.” 

“Awful creatures. They smell, they buck, they attract flies, painful as all hell to ride, and generally terrible. Not even properly evil, just badly designed and poorly executed. The automobile is definitely among the greatest human inventions along with alcohol and sunglasses. Shame when they stopped making glue out of the bastards.” 

Aziraphale smacked him (not so lightly) on his arm, “Crowley! What an awful thing to say!” 

“What? They deserve it.” 

“My goodness, what on earth did horses ever do to you.”

“What didn’t they do? Centuries of sore buttocks, horse flies, and manure. The smell, Aziraphale, do you remember it? The streets were absolutely disgusting, it’s no wonder I stayed inside for most of the 18th century.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on them. I find them quite majestic.”

“Nothing majestic about your teeth taking up more room in your skull than your brain.” 

“Well, I quite like them.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Suit yourself, angel.”

They continued north for another hour or so, eventually stopping in Stratford-Upon-Avon to pick up some food for a picnic (actually Crowley’s suggestion) and to pay respects to an old friend. They continued on, taking many detours, arriving at the castle just in time for lunch. Crowley pulled out a picnic blanket from the trunk (whether it had been there the whole time or if he had just miracled it then, Aziraphale didn’t know. Regardless, he was touched by the gesture.) He laid it out under the shade of a nearby Ash tree that grew just a bit outside the central keep. 

“Yes, it had its fair share of excitement back in the day.” Aziraphale agreed. 

“Came to see King John here once. What a prick. That whole family was a mess. Richard and Henry weren’t that awful in the grand scheme of British royalty, although that’s quite a low bar. Oh, but John, totally insufferable. I was supposed to tempt him into rebelling but the bastard was already scheming before I got there, and not very well mind you. Didn’t bother helping out when it failed, I didn’t really feel like getting involved.” 

“I accompanied Elizabeth here a few times. Very intelligent woman, difficult life though. Popped in every-so-often to lend her a helping hand. I remember tutoring her briefly when she was a child. Incredibly bright and kind for a child of her age. The crown hardened her considerably, but who could blame her.” 

“Oh yes, she was a feisty one. One of the few British royals I had any respect for at all, although she still had her fair share of flaws, but who am I to judge?” 

They continued to eat, somehow always remaining in the shade despite the passing of hours. Aziraphale was usually quite silent when he ate, his mouth constantly full with the next delight Crowley had packed away into the wicker basket, so Crowley took it upon himself to fill the silence by recounting his many tales of Kenilworth and the events surrounding it, sprawled out on his side, one arm supporting his head. 

“You know the tennis balls had been my idea. I had meant it as an insult but I think Henry overreacted a little bit.”

Aziraphale paused his enjoyment of some shortcake, “At least we got a good play out of it.” 

“Fair enough. The old Bard never really bothered with historical accuracy but I didn’t mind with him. Made it better usually.” 

“I’d be inclined to agree.” 

Eventually Aziraphale had had his full and pulled out a book, leaning up against the Ash. Crowley moved closer, laying down beside him. 

“What are you reading?” 

“The Anabasis of Alexander.”

“He was a drama queen.” 

“This is a classic.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Aziraphale ignored him and pulled out his reading glasses. Crowley had never said this out loud, but he loved Aziraphale’s reading glasses. The glasses were practically ancient, picked up sometime during Crowley’s respite in the 19th century. He didn’t need them, and Crowley didn’t know why he wore them. A fashion he had picked up? Perhaps he simply enjoyed the completion of his ‘old bookkeeper’ look? At any rate, Crowley never complained when Aziraphale opened a large tome and took out the spectacles. He looked up at Aziraphale; ‘Cute’ he thought. There that word was again. The glasses made Aziraphale look intelligent, sophisticated, extremely out of date, and certainly not cute. Or at least, that’s what Crowley thought (or did he?) 

“Read a bit for me. I’m sure it’ll put me right to sleep.”

The angel huffed at the minor insult but settled in closer to Crowley anyways. The demons head was up against his thigh, arms at his side and legs bent upwards. There was a gentle warm breeze and songbirds that flew in and out of the ash. The sun was bright and hot but they were cool and comfortable in the shade, both subconsciously leaning into the warmth of the other. 

“In Ecbatana, Alexander offered sacrifice according to his custom, for good fortune; and he celebrated a gymnastic and musical contest…”

Plas Newydd

They stayed the night in Kenilworth after allowing themselves the luxury of a lazy afternoon followed by a warm meal at a local pub (in this part of the country, most options for dining out were pubs). The next morning they took the Bentley further northwest, crossing the border into Wales. The signs changed into a jumble of consonants and seemingly misplaced vowels. 

“I haven’t been to Wales in so long. I adore the people here, very charming folks. I do hope my Welsh hasn’t fallen out of shape, it has been quite a while.” 

They drove down the old country roads, Crowley for once not doing nearly double the speed limit, perhaps as a courtesy to Aziraphale or maybe because even he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the sleepy atmosphere of the small villages they passed through (although the most likely cause was simply extending their time on the road. He enjoyed the peace and solitude he shared with Aziraphale while they rode in the Bentley.) 

Aziraphale looked quizzically down at the map they had picked up in Shrewsbury. “I believe you take a right up here, dear boy.”

“Hope you aren’t getting us lost in the Welsh countryside, angel. All these villages look the same to me.” 

He looked up from the map and up to the signs with arrows on the side of the road, “No, we’re still in the correct direction. My navigation skills were unparalleled back in the day, I’ll have you know. Served on a privateer ship for a number of months and guarded over an exhibition or two back in the age of explorers.”   

Crowley looked up at the signs, recognizing one of the names, “Off to Llangollen then, are we?” 

Aziraphale looked over to him surprised, “You’ve heard of it?” 

“Visited it to, a couple of centuries ago.” 

Aziraphale looked delighted, “So you must have met the ladies then! Can’t imagine what else would bring you to the north-eastern Welsh countryside. I never realized you made it out to see them.” 

“Yeah, I visited them a handful of times while traveling between London and Dublin. Eleanor and Sarah. Haven’t thought about them in quite a while. Kept hearing about them and got curious.” 

“They were a delightful pair, wonderful hosts too. Elenor and I would sit in the parlor and discuss the recent literature. Poets, in particular, seemed to be drawn to Plas Newydd and most had left behind a copy or two of their work. I recall walking around the estate with Sarah and exchanging thoughts on current events. They were both surprisingly insightful despite their isolation.” 

“Bit too fond of horses for my taste, but I could respect how they rebelled against the system. Caused quite a stir for a while, and I enjoy good gossip. The scandal, the outrage, pretty funny if you ask me. Had a few interesting chats with them over tea.”

 What Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t realize is that on multiple occasions, they had both shared details of each other to the ladies of Llangollen. Crowley and Aziraphale were both singular personalities in their own way and it had not taken much for the two ladies to connect the dots between both ‘men’ (or what both had assumed to be men) stories. Aziraphale had visited them first, introducing himself as a friend of William Wordsworth. He had indeed discussed literature and current events, but sometimes over dinner one evening he had begun disclosing certain details about a dark fellow (certainly not a friend) that Aziraphale was doing business with whom he had some conflicting emotions. Within a year, a dark fellow with bright red hair had strolled up to Plas Newydd and introduced himself as a friend of the Shelley's. They had welcomed him in, but he was much more reserved than some of their previous visitors. However, after a bottle of gin, the stranger was much more open and willing to share some strange stories of his travels. He was well journeyed and quite connected, having stories from famous scientists, authors, criminals, and even royals. After a bottle of brandy had been opened, he started talking about a friend of his, or perhaps more of a coworker. They had known each other for quite some time but in recent years it seemed as if their relationship had developed a few more layers. As he continued to describe the acquaintance, Eleanor and Sarah had both glanced sidelong at each other with the same realization. 

As the two beings came and went, bringing new stories and sharing new details of their other half, the glances between the two women while the otherworldly being relayed their most recent thoughts on the other become more frustrated and knowing. It had been difficult not to intervene but they had both known it was for the best. One day, Aziraphale (or simply “Mr. Fell”) had come to visit. He discussed literature and current events like usual but never seemed to bring up his mysterious coworker. When they asked him about it, his face contorted like he had eaten something sour. They had had a falling out and were not talking to each other at the moment. The two women looked at each other in concern but didn’t attempt to press the issue. 

They had never seen Crowley again. 

Crowley and Aziraphale pulled up to Plas Newydd a short time later. Both Aziraphale’s navigation skills and Welsh had thankfully remained intact despite the disuse. The house had been well maintained throughout the centuries. Crowley purchased admission for them both. It had been turned into a museum a number of years ago, but both of them weren’t focused on the exhibits, sparing only a pacing glance at the displaces and descriptive plaques. Instead, they took in the house itself and the memories that returned to them with each room that they passed through. As they strolled within the many rooms: bedrooms, parlour, kitchen, library, and outside of the estate in the vast gardens and green rolling fields, the two cast sidelong glances at each other, not unlike two Irish ladies from centuries ago. 

Hadrian’s Wall 

They continued north on the same day, stopping for lunch in the village before they resumed their journey. After lunch, before they set off onto country roads, Crowley thought they should pick up some more CD’s. They had burned through most of the ones he had brought in from the apartment, and he was starting to get sick of not only “Killer Queen” but also “Fantasia on Greensleeves”. There was a little music shop in the quaint downtown that sold a handful of instruments, some sheet music, a bin of records, and yes, an assortment of CDs. It was a shame Aziraphale never slept since he had been mostly unable to listen to some of his personal favorites as the other being would be awake for the duration of their car rides. Aziraphale had fallen behind the times recently. Back before the advent of recorded audio, Aziraphale had needed to go out into the world to enjoy music, which kept him fairly up to date with the trends. However, after the advent of recording, Aziraphale had been able to enjoy the pleasures of the symphony from his own home, able to read or eat while he enjoyed the sweet melodies. And so he stopped attending the opera, symphony, or any sort of concert almost entirely. He still got out occasionally, when they were playing Beethoven series or one of his favorite Italian operas, but after the 19th century he was pleased to simply keep returning to old favorites (certain notable examples exist. Aziraphale was a fan of Kafka, Vaughn Williams, Rachmaninoff, Ravel, Bartók, and a handful of others.) He had listened to some ragtime and bebop, but he hadn’t been a fan and had simply abandoned all popular music afterward. Crowley drifted through the aisles but was mostly with content to let Aziraphale pick out the music. He was mostly hovering through the classical section, already with half a dozen new CDs. He wandered through a few other sections before walking back over to Crowley. 

“Nothing for yourself?”

“You seem to have enough already.”

They walked over to the cashier, Aziraphale setting about all of the CDs and Crowley pulled out his wallet. The old woman behind the cash rung up their purchase and Crowley pulled out the exact change out of his wallet. She accepted it graciously. 

“And where are you two from? Don’t get many visitors this time of year.” She spoke with a thick Welsh accent but must have overheard them speaking in english. 

Aziraphale smiled warmly, “London. Just taking a bit of a holiday, driving around the countryside.” 

“Oh that’s lovely. I prefer the weather this time of year anyway. I like the heat, but in the summer, a bit too hot in recent years. My husband and I drove up to Edinburgh back in July to visit our Lizzie for her wedding. We used to travel all over Europe in the summer months. A bit more difficult after the kids but we were able to bring them along when they were a bit older.”

“Oh yes, Edinburgh has become quite lovely in recent years. It’s been quite a while since I’ve visited myself.” 

“Well if you and your husband are continuing north, I would definitely suggest you stop by.” 

Aziraphale went red at her assumption. He sputtered in response. “Oh, um, well yes, thank you for the suggestion.”

She gave him a wide smile, “No need to be embarrassed, dear. Our Lizzie was marrying her girlfriend, Mackenzie, up in Edinburgh. Most people in these parts are quite accepting.” 

Aziraphale could only redden and nod his head. She handed Crowley a receipt. 

“Diolch.” He replied coolly, face unreadable behind the tinted glasses. 

“Cael diwrnod braf!” She replied as they walked out of the shop. 

They were finally back off onto the road. Aziraphale pulled out one of the new CDs. 

“Look what I found, Crowley. I thought you might like it.”

It was a collection of William Herschel recorded by the London Mozart Players. Crowley returned with a neutral grunt of acknowledgment that didn’t convey any particularly positive or negative sentiments regarding the recording. Aziraphale ejected the previous CD and put in the new one. 

“So where are we off to next, angel?” 

“You know, I’m not quite sure. I thought we could just… drive for a bit, and see where we end up?”  

Crowley grinned, “Not your usual style, ‘going with the flow’, ‘seeing where the road takes you.’”

He shrugged in response, “I’ve been trying many new things these last few months.”

And so North they went, out of Wales, up through the West Midlands and into the North West. They continued to bypass the highways in favor of country roads. They drove along the Irish sea, passing by Liverpool, Southport, and Blackpool. At Lancaster, they continued due North towards Kendal instead of continuing along the shoreline. Crowley made most navigational decisions, simply following his intuition. Every so often he would ask Aziraphale for input, but mostly they drove in silence. The angel mostly watched out the window, every so often cracking open the book he had with him. 

After another hour or so, Aziraphale finally perked up.

“Ah.”

Crowley looked over to him, “What?”

He pointed to one of the signs. It read “Hadrian’s Wall” and had an arrow pointing right. 

“We should go there.” 

And so Crowley make a sharp turn to the right, and off they went. 

After only another 10 minutes (Crowley’s maniacal driving had returned in full force), the two found themselves at the base of about a 5ft 2000-year-old wall. 

“Sort of a dumb plan if you ask me.” 

“Hm?”

“Not sure what Hadrian was thinking with this one. Bloody long wall on the fringe of the empire, middle of nowhere? Always seemed like nonsense to me.”

“Perhaps.”

“Next guy pretty much completely abandoned it. Did it ever serve any useful role at any point? Not like it was ever that high in the first place, not sure what he thought he could stop with it. Humanity has found its way across rivers, mountains, and deserts, but oho, not a five-foot wall, that’ll stop ‘em.” 

Aziraphale was setting up his camera. The wall was surrounded by kilometers of green fields speckled with trees that were changing color in the autumn season. There was a small lake about a kilometer down from the stretch of the wall that the two had found themselves at. 

“Sit still, won’t you? You’ll blur the image.” 

Crowley pulled his crossed arms slightly closer in. “Don’t see why you wanted a picture in the first place. Can’t you just get a couple of snaps of the herons over there and be done with it?”

“I have so few photos of you, dear. I’d like a few from this vacation. I’ve had such a lovely time so far. Maybe I’ll make a scrapbook when we’re back in London. Have you heard of those? Came across the idea a few weeks ago and I’ve been meaning to try my hand at it.”

“Don’t see why I need to be in them. Why do you need a photo when I’ll be around anyway? I’ll just ruin your landscapes.”

Aziraphale looked up from the camera and directly at Crowley with a twinkle in his eyes. “You know I think you look positively lovely, dear boy. Now shut up, I want at least one good one.”

And shut up he did. 

Tynemouth Priory and Castle (Edward II and Piers Gaveston + Duel?) 

They found a little country inn in one of the nearby villages. Crowley slept soundly in his single bed while Aziraphale stayed up reading. They ate the continental breakfast that was provided, Aziraphale putting a fair portion of homemade strawberry jam that the owner’s son had apparently made onto his rolls while Crowley enjoyed his cup of Lady Grey. 

“I feel like going to the coast today,” Aziraphale said in between mouthfuls of toast. 

“Which one?” Crowley replied, leaning back in his chair on the outdoor patio. 

“How about the North Sea? We did the Irish Sea, the Celtic Sea seems like the next logical step.” 

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Have you ever been to Tynemouth? There’s an old Priory and Castle. I was there all the way back in the 7th century. Nice little spot on the coast.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been, later though. Briefly in the 14th century, with Edward II.” 

“Well?”

“Fine with me.” 

They left a bit later that morning, going towards the morning sun due East. It was starting to get a bit chillier as they stretched further into autumn and the closer they got to the sea. It wasn’t a long drive by, even without Crowley behind the wheel. Soft piano music that Crowley didn't recognize was coming out of the stereo. It was pleasant, music that sounded like it came right out of a 19th-century parlor. Aziraphale was humming along while he read (a new book, yet again. He seemed to burn through a new one each day.) 

They drove up a hill right beside the coast to the ruins. They were the only ones there when Crowley pulled the Bentley off to the side of the dirt road. They got out in tandem and walked toward the abandoned castle. 

“Long time since I've been around here. I wouldn't mind making a habit of these little excursions.”

“I guess it's not half bad when you avoid tourist season.” 

“You said you'd been here before?”

“Yup, I was briefly a part of Edward II entourage trying to rile up some tensions within the court. You ever meet him?” 

“Unfortunately, no.” 

“Eh, weren't missing much. He and Piers Gaveston had been inseparable. Bit annoying but mostly harmless. Tragic end, but that was pretty common for that lot back in the day.”

“Nobles?” 

Crowley laughed, “Not quite, angel.”

They walked through the main archway. It had obviously changed significantly throughout the centuries, the brick and mortar now exposed to the elements, large chunks were missing and covered in moss, and yet in some ways, it hadn't changed at all. All of the roofs had crumbled away centuries ago, leaving the bright blue sky above them, with clouds blowing in from over the sea and the sun creeping higher into the sky. Birds nested throughout the ruins in little nooks and crannies, perched atop old towers and in between the remnants of windows. 

“I had my fair share of adventures here as well,” Aziraphale remarked. 

“Oh really?” Crowley said playfully, grin on his face. Aziraphale enjoyed the frequency with which Crowley had smiled during the trip. 

“I did return once after the 7th century, mid 16ty century after it was taken over by Henry VIII. Got into a bit of a tiff with a few visiting Italians.”

“‘Bit of a tiff’? What'd you do, get into a heated argument about the marinara sauce?” 

“Don't mock me, old boy. No, we handled the affair like men.” He replied primly. 

Crowley turned to look at him, “You didn't duel them, did you?” 

Aziraphale blushed a little, “It's not my usual style but the situation quickly escalated.” 

Crowley laughed, and it echoed around them. “Did you win?” 

Aziraphale looked insulted, “Of course I won! I wasn't given a flaming sword for no reason.” 

“What was the argument?”

“I can't quite recall where it started but I believe it ended when he called me a son of a bitch and I replied with something along the lines of 'You dare refer to the Lord that way!?' and drew my sword.” 

Crowley gave him a wicked grin, “Would have liked to see that.”

“We should spar sometime. I may be a bit out of shape but I'm sure I could show you a thing or two.”

“Definitely not. I was always rubbish with weaponry. Never really bothered with it. Prefer using my wits, and when a sword was necessary I just got someone else to do it.”

“Maybe I could teach you?” 

The offer was left unanswered, the two naturally returning to a comfortable silence as they continued their exploration of the old castle and priory. It was an old place, humans had been occupying the land for 2000 years, and yet they were still much older. This castle had been in ruins for centuries, and they had been there before, during, and after. They did not feel old within the new metropolises that had popped up in the last century but in the ruins of the civilizations that they outlived by millennia. They were old, but they were old together, and now nothing was there to stop them from being so. 

“Shall we go home?” 

Home. Crowley liked the sound of that when Aziraphale said it. 

“Yeah, let's go.” 

Epilogue: Dover Castle 

They drove south along the coast. Aziraphale had gone through nearly all of the CDs he had acquired in Wales, except one.  

“Vera Lynn? Didn’t realize you were a fan.”

“She had such a lovely voice. They broadcast one her performances on BBC during the war and I bought a record the next day." 

“How modern of you.”

“This one apparently came out this year. I like the cover art. Technology is unbelievable nowadays, over 30 tracks on a single side of this tiny disc.” 

It was later in the afternoon now, Vera Lynn serenading the duo as rolling hills passed them on one side and choppy grey waves on the other. It had been a well-needed disruption in their daily routines, a literal and figurative breath of fresh air. If Crowley was being honest (which he rarely was with himself) he enjoyed spending all this time with Aziraphale. The angel had allowed himself to enjoy their vacation much more openly, but Crowley had enjoyed it too, in his own way. He was old, which he did not care to admit. Humanity had aged him. 6000 years in the pits of hell was nothing, but 6000 years amongst billions of the busiest and most diverse animals on the planet had a way of reminding your how ancient you truly are. Most humans believed that the earth was billions of years old, and that was a length of time that Crowley did not care to imagine. Revisiting all of these old castles and villages reminded him just how much he had experienced already, so much more than any person could imagine, longer than any given human civilization. Up until now, the future had been finite, but now, thinking about all that he could still experience here on earth with seemingly no expiration date was equal parts exciting and terrifying. He looked over at the angel. He kept doing that throughout the trip. Glancing over at Aziraphale in the passenger seat, either reading a book or looking out at the scenery and on one extremely treasured stretch of the drive when he closed his eyes and ‘slept’ (Crowley doubted he had been completely successful in his attempt but it was a marvel to behold regardless.) How many more vacations would they have? How far would they go? The anxiety that had hovered over their previous encounters still loomed slightly, but it was quickly fading with each passing month. Where would they be in a year? He was nervous, terrified even. But looking over at the angel, the knot in his stomach seemed to disentangle itself slowly but surely. 

Aziraphale’s thoughts were significantly less deep. He was extremely happy with how the vacation had shaped up and was excited to plan out the next. He was still ready to be back home in his bookshop, he could only handle so much excitement and travel, but it had been energizing and thrilling in its own way. This trip had reminded him why he had settled in England. For all its flaws (notably the weather. Crowley would have also said the politics but Aziraphale didn’t make a habit of keeping up with current affairs), it was a beautiful country filled with kind and well-intentioned people. And had produced its fair share of good music. He had not listened to Vera Lynn in a while but somehow all those old tunes were still in his head as he hummed along watching the sun descend closer to the horizon. He saw a sign that said ‘London’ and when Crowley did not turn onto it, he looked over at the demon curiously. 

“Thought we’d make one more stop before heading back home. Just a bit further south.” 

Aziraphale was in no rush, so he made no objection. He slid back into his spot up against the window, head perched on his hand. They view slowly grew more and more populated, quaint villages into small towns and then again into cities. Aziraphale closed his eyes, just enjoying the music, enjoying the peace, enjoying Crowley. Even though he was not saying anything the demon's presence was so easily felt. He let himself soak up that feeling and they carried on. They crossed over the Thames and slowly returned to those quaint villages and green fields. The drive wasn’t very long (almost certainly to do with the incredibly dangerous speeds the Bentley had been driving at). They got out of the car and Aziraphale gazed upwards towards the imposing structure in front of them. It was well preserved, in a much better condition than the other castles they had visited. The main keep was surrounded by enormous walls on all sides. The castle itself stood upon a hill overlooking the English Channel. The sun was setting over the water far in the distance. Crowley hadn’t driven them up to the main castle, instead of off to the side closer to the rocky cliffs. 

“Dover Castle, the Key of England.”

Crowley got out off the car without turning it off so the music continued to pour out of the Bentley. Aziraphale followed, meeting Crowley who had walked around the car to his side. “Red Sails in the Sunset” faded out and familiar flute and string orchestra began to play. 

“They’ll be bluebirds over, the white cliffs of Dover.” 

Aziraphale began to blush, “Oh my dear, you didn't.” Except, when Aziraphale said ‘my dear’ the accent was not on the my and full of disbelief or frustration, but on the dear, and was not so much of an exclamation than a term of endearment, gentle and full of care. Crowley would never say it aloud, but he adored the way it sounded out of Aziraphale’s mouth, and especially since it was directed at him. He didn’t respond, instead, leaning against the angel watching the sunset over the castle, which he hoped was in of itself enough of an answer. 

Now it should be noted that ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ was that in fact included in the recording Aziraphale had purchased, but Crowley did not know that and imagined that it must be, and so there it was, just in time. The song (miraculously) matched up perfectly with the setting sun. Crowley (or maybe it had been Aziraphale. Both had slowly drifted into each other as night fell, hands brushing up against the others) slowly slipped his hand into that of his best friend. A quiet display of affection that meant so much as the stars began to emerge from the darkening the sky. 

“Tomorrow, just you wait and see.”    

[urantiaportal]

Many Nobel prize winners believe in some sort of intelligent underpinning reality; they are mostly theists or deists:  • ALBERT EINSTEIN [1875-1955]: Nobel Laureate in Physics (he believed in a God like Spinoza did, but a God whose design echoed throughout the universe): “I want to know how God created this world. I am not interested in this or that phenomenon, in the spectrum of this or that element. I want to know His thoughts; the rest are details.”  • MAX PLANCK [1858-1947]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “Both religion and science need for their activities the belief in God, and moreover God stands for the former in the beginning, and for the latter at the end of the whole thinking. For the former, God represents the basis, for the latter - the crown of any reasoning concerning the world-view.” [1958] • WERNER HEISENBERG [1901-1976]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “The first gulp from the glass of natural sciences will turn you into an atheist, but at the bottom of the glass God is waiting for you.” • ERWIN SCHRÖDINGER [1887-1971]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: ¨In the presentation of a scientific problem, the other player is the good Lord. He has not only set the problem but also has devised the rules of the game - but they are not completely known, half of them are left for you to discover or to deduce. …The uncertainty is how many of the rules God himself has permanently ordained, and how many apparently are caused by your own mental inertia, while the solution generally becomes possible only through freedom from its limitations. This is perhaps the most exciting thing in the game.” [1954]  • ROBERT MILLIKAN [1868-1953]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “It pains me as much as it did Kelvin ‘to hear crudely atheistic views expressed by men who have never known the deeper side of existence.’ Let me, then, henceforth use the word God to describe that which is behind the mystery of existence and that which gives meaning to it. I think you will not misunderstand me, then, when I say that I have never known a thinking man who did not believe in God.” [1925] • CHARLES TOWNES [1915-2015]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “I strongly believe in the existence of God, based on intuition, observations, logic, and also scientific knowledge.” [2002] • ARTHUR SCHAWLOW [1921-1999]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “Religion is founded on faith. It seems to me that when confronted with the marvels of life and the universe, one must ask why and not just how. The only possible answers are religious. For me that means Protestant Christianity, to which I was introduced as a child and which has withstood the tests of a lifetime." • WILLIAM PHILLIPS [b.1948]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “Many scientists are also people with quite conventional religious faith. I, a physicist, am one example. I believe in God as both creator and friend. That is, I believe that God is personal and interacts with us.” [2002] • SIR WILLIAM H. BRAGG [1862-1942]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “Christ’s rule and example showed God as our Father and us as His children, a society in which love governs all. Then if we seek a rule of conduct we should think of what we should like children to be like and what we should wish them to do. We like them to be hardworking, eager, cheerful, sympathetic.” • GUGLIELMO MARCONI [1874-1937]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: The more I work with the powers of Nature, the more I feel God’s benevolence to man; the closer I am to the great truth that everything is dependent on the Eternal Creator and Sustainer [Creatore e Reggitore Eterno]; the more I feel that the so-called ‘science’ I am occupied with is nothing but an expression of the Supreme Will, which aims at bringing people closer to each other in order to help them better understand and improve themselves.” • ARTHUR COMPTON [1892-1962]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “For myself, faith begins with the realization that a supreme intelligence brought the universe into being and created man. It is not difficult for me to have this faith, for it is incontrovertible that where there is a plan there is intelligence. An orderly, unfolding universe testifies to the truth of the most majestic statement ever uttered - ‘In the beginning God.’ [Genesis 1, 1].” [1936] • ARNO PENZIAS [b.1933]: Nobel Laureate in Physics: “The best data we have are exactly what I would have predicted, had I had nothing to go on but the five books of Moses, the Psalms, the Bible as a whole.”  • ALEXIS CARREL [1873-1944]: Nobel Laureate in Medicine and Physiology: “We are loved by an immaterial and all-powerful Being. This Being is accessible to our prayers. We must love Him above all creatures. And we ourselves must also love one another.” • SIR JOHN ECCLES [1903-1997]: Nobel Laureate in Medicine and Physiology: “We come to exist through a divine act. That divine guidance is a theme throughout our life; at our death the brain goes, but that divine guidance and love continues. Each of us is a unique, conscious being, a divine creation. It is the religious view. It is the only view consistent with all the evidence.” [1984] • JOSEPH MURRAY [1919-2012]: Nobel Laureate in Medicine and Physiology: “Is the Church inimical to science? Growing up as a Catholic and a scientist - I don’t see it. One truth is revealed truth, the other is scientific truth. If you really believe that creation is good, there can be no harm in studying science. The more we learn about creation - the way it emerged - it just adds to the glory of God. Personally, I’ve never seen a conflict.” [1996] • SIR ERNST CHAIN [1906-1976]: Nobel Laureate in Medicine and Physiology: “I would rather believe in fairies than in such wild speculation. …I have said for years that speculations about the origin of life lead to no useful purpose as even the simplest living system is far too complex to be understood in terms of the extremely primitive chemistry scientists have used in their attempts to explain the unexplainable that happened billions of years ago. God cannot be explained away by such naïve thoughts.” • GEORGE WALD [1906-1997]: Nobel Laureate in Medicine and Physiology: “It has occurred to me lately - I must confess with some shock at first to my scientific sensibilities - that both questions [consciousness and cosmology] might be brought into some degree of congruence. This is with the assumption that Mind, rather than emerging as a late outgrowth in the evolution of life, has existed always as the matrix, the source and condition of physical reality - that the stuff of which physical reality is composed is mind-stuff. It is Mind that has composed a physical universe that breeds life, and so eventually evolves creatures that know and create.” [1984] • SIR DEREK BARTON [1918-1998]: Nobel Laureate in Chemistry: God is Truth. “There is no incompatibility between science and religion. Both are seeking the same truth. Science shows that God exists.” • CHRISTIAN ANFINSEN [1916-1995]: Nobel Laureate in Chemistry: “I think only an idiot can be an atheist. We must admit that there exists an incomprehensible power or force with limitless foresight and knowledge that started the whole universe going in the first place.” • WALTER KOHN [1923-2016]: Nobel Laureate in Chemistry: “I am very much of a scientist, and so I naturally have thought about religion also through the eyes of a scientist. When I do that, I see religion not denominationally, but in a more, let us say, deistic sense. I have been influenced in my thinking by the writings of Einstein who has made remarks to the effect that when he contemplated the world he sensed an underlying Force much greater than any human force. I feel very much the same. There is a sense of awe, a sense of reverence, and a sense of great mystery.” [2001]

[popwasabi]

One Marvelous Scene: “No Tears For Me?”

For those who follow a lot of YouTube writing channels you might have noticed a series this week put out by its top influencers titled “One Marvelous Scene.”

Much like how Nick Fury did at the end of “Iron Man,” in preparation for this weekend’s “Endgame” (EEEEEEEEeeee!!!) the channel Nando v. Movies tasked several other channels in doing a video about their favorite/most thought-provoking scene in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. This “One Marvelous Scene” could be anything from the iconic “I’m always angry” line from Bruce Banner in Avengers to an analysis of Captain America and the larger use of military ads within the series.

(Seriously, this is a little troubling when you think about it...)

Though I was, unfortunately, not called on to be apart of the writing Avengers (#sadface), the series did make me think about what scene has stood out the most to me in this series which now spans 22 movies (24 by the end of the year). Was it Cap’s iconic “I can do this all day line” that changed my perception of the character forever, Thanos’s epic entrance in “Infinity War,” or Cap and Bucky’s emotionally charged battle with Iron Man in “Civil War?”

No.

The scene that has stood out to me the most remains the only moment in any of these films where I almost cried (manly tears, damn it!) and that scene is Erik Killmonger’s journey to the Ancestral Plane in “Black Panther.”

The Ancestral Plain is my favorite setting in this film by a wide margin. It highlights a very spiritual and unique space in the MCU canon and contains the movie’s most emotionally charged moments. T’Challa’s own journeys into this realm are, by themselves, great scenes I considered choosing for this write-up as they highlight the arc of the character in his feelings toward his father and lineage. But Killmonger’s journey is especially powerful and shows why he’s regarded, by many, as the series most compelling villain.

(With all due respect to the Mad Titan of course. I’m speaking of course of Josh Brolin.)

The main theme of this story, to quote another famous Marvel character, quite clearly is “With great power, comes great responsibility.” In this case Wakanda has tremendous power, wealth and influence but they have chosen to hoard it and keep secret from the rest of the world. This negligence is highlighted first by Nakia earlier in the movie explaining how Wakanda can do so much more with the resources they wield but T’Challa chooses not to intervene because of “traditions.”

Erik’s arrival and subsequent takeover of the kingdom of Wakanda shows how that isolationism can have consequences. Erik is right to call out this kingdom’s hypocrisy and if this were any other type of movie he might’ve even been the main character in this story. Think about it: a prince rightfully points out injustice in a society, he is then killed without trial by his brother, his son then raise himself into the perfect warrior so that he may exact retribution and correct this flaw within the kingdom. Doesn’t that like the beginnings of a hero’s journey?

(*Menacing rap theme music intensifies*)

But it’s when he ventures to the ancestral plain that we really see the depth of this cruelty and the tragedy of how this society turned its back on one of its own. We see Erik revert back to being a child in this journey and see’s his father once more. This is an important because it shows how Erik once was, innocent, and through this we begin to understand just how far his fall has been and all because of one selfish, apathetic, irresponsible action.

When Erik’s dad asks him “no tears for me?” and he responds “Everybody dies. It’s just life around here” it becomes quite clear just how cruel it was for T’Challa’s father to leave him behind. The king, who T’Challa looked up to and admired, left a boy to fend for himself in a harsh world, with no one to help or guide him and for all intents and purposes appeared to never even attempt to go back and check in on him. And this wasn’t just any child; this was a blood relative, his nephew and he essentially left him to fend for himself because he wasn’t “one of them.” The creation of Erik Killmonger was entirely avoidable and yet it happened because Wakanda’s king wielded his privilege and influence of his kingdom irresponsibly all in the name of “tradition.”

In this way the film brilliantly highlights, especially later on when T’Challa returns to the ancestral plain, how king T’Chaka is the real villain of this film. When T’Challa tells his father and the rest of the former kings that they’re all wrong for turning their backs on the rest of the world it truly sends the message home how when you’re given a great power it is your responsibility to help others with it.  Combine this genuine moment with Ludwig Gorransson’s Oscar winning score playing in the background and it’s hard not to get a little choked up during this tragic moment.

(Finally! An original soundtrack worth purchasing from the MCU!)

Contrary to popular belief, villains aren’t born villains in the real world; nobody comes out of the womb an evil, vindictive person. Evil people are created, often by even the most well-intentioned of people through negligence, cruelty and apathy. There’s a reason why MLK many decades ago said he feared “white moderates” more than he did the actual racists. It’s because those folks chose to turn their backs instead of using their privilege to help because it was convenient, much in the way T’Chaka did.

In a series that has largely chosen to cheapen most of its sincere drama with quips and bad jokes, this scene was a tremendous breath of fresh air for me when I saw it the first time. If this scene had been directed by almost anyone else in the MCU chances are there would’ve been at least one reference joke in here somewhere (“Ancestral Plane? Like am I going to see a Force Ghost or something? Derherherher.”) The emotional impact of this scene hit’s you like a sledgehammer when Erik’s dad says “No tears for me?” and thank Bast director Ryan Coogler didn’t try force in any bathos for cheap laughs.

(If you need a primer on what bathos means watch this great video by “Just Write”)

The MCU has done a better job in recent outings (mostly) with creating genuine moments of drama but at times still feels like they can’t help themselves. I want the MCU to be less afraid of itself in that way. We care about these characters and their stories; we don’t need a pop culture reference every minute to keep us invested in the story.

These films, space cowboys and spandex super heroes and all, can be so much deeper than the MCU allows it to be. “Thor: Ragnarok” is basically the same story as “Black Panther”; A soon to be king learns that his father wasn’t exactly the man he thought he was, a long-lost relative comes to usurp his throne and through this learns to be a better king and leader. The only real difference (besides the setting and characters used) “Black Panther” is sincere in its dialogue and doesn’t shy away from the tougher subjects.

(We get it, it’s funny but c’mon...)

The Ancestral Plain is a powerful setting in “Black Panther” that helps complete arcs for its characters but its through Erik’s journey do we begin to understand the film’s main message. It’s a tragic scene and one that still sticks with me each time I watch the film and, in this day, and age we currently reside in in this world it feels very relevant as well. It’s one of the main reasons why “Black Panther” remains my favorite MCU flick to date and overall one of my favorite movies of the decade.

So While “Endgame” will certainly dominate at the box office this summer and more than likely be a huge crowd-pleaser I do hope that the MCU learns from this film as it travels into its new future. “Black Panther” showed you can tell one of these Marvel stories without adding a punchline in every minute and still be a huge success. Hopefully future films in this series understand this lesson too.

Glory to Bast. Wakanda forever. This is One Marvelous Scene.

[pamphletstoinspire]

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER by Francis Xavier Weninger, 1876

“And when He is come, He will convince the world of sin.” – John 16

Today's Gospel contains three reproofs by which, as Christ says, the Holy Ghost, whom He promises unto His Church, will convince the world of sin. We all know what Christ here designates by “the world.” He means the geat number of people, who indifferent alike to God and the state of the soul after death, do not think of any thing but to be happy with temporal happiness here below; He means those whose only desire is to possess, and to enjoy as much and as long as possible; He means those; who, like unbelievers, are indifferent to the truths of faith, or who, if they confess the faith with their lips, do not trouble themselves about its precepts, promises, and threats, and thus practically lead the life of infidels.

Let us consider the manner in which the Holy Christ convinces the world of sin, and how inexcusable a crime it is in worldlings not to shun sin, but to think only of satisfying their desires. O Mary, thou purest of the pure, pray for us that we may abhor sin as thou didst abhor it! I speak in the most holy name of Jesus, to the greater glory of God!

“The Holy Ghost will convince the world of sin.” This protestation of Christ reminds us of another declaration made by Him, when in speaking of the hardened Jews, He said: ” If I had not come they would not have sin, but now they have: no excuse for their sin.” Yes, great and inexcusable is the sin of man who, gifted though he is with a rational soul, still prefers to walk the path of iniquity; for how abominable does not sin appear to man if he only looks at it in the light of reason!

The heathen already recognized the truth of this, for, as is well known, it was a doctrine of the philosophical sect of the Stoics, that sin was to be avoided for sin's sake, on account of its inherent abomination, even if otherwise it could be committed with impunity. This will become clear to us according to St. Ignatius, if we think of sin personified; that is, if we imagine a man who in his words, thoughts, wishes, and actions is nothing but the expression of some or other vice. Personified in this way we see sin in its real aspect, in its native horror. I will give you an example: We pass a drug-store, and see in the show window bottles filled with liquids of different colors red, green, yellow. If, however, we take of this liquid but one drop, it will appear almost colorless; one sees the color only in concentration, when a large quantity is together.

Thus also in regard to sin. Men may be: proud, miserly, envious, intemperate, idle, unchaste, and still we frequently perceive nothing of it in our daily intercourse with them. They do not always show their true disposition. On the contrary, they often seem free from all vice, and devoted to the pursuit of virtue. How horrible would that man appear whose entire being expressed nothing but idleness, pride, avarice, anger, envy, intemperance, or impurity! Further, as far as the consequences of sin are concerned, the experience of all past centuries has shown how terrible they are for men in particular and in general.

Holy Writ says very justly: “It is sin that causes the misfortunes of nations.” What has caused all the wars that have raged to the horror and unhappiness of nations? Generally, overbearing pride, covetousness, or injustice. And what is the cause of the unhappiness of the people even in times of peace? I say it is the oppression of the poor, the want of brotherly love, and the corrupting influence which sin and vice exercise upon social life.

How happily would men live if in true charity they loved one another as they love themselves, and hence were always ready to assist one another. Were this the case, Paradise would seem to have returned to earth. It is sin also that undermines the happiness of families. If there were no unkindness, no anger, no intemperance, no other vices, how happily families would live! The same may be said in regard to every man taken singly.

What is the source and cause of the discontent of many a man, who has in a worldly way amply provided for his well-being? I answer: It is his uneasy conscience, the remorse that will not let him forget. It is sin that so often embitters life, and drives many a wretched soul, though surrounded by riches, to commit suicide.

Is not the Holy Ghost right to convince the world of sin? But how much more justly since the coming of Christ will He convince the world of sin, and reprove and judge it. As far as the sin of unbelief in general is concerned, how inexcusable is the state of the world! And of this sin man was and is still today guilty; for Christ is not yet recognized as God and Redeemer over the entire earth, and all human souls have not yet joined His holy Church!

Further, the sin of the Jews is unpardonable, in not having believed in Christ, and in not believing in Him now, though they witnessed all the miracles He performed, and still have in their hands the prophecies which were fulfilled in Him. Not less inexcusable are the heathens for not recognizing Christ after the Apostles had preached the Gospel over the whole earth, confirming their word with so many signs and miracles. If, as St. Paul said, the heathens seeing God so unmistakably manifested in the marvels of creation were culpable in not recognizing Him, how much more to be blamed are they in not recognizing Christ as God and Redeemer, since the marvels of the Gospel are not inferior to those of nature!

But they, also, who, though recognizing Christ as God and Redeemer, yet do not look upon His Church as the one true, the one saving Church, and so live separated from her, they, also, are not less inexcusable; and by their obstinacy and willful blindness, well deserve the menace of the Holy Ghost: “He will convince the world of sin.” Finally, they are especially concerned, who, though they profess with their lips the true faith, and are children of the Church, yet live like heathens! How justly the Holy Ghost reproaches them for their sin, and with them the whole world buried, as it is, in the depths of sin!

How frightful, how horrible sin appears when we consider that God Himself became man, that through His infinite merit He might reconcile us to His Father! If we further consider what Christ taught, that men might learn to know God in His entire perfection and goodness; the example of virtue that Christ gave to the world, and the ingratitude with which He was repaid, if we consider how terrible, according to the teachings of revelation are for all eternity, the consequences to those who die in sin; full well we see that the Holy Ghost has only too much reason to convince the world of sin, especially in regard to those sins committed by children of His holy Church, who often sin more, and lead more shameful lives than Jews, Turks, or the heathens.

How many graces has not God given to the children of His Church to keep them free from sin, and to raise them when they are fallen! Add to this all that God has done in order to save each one individually. Yes, yes, the Holy Ghost gave unto us the children of His Church, to recognize by the light of faith the horror and abomination of sin, and He has the right to reprove men, and especially the children of the Church, because of their sins; for though they belong to the true Church, yet year after year they are adding sin upon sin!

Were they to see, as they ought, the entire wickedness and evil, the ingratitude of sin as the Holy Ghost shows it to them by the light of faith, they would understand how St. Catharine of Sienna could declare herself ready rather to be buried in the abyss of hell than to offend God by a single sin. They would if they had had the misfortune to be overcome by temptation, hasten, filled with terror and remorse, to cast off the yoke of sin, to be reconciled in truth with God, and to become a living temple of the Holy Ghost for time and eternity! Amen!

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER by Fr. Raphael Frassinetti, 1900

Gospel. John xvi. 5-14. At that time Jesus said to his disciples: I go to Him that sent Me; and none of you asketh Me: Whither goest Thou? But because I have spoken these things to you, sorrow hath filled your heart. But I tell you the truth: it is expedient to you that I go: for if I go not, the Paraclete will not come to you: but if I go, I will send Him to you. And when He is come, He will convince the world of sin, and of justice, and of judgment; of sin: because they believed not in Me. And of justice: because I go to the Father: and you shall see Me no longer. And of judgment: because the prince of this world is already judged. I have yet many things to say to you: but you cannot bear them now. But when he the Spirit of truth is come, He will teach you all truth; for He shall not speak of Himself: but what things soever He shall hear, He shall speak, and the things that are to come He shall show you. He shall glorify Me: because he shall receive of Mine, and shall show it to you.

The disciples are to be pitied for the desolation they felt at the approaching separation from their good Master. He tells them that now He is about to leave the world to go to heaven, there to be united to His heavenly Father. It was a sad thought. They would no longer hear His words; they would no more see His benign countenance. His sacred personality, which went about doing good to all, healing the sick, curing the lame, giving sight to the blind, raising the dead to life, would no longer be of this earth. Had the disciples been more perfect they would not have suffered so much, still their attachment was a sign of their love for Jesus. He did not rebuke this holy affection; on the contrary He left it in their hearts, only calming their fears for the future by holy promises.

My dear young people, do not give way to fretful brooding and moroseness if you have to endure sorrow. You ought to be happy and cheerful in the Lord, keeping yourselves free from sin. You have often been told that sin is the greatest misfortune in the world, and that this should be the only thing to make us sad. Be cheerful then; this is the lesson I wish to inculcate, the lesson which I have drawn from this day's Gospel.

Ecclesiasticus wishes us always to chase sadness from our heart. St. Anthony, the abbot, used to tell his disciples that the strongest arm to conquer the enemy was cheerfulness of mind and heart which has God always before our eyes. With this light of God's presence, the shadows of sorrow, of trouble and misfortune disappear. St. Francis of Sales, whom they call the sensible and rational saint, tells us that, after sin, there is nothing does more harm to the soul than melancholy, and that we ought to banish it with all our might. St. Philip Neri wanted young people especially to be happy. Young people can always be happy because their bodies are sprightly and full of life, while old people are frequently sad from care and many other reasons. Young people should be encouraged to love life in all its activity and enjoyment, and it is sad indeed to see them morose or overwhelmed with care.

St. Aloysius Gonzaga and St. Stanislaus Kostka were happy, but at the same time greatly mortified; they were never melancholy or morose, they did not avoid the company of their companions; on the contrary, their manner made all about them feel a holy joy; their companions did not avoid them, they were favorites. The saints all were happy and contented, they were unhappy only when they saw sin. When they thought that they could not prevent the loss of so many souls to God, they lamented and wept. I wish you to reflect well on this day's lesson: never be sullen and disagreeable in company, as there is no reason for it, unless you are of a whimsical mind; correct it as soon as possible. A youth who is good and pious, but holds himself apart, and likes to pray and read pious books out of the proper time, does wrong; he may go to the sacraments, but the joyous laugh of youth is no longer heard, the light foot and the agile form is gone; he likes to walk with old men and become as slow as they. All this is not as it ought to be. Young people ought to be happy among themselves, for if the young see one who is pious and at the same time morose, they think moroseness a necessary consequence of piety, and they hate piety and goodness. My good young people, always show yourselves happy and you will do good. The young man who has true piety is always cheerful and happy, and never seems to have the blues; he does what is right.

There is no doubt that a pious life naturally leads to cheerfulness, and this latter attracts the careless; nothing looks so dark and severe as a holy life. “Serve the Lord in joy.” Then may discontent, unhappiness, and sorrow be lodged in the hearts of the wicked as a punishment for their sins, and may happiness be in the hearts of the good.

The disciples were silent at the announcement made by Our Lord. He said to them, ” None asks Me, ‘Whither goest Thou?'” We, my dear children, know where Our Lord has gone. He has gone to heaven. But we should ask ourselves, “Are we following the divine Redeemer in that way which leads to paradise?” Tell me, do all young people walk in the path that leads there? My heart grows sad when I think that so many do not follow in the footsteps of Our Lord, but from earliest childhood fall into ways that will surely lead them to hell. The prayers and advice of their parents avail nothing: they are obstinate and go on in their sins. Better than any advice is good example. Let the light of your good works so shine among your companions that they may see it and follow it; pray to Mary that your example may be effective in leading others to God.

Then Our Lord told His disciples that it was expedient He should go, and that unless He went, the Paraclete would not come to them. What great love Our Lord had for His Church and for His disciples! For when the Spirit shall come, “He will convince the world of sin, and of justice, and of judgment.” St. Thomas says he will convince the world of sin, which they must avoid, of justice which they must adopt, of judgment which they must fear continually. Understand, my dear young people, that the only evil which you ought to avoid is sin: understand that you must embrace justice, for it is the scrupulous observance of the law of God. You must fear the judgment of God, and not the decisions of men: you ought, therefore, keep in mind that dreadful day when you and all the world will have to appear before God's throne, there to receive the sentence of approval or condemnation from the mouth of God Himself. On that day you will have to appear before the whole world and make a public confession; there will be no support from friends, parents, or relations; we will have no advocate.

Our Lord tells His disciples that He has still many things to tell them, but that they are not now in a condition to understand them, until the Spirit of truth shall come to enlighten them. My dear young people, what light would the Lord infuse into our minds, what inspirations into our hearts, if we were only in a state to receive them and make use of them. Why live so distracted, with your heart so attached to the things of this world, your mind and thoughts so continually on the pleasures of the world that you neglect the performance of your duties? Why do you chase away the salutary thoughts of eternity, avoiding them as if they were something sad which disturbs you? By such carelessness we render ourselves very unworthy of heavenly favors. Stop it now, once for all, and place no obstacle to the blessings and graces with which Jesus wishes to favor us. By a really fervent life, merit that God may notice you at all times, and give you new graces, and that the Holy Ghost will illumine more and more your mind and heart.

We can learn from the life of St. Catherine of Genoa to correspond to the grace of Our Lord. From her very youth she was always ready to obey the inspirations of God. When she was young, it is true, she sometimes became cold in the service of Our Lord, but no sooner did she hear the voice of conscience stirred in her by God than she turned to her calling and labored more faithfully. She used to say, “Lord, no more world, no more sins.” She had many visions of Our Lord, who came to her instructing and consoling her according to the needs of her soul. Once He appeared to her, inviting her to make with Him a fast of forty days, not touching a thing all that time beside the heavenly bread which she received every day in holy communion. She obeyed with joy, but became so sick that it was thought she was dying. The Blessed Sacrament was carried to her room, and on the third day she was perfectly cured. She had not given much time to study in her youth, but by the help of God she wrote books which, at the present day, astonish the learned and those skilled in spirituality. In short, she corresponded perfectly to the will of God, and thus became a saint.

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

[god-whispers]

mar 2

oh the peace and joy of dwelling with our Lord.  to have Him be the last thoughts at night and the first thoughts upon awaking.  then to have Him fill the moments of the day as time allows, confident that He is there with you always, guiding each step and decision.  this is that peace which passes understanding.  this is that joy unspeakable and full of glory.  this is that personal, intimate relationship He seeks with each of us.

yes, i feel His presence as i drift off into sleep, entering that realm which hovers between life and death.  sleep is much needed, but it really is a taste of death.  the bible even refers to death as sleep.  "behold, i tell you a mystery: we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed - in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet."  1v cor 15:51-52   even the lips of our Lord confirmed this when the ruler of the synagogue was told his daughter had died.  "do not weep; she is not dead, but sleeping."  luke 8:52  yes, sleeping the sleep of death which only He could awaken from.

the marvelous truth is, though there may be death in this world, there is no death in Him.  there is only life.  He has triumphed over death.  "o death, where is thy sting?  o grave, where is thy victory?"  1 cor 15:55  makes one wonder if there will even be a place for sleep in our new habitation.  when we are no longer hindered by these bodies, will sleep be needed.

i once heard an elder say, "our spirits do not age, they only mature".  in the same mode, there may be times of rest, but sleep?  if we speculate even a little further, did adam even require sleep before God put him to sleep to create eve.  could that act have been the creation of sleep?

how my heart aches for those who do not know Him.  yes, there are those who choose not to know Him.  they go along, confident they are enough to meet the challenges of this life.  too often, they are awakened when they discover they are not.  they need someone greater.  He is that greater.

then there are those who, recognizing they are spiritual creations, seek a connection with that realm.  too often that connection centers on self, nature, idols and even people.  many of these are genuine in their quest, but deceived in their path.  "there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved."  acts 4:12  and whether that name be pronounced as Isa, Yeshua or Jesus, He is the only way.  He is the long promised prophet and the mediator of the new and eternal covenant.  he was not only "son of mary".  He was also "son of God".  there is no other; none that have come before and none that have come after.

He performed the works testifying to who He was.  He is a miracle worker and a healer (still).  He gave sight to the blind and brought the dead back to life (still).  He spoke the words which have life and give life.  He revealed "things kept secret from the foundation of the world."  matt 13:35  He lived and died that we might "know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent."  john 17:3

i know the scriptures i believe in and so frequently quote are not held sacred by some.  but truth remains forever true.  seek and ye shall find.  draw near to God and He will draw near to you.  these statements are also scriptures which i could quote, but they are truth.  i urge you to follow these "truths" and see where they lead.  if one's heart is sincerely seeking the truth, God will reveal His Self to them.

do not cover yourself in dogmas and doctrines.  let truth emerge from behind those blinders you have adopted.  sadly, too many refuse to question their truth.  is it "the truth"?  "but their minds were blinded.  for until this day the same veil remains unlifted in the reading of the old testament, because the veil is taken away in Christ."  2 cor 3:14

Christ wants to take away that veil.  the veil on our hearts, the veil on our eyes, and the veil on our ears.  i ask you, even beg you, don't risk such great a loss for such little effort.  our Father will meet you more than half way.  just let the word abba, father escape from your lips and He will answer.  will you accept His answer, "yes, Jesus is the way"?  "the way, the truth, and the life."  john 14:6

even as we who believe seek to dig deeper, we discover His goodness far surpasses all our imaginings and we desire only to please Him, to be like Him.  how often have i rejoiced in the scripture, "delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart."  psa 37:4  i thought, oh boy, everything i have ever wanted.  no.  He will not give us the desires of our evil heart.  He will replace our selfish desires with His desires.  then He will fulfill those desires.

this is not what i had planned for today but it is what He has brought forth.  what do they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?  if this what someone needed to hear this day, i bind all intervening spirits that might hinder.  i pray "the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine on them".  2 cor 4:4

linda