#do we just assume every prophet is just someone who is high?

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

sorry but if you think the pythia was just some woman high on natural gas you're ngmi

[nikolai-alexi]

For @jegulus-microfic Prompt: Savour WC: 890

Tags: bipolar James, manic episode, very unreliable narrator, bipolar Barty Crouch Jr, psychosis hallucination, mild violence, James is extremely touch adverse during a mania episode like this, Regulus is Going Through It, James gets the wrong impression eavesdropping on Reg/Barty/Evan’s conversation while they think he’s asleep, Reg is overwhelmed and guilty, James is Unwell, Evan is over everyone’s shit and really doesn’t like James’ friends, Barty is a good friend, Sirius/Remus/Pete don’t just abandon James in this they’re there and they probably went to go get help but James has no clue what’s going on around him really so they just aren’t featured, Evan still holds a grudge against Sirius specifically and (though he won’t admit it) he feels angry on James’ behalf because none of them realised he was struggling so he’s an ass to them, apparently manic episodes are a lot harder to write when you can’t remember what your own are like when you have them

James is aware he shouldn’t be laughing. He’s aware of the stares branding their way under his skin. He feels acutely every disgusted look thrown his way and he hears every scoff. He’s aware he shouldn’t be laughing. But he can’t stop.

Someone has turned off the party’s music. Unfortunate, that. If they kept it going maybe he could pass it off that he’d just drank too much. It’s worked for him before. He still can’t stop laughing. His lungs burn for oxygen and his stomach is cramping and his vision is blurry and his skin is crawling and he can’t stop fucking laughing.

He can’t tell how long it takes until his hysterical laughter subsides into maniacal giggles, “Savour it,” he chokes out, still giggling, “Perfect fucking Potter isn’t so perfect!”

He throws his arms wide and spins a circle in the middle of the common room, still giggling, “Someone ought to call the Prophet! Let them know that the only thing James Potter actually is, is fucking crazy!”

He thinks he’s lost his glasses, because whoever is standing in front of him is unrecognisable with how blurry everything is.

“C’mon, J,” they say. Oh! It’s Barty! Barty knows alllll about being batshit fucking crazy, doesn’t he?

His glasses are set back on his face with very careful movements. Barty knows what James can be like like this. He probably doesn’t want another broken nose. James isn’t sure he’d feel it if someone broke his nose. Would he feel it if he broke his own nose? Or would he only think he felt it because he knew it was coming?

“No one is going to break anyone’s nose, James,” Barty says, sternly, in a voice that sounds eerily similar to Regulus’ ‘shut up and quit being stupid’ voice. He must have spoken aloud. Oopsies.

A shadow appears behind Barty, and before James knows it, his body is flying through the air. Is he trying to run from it? Fight it? Who knows. He doesn’t. But he can’t stand that stupid fucking shadow starring at him. There’s a sharp pressure on the side of his head and everything goes black.

Next thing he knows, he’s hearing hushed voices to the side of him. He doesn’t have the energy to open his eyes, so he just stays still and listens.

“Why the fuck would you knock him out, Barty?!” Regulus’s voice is high, despite being quiet. He must be really upset about something.

“Reg,” Barty sighs, it sounds like he’s been repeating the words for a while, “He went to attack, what I assume was, one of his hallucinations and came after me as a result. You know we can’t restrain him. He just panics and hurts himself. The only thing I could do to get him out of there and keep him safe was knock him out.”

The breath seems to exit Regulus’ chest in one swift ‘whoosh’, “Yeah,” he sighs, “I know,”

A chair slides roughly across the floor, “It’s not your fault, Reg,” Barty murmurs quietly.

Regulus scoffs, “I should have seen the signs. I should have known he was going to have an episode,”

“Bullshit, Regulus. You’re in the middle of your OWLS prep. You’ve been holed in the library for the last two weeks. How many times have you even gotten to see him in the last month?”

Someone stands up and begins pacing, James reckons it must be Regulus. He always paces when he’s agitated, “That’s just the thing, Barty! I haven’t seen him more than once or twice since the Quidditch match with Gryffindor and Slytherin. I’ve been too damn busy to notice anything was wrong!”

A new voice chimes in, “Sit the fuck down, Regulus,” Ah, Evan’s joined the fray.

James can nearly see the death glare mixed with a pout that Regulus sends Evan as he plops ungracefully into his chair.

“Potter is not your responsibility. No, shut the fuck up and listen to me, Regulus,” James wants to chuckle, because only a Rosier can talk to Regulus like that and get away with it, “Potter is not your responsibility. You both discussed how stressful these next two months were going to be for you. He understood and respected your need for space, and other than making sure you’re taking care of yourself, he hasn’t pushed. You haven’t seen him more than a couple of times, how would you have noticed anything was wrong?”

Regulus makes a distressed noise, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Potter is not your responsibility. If anyone should have noticed something was wrong, it should have been your brother, or Lupin, or Pettigrew, or hell, even McGonagall. But they didn’t. And that’s not your fucking problem. That’s on them.”

“You’ve said it yourself, Reg,” Barty says, quietly, “James is really good at hiding this from people. He kept it from his best friends, his teachers, and classmates for six years. Hell, I deal with the same shit he does and I didn’t even connect the dots until the beginning of this year.”

There’s a resigned sigh from Regulus. James thinks he might be scrubbing a hand down his face like he does when he’s stressed. The thought makes guilt pool in his gut.

“I know you’re right,” Regulus says quietly, “It’s just…a lot. Right now. It’s all just a lot to deal with right now,”

And James can’t stop the sound that’s something between a crushing sob and hysterical laughter bubble out of his throat. Here I go again, he thinks, destroying everything good in my life because I’m too fucking much. He blacks out again.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Why did God harden the Pharaoh’s? I’m in a Bible as Lit class and someone brought up “wouldn’t that be against free will,” and why did God let the Israelites stay it in slavery for so long. Why is God different in the Old Testament to the New Testament? I hope this doesn’t bother you, with all these questions

Okay, so there are several different questions here and I'm going to try to address them all. I'm sure I'll miss something somewhere, so other more knowledgeable friends feel free to add on. Follow-ups are also very much welcome.

First off, Bible as literature class! Yikes. I took a Bible as lit class for my English minor years ago and my experience was pretty much wall-to-wall frustration. It was mostly an exercise in coming up with the most transgressive reads on Scripture possible and that really upset me.

I hope that your experience is better than mine. However, assuming that the class is at a secular university, I'd still encourage you to be intentional about talking the things you cover in class over with knowledgeable Christians in your life. I certainly benefitted a lot from doing so, both in the sense that I got to vent a whole bunch and in that I got help contextualizing the secular perspectives within Christian scholarship.

That out of the way: The God of the Bible is the same in both the Old and New Testaments.

I do understand where you’re coming from. It’s not uncommon for people to find God kind of inscrutable in the OT when they're more used to reading the NT. I actually think that's a failure on the part of the contemporary church in the West; large swaths of the OT tend to be understudied among lay-Christians.

Systematic theology can help a lot here. I'm just going to hit a few really broad highlights, but I really can't recommend Wayne Grudem highly enough if you're interested in more in-depth reading. Lots of people start with Bible Doctrine, but my family happened to have a copy of his enormous Systematic Theology tome in the basement when I was in high school and I got a lot out of just poking through that a little at a time too. A few quick bullets though:

Across all the Biblical texts, God is love. He glories in kindness to his people, whether it's in the covenant with Abraham, the Exodus, the faithful ministry of the prophets, Christ's ministry/death/resurrection, or the promised coming of his kingdom.

God is holy; he gives the Law to the Israelites so that they can approach his holiness without fearing for their lives and he sent Jesus so that we can do the same. Both Isaiah and Peter react with fear and awe in the face of God's holiness.

God is just. By virtue of his holiness, he cannot allow sin to go unpunished. As modern westerners, we often chafe against this but has any of us experienced justice that was actually pure? Justice is a form of faithfulness, and the same God who sent his people into exile poured out his wrath on his own son in our place. He has promised that one day, every evil will face his perfect justice.

God is faithful. He keeps his Covenant with Abraham even unto the cross. In the OT he is faithful husband to an adulterous people. In the NT he tells us that when we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself.

Lots of other characteristics but this answer is going to be long enough as it is. The only way to get a real sense for the continuity within the Bible is to read the whole Bible with an eye towards the continuity.

The reason that God is more approachable in the NT than the Old is that he became human. In the Incarnation, all of that holiness and justice and faithfulness and love that was God came to earth in our perfect likeness so that he could live beside us and die for us. God is certainly easier to approach in light of Christ's work, but he is utterly the same as he ever was. Read the Transfiguration and tell me that isn’t the God of Mount Sinai. Read John 1 and tell me it doesn’t remind you of the end of Job. Read the Gospels, Hebrews, and Revelation and play spot-the-OT-parallel. It's beautiful.

Why did God leave his people in slavery for so long? You could ask the same question about the Babylonian captivity and even about why Jesus waits to return and finally defeat Death. Why does he wait? Why let his people suffer?

Well. God is sovereign and he only permits evil to the extent that it ultimately accomplishes the very opposite of what it intends. Because the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, the Exodus was able to occur. The Exodus glorified God in extraordinary fashion, both among his own people and to the peoples of the ancient world. It was also a necessary type and precursor to Jesus's work on the cross. I don't think it's an overstatement to say that redemptive history rests on God's work in the Exodus, which is itself contingent on a period of slavery in Egypt.

“How long, O Lord” and “Come Lord Jesus” are the same sentiment in different words. We are still in exile, even now. We are chronologically exiled from the place where we belong, the New Jerusalem, and we mourn because we live in a fallen world in which sin and death can still hurt us. We can ask, just as the Prophets once asked, why God waits to vanquish the Enemy, extract suffering from the world, and restore our years that the locusts have eaten. And in each case (the slaves in Egypt, the Babylonian captivity, and the period of waiting for Jesus to return), the answer is that God does not fix it yet because He is doing something bigger!

Regarding Pharaoh's heart: this is basically a question of human nature. The easiest way that I can articulate it off the top of my head is using Augustine's fourfold state of man:

Prior to the fall, man was able either to sin or not to sin (posse peccare, posse non peccare)

The natural state of man after the fall is one in which he is unable not to sin (non posse non peccare). This was Pharaoh's state.

Following the work of Christ, regenerate man is able not to sin (posse non peccare)

In eternity, glorified man will be unable to sin (non posse peccare)

When we talk about man's will, we must acknowledge that our wills are subject to our nature. In other words, Pharaoh was a natural, fallen man. His nature was inherently sinful and his heart inherently hard.

What we've got here is sort of a "Jacob I have loved but Esau I have hated" situation. Pharaoh, in his natural state, had a hard heart and a natural enmity with God. God did not intervene to give him a heart of flesh. My people I have loved, but Pharaoh I have hated.

Not a perfect parallel, but I think it serves its purpose. The point is that God's sovereignty isn't in conflict with man's will, since our wills are a function of our natures. Man behaves however his nature inclines him to behave at any given time. We call this free will; however, God is entirely sovereign over all of it.

This is definitely a long, messy answer, but like I said, feel free to continue the conversation. I've got some biochem to work on, but I'm always happy to talk theology :)

[auroracalisto]

she will be loved, part five

summary: hayley arrives with a witch to help, while [your name]’s visions take a turn for the worse.

pairing: dad! elijah mikaelson x child! female! reader

word count: 1.1k words

warnings: mentions of death, canon divergence, hayley is pregnant but timeline is all screwed bc i said so, visions, prophetic shit i guess

a/n: :D also... just putting this out there....... why is description so difficult?  like everything i write seems almost like a script or some shit.  i need to work on my description big time

she will be loved masterlist

“Hello?  Hayley?” 

Hayley was quiet on the opposite line, a frown deep in her soft features.  What was he doing, calling her?  

Klaus cleared his throat, but she stayed quiet.

“I was hoping you would know of someone who could help us.  We need a witch.  One that deals with visions.”

Hayley closed her eyes, sighing softly.  “Why?”

Klaus blinked slowly, his jaw clenching in frustration.

“Klaus, I’m not going to help you unless you give me a reason.”

“I shouldn’t have to give you a reason,” he sneered, anger slithering up his spine as if a snake had replaced what nerves he had left.

“Alright, then,” Hayley rolled her eyes.  “Have fun finding a witch.”

Hayley pulled the phone away from her ear, prepared to hang up when she heard Klaus yell her name through the receiver. 

“Wait,” he said, his voice constrained for the time being.  “There is… a problem we’ve been having.  A child,” he said.

Hayley stayed quiet, her hand hovering over her own stomach.

“She’s been having visions.  Prophetic visions.  We… are hoping to find someone who can help her.”

Hayley cleared her throat, pursing her lips soon after.  “Okay,” she said.  “You’re still in Mystic Falls, right?  I’ll… see what I can do.”

“Come too,” Klaus said.  “We do not need a witch on our grounds when we’ve no idea who they are.”

“I’ll be there,” she said, before hanging up the phone.  She knew exactly who to call.

—

Time went by slower that week than it had in some time.  The witch Elijah had called had no idea how to help little [Your name].  She left almost as soon as she had arrived, claiming that some other forces were in control of the child.  

Elijah was tempted to find her and rip her a new one—how dare she give up when she hadn’t even begun to help?

It was on a night that Elijah had just laid [Your name] to sleep when a knock came from the front door.  No one else had been home.  Klaus and Kol were out at the Grill, and Rebekah was at the high school with the prom committee.  It was just him and his little girl.  He sighed softly and left his daughter’s room, promptly answering the front door.  

“Hello?” he greeted as he opened it, his eyes growing wide at the sight of a pregnant Hayley Marshall.  Beside of her stood a fiery redhead, who he could only assume was a witch—he could practically smell the magic drifting off of her.  

Elijah looked down at her belly before looking back up at Hayley in shock.  “Hayley…”

The brunette gave him a soft smile.  “Hi, Elijah.  Is Klaus here?  He was asking for a witch.  I brought him one.  I need to talk to him, too.”

“No,” Elijah frowned.  “But, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.  Who are you?” he turned to look at the redhead.  

She smiled, revealing a set of almost perfect teeth.  “Penelope.”

“And what are you here for?” Elijah raised an eyebrow.  

“Uh,” Penelope looked over at Hayley for help.

“Again,” Hayley rolled her eyes.  “Klaus asked for my help.  I brought him a witch that knows about visions and stuff like that.”

Elijah’s eyes widened.  “Oh,” he breathlessly said, looking between Hayley and Penelope.  A part of him wondered if he should wait for his siblings to return… but he knew that whatever he could do for his daughter would be beneficial in the long run.  

“Come in,” Elijah said, moving out of the doorway.  

Hayley and Penelope came inside.  The former kept a hand over her belly while the latter looked around the house in utter amazement. 

“This is gonna sound stupid, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place this big,” Penelope whisper-yelled to the woman standing beside her. 

Hayley rolled her eyes, but it was a playful gesture.  She just smiled at her friend.  

“So,” Penelope soon said, turning to face Elijah.  “What can I do to help?”

Elijah led the women up to his daughter’s bedroom.  However, he did not go inside, opting to instead explain what was going on, first.

“I adopted her about… well, nearly a year and a half now,” he said.  “She has always been susceptible to dreams of all sorts.  Lands filled with candies, snow during the summer, her favorite characters becoming her friends.  But she has also had… visions.  What we now know to be precognition,” Elijah frowned, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke.  

Penelope clung to his every word.

“She is terrified.  She has seen my brother die.  She witnessed a girl with something that my brother and sister have been searching everywhere for.  [Your name] has never once heard them talking about it.”

Penelope tilted her head.  “What is it you are wanting me to do?” she asked.

“Can you get rid of it?  Take her power away?  Allow her to be a normal child, with normal dreams?” Elijah asked, staring her down.

Penelope looked from Elijah to Hayley, frowning.  “I’m not sure.  But I will see what I can do,” Penelope said, patting the satchel at her side.  “My mother’s grimoire has a lot of info about visions,” she said.  “I’m sure I’ll be able to do something to help.”

Elijah gave a small not, uncertainty getting the best of him.  Would she be able to help?  What if there was nothing they could do for his little girl?

The original vampire would have led them somewhere else, a guest room perhaps, had it not been for the little girl now standing at her opened door.  

“Daddy?” [Your name] quickly spoke, tears springing in her big eyes.  

Elijah wasn’t human, but his non-beating heart sprung to his throat in an instant.  He bent down to her height and held out his arms to the child.  [Your name] ran to them, hugging onto the man.  

“What’s the matter?” Elijah softly asked, pressing a kiss to her temple.  

“I had another dream,” she said, trembling in his arms. 

“About what, my love?”

“I don’t know,” she let out a soft sob, roughly wiping her eyes to try and stop her tears.  

Elijah quickly grabbed her hands, stopping her.  He couldn’t bear the thought of her getting hurt by her own hands.  

“[Your name], look at me,” he frowned.  “You’re alright.  You are safe,” he said.  “Nothing can get to you here.  I will always protect you.”

“Always?” she looked up at him with wide eyes.  Her bottom lip quivered as she spoke.

“Always,” he nodded.

She sniffled softly, looking at his hands that were now holding hers.  [Your name] took in a deep breath, her eyes soon wandering up to his.  “I saw you, daddy,” she said. 

Elijah frowned.  “What did you see?”

“I saw you…”

He furrowed his brows, confused.  

“You were dead, daddy.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

if carlisle and dumbledore were put in each other's respective stories / dilemmas , how do you think they would react? how would a carlisle cullen have dealt with voldemort/grindelwald? and how dumbledore would have dealt with vampirism, etc? i almost view the two of them as a sort of foil to each other, not yet able to articulate why or how though

I mean, they'd live completely different lives, because they're completely different characters. It's very unlikely they'd end up in the same situations.

But alright.

Carlisle is Dumbledore

Carlisle's born in a working class family that quickly begins to fall apart. His father's sent to prison, his mother dies, his sister has a chronic illness that will never disappear, and it's just him and his brother left with very little chance of a future between them.

Handsome Gellert Grindelwald moves in next store with grand, new, ideas concerning the muggles.

Now, this particular Carlisle won't be Christian, he's a pureblood wizard and we can pretty safely assume that the Dumbledores were no more religious than any other wizarding family is.

It's a little up in the air whether Carlisle would be seduced by Gellert or not. Gellert is learned, foreign, and has all these radical, new, theories that weren't very prevalent at the time (well, anti muggleborn sentiment was, the facism was new). On the other hand though, Carlisle is also a man who once radically changed his own beliefs to something that went against nearly every edict of his previous religion. This is not a guy who takes things for granted and is not afraid to both confront himself and the true nature of the world he lives in.

And he has a deep respect for human life that, had it been any lesser, would have undoubtedly led to him eating humans as a vampire.

So, I'm going to say no, or if he does, it lasts up until Gellert says, "We should totally make the muggles our slaves." The muggles may have irreparably damaged Carlisle's sister, they may be hated by society, but they are free thinking beings who should be enslaved to no one. Carlsile raises his pacifism flag.

As a result, Gellert probably thinks he's a tool. Hot, of course, and intelligent, but a useless tool. Without somebody to bounce ideas off of/confirm his radicalization, Gellert has little to no interest in Carlisle or any of the Dumbledores. Gellert spends his time in Godric's Hollow then goes elsewhere, Ariana lives, at least for now, unclear how long her lifespan was going to be otherwise, Carlisle does not have the Gellert incident, and he and Abeforth remain on good terms.

Carlisle graduates Hogwarts and either is a) bullied into taking Flamel's apprenticeship opportunity by Abeforth who screams "DUDE, GET YOURSELF A FUTURE or b) immediately sets about trying to find a relatively high paying job so he can support the family. In the case of B, I imagine he goes to work for the goblins who seem to hire those straight out of Hogwarts with good enough grades. In the case of A, well, he goes to study alchemy.

Knowing Carlisle, he does a bastardization of both. He studies alchemy under Flamel and then works nights as a bartender in Paris or something to that effect. When he finishes, what career he does then is out in the air.

Given that, as a vampire, he had all the choices in the world open to him in terms of education (and tried many different things) before eventually settling on and sticking with human medicine despite the dangers, I think that's telling. Carlisle probably tries to get a job in something healing related.

However, that strays more into the "What if Carlisle was in the wizarding world" vs. "What if Carlisle was Dumbledore" so we'll say that the idea of teaching appeals to him and he returns to Hogwarts for the Transfiguration position.

This all goes well except then there's a first world war on, the muggle world goes completely insane, and no one understands why Carlisle's so upset.

And now we enter the world where Carlisle starts really making choices in Dumbledore's shoes.

First, Tom Riddle. Carlisle, I imagine, makes 100,000 times of a better impression than Dumbledore on the young Tom. He does not, for one, light his wardrobe on fire and threaten him. Carlisle might think this kid is weird, but he lives in poverty and an orphanage, much of his behavior can be explained from that. I imagine Carlisle becomes determined to take Tom under his wing.

I imagine at first Tom thinks this is excellent, LOOK HOW MUCH HE'S MANIPULATING THIS ADULT! And then he realizes that, no, Carlisle is perfectly aware he's a little shit. He just likes talking to Tom after classes about how to fit in with pureblood society/weird esoteric muggle philosophy.

Trouble is, Carlisle is so damn likeable (see his friends all over the world), that Tom can't help but like him. When the Blitz begins, and Carlisle undoubtedly offers Tom (and any other muggleborn who was not moved to the country) a place to stay, that seals the deal, the wizarding world might suck but Carlisle's a pretty cool guy.

Of course, Tom still thinks the government should be reformed or overthrown, but he and Carlisle actually sit down to talk about things like communism and facism (Carlisle's not a fan though the modern, muggle, form of democracy not practiced in the wizarding world is a weird concept to him).

My point being, it's unlikely this Tom Riddle becomes Voldemort or even really aspires to become him. You want more on that topic, check out these posts.

Grindelwald meanwhile, becomes a bigger and bigger deal, and things start looking... bad. However, it's not immediately obvious that Carlisle's the one who should do something about it. He's not a duelist, he's a professor, and his job is to teach the children. He may have been alright in school, but that was decades ago now. More, unlike Albus, he feels no personal responsibility, he knew Gellert, briefly, yes, but they had no real connection. Gellert spoke about insane things and Carlisle said, "Mm, don't like". Add to that that Carlisle's a pacifist, he's going to insist that someone trained for the position do the job.

Given canon, this means that Grindelwald likely invades and takes over wizarding England and, with a strong enough foothold, enacts his "enslave the muggles" plan. Which very well might result in a nuclear holocaust as Grindelwald was likely not keeping up with muggle technology and the muggle world war.

The muggle world collapses, which in turn causes society collapse, and the world may or may not be a nuclear wasteland that Tom and Carlisle get to wander around.

If Carlisle by some divine intervention has a prophetic dream of "YOU MUST DEFEAT GRINDELWALD OR DOOM DOOM DOOM" then he goes and tries to defeat Grindelwald. Considering Grindelwald has the elder wand, he probably needs Deus ex Phoenix to win, but if it worked for Dumbledore it might work for Carlisle.

Well. No one saw that coming.

Carlisle's an overnight sensation and a national hero, the hero of Western Europe even. He's suddenly being presented medals, honors, seats of power, and Carlisle desperately tries to refuse, feeling very squeamish that he's being given these things because he took it upon himself to murder another human being (yes, even a war lord).

Tom finds this funny and Abeforth is ureservedly proud and tells everybody.

All Carlisle wanted to do was teach children and now he has to reside over trials in the Wizengamot. This is terrible.

As for what happens to the wizarding world from there, well, inertia probably carries it along for a good while. However, antimuggleborn sentiment is still on the rise an even without Voldemort I imagine there's quite a bit of unrest.

I imagine Carlisle, not wanting in any way to be a political figure, is not nearly as outspoken as Dumbledore on anything. He just wants to be headmaster, guys, leave him alone.

Tom may or may not go into politics and do it for him. But he probably ends up teaching too and just laughs as the country collapses.

Harry Potter is an ordinary student who has no prophecy surrounding him. Carlisle did not recruit children to join an illegal resistance movement nor does he have a plethora of spies and moles in the ministry.

Harry Potter canon does not happen.

Dumbledore is Carlisle

Well, Dumbledore undoubtedly also burned witches and very much believed in their existence. An irony there. He may chase the vampire, probably isn't first in the mob, in which case he remains human or dies.

If he does survive being bitten, I imagine it pains him for a while, but I don't see Albus having the same willpower as Carlisle. Or at least, not as much, Albus probably ends up eating people. He at first probably tries to be picky and eats those who harm society in some way (pick your poison for what that means) and then over time becomes less picky.

They're just humans, after all.

Albus probably isn't invited to stay in Volterra, he's not all that interesting. He doesn't become a human doctor, he's just your ordinary vampire. He might hang around libraries as much as he can but that's about as far as that extends.

He probably turns a Gellert equivalent at some point as a mate and they have a grand time together.

Edward is never turned nor the rest of the Cullens and Bella dies in a parking lot.

[docholligay]

On that “Trying to be a better human” thing, a few years ago I turned my hand to trying to adopt a more “Tracerly” view of life, if you will. That is, not naivete, but an appreciation for life and cheer borne out of the ability to see beauty and happiness i the small things. To see the stars even when its dark. 

And it was wildly successful! I am genuinely a much happier person in the day to day for the new ways I’ve made myself talk about things, the way I’ve forced myself to notice the small lovlinesses in the world, and the way I’ve decided to make openly expressing joy a part of my life. 

So, having, after a few years, basically considered myself a success on that front, I decided to tackle another, which is my garbage shitbag temper and my horrible habit of assuming malice. Call it now trying to adopt a more “Mercyful” (lol) point of view about people*. When I am faced with someone being deliberately obtuse about something, or refusing to accept responsibility, I’m trying a lot harder to consider the fullness of why they’re acting that way. 

THIS IS MUCH MUCH HARDER THAN TRYING TO SEE BEAUTY IN THE WORLD. 

As a person, I am intensely action-based. I do not care what is in your heart, I care what you DO. And I’m trying to find a place to hold that, because I do not find that to be a problem or a negative, but also give people...we’ll call it grace. It’s a very tough walk for me, because I, in general, think people need to be stirred from complacency. I am, as my rabbi would say, a prophet and not a priest. Saying things gently is not something that will ever come naturally to me, and in some ways, I don’t WANT to change it. I don’t like giving people room to weasel. Accept that you won’t pick up this stone because you don’t want to put in the work, or you don’t think it’s important, but don’t make excuses at me. There are a dozen things AT LEAST I should be doing but I don’t, simply because I don’t want to give something up or I’m too lazy or whatever, but I accept that. I have a high level of introspection and personal honesty, and I am quite critical of people who don’t. I don’t expect people to always to the right thing, but I want their HONESTY. 

SO I’m always trying to figure out where the line is between kindness and excuses. When am I showing mercy and when am I allowing someone to dwell in inaction? I don’t actually think that letting someone be a shitty version of themselves is kindness! I think that’s giving up on someone’s potential. This is further complicated, for me, by the fact that anyone who needs to hear a simple, “Get your fucking shit together” is usually very good at excusing their behavior, while someone who might need more grace is less likely to accept it. 

Some things, in this vein of being kinder, are easy for me. I’m very cautious around lashon hara, so you’re pretty unlikely to see me castigate an individual (who’s not like, a politician) publicly.  I try very hard to decry BEHAVIOR and not PEOPLE. No one is inherently anything. Good or bad. A lot of Christian-based Western narrative has this quasi-Calvinist idea that you are born with skills like a crown laid upon your head, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and I don’t believe in that. It’s like my rabbi said at my bat mitzvah: At the age of forty, Rabbi Akiva knew no Torah. You can always be someone different. 

But then we get into like...me getting a bad faith response from someone, and I have that classic ADHD Emotional Immediacy, and I get SO angry SO fast**. I just want to fire back and it does not help that “I give as good as I get” was a thing for me in high school and I have struggled over the years to let it the fuck go because defining your adult self by your school experience is a level of pathetic I’m not interested in. I’ve worked hard this year on stepping back and saying, “I don’t get to respond for a day” because I have to let the storm pass. Sometimes I come back and can offer a reasoned reply, sometimes I realize I’m being baited, or that this person was never going to engage in faith, and I drop it. Sometimes I realize I was being unnecessarily inflammatory. But JESUS HERSCHEL CHRIST IS IT HARD FOR ME TO TAKE THAT STEP BACK. It goes against everything I FEEL, and sometimes I have to tell myself my feelings do not get to determine my behavior, and I HATE that. 

I really don’t have a point to this! Except to say, sometimes I think it comes across that I just effortlessly hold myself to self-improvement, and that makes people think, “Well I can’t do that I’m not that kind of person.” You can! You absolutely can! It took me three years to consider my little happiness project reached, and I feel I will very likely be working in earnest at this chesed project for more than that. But I’ll keep working. I taught myself to have a wide palate and to run and to tidy things and it’s okay to struggle but not to surrender. 

You don’t have to pick everything up, but you do have to pick some things up. Be the HMS Carpathia of life! Know that you cannot possibly succeed but work like hell! 

*Doc will you next try to adopt a more Pharahful set of habits. THat would involve me being well organized and honestly, I’m not willing to put in the work to be that sort of person. I admire them! But this would be a sort of, “Well I’ve accomplished every other personal goal so I might as well” sort of thing. 

**I am also overwhelmed by joy! It’s not all negative! I can be a fucking delight when I am happy! 

[b-lessings]

Today I was listening to an Egyptian Islamic da'iyah / family and couples counselor. She is quiet famous and an established reference in her field in her community. She has a TV show where she talks about life/ family issues from a religious perspective. The episode was about marriage-related issues and she was answering a question about early marriage in Islam. She started by listing the benefits of marrying at a young age. One of the things she mentioned was that it's healthier to have babies when you are younger, as in the younger the woman, the healthier the pregnancy, the healthier the baby. And I felt straight up offended? I honestly felt hurt and yes I took it personally. Now, I do respect this woman so much, she is definitely someone to look up to, and that's why I got personally offended (and disappointed). Bear with me, I will explain.

1) Do people think it's a choice? - yes. It's true, some sisters or brothers opt not to get married for a reason or the other, but it's not a generalized rule. Not every single person in this ummah chose to stay single. Most of us are struggling thru singlehood and probably suffering from mental illness because of it, and because of the pressure. As a non-married muslim girl who is about to turn 30 and whose ultimate goal or dream is to make a family with a decent God-fearing man, I find it straight up offensive to come talk to me about oh how much HEALTHIER it would be to have had children at a younger age. She literally said that people who got married between 21 and 25 turn out to be much happier in life and are less likely to suffer from mental illness. Nice way to remind me of my unfortunate situation and my miserable life! AstaghfiruAllah al ādheem. Do people seriously think we have a choice? Like do people seriously think we got the opportunity to choose between marrying someone noble, honest, practicing, humble, caring, someone whom we had chemistry with and of good deen and character AND WE SAID NO WE CHOOSE MISERY? Do people think we deliberately choose to live in this dilemma of constant social pressure and humiliation? Oh yeah because it's so much fun trying to watch the whole world find their significant others and find their life companions while we just sit back and suffer in silence. Oh yes because I do know that pregnancies over the age of 35 have higher risks for mothers and babies but yet I deliberately chose to take the risk. AstaghfiruAllah! Wallahi it's frustrating. We are already looked down upon in the society, some even go the extra mile to accuse us to different sorts of things, but to think this is actually something we wanted! What a shame to not be spared the right to voice your concerns, your issues, your worries. To just assume this narrative legit dismisses our perspective and silences our voices in the story.

2) Isn't it fate/Maktub? Isn't it all part of Allah's plan? - So, what is it now, really? Isn't The whole concept of marriage and your spouse considered a rizk from Allah swt? Aren't we taught the idea that everything that happens to us is from Allah swt. And then we are asked or required to accept whatever happens to us (a belated marriage or belated pregnancy or lack of included). We are ready struggling on daily basis trying to be good Muslims and patiently and wholeheartedly accepting our fate and submitting to Allah's plan. So to hear someone (of high status in the community, a reference) talk about the issue as if it was in our hands and not in Allah's actually contradicts with their whole belief system? Smh.

Anyways. I don't wanna make this any longer, I just needed to let it out because it was really bugging me. I think that " considering people's feelings " is a rare thing in this modern day religion. I dont think in the time of the Prophet salla allahu alaihi wa sallam people were this inconsiderate or insensitive. And I pray that Allah swt guide us all to the straight path. I pray Allah swt calms our storms, soothes our worried hearts, and fills our souls with the beautiful patience we need to keep going while we accept His plans for us. I really love this merciful religion despite the people who broadcast it. Alhamdulillah. Hasbiya Allahu wa ni'ema al wakeel.

[paula-of-christ]

Why do Catholics "recognize" saints more than most other religions?

So I am going to assume you mean recognize in two senses, one that we admit what Saints are: holy men and women who are in heaven with God, which is arguably a very straightforward answer; as well as the harder question of why we believe it is a good thing and in many cases recommended to celebrate them, ask for their intercession, that sort of thing. As well, thanks to @ajeckaea answer a question "behind" this one, which is why religion is more than just a personal relationship, like many Protestant Christians claim is the only thing necessary for salvation.

Obviously I answered the first, surface level version of this question, but from here I'm actually going to start backwards in my explanation. I anticipate this to get rather long so I have put it under a cut to save space on people's dashboards.

Many Christians will posit that the only necessity for salvation is belief in Christ and allowing Him to enter your heart. While this isn't altogether the wrong idea, it denies the fact that Christ did not come to abolish religious practices. A lot of times I don't see people quote scripture for why structured religious practices should be abolished but just to name Romans as proof that it shouldn't be, just that when it comes to personal devotions we shouldn't judge another, for even if it is out of weakness they are doing it for the Lord.

Not to mention, in the Old Testament books, God says that what He prescribes as the sacrifice that the High Priest must do at the Temple, will be done forever, and says that He will remain always with us. This is where Catholic theology gets tricky, as many nonCatholics will take this to mean that the Eucharist is taking a NEW sacrifice of Christ's every day when Mass is celebrated. However, in the OT, this wasn't a "new" sacrifice, it was meant to represent the one sacrifice God will fulfill for His people, and is taking part in it. We continue to take part in this sacrifice by celebrating the Eucharist at Mass. God also says that it is a reflection of the sacrifice happening in Heaven, which happens at every hour. This is why there is always a Mass being celebrated around the world, at every hour, and it is sharing in that perpetual Sacrifice of Christ in Heaven. (All of this can be found throughout the OT but especially in Ezekiel, hence why I am not quoting any specific verse because it is just..... the entire book of the prophet.)

So that brings me to the actual Saints, for one thing the Saints aren't dead. As Christians, they have eternal life within them for living as Christ proclaimed and as the Gospels prescribed. Since this Sacrifice of Christ is perpetual in Heaven, the Saints are perpetually worshipping in God's presence. Because they are very much alive, they can hear us. We know thought the Gospels, that asking the Apostles or Mary for help, because of their closeness with Christ, that they intercede for us in our wants. They, being in Heaven, are made perfect in Christ and so do not ask for anything that is not the will of the Father, but nonetheless they bring our petitions to Christ should we ask for their help. Not that Christ cannot hear us, but, in not knowing Christ as intimately, we ask those that know Him intimately more than us to pray and worship God with and for us. The same that you would ask someone you perceive here on Earth as being holier than yourself, to pray for you.

As an aside, because this is already getting pretty long and there are better people you can learn this from: the saints are in communion with the Church on Earth. Catholic means "universal" and to receive the Eucharist (which means "give thanks" in Kione Greek) is called the act of Communion. We are in communion not only with Christ but in His whole Body, which is the Church, especially "those who have gone before us." (part of the Eucharistic Prayer of Consecration at the Mass)

There is some level of worship of the Saints, but this is not the worship of them as fallible people, it is a worship of the light of Christ that has shown through their lives. And, as a result how their lives affect the people they lived with as well as how their stories affect us. They have no power except that Christ has given it to them through Faith and their devotion to Him.

God bless, nonnie.

Ad Iesu per Miriam.

[another-snape-story]

More in Common Than You Thought

Chapter XX

Nothing remarkable has occurred since that strange incident during the game of Quidditch in the first days of November. Discussion of what had happened died down after a week or so without any constructive conclusion. No one seemed to recall the day when Dark Magic intruded measured life of the Wizarding school ever again. You heartily believed it was just a seeming, and Hogwarts authorities put a careful thought into solving this mystery. The only person who didn’t turn a deaf ear to your concern, the only person who was willing to hear you out, who – same as you – found disregard inappropriate, was Severus. Who in Merlin’s name it might be? Highly responsible and down-to-earth, he kept a watchful eye on one of your colleagues who – you both agreed – behaved oddly. Professor Quirrell.

On top of that, you still couldn’t get over the news you received from your previous employer, and despite of all Snape’s persuasions and convincing arguments that it wasn’t your fault, the thought you might be responsible for the accident popped up in your head every now and then. Snape knew what was weighing over you. He also knew firsthand what it was like being left alone, one on one with nothing but guilt and self-loathing. By no means was he going to let you fall into this destructive abyss of despair. Ready to give you a shoulder every time you were at your lowest, Snape assured you there was nothing worth your nerves and tears.

The two of you were getting closer. You both realized there was no need to know every single detail from your past to understand each other – the essential surfaced in form of little things spoken in relaxed conversations, grain after grain, matching the missing pieces and building a picture of who you actually were.

Snape enjoyed every minute beside you. You filled him with desire to live. Could he ever expect it? Of course, most likely, he was confusing your kindness and friendliness with affection he both craved and feared. For a man who’s never experienced true heartiness, a small gesture of amity might’ve appeared as something bigger than it actually was. Moreover, since causing you pain came across like Snape’s worst nightmare, to keep you unharmed, he convinced himself he had no right to let you too close – he only could destroy lives, and Potter’s son was the living reminder. He got used to sacrificing his life and hope for happiness anyway. Cherishing no pipedreams this cloud-world would last forever, Snape, however, gave in to temptation, too weak to deprive himself of a pleasure to cure his soul by your side even though it was destined to be broken again.

Sullen Potions Professor liked it in your office. Spacious, with high ceilings and nice furnishing, it differed greatly from his own. Variety of plants harmoniously complementing wooden paneling of its walls and numerous bookshelves added vital spirit to the exterior. But it hardly was the setting which made this place so special – the main reason that kept him coming here were certainly you.

The room seemed empty once he stepped inside, but a quick look around sufficed to spot some movement behind the shelving where your place for ‘dirty work’, as you called it, was hidden. Standing with your back turned to the visitor, you surely couldn’t notice him. Headphones on, you smoothly swayed along with the tune, a scalpel in your hand waving jauntily to the rhythm. You easily sank the blade into the carcass of a dissected creature which was now hard to identify and extracted a slimy part of its insides which joined a plenty of a kind in a half-full jar with the same amazingly hideous substance.

Snape leaned against the cupboard – a pawky smirk on his face – marveling the picture. What a wonderful being you were!

“Ahem,” he coughed slightly to catch your attention, but of course, absorbed into the process, you didn’t and couldn’t hear him.

Snape slowly approached you not to scare you too much, although he knew you’d startle either way. The scalpel jolted out of your grip as you flinched, taken aback.

“Never! Never do it again!” with an eye roll, you ripped headphones off.

“How do I do it if you don’t hear me?” he justified himself.

“I don’t know!” you waved your hand. “You’re a wizard after all!” Embarrassed, you felt blood rushing to your face. “Ugh! May I obliviate it from your memory?”

Snape chuckled as he made another step towards you.

“I have so few good moments to recall. Don’t take this one from me,” he smiled softly. “Don’t you mind if I –?” he pointed at the headphones.

You didn’t mind. You knew he wouldn’t report you for using muggle devices, but what happened next struck you dumb. Snape raised the thing to his ear heeding to the sound. The corner of his mouth twitched into his cheek.

“This band helped me through my school years,” he admitted. “The legend of nowadays… That’s a shame we reject everything muggle related – they know how to make really good music.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Never expected you –”

“I’m a half-blood! Of course I do know muggle stuff,” Snape snickered.

Another surprise in a couple of seconds! “I thought you were pure…” you muttered embracing the fact. His life in this House, the House of ‘Elite’, must’ve been a raw deal. Oh, you could tell! You’ve gone through this hell as well.

“Having muggle blood is an advantage,” you stated resolutely. “Those, feeling superior in terms of origin, look so pathetic trying to perceive the purpose of a toaster!”

A laughter rumbled out of Snape’s throat. He couldn’t disagree.

“Tea?” you carelessly shoot your dirty gloves on the working surface and strode past Severus inviting him to make himself comfortable in one of your armchairs.

“Yes, please,” he leisurely followed suit.

“Muggles are cleverer than us, we must admit it,” you served two cups. “They’ve invented so many devices to satisfy their needs of all sorts which we perform with just a wave of a wand. They should be given a credit.”

“Indeed,” Snape watched you with admiration.

“There’s a whole Department in the Ministry that makes monkey work!” you continued vigorously. “Isn’t it better to have an understanding about the world which is so closely intertwined with ours than to ignore it? We could use it for our profit someday!”

“Why wouldn’t you write an article for the Daily Prophet?” Snape reached out for his cup. “I mean it. Many keep this opinion on a tip of a tongue, but have no guts to speak it out.”

“Not sure,” you sighed. “At least not now…”

The way your fingers fidgeted restlessly set the man alert. “What happened?” his face tensed as he fixed his eyes on you.

Denial was pointless. Moreover, you were going to tell him sooner or later – his question just saved you from searching for the right moment. “I’m invited for interrogation.”

The news unsettled him. “When?” Snape frowned.

“Next Saturday.” You lowered your head, regretting one of your biggest mistakes.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. I mean… yes! Yes, I really do want you to come!” you gave him a weak smile, “but you shouldn’t. Don’t want to drag you into this shit…”

“As you wish,” a little disappointed, Snape agreed with your decision. In situation like this he himself would definitely not want someone to pity him. You had your right for privacy. If you’d feel more comfortable on your own, he wouldn’t insist.

“Thank you, Severus,” you whispered. “Thank you for offering.”

“Everything will be all right,” Snape cheered you up. “If you change your mind, let me know,” he smiled and you nodded. Grateful for his concern, you looked Severus in the eyes. There was something so comforting about his glance, you couldn’t help believing him.

Thin drizzle which damped school grounds since dawn was now growing thicker splattering haphazardly against your windows. Soon the downpour lashed, and through the rain drenches came first long low rumbles of thunder.

“Ah, the storm,” you joyfully shrank into the backrest, while chaos raged outside. As long as Severus was here, you didn’t mind staying in your little shelter like forever.

“I guess, now I’m trapped here,” Snape assumed showing no discontent. He was happy to stick with you until it all ended, now that he had a good excuse.

“More tea?” you chuckled and Snape tossed his cup towards you.

A dim light flickered through the drops lazily sliding down your office windowpane deep in the night. Passing by, one could discern two relaxed silhouettes sitting across each other talking... or maybe sleeping? It made no difference since no one passed by and didn’t see a thing.

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[alj4890]

Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N Picking up directly after Drake's visit and fallout. This will lead into the Christmas season, with Ethan inviting Olivia to spend the holidays with him and his father.

@jooous ​ ​ @krsnlove ​ @nomadics-stuff ​   @twinkleallnight ​ @motorcitymademadame ​

Masterlist

Part 5

Ethan knew something was wrong. Even without his highly attuned ability to detect the slightest tics and movements people made when dealing with pain, he still would have known that Olivia was upset.

What bothered him was that she felt the need to keep it hidden.

He thought they were well past the stage of not being completely honest. It had been one of the most difficult yet rewarding part of their ever developing relationship. It was terrifying and freeing to be able to tell her anything.

Ethan knew he needed her. He had made it a point to never allow himself to need anyone. He once believed that it was a weakness, something that any sane person should be able to do without. One should be able to stand and face whatever life threw at them without having someone there to help you through it.

Or so he thought until Naveen nearly died.

Then seeing Bryce's reaction when Casey was poisoned.

Those two situations had opened his eyes and made him come to some uncomfortable conclusions about himself.

He was human. And what did all humans share? The ability and need to love...to have someone all their own to be there during life's brightest and darkest moments.

As he finished prepping the turkey breast for tomorrow's dinner, his eyes drifted over to the one he believed was his someone.

He hoped that he had become Olivia's.

"How was your day?"

Olivia shrugged. "Fine for the most part."

Ethan washed his hands then reached for a bottle of wine. Setting two glasses out, he filled them while studying her.

Olivia muttered her thanks when he handed hers to her. She absentmindedly swirled her wine while a slight frown formed.

Ethan reached out and caressed her cheek. When her eyes met his, he allowed her to see his concern.

"Drake came to my apartment earlier." She blurted out.

"He did?" Ethan gestured for them to move into his living room. After settling comfortably on his sofa, he patiently waited for her to continue.

"Yes." She bit out. "He supposedly came on his way to his family's ranch to show me pictures of the progress on the hospital. Her frown eased at that memory. "I can't wait until you see it. It is turning out just like we hoped."

A hint of a smile formed on his lips over this shared dream of theirs coming about. "I can't wait either."

Hearing Ethan say that caused the gnawing worry to grow even more. Was it the beginning of the end for them? Drake's parting words kept repeating over and over her mind. Somehow they seemed more prophetic than insulting the longer she dwelled on them.

"You really think this Ramsey is what you need?" Drake taunted. "One day you'll leave here and he will see the real you in Cordonia. This Boston bubble you're living under is going to pop. What will he do when he sees you as a duchess, mingling amongst the court?"

"You think he'll adore you then? Just wait until he hears all the tales of your years of temper tantrums and cruelty."

"Liv?" Ethan pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"

She didn't want to tell him. She hated this fear Drake had caused in the one area she had come to love. The simple happiness she had found in Boston was now tainted with doubt. He had made her once again hate herself.

Was her act of redemption going to never end? Was she to pay for every word and action she had done for the rest of her life?

Does nothing I do matter?

She closed her eyes tight when Ethan brushed a tender kiss to her furrowed forehead.

I don't deserve someone like him.

His hand rubbed her back in soothing circles while he waited.

Olivia felt tears prick her eyes. He was the only person she had ever known to give her physical comfort. The way he held her as if she was precious to him without trying to turn it into something sexual made her want cry.

She couldn't lose this. Lose him.

But she also couldn't deceive him.

"Ethan," her voice trembled making her hate herself even more for needing him, "You know about my past with Drake."

She felt him tense yet he continued to try and soothe her.

"I do."

She looked up at him and saw his own face etched in worry.

"He...we got into an argument about that and..." It was too hard. She couldn't stand the thought of destroying the way Ethan looked at her. The way he cared for her...

"Olivia," he tried not to let his fear take over of losing her to her former lover, "are you trying to tell me that you..." He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to how his life was before she became a central part of it.

His mind stuttered at that. Medicine had once been his central part. Everything in his adult life had revolved around it. And while it still was a big part of who he was, Olivia had somehow created a niche all her own in that center. Somewhat entwined in it, yet on a personal level, he found that every decision he had made from the moment they met were made about her. From choosing a restaurant she might like to moving to her country to work at her proposed hospital, she had become his life.

Had Drake unknowingly destroyed his life in one brief visit?

"That I what?" She asked.

His blue eyes held her green. "That you want to get back together with Drake?"

Her eyes widened. "Good Lord, no." Her nose wrinkled. "That is the last thing I want."

She felt his arms relax as they cuddled her closer. His forehead dropped against hers as he dealt with the heady relief that her admittance brought.

Realizing he had been scared she was ending things caused a need to reassure him. Her lips met his in a tender kiss. She could feel the deep longing he had for her in his response. He still held her gently as their kiss came to an end.

"What did he say?" Ethan asked.

"He was angry that I don't see the need to keep discussing why our barely a relationship had to end." She bit her lip. "Then he brought up you."

Ethan arched an eyebrow. He had not been around the man enough to form an unbiased opinion. He knew the flare of jealousy was from what he assumed was going to be an attack on his own character in the hopes of stealing Olivia from him.

"What about me?" He didn't bother to hide the annoyance tempering his tone.

"How you'll be when you see me in Cordonia." Olivia averted her eyes. "And how what we have here will be completely destroyed."

His eyes narrowed at such a choice of words. "Why would it be destroyed?"

"Ethan, you," she lowered her head into her hands for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she forced the words out. "You know some of my past already. You've witnessed my temper. But I...I used to be cruel. I've changed these last few years, and it has helped heal relationships I have with some members of the court." She looked up at him to see how he was reacting. "But Drake believes once you hear their stories and see me as the prideful duchess that you will not want to be with me."

"First off," Ethan snapped, "he doesn't know a damn thing about me or how I feel about you. From what I know of you, you deserve to walk into every ballroom with your head held high." He snorted in irritation. "They should be begging for your attention."

Olivia briefly smiled at that. Only he could turn one of her faults into a compliment.

"Secondly, I haven't been known to be the kindest doctor to work with."

"Your patients would disagree."

He huffed. "That's because I work to help them." He pulled her closer within his arms. "Jerk might be the nicest word interns and other medical staff have referred to me." Ethan pressed another kiss to the top of her head. "And my quick temper might give yours a run for its money ." He grinned when he heard her muffled laugh. "And I've never been known for being a forgiving man."

She wrapped her arms around him as she settled her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. "If anyone tells you about me, then--"

"I know who you are, Olivia." Ethan stressed. "I will never hold your past up as a standard to measure your actions by."

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Don't thank me." He grumbled. "And don't believe what Drake said." He grimaced as a thought struck. "Though I can imagine why he acted like he did."

She swiped at her stray tears. "You can?"

He nodded before resting his cheek against her head. "Who knows how I would react if this was reversed? I might have lashed out at you in frustration if you refused to give me a second chance."

She lifted her head to see his face.

He met her gaze and softly smiled again. "Especially since I am in love with you."

"You--" her lips parted in surprise, "You are in love with me?

"I am."

Olivia knew in that moment what was truly in her heart. All the questions she had asked herself that morning finally had an answer. And all because Ethan had done the one thing that no man had ever done before.

He did not judge her for her past, her name, anything. He accepted her, faults and all, and loved her for every single part.

"I love you too." She smiled against his lips. "I have never loved anyone like I do you."

Their kiss held a new edge to the usual passion. Having expressed their feelings, the need to show just how much they loved one another took over.

While clothes were beginning to be hastily tossed around the living room, Olivia's phone vibrated softly in her purse.

***************

Hearing the beep, Drake cleared his throat. "I know I am probably the last person you want to talk to but I need to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said. I wish..."

He took a deep breath. "I wish you would give me a second chance to show you that I do care the way you wanted me to. I know you're with Ramsey now, but I want to try what you asked me all those months ago. I want to be with you, out in the open."

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling of his hotel room in Kentucky. "I won't keep bothering you. I'll give you time to think it over and wait until the New Year's Eve Ball to hear your answer." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hana said you told her you'd be back by then. I hope I didn't...didn't ruin what chance I could have."

Pausing once more, he dropped his head in his hand.

"Take care, Libby." He said softly before ending the call.

******************

That night, Oliva felt once more at peace. In the darkness of Ethan's bedroom, she smiled at how he was spooned around her. His slow deep breaths of sleep lulled her even more into the addictive security his presence gave her.

She kept replaying his words of love in her mind. In many ways it surprised her, and yet deep down she thought she must have already known. Every action, every kind word, every kiss had revealed that he had given her his heart. And she in turn had given him hers without even realizing it.

As hard as it was to find some type of silver lining to Drake's hurtful words, she supposed she should be grateful for them. Her sharing it had possibly prompted Ethan to tell her how he felt about her.

She yawned while snuggling back against her doctor. His arms pulled her even closer as he slept.

She felt both exhausted and wired. The day had been filled with one extreme emotion after another. And yet, the words both men had said kept her awake.

Olivia didn't know if she had it in her to forgive Drake. To have someone that you actually trust bring up the worst pieces of yourself as a threat to ruin the one good thing you have...how could he do that to her? She had been hurt when he didn't return her feelings, but this fight today had damaged them to the point that she wasn't sure if she even wanted him as a friend.

I would never say something like that to him if he managed to find happiness with someone else, she thought to herself.

Ethan had been much more understanding of Drake's actions than she could ever be.

She knew it wasn't necessarily a good thing that she never gave people second chances. Why would she after all the betrayals she had suffered in life? She barely needed both hands to count the number of people she had over the years that had never betrayed her.

Had Drake entered into the category she kept for her parents, Lucretia, Constantine, and numerous nobles at court?"

I don't know, she thought. I don't know how I feel over what he did.

She thought about his voicemail. It didn't matter how sincere Drake sounded or that he now wanted to try. His apology seemed hollow. Perhaps it was because he truly didn't know her now. These months in Boston had changed her, possibly even more than she realized.

She wasn't the same proud duchess that had once sworn vengeance to anyone who opposed her. She had learned the difficult art of give and take. She made herself listen and think through everything before losing her temper or forming a hard decision. It had been an ongoing battle, but she felt that she had a somewhat better control than she once had. Today's fight with Drake had proved that she wasn't the same quick tempered, plan to skewer a person on the edge of her dagger she had once been. She had stepped out of her comfort zone and lived for the most part as a normal person, proving to herself that she truly could survive on her own in any situation.

This venture had shown her that she was more than what her ancestors had stressed a Nevarkis should be. The people in Cordonia would most likely still see her as her old self, but she knew and it seemed that Ethan did also who she truly was. Her strength, her refusal to back down from a fight, her very heart had been used for good.

Drake didn't see it. He never saw the potential she had to do something meaningful and right. Maybe it was because she hadn't allowed him to do so. Maybe they really never had a chance to see the best in one another.

Could we have found a way to happiness if we had not spent years torturing each other with our spiteful words?

Deciding that that was a thought that would probably never be answered, she closed her eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

********************

Weeks went by too quickly for some and not nearly fast enough for others. Edenbrook had closed its doors leaving many with bittersweet emotions. Ethan, Naveen, and Olivia had spent what free time they had packing and shipping their personal belongings to Cordonia. Decisions were made for the two doctors to stay with her in Lythikos while they searched for homes of their own.

While rushing about, Amanda and Thomas came to help a week before Christmas.

On their second night together, the ladies sent Ethan and Thomas to get dinner, giving them a moment to talk alone.

"Did you come for me or for the snow?" Olivia teased when Amanda insisted the two of them take a break from packing and go for a walk.

"Since you have always had the best snow," Amanda replied with a twinkle of mischief, "I always come for you."

She laughed when Olivia snorted.

"Are you excited?" She prodded as their boots crunched in the snow.

"About finally seeing the new hospital?" Olivia linked her arm through Amanda's when they entered a nearby park. "Of course."

"I am too." Amanda took a deep breath and cut her eyes toward her friend. "And I am very excited to see you and a certain doctor together at the New Year Eve's ball."

Olivia didn't bother to mask how happy she was. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Ethan, he...on Thanksgiving, he admitted he is in love with me."

"About time." Amanda grumbled playfully. "Each time I visit, I see just how much he does love you."

Olivia stopped their progress through a path of lighted trees. "You knew all this time? Why didn't you tell me?"

Amanda's laughter at the death glint in Olivia's eyes echoed across the park. "Because you would have dismissed it like you always have whenever I brought up heartfelt emotions."

She placed a hand on her hip and somehow did a convincing impression of Olivia. "Please. No man can truly capture a Nevarkis heart, much less make me willing to be his," Amanda managed to twist her lips in disgust like Olivia's as she flicked her hand in a very recognizable gesture, "love slave."

Olivia rolled her eyes while struggling with her laughter. "I don't sound like that."

"Not now that you're in looovvve." Amanda responded playfully.

"Why do I share things with you?" Olivia muttered.

"Because you love me." Amanda wrapped her arm around her. "Not as much as you love Ethan, but I can live with that."

Olivia snorted again as she tried to brush it off. As hard as she tried, a soft smile formed on her lips. "You're right."

"I am happy you both know how you feel about one another." Amanda's teasing turned serious. "It would have driven you crazy with trying to guess."

"I suppose it would have irritated me." Olivia admitted. 

“I know it would have driven me insane watching you both tiptoe around the issue.” Amanda grumbled.

“It surprised me.” Olivia admitted. 

“It did? Why?”

“I--I suppose I didn’t expect it to happen.” She felt embarrassed just saying it. “I don’t think I ever thought I would meet someone to feel like that... I never thought of any of it happening to me.”

Amanda's heart ached at realizing just how damaged Olivia still was over her parents. Nothing hurt her more than seeing her friend still believe that she was unworthy of love. To be this surprised over a man falling in love with her proved how much she doubted herself. Perhaps it was why Olivia continuously pushed herself to serve Cordonia in any way possible. It might be why she never backed away from danger.

Compliments and recognition had been the closest she had to receiving love in her life

Amanda felt herself adoring Ethan even more for showing Olivia that she herself was loveable. She wasn't the prickly cactus that she had given Liam at his coronation. She had a tender heart, one that any person would be lucky to earn.

"I love him." Olivia broke into Amanda's musings. "It's different from what I once felt for Liam."

Amanda squeezed her in a side hug. "One sided love usually is different. Having someone give their heart to you and work in the hopes of you giving them theirs, I can't think of a greater gift than that."

Olivia nodded. "Ethan does that. I thought that maybe after we admitted our feelings that he would slack off trying to," her brow furrowed at trying to find the words.

"Sweep you off your feet?"

"Yes." Olivia's nose wrinkled out of habit over something so sappy. "He now seems to work even harder to not only keep my love but to make me love him even more."

"Good." Amanda linked her arm through hers again. "He better or he will have me to deal with."

Olivia burst into laughter. "And what will you do if he doesn't?"

Amanda's smile grew. "Don't worry. I've been trained by the best on how to torture a man." She winked at her friend. "You always did give the most interesting lessons."

*****************

Christmas was approaching and with it, Ethan invited Olivia to drive to Providence to spend Christmas with him and his father.

She was both excited and extremely nervous to meet his one family member he had a relationship with.

She was completely out of her depth in this situation. She had never had a man invite her to, "meet the parents,". She knew though how big this was for Ethan to include her in his family's Christmas tradition.

He seemed so happy, so proud, to introduce her to his father.

The drive over had been filled with his sharing some of his childhood memories. Her hand had remained in his as she watched the play of emotions on his face. He was opening up to her again, showing how much he trusted her with these bits of himself.

The modest, in need of a new coat of paint home had surprised her. She didn't know why she expected Ethan to have had a childhood a tad more luxurious than this. He seemed so cultured at times, that it impressed her even more that he had learned all of it on his own.

Ethan's father, Alan, had come outside to welcome her while helping with their luggage.

The genuine delight in the elder's face at meeting the woman his son had brought home made her feel slightly giddy. He teased Ethan with saying he had not done nearly enough in describing how pretty she was.

"I did." Ethan teased back. "You just didn't pay attention."

The three shared a meal with Olivia watching in fascination at their closeness. So many of her friends either had parents dead or were not close to them at all. This was something entirely new.

Alan had charmed her into sharing a little about herself. His understanding smile and deep laugh had made her relax. After dinner he pulled her away from the table while ordering Ethan to do the dishes.

"You're taking her to the mantle aren't you?" Ethan grumbled while fighting a smile.

"Don't worry what we're doing." Alan reciprocated. "Just make sure to soak that pan before putting it in the dishwasher."

Olivia allowed herself to be ushered into the small den. A Christmas tree stood with slightly old ornaments next to a warm crackling fire. Her gaze lifted to the different sized picture frames on the mantle.

Picking up one that seemed to be the oldest, Alan handed it to her. "This was a few weeks after Ethan was born."

Olivia's lips curved at seeing what looked like any other baby. She studied each picture he handed her, giving her glimpses into Ethan's life. Her smile grew at a photo of a ten year old Ethan smiling while puppies crawled all over him.

She then noticed the woman in the background.

"That's his mom." Alan's joy seemed to dim some. "She had been the one to decide we go to a nearby farm to let Ethan choose a puppy for his birthday."

Olivia studied the image of the woman who had so easily left her husband and son.

How could she do that to him?

The sound of Ethan returning caused Alan to quickly switch the picture for another one.

"Here he is with his first car."

"Dad." Ethan grumbled good naturedly. "I'm sure Olivia doesn't want to go down through every mundane event in my life."

"I do." Olivia blurted out. Heat flooded her cheeks. "I like seeing your childhood."

Alan beamed at her. "Here's one of my favorites. He was around five years old and had opened a clinic for stuffed animals."

"Did he?" Olivia cocked an eyebrow at Ethan.

"I'll have you know that I save many from losing their limbs." Ethan smiled at her laughter. "I had to since most of the injuries my toys suffered were from my rigorous playing."

The three sat down and began to talk about Ethan moving to Cordonia.

"You will have to visit." Olivia insisted. "You will always be welcome in Lythikos."

"I plan to." Alan stood and stretched. "I think I'll leave you two to get some sleep." He patted Ethan's shoulder then squeezed Olivia's hand. "I'm so happy you're both here."

Ethan settled his arm again around Olivia once they were left alone in companionship silence.

"Your father is very kind."

He chuckled. "Yes, I know. Nothing like me."

She smirked at him. "Don't sell yourself short. You have your moments."

"I do, huh?"

"I think so." She snuggled closer within his arms.

Smiling to himself, Ethan reached into his pocket.

"Olivia?"

"Hmm?"

He held a box out to her.

She sat up with a start when her eyes fell upon the little velvet box.

"I think you know what I'm about to ask." Ethan said softly as he opened it for her.

Carefully lifting the diamond ring that sparkled in the firelight, he paused right at the tip of her finger.

"You know how much I love you." His vulnerability was once more on display. "You make my life better than I thought possible. I need you, your passion, your heart." He glanced down at her hand trembling in his grasp. “I can’t imagine a life without you by my side.”

His bright blue eyes lifted once more to her green ones shimmering with unshed tears.

"Olivia, will you marry me?"

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

On assumptions, understanding, belonging and love.

Moments in Martin's journey understanding other people and finally himself.

or

Martin's journey in understanding, accepting and loving his asexuality.

a/n: some quick notes: Jon is sex repulsed, Martin is somewhere between neutral and favorable. While Tim and Sasha dont exactlty say they are aro they are! Jon is non-binary and uses he/they pronouns and i desperatly wanted to explore that but this is already twice as long than intended-

also while I am (half) Bolivian and speak spanish I am not at all fluent in Tamil so if there is any mistakes lmk! hope you all enjoy!

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

Sasha had convinced them to go get drinks together, as it had been a rather stressful couple of weeks since Martin came back from the siege of his apartment by Jane Prentiss.

Sleeping in the archives was not exactly helping the situation for Martin, or Jon for that matter.

So they decided to go to a pub and try to force a sense of normality everyone really needed.

Martin was having a great time, with the relative calm and safety he hadn’t had in a while, even Jon had something like a smile playing on his lips as Tim told a story from one of his university mates that had accidentally thrown his roommate's engagement ring down a drain. 

Martin zoned out for a bit, enjoying the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and his friends laughter and Jon’s animated movements that indicated that he was talking about something he actually found interesting.

 Jon was apparently telling his own story with some relation to engagement, something about a girl at a wedding that had acted strangely, Martin caught something about “purposely spilling wine on her dress”, which Martin agreed was quite wierd. 

“She was totally trying to woo you, Jon.” Sasha said as Jon got to the bit where they had to help her find some clean towels in a storage closet. 

 “I assumed she was just having a rather hard time,” Jon said, seemingly only now thinking of the implications of spilling wine on your dress and then faking needing help, to be fair to Jon that was a very weird tactic to pull and Martin would not have put two and two together either.

“Well what did you do in that closet then?” Tim asked with an incredibly over the top suggestive look. 

Jon pulled a face then, Martin thought it looked rather endearing really with his nose all scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, but he was clearly uneasy. 

“I don’t- I don’t really do… that sort of thing.”

Martin snapped back in the moment, feeling a weird but familiar anxiety in his stomach as the conversation lulled. He felt rather protective for a moment, instinctively knowing this seemed important. This turned out to be rather unnecessary, as Tim spoke up again quickly.

“Oh,” He and then, earnestly, ”I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jon.” 

And then Jon smiled, properly, like he didn’t often and waved his hand dismissively but pleased.

“Thank you, well it's not like you could have known that, but anyway as I was saying-” 

 It was but a moment, but it stuck with Martin for a bit, mulling it over and not really understanding his own reaction.

 Eventually Martin settled back into the pleasant buzz, enjoying his friends chatter and Jon’s over exaggerated hand gestures.

-

It was an uncharacteristically slow day in the archives, not a worm in sight and Martin had only a bit of boring research to do for a very clearly fake statement.

Martin usually tried to be nice about it but this one featured a guy named “Richard Dickson” and was entirely about a fever dream someone had about a haunted accordion, he had listened to the recording that Jon had emailed him and it sounded like even he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh at it.

“Who comes up with this stuff?” Sasha said as she handed him back the statement. “Sure, I know we are being attacked by a worm woman but I really hope we can draw the line at haunted accordions that play spooky renditions of High School Musical and a prophetic dream guy called Dick Dickson.”

She was laughing too and Martin thought that she looked better than she had in awhile, it was nice, seeing her like this. 

“Well at least I won’t have to stay extra time for the research of this one, I would go home early but.” he shrugged and gestured in a you know the whole staying here cause of a worm woman situation, she gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well I am leaving early, got a very fun evening planned.” she said with a wink.

She had looked really rather excited and somewhat giddy all day, Martin realized. 

“Oh,” Martin said, “Who is the lucky person then?”

Sasha looked at him puzzled for a few seconds, slowly blinking at him, then the penny dropped.

“What? Oh no, I mean- Tim I guess, we usually have a sort of movie night every once in a while, this one is extra special though, because I found this book about the categorisation of demons, it’s partially in latin? Tim said he would help me look into it. ”

Martin felt his face heat up, feeling the urge to profusely apologize, Sasha continued however:

“It’s not like that though,” she said with a rather annoyed look, and then somewhat softer, “I am not really a dating kind of person, you know?”

Martin wasn’t sure he fully understood what she meant, but that was fine and she was clearly still very excited, so he relaxed.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed, I do hope it’s not one of those books Jon goes on about, they aren't exactly...friendly.”

Her eyes lit up once again.

“Oh it's definitely not a Leitner! I do look out for that sort of thing, the interesting thing about the book is though-”

And she went on for a bit, the moment somewhat unimportant in a way but it still churned in Martin’s mind. 

-

Things with Sasha...shifted after the Jane Prentiss attack, everyone had different ways to cope with trauma of course, Martin knew that.

Maybe that was the thing really, while Tim, Jon and Martin himself were having a hard time processing (even if Tim and Jon refused to properly acknowledge it) Sasha seemed fine, a few weeks of being shaken maybe and she was now back to her regular old self. 

She even had a new boyfriend, Martin had no idea why that irked him so much.

He’d said as much to Tim, who was sitting next to him while both slacked off from their jobs on the stairs to the back courtyard of the institute (why there even was a courtyard was one of the great mysteries of this place).

Tim looked uncharacteristically solemn, seldom did he let his walls down like this. 

“I thought I was in love with her you know,” he said rather suddenly, “I mean we’ve been friends for years now and there was- is no one I would rather spend time with, so I mean if not her then- then who?”

He sighed and Martin made comforting noise, trying not to break whatever spell had made Tim genuinely speak about his feelings. 

“I mean I figured out I wasn’t in love with her before this whole...thing, we talked about it, I think? Some stuff is hazy. Just- I shouldn’t be jealous you know? She is allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Your feelings are valid no matter what they are.” Martin said seriously.

Tim sighed and leaned into Martin, who enveloped him in his arms.

“Sure, doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck though.” 

And well there wasn’t much Martin could say about that.

After a bit of comfortable hugging silence Tim spoke up.

“Maybe her boyfriend is a vampire though, I totally get to be jealous about a vampire.”

“Tim don’t say that.” he said, trying to hide a smile. 

“What?” Tim said, pretending to be serious, “Everything is possible Martin, worm women and all that, I could obviously not compete with a vampire and their sexy glittering skin.”

Martin shook his head, not able to contain his laughter anymore.

“Can’t believe you are exposing yourself as someone who watched Twilight.” he said.

Tim smiled wickedly up at him from where he was still half cuddled into him.

“The fact that you got that reference exposes you in turn,” he said, sticking his tongue out, “Check mate.”

“Touché.” 

Then Tim stood up and said: 

“Well, Time to go back to our trans containment zone.”

“The fact that we just happen to be trans and were transferred to the archives is a coincidence.”

To that Tim only answered: “Trans-ferred Martin, can’t you see? You cannot call that a coincidence.” winked and back in through the door he went. 

Martin let out an exaggerated long suffering sigh.

Back inside they walked to their respective desks.

“Well lets hope work gets lets shit.” Tim said. “That’s such a low bar, and yet.”

“Paciencia y fé.” Martin said, which was in his repertoire of spanish phrases that just didn’t pack the same punch in english along with “ya pasara” and “digamos que si”.

Tim shrugged.

“Don’t think whatever grandmother made up that phrase could have imagined it being applied to our situation.”

“And yet we still have to hope for it to get better don’t we, see it works.”

Tim flashed him one last smile as he sat at his desk and Martin went to put on the kettle.

-

Martin had assumed Jon’s I-don’t-do-that-sort-of-thing included dating as well and it hadn’t bothered him really, he enjoyed clinging to his crush to Jon like a small steady comfort, even if he knew it wasn’t actually going to amount to anything, there was no harm in day dreaming after all and Martin was perfectly capable of caring about him as a friend too, it was harmless.

Of course the fact that he now knew Jon had been staying at his ex-girlfriends place and the fact that Jon might actually date people didn’t really change anything.

At least that is what Martin tried to tell himself as he shakily poured two cups of tea and mustered the courage to walk to Jon’s office. 

And he was at least a little right, even if Jon dated people, even if Jon would return his feelings (which Martin really did not let himself dwell on), these were particularly unfavourable circumstances to start a relationship, there was the matter that neither of them was able to string together a conversation, because the mundane ones sounded so inane and hollow and the important ones required being genuine and vulnerable and they might just be somewhat allergic to that. 

And there was the matter of the impending apocalypse they had to stop.

Martin knocked on the door and he heard a soft: “Come in, Martin.” from the other side of the door. 

The office was a mess as always and Jon looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and had aged about ten years in the last few months. 

But Martin’s breath caught in his throat anyway because, as was usual for Jon now, he also looked just a little more...comfortable, as you could anyway. They were wearing a hoodie with cats on it that was just slightly too big and a long flowy patterned skirt. 

Jon clearly caught martin staring because he ran his hand through his hair a bit self-consciously and said: “I know it goes against dress code, but I think you get a pass after you get kidnapped by an evil circus.” 

“Oh I mean, you look nice, I mean it looks nice on you. I didn’t mean to uhm, stare?”

“It was- I was just joking.”

“Oh.” 

They just stared at each other, painful silence falling over them. 

Jon broke the silence clearing their throat.

“So... you brought tea?” They said.

“Yeah, it's for you.” Martin said and immediately cringed because who else would he have brought Jon’s favorite chai exactly the way he always takes it.

Jon smiled though, reaching out to take the cup from him. Their hands brushed just a little and Martin's brain briefly shut down and he realised that maybe he should admit to himself he was really hopeless and too far gone.

That is though, how he ended up stupidly staring at Jon’s hands and how he spotted the shiny black ring on the middle finger of his right hand. 

“Thats a nice ring, don’t think I have ever seen you wear jewelry before.” 

That seemed to snap the tension out of the moment a little, Jon looked down at the ring and smiled a little.

“It's an ace ring,” they said, “I used to wear it a lot a while back, not sure why I fell out of the habit, but now I guess I think I am allowed whatever small comfort I can get.”

They were looking at the ring and then at Martin. 

Martin wanted to freeze the image right there, at the small not quite guilty smile Jon had as he looked up at him, at the feeling that things were OK, good even just for a bit.

Then something fell off Jon's desk and they both startled, flinching at the sudden loud noise. 

All the worry and tension flooded back into the room immediately.

“Right.” Jon said. “Did you need anything else?” 

Martin wasn’t sure how to even answer that.

So he just shook his head and started to leave.

Just before he was about to turn around Jon called his name, Martin turned around to face Jon that seemed to be fighting for the words he wanted to say.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Thank you.”

Martin smiled a sad smile.

“Anytime.”

-

It’t not that Martin had never heard the word asexual before, or that he didn’t know Jon was ace, he’d just never dwelled much on the actual meaning of it.

He had however never heard of ace rings before and he gave it a google for curiosity's sake. 

A black ring usually wore on the right middle finger to indicate the wearer is asexual (“ace”). 

It seemed nice to Martin, small token of your connection to a community, of course his curiosity did not end there, he had assumed previously Jon didn’t do relationships at all, and if he did, what did asexual mean then?

He found out rather quickly that asexuality was about sexual attraction, and aromantic was another thing all together, he also found out that asexuality didn’t mean a person couldn't have a libido, or like sex.

And maybe he just stood there staring at his laptop screen for a while knowing that sexual attraction had never really made sense to him, maybe it felt like something clicked.

And so knowing he definitely did not have the time or the emotional energy to deal with it he quickly closed his laptop, he had an apocalypse to stop and a boss to dispose of after all.

-

Martin was trying very hard to read Hija de la fortuna by Isabel Allende, every other sentence he sighed and grabbed his phone to look up a word the meaning of which he didn’t know.

It was frustrating, he once had been almost fluid in spanish as a child, but then his dad had left and his mother wasn’t able to and didn’t want to maintain his fluency. He hadn’t exactly had time or money for classes either and so now he attempted to regain some of it by watching movies and reading books.

It was not just the language of course that made it hard, Martin was so entirely full of worry. It was rare he got to spend a day in his flat these days, usually cooped up in the Institute hiding from something, or at the side of Jon's hospital bed talking to him, reading to him on occasion.

The anxiety, the fear, the pain, it had festered into Martin, the tiniest sounds made him jump and even when he got tiny little moments in which he wanted to, needed to, rest he still felt like a watched prey animal, or the full force of grief threatening to crush him.

Today he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, nothing remarkable had happened in a handful of days and it made him uneasy, he was waiting for Melanie to call him about a new attack, he was waiting for Peter to summon him with a weird cryptic request. 

And you would think that with all this other worry he wouldn’t be fretting about his sexuality.

But apparently there was plenty of anxiety to go around for all the areas in his life and he just couldn’t get that moment, months ago now, out of his head.

He sighed at set the book aside, grabbing his phone and opening google.

He felt like he was 14 again asking his mother what gay meant and getting only a nasty look in return, or 17 and anxiously looking for a book about being trans in the library. 

It was silly to look it up and read articles about how to know you were ace, because he already knew somewhere, but he desperately needed the confirmation.

The third or so blog post he opened was about a woman in her 50’s that had recently figured out she was ace.

Its freeing  the article read it’s freeing to be who you are and to understand yourself better, even if you aren’t sure, its OK, it will be OK.

Martin was only crying a little, he laid down his phone and stared at the wall.

He thought about how he had never quite fit, he wasn’t quite english, not with the people asking him where he had come from or asking his mother as a child where she had gotten him from. He wasn’t Bolivian either, he had never been there, his spanish was limited, he could only cook about three and a half recipes that the internet had taught him.

He had never been a woman and he would never fit what society thought of as a man. And what that exactly meant for his relationships.

He never understood other people, but he never thought he was bad enough to seek help for it.

Sexual attraction was vague and he didn’t get it, but in the few relationships he had had in the past he hadn’t minded sex, he enjoyed watching a nice movie together just as much but there was a nicety to it, especially taking care of someone else, having them unravel infront of you. And he had found it weird that he didn’t want anything back, that he felt uncomfortable sometimes.

He imagined he meant he was wrong, like with everything else Martin Blackwood also couldn’t do that right. 

But maybe there was something here, in Martins corner of human experience, in the small stack of books about Bolivia that he read, in the trans pin on his backpack and patches he sewed onto his clothes, in calling himself gay man even if that didn’t cover the nuances because it felt good, in the chew necklace that hung around his neck because it eased his anxiety.

Just like all of those things, Martin was ace, he wasn’t wrong or broken he was just different and there were all those other people who were different too and it was nice. 

And Martin was crying because of the overwhelming sense of belonging, and because he finally understood Tim when he had once asked “But what does romance even mean, Martin?” and he would never get to tell him, because this is yet another thing he and Jon could have talked about if the world had been kinder to them, this is something he could be talking about to Jon if he wasn’t in a coma.

But even in these miserable circumstances Martin made sense to himself a little more and no one could take that away from him.

-

The past week in the safehouse had been a whirlwind of emotions, but both Jon and Martin were trying, trying hard to heal, to learn how to feel safe again, to love each other.

For all that trying they hadn’t talked about it much, it was hard still, but Martin was quietly holding on to the hope that they would get there.

Today had been quiet, with the biggest setback being that Jon had found it hard to find all the ingredients for the sambar he wanted to make for dinner. 

“I know it won't be like my Pāṭṭi (பாட்டி) taught me, but you would think they would at least have coconut.”

Martin found their grumpiness adorable, reveled in the mundaneness of this worry. And he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter when they finally had found coconut and Jon had held it up triumphantly.

The food had been delicious and now they sat on the couch, it was hard Martin craved touch so dearly but it was like stepping into hot water after standing on ice for a while and Jon flinched so often, not used to not being hurt and sometimes Martin’s unnaturally cold skin brought up unpleasant memories. 

They could have wallowed in guit and yearning, but they were both stubborn, and so even if it took a while and millions of slow movements and asking if something was OK they managed. 

So it was that Jon had his legs draped over Martin's lap, enough to bring comfort, not too much as to be overwhelming, and their hands were lightly on top of eachother.

Jon seemed pensive, but not worried, Martin shot him a questioning glance.

“We went at this in such a sideward way,” Jon said, “I mean we live together now but we haven’t really...talked about it. We never- we never asked?”

There was a beat of silence where Martin just looked at Jon and then a smile spread over Martin's face.

“Jonathan Sims do you want to ask me out?”

Jon averted their gaze in a way that meant even though Martin couldn’t see it they were definitely blushing.

Martin just couldn’t contain his delighted laughter.

“Must you laugh at me,” Jon said, faking offence, he was also smiling now.

A bit of seriousness returned to his voice as he spoke up again.

“I don’t care that we have done it all backwards Martin,” they said, “But, I love you.”

And as he said that Martin stared at him, mouth agape and his heart thundering in his chest, he lost his ability in any language. Jon said it firmly and securely and Martin really didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all the feelings he had, Jon continued however. 

“And we don’t have to do anything but it just feels like we are dancing around several conver- Martin? Are you alright?”

It was only then Martin realised he was crying and he could only ask:

“You love me?” 

Not because he didn’t know, but because sometimes you just need the confirmation.

Jon squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course I do.”

Martin wanted so badly to answer him, to reproach but he couldn’t, not yet, instead he blurted.

“May I kiss you?”

Jon smiled, a tad nervously.

“That's sort of what I wanted to talk about,” they said, “boundaries?”

Martin understood the necessity of such conversations he really did, but it did not mean he was going to enjoy them.

It did come as a surprise however that Jon suddenly got very nervous and said.

“I mean- I just- I am ace, Martin.”

Martin cokced his head in confusion and said:

“Yeah, I know.”

Jon mirrored his confused look.

“You do?” and then more sour, “You listened to the tape?”

And fine Martin admitted to himself, maybe they should talk more.

“No? You told me, like ages ago.”

Jon laughed, relieved, happy.

“Sorry,” he said, “Ironically my memory is foggy. It has been a rough couple of...years.”

Martin hummed something of affirmation, because he also knew this seemed like a nice moment to come out, and he felt the very familiar anxiety in his belly. Idiotic anxiety because Jon was also ace and there were no stakes in this situation at all. 

Maybe it was just the fact that he had never said it aloud.

Martin heard himself speak:

“I think I am too,” and he could hear how stupidly nervous he sounded, “ace, I mean.”

There was a vague ringing in his ear and if he had been in the position to he might have just run out of the room, apparently facing down unknowable monsters didn’t make coming out easier.

His fear was cut down by the fact that Jon was absolutely beaming at him.

“That's great!” they said, “I mean not that I would have minded if- but it is nice to have someone understand, that's all.”

It was, it was amazing to have Jon here smiling up at him holding his hand and understanding him.

“It really is,” Martin said, then gently bringing the back of Jon’s hand to his cheek and leaning into it, “Doesn’t mean we don’t have to talk boundaries though.” 

Jon smiled at the small gesture and then said serious:

“I don’t want to have sex, ever.” 

Martin knew it sounded like people had tried to debate them on it before and it made his chest ache.

“I know,” he answered and then because honesty was key, “I am not adverse to it, but obviously if you don’t want to, we won’t, ever.”

Jon sat up a bit then, lifting his hand from Martins and gently cupping his cheek. Martin's pulse quickened, his hand moving almost automatically to Jon’s arm.

“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.

“It's nice,” Jon said, smiling a bit cheekily leaning forward,  “So long as it isn’t tongue kissing that is.”

Martin leaned forward until their breaths mingled at their lips where all but touching.

“May I kiss you then?” He asked, breathless.

Jon could only nod and they both leaned forward the last inch.

Time must have stopped for a bit as they kissed, gentle and full of a thousand promises. 

They both moved away from the kiss gently, they were both tearing up a little, Martin felt so much so strongly and he pulled away from Jon completely.

“Just need a moment.” he said and smiled at Jon's reassuringly if a bit shaky. 

“Take all the time you need,” Jon said and then softer, “Anything you need.”

And Martin was sure he had never loved anyone more. 

-

On the fourth day of their third week in Scotland Jon had gone to run some errands in town and had come back with an incredibly nervous air about him they were sitting across from Martin at the table twirling their hair and checking his pocket every once in a while.

It was making Martin incredibly antsy and by the third time Jon had looked like he wanted to say something only to then go back to the crossword he was definitely making no progress on Martin had had enough.

“Sol mio,” Martin said, very much enjoying Jon’s wide eyed flustered he always got when Martin called him pet names. “Will you please tell me what is wrong.”

Jon looked at him sheepishly.

“There is not something wrong, per se.”

Martin gave him a look.

Jon sighed and stood up, grabbing a small box from his pocket. 

“Nothing is wrong I just… bought something for you beloved.”

Martin very nearly had a heart attack when Jon opened the box and there was a ring inside. Upon closer inspection it was a beautiful black ring and Martin understood. 

There was silence as Martin could do no more but stare at the ring and then at Jon.

“I see how a ring might come over as a gift now,” Jon rambled nervously, “it is not like that- I mean that is something we will have to talk about. I was afraid it would be too much? It is engraved too and I just hope I didn’t-”

Martin cut him off: “Jon let me see it properly.” 

Jon handed him the ring.

Martin lifted the ring out of the box and saw the engraving on it.

 நான் உன்னைக் காதலிக்கிறேன். I love you. Te amo.

Martin promptly sat down again, it was so sappy, just a tad ridiculous and stupidly cute. It hurt in his chest and tears stung in his eyes.

“How did you know I wanted one?” he asked, because he didn't know what else to say.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and said:

“You were talking a few days ago, about how you would like something like a- like a token, to remind you and I thought an ace ring might be nice.” 

They lifted their right hand.

“We match now.” 

Martin silently moved to put the ring on, it fit perfectly. He ran his fingers over the tiny groves of the words on it. 

An anchor. 

A small reminder that he belonged, here in the world, here with Jon. 

Martin stood up and gently enveloped Jon in a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured into Jons hair as he placed a small kiss on top of their crown. “It’s perfect.”

[remedialpotions]

all these people think love’s for show

This was written for the 2020 Incognito Elf exchange on the Harry and Ginny Discord for the amazing @katie-with-the-tea. Katie, I hope you have a fantastic holiday! ❤️💚 Special thanks to @thedistantdusk for organizing the event, which is no small feat! 

Title taken from "peace" by Taylor Swift, because I am forever basic and proud of it.

ao3

Harry’s not unaccustomed to seeing his face splashed over the front page of the Daily Prophet. It’s a weekly, if not near-daily occurrence, and it has been since the end of the war. They are obsessed with him. They snap photos when he’s out for a pint with Ron or visiting Madam Malkin’s for a new set of robes (because as it turns out, it’s possible to go on the run for nine months at the age of seventeen, live off mushrooms, and still go through a grow spurt). They print speculative editorials every time he has to go to the Ministry - which is frequent, since he works there, though they prefer to disregard that. They run interviews with people he only tangentially knows - the Eyelops employee who once sold him Owl Treats, perhaps, or the Hufflepuff who was Head Boy when Harry was in his first year - who share embellished tales of their interactions with The Chosen One.

At this point, it’s almost weird when they aren’t talking about him.

Mostly, though, he’s managed to shield Ginny from taking the full brunt of it. She’s a hero in her own right, and he knows that a sighting of the two of them together is guaranteed to sell more papers than the Prophet can print in a day. He spent the summer hiding out with her at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place, which proved effective, and so far, they haven’t missed out on too much. Of course it would be nice to take her out for dinner or even just walk through London holding her hand, but the reality of his life means that isn’t exactly an option. After everything, he’s just happy to be with her at all.

But today, it’s different. Today, when the post owl flies in through the fireplace and drops a fat bundle of newsprint directly onto Harry’s mug of tea, it’s not just his bespectacled face blinking back at him. In fact, the sight before him makes his stomach sink into his shoes.

“Nice,” mutters Ron from across the kitchen table as he uses his wand to siphon up the mess. “All they do is deliver papers all day, you’d think they’d have better aim.” He pauses and narrows his eyes at Harry. “You all right?”

Harry wants to respond, really he does - he knows Ron is prone to assuming the worst when he goes all quiet like this - but maybe Ron should assume the worst, because that’s how it feels. Words are failing him.

The photo, which moves in a terrible, taunting loop upon the page, is from yesterday, when he had been foolish enough to think that he could sneak up to Hogsmeade to see Ginny without being spotted. He followed all of his own unwritten rules, too. They didn’t go to the Three Broomsticks or to Honeydukes, but instead stole away to a secluded grassy knoll just behind the Shrieking Shack, where he believed that its macabre reputation would shield them from prying eyes.

And it had, but he made the mistake of kissing her hello in the middle of High Street (having not seen her in weeks, he hadn’t really been able to help it), and now, taking up the entire front page of the Sunday Prophet, is a long-lens closeup photo of their lips locking together. Over and over and over again.

Harry tosses the paper down onto the table and leans back in his chair. At this very moment, that same paper is surely arriving in the Great Hall, landing on the long wooden tables and making a spectacle of the most precious relationship in his life.

“Fuck’s sake,” laughs Ron, blinking in surprise at the photo. “Not exactly subtle, are they?”

“I should have used the cloak,” Harry mutters, mostly to himself, as Ron picks up the empty mug and carries it over to the stove. “And I should have met up with her somewhere different, I don’t know why I thought I could Apparate to the middle of town on a Saturday afternoon and not get caught - or I should have just stayed home. I should have known better.”

“They’d have got you some other way,” reasons Ron as he refills the mug with boiling-hot tea. “It’s unavoidable at this point, really, innit?”

The fact Ron’s right doesn’t make the truth sting any less. Where Harry goes, photographers follow, and if it was only his life it affected, he could live with it. But Ginny deserves better. Most of the horror Ginny has been through has been his fault, and now that it’s over, she deserves calm and happiness and peace.

If only he could offer that to her.

“How come this never happens to you and Hermione?” Harry asks irritably as Ron plunks the mug down in front of him. “Oh, cheers.”

Ron shrugs and picks up a slice of toast. “It does, occasionally,” he replies around a bite, “if it’s a slow news day. But the difference is that they’re not usually looking for us. They’re always looking for you.”

“And now they’ll be looking for Ginny too.”

Ron nods, morose. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Like he always does, Harry writes to Ginny that afternoon, but today the parchment is filled with apologies, promises to do better, ideas on how they can meet up without being seen. He doesn’t try to reassure her, because there’s nothing to reassure her about: this is his life. There is no sense sugarcoating it; she needs to know what she’s got herself into by being with him.

By the time he’s finished his letter, the sky has gone dark, and he ambles down to the basement kitchen with the intention of sending his letter off with Pigwidgeon. But just as he reaches the staircase, he pauses. He might just be imagining things - it wouldn’t be the first time - but he’s almost positive he’s heard his name just now, coming from the general direction of the fireplace.

“Harry?”

There it is again, louder, more insistent, and alarmingly familiar. His stomach just about leaps into his throat as he thunders down the stairs and darts across the kitchen to the fireplace.

“Ginny!” Indeed, her bright, beautiful face is hovering there above the grate, and the sight of her squeezes his heart with fear. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Well, hello to you too,” she quips, good-naturedly shaking her head.

“How are you doing this?”

“I’m in McGonagall’s office,” she says as though this is something she does every day. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

His stomach turns over. She’s here to chuck him, he’s sure of it. She’s seen the paper and she’s decided that the hassle isn’t worth whatever benefit there is to dating him (if one even exists).

“Oh,” replies Harry, resigned as he drops down to the floor in front of the fireplace. “All right.”

Ginny tilts her head curiously to the side. “You look like someone’s just died,” she observes. “Is everything okay?”

“Well - I - erm - you go first,” he stammers out. “What’d you want to talk about?”

She squints at him, perplexed, then says, “Apparition lessons are starting tomorrow. The thing is, there’s so many people signed up this year - y’know, since we didn’t have them last year at all, it’s sixth and seventh years - that there isn’t room in the Great Hall so we’re doing them in Hogsmeade instead.”

Harry nods, unsure how to respond. If she’s chucking him, this is an odd way to begin the conversation. And if she’s not, then he’s not entirely why it’s so urgent to inform him about her Apparition lessons.

“So since the lessons are in the morning, McGonagall said we could stay in the village for lunch if we wanted to, so you can visit again.” The excitement on her face is painful to behold. “I just didn’t think a letter would make it to you in time, and I really want you there.”

Relief rushes through him - she is definitely not breaking up with him - but it is quickly replaced by guilt, because she looks so happy and so hopeful, and he loves her so much, and he doesn’t want to have to say what he’s about to say.

First, though, he leans forward and kisses her softly on her soot-tinged lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ginny blinks. “Oh.”

“Just, with what was in the paper today-”

“Oh, that,” interjects Ginny. “Yeah, I thought it was ridiculous too-”

Guilt grips tighter at Harry’s chest. “I know, I’m so sorry. I had no idea they were even there, but I should have known to expect it by now-”

“But I still want to really see you tomorrow,” she says, looking earnestly up at him.

“I do too, but…” He lets out a long, slow breath. “It just isn’t a good idea.”

Ginny looks up at him again, an intensity in her eyes this time, and then nods decisively. “Right. I’m coming in there, can you pull me through?”

“Gin - you can’t just leave school-”

“What’re they going to do, expel me? Come on, pull me through.”

Her hand rises up from the grate. Harry grasps it and tugs until she materializes fully in front of him. As she steps out of the fireplace, she brushes off her robes and then drops down onto the cold tile floor beside him. Her right hand slips over his left and pulls it onto her lap, and their fingers entwine together automatically.

“I’ll be honest,” says Ginny, the tip of her thumb rubbing along the back of his. “I didn’t love the picture in the paper.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.” Her quiet voice carries immense patience; affection for her bubbles up inside of him. “I didn’t love the picture, and the article was…” She casts her eyes up to the ceiling in search of the right words. “Creative at best. But I also wasn’t surprised by any of it. I’m mostly amazed it hasn’t already happened.”

“That’s because we never used to go anywhere together,” Harry points out, and she nods her agreement. “But Ginny, it’s only going to get worse. There’s always going to be pictures and articles that make things up, it’s just part of my life. I just, I never wanted it to be part of yours.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” says Ginny, “but that’s completely stupid.”

Harry lets out a sputter of startled laughter. “Oh, is it?”

“Of course it’s going to be part of my life,” she tells him, eyes fixed on his, “because I chose to make you a part of my life. I didn’t have to get back together with you, you know.”

Despite himself, Harry laughs again. Somehow Ginny manages to make everything better, easier, lighter. He expected an awful, painful conversation, and instead they’re holding hands and laughing.

“I’ve always known what I was getting myself into,” she goes on. “People talked when we were together last year, too.”

“A little gossip from Romilda Vane is completely different from the Prophet printing things every day - which they’ll do, by the way, now they’ve got pictures of us together.”

Ginny shrugs. “So let them. I mean, if they’re going to do it regardless, then we shouldn’t stop living our lives.”

This is difficult to argue with, but there is still one nagging fear at the back of Harry’s mind, because now he has further proof that Ginny really is in this for the long haul with him. The wizarding world has been watching him since he was eleven, and he doesn’t expect that all of this public attention isn’t going away anytime soon.

“So, what about…” He looks down at their interlocked fingers, studying the way they fit together as though designed that way. “I mean, what if we - erm - got married, and - and had kids?”

Harry forces himself to meet her eyes and finds that same intensity burning there, the thing that kept him going on long, cold, hopeless nights in the tent, the very last thing he saw as he faced his own death.

That, and maybe just the slightest hint of a smile.

“If we have kids?” she repeats softly.

“Yeah, well - you can’t pick who your parents are, can you?”

“Maybe everyone’ll be bored of you by then,” Ginny offers up, inching closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder. “And if not, we’ll deal with it.”

“All right.” Harry angles his face towards hers so that their lips brush. “Just know that I wouldn’t blame you if you decided you’d like a quiet life.”

Ginny’s nose crinkles. “Sounds boring,” she says. “I’d rather have you.”

Their lips meet again, lingering together in soft, gentle kisses, and when Ginny pulls back to catch her breath, Harry realizes he has one last question.

“What’d the article say, anyway? I never even read it.”

Ginny sits up straight. “You haven’t read it?!”

“I was too angry!”

“It was rather brilliant, actually,” she says with relish. “It spoke a lot about what a scarlet woman I am, having had three whole boyfriends in my life-“

“Naturally-“

“But apparently now I’m even worse, because now…” She paused for dramatic effect. “I’m the one you’re cheating on Hermione with.”

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes. “As if Hermione and Ron weren’t just down the road from us?”

“Yeah, well.” Ginny planted a cheerful kiss on his cheek. “Let them say what they want.”

[fangirl-sansa]

Youtuber MC - Part 3

Summary: Mc and the demon brothers find out they are in a game, they gain the access to watch a YouTuber's (who is MC) gameplay of the game. This basically allows the bros to hear MC’s true thoughts through their gameplay commentary

MC: This MC is based on my gameplay of the game and my thoughts. Although the MC is based on me I will be writing them with gender-neutral pronouns for all readers to enjoy :).  

Warnings: Eventually spoilers

The in-game text will be marked by italics.  

As this was being said Solomon shot Simeon a knowing look and smile which was quickly returned, but went unnoticed by the others. The attention of the room was then shifted as the Onscreen MC began their outro.

“Okay my lovelies that is all I will be playing for today. So far we’ve met all the brothers, I think except one and we have found a brethren of ours. None other than our fellow Otaku Levi, he is kind of mean to me but I’m sure we can win him over. Also Mammon just straight up ditched me, but it’s fine, whatever. Anyway don’t forget to subscribe, like, and comment, and I will see y’all next time.”

Off-screen MC clicked onto the next video. After the intro onscreen MC and Levi were still chatting in Levi’s room.

Levi:I don’t think there’s any harm in just coming out and saying what you already know is true; Mammon is a complete and utter scumbag. It’s very important that you understand this. So I’ll say it one more time. Mammon is a hopeless worthless scumbag.

“Goddamn Levi. Everyone is really laying it on thick that Mammon is a scumbag, I really don’t think he could possibly be that bad,” the MC onscreen said

“Oi see MC always thought the Great Mammon was good,” shouted mammon off-screen.

“Actually they said they don’t think you could be that bad, considering how impossibly awful you are that comes as no surprise,” chimed in Asmo

“Actually, I don’t think Mammon is bad at all,” off-screen MC added.

“Yeah! See MC doesn’t think I’m a scumbag end of story,” Mammon finished.

Back onscreen Levi was telling the tale of how he and Mammon first became “enemies.”

Levi:...As I started to lose consciousness, I remember thinking...why does he have to sleep in the nude? He could at least put on some underwear. I don’t remember anything else after that...

“Haha! Wow there is a lot to unpack there, but moral of the story Mammon is super strong, good to note,” MC onscreen observed. 

Levi: You’ve seen just how fast he is yourself, haven’t you? No one aside from Lucifer or Beel has that kind of speed. But if, say, a human made a pact with Mammon and bound him to their service...then he’d have to do whatever that human told him to.

“A pact? Like selling my soul?,” questioned MC onscreen.

MC: I don’t want to give up my soul!

Levi: That isn’t always necessary. It depends on what’s in the pact. But, well, you need to give SOMETHING to the demon to make it worth the exchange, so it’s pretty much inevitable. If you don’t want to give up your soul, then I’ll tell you how you can negotiate with Mammon

MC: How would I go about doing that?

Levi: If you just walk up to Mammon and ask him to make a pact with you, he’ll never agree. No, you need some leverage... something he wants so badly that he’d do ANYTHING to get it.

“Aw I don’t want to like force Mammon to make a pact with me. That feels so icky,” complained onscreen MC. 

The lesson ends and onscreen MC continues to the next one. The scene shows MC walking to class passing two nearby demons.

Demon A: Hey check it out. That’s the human that everyone’s been talking about. You think it’s true what they say, that Mammon became a babysitter?

Demon B: Well, if so, then I’d say that actually works out great, doncha think? If we wait and strike when he’s not paying attention, he’ll never figure out it was us. 

“Okay, so we can either run away or make a move. Earlier Mammon told us to always run away so I’m going to follow his advice and do just that.” 

Solomon: Hey, you there. That’s right, I’m talking to you, the human with that frightened, tormented look on your face that demons love so much. You’re practically screaming “Come and eat me! I’m scrumptious!” Your name’s MC, isn’t it?

“Okay first of all, rude, secondly I assume this is the other human in the exchange program,” stated Onscreen MC.

At this Solomon off-screen let out a light chuckle as he half-heartedly apologized to MC. 

Solomon: This D.D.D here belongs to you, right? I saw you drop it just now. Here, take it. 

“Thanks...,” MC onscreen said. 

Solomon: Haha. What’s with that look? there’s no need to be suspicious of me. My Name’s Solomon. I’m an exchange student from the human world, just like you. Nice to meet you, Johanna.

“Okay, no offense, Solomon, but you are suspicious, well maybe more mysterious I guess,” said MC onscreen. “Also, it’s interesting that he’s named Solomon, like King Solomon from the bible. Okay, so, my three options are ‘I need your help’ I’m not asking that, ‘How do you know my name?’ and ‘Are you really human.’”

MC: Are you really human?

Solomon: Haha, good question. Honestly, there are times when even I’m not so sure. Long ago, I obtained a ring of wisdom- a gift from a certain someone in a VERY high position. And, drunk on its power, I used it to form pacts with 72 different demons, becoming a wicked sorcerer...That is, if you believe all the stories people tell about me. 

“That is super interesting, I don’t know about the Bible, but in the Quran King Solomon actually got his powers from God himself. He had many powers but his most notable being that he ruled every being on Earth, including Gin (Quran version of demons basically,) but he was considered a good guy and a prophet of God, not a wicked sorcerer. So that’s just an interesting parallel there,” Onscreen MC spoke.

At this everyone in the room grew quiet taking in MC’s words, not fully understanding what they were referring to. 

Solomon: Regardless, I’m fairly sure that I am indeed still human, though it may not seem like it...Uh-oh. I’d better get going. See you around, MC. Take care of yourself.

“Okay, that was weird and I’m immediately interested in learning more about Solomon”

Lucifer: Good morning, Johanna

“Good morning, Lucifer <3,” MC said in a singsong voice

At this Lucifer smirked, earning a certain knowing look from Diavolo before scowling again. 

MC: Good morning, sir. 

Lucifer: Looks like you made it through the night without being eaten. Good for you. Still, there’s no guarantee that you’ll make it to tomorrow. Was that Solomon I saw you talking with either?  Seeing as you’re both human, it’s fine if you associate with him, but know that he can’t be trusted. 

“Awe, is Lucifer jealous of little ole Solomon,” teased the onscreen MC.

At this Solomon let out a laugh, while Belphie and Satan smirked at each other and then MC. Lucifer just scowled more. 

Lucifer: He may be a mere human, but he has a ring imbued with wisdom, and he wields powerful magic. He’s the type of man who will try to subjugate even a powerful, greater demon if he gets the chance. 

MC: that reminds me of what Leviathan said...

After that the scene ended and MC began their usual outro. While they spoke Solomon turned to MC

“So, I’m suspicious and mysterious?” 

MC blushed then replied with “Okay, everyone at that time was suspicious and mysterious to me. Unlike you I only had the knowledge of what various religions said which to be frank wasn’t very helpful.” 

“Human religions are weird and very misconstrued. Especially with the relationship of the three realms,” acknowledged Satan. 

“You know considering the information you came to Devildom with you adjusted quite quickly, MC,” added Simeon.

“I think it’s always good to have an open mind and just go with the flow sometimes,” finished MC 

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 39: The Knight Bus

BANG!

A sensation he was sadly familiar with but still not quite accustomed too, Regulus still wasn't expecting to be launched out of his seat the second he'd found himself stable again. There was a rushing sensation all around him, as if he were trying to find purchase at high speeds even if he felt no actual wind on him. Forcing one foot after the other back to his feet, he caught a glimpse out the window to a neighborhood he had no hope of identifying, because the second he realized it, there was another tremendous BANG! and he was right back on the floor having to start all over again.

The Knight Bus, his mind helpfully supplied as he began the arduous process again of stumbling back to his feet now in search of something with purpose. Though he'd never been on it himself, tales from others at school left him in no doubt, even as he spotted Evans at the far end of the bus in the same circumstances muttering obscenities with their current location mixed in. The two of them must be on the top floor, with only four available beds, two on each end clinking together like pendulums, and a staircase visible leading down.

It was the first time he'd found himself alone with her, but even given their circumstances, he found it a rather inconsequential thing. Maybe it was the fact that he still hadn't come to terms with everything he'd grown up with being shaded in a lie, maybe it was surviving multiple life threatening attempts in her presence, but whom he once would have considered a mortal enemy and someone to hold nothing more than contempt over, he instead found himself struggling to her side and offering a hand up.

She didn't accept, and he wasn't surprised. He couldn't even be angry, he wasn't even sure himself how he would have reacted letting her do something as casual as brush skin with him. Every part of him should have told him how repulsive that was, but really how was that any worse than the Dark Lord being a fraud? What was the truth anymore?

BANG!

Now the two were a tangle of limbs upon each other, and he more than happily disentangled himself and made his way past her to the staircase, she right behind him now without any discomfort of her own to the proximity. Whatever her problem with him was, a streak of pride or something of her own personal vendetta, he was well aware he had no room to judge her for it after he'd let himself be so easily swayed to judge everyone else the last fourteen years of his life.

On the next flight he found Smith and Longbottom supporting each other and trying the impossible feat themselves of navigating past rows of beds swishing this way and that on wheels, several colliding with them frequently, to the next set of stairs. Neither had the book, and with no echoing words around them they all assumed the Marauders hadn't yet managed to come across it in the chaos either, so down below they went.

With another obnoxious BANG! he finished his decent by crash landing below, and so viewing upside down Sirius at the wheel and trying with maddening inaccuracy to drive the bus in some semblance of a direction, Lupin beside him shouting something at the top of his lungs that were both profanities and unhelpful directions, while Potter and Pettigrew were trying desperately to stay stable long enough to draw their wands.

"This is insane," Longbottom spoke clearly beside him what they were all thinking.

"It's driving itself, I swear I'm not doing it!" Sirius snapped back, or at Lupin, or at the steering wheel itself for all he knew. It seemed true, as Regulus righted himself but stayed on all fours for now which seemed safest, that his brothers white knuckled grip had no sway in the maddening jerk that sent them all crashing into the same side of the bus.

"I found it!" Smith called in relief, having fallen hard into the last available bed on the row and pulling herself free with the book.

"Get on with it then," Potter pleaded as he was forced to magically repair his glasses from the last fall.

The chapter title was self explanatory, as if anyone needed clarification of where they were this time.

Harry's panic over his situation seemed laughable in comparison to theirs. Even as the delusional kid thought he was going to go to Azkaban for some underage magic of all things there was yet another BANG! and they were hurtling across an open valley, one lone house in the distance that still had to be moved from their path as Sirius kept trying in vain to do anything about the steering wheel unsuccessfully.

Alice shivered slightly as she kept on to Harry feeling threatened in that innocent Muggle neighborhood. Perhaps their circumstances, while far from pleasant, were to be hailed as much a good thing as the bus arriving for Harry in that moment as well. The kid had enough prior experience that she certainly believed something more was watching him than the stray dog he described. The Marauders were likely thinking the same, Black even let go of the wheel as he and his friends exchanged uneasy and confused looks.

A massive dog being mentioned in the exact same time frame as a Black was being mentioned in Harry's life? If James hadn't just had his head knocked into another window by this infernal bus, he would have done so himself just to make sure it was still attached. The four friends kept exchanging very worried looks as Smith kept going on, and then he swore his heart stuttered to a complete stop when an article from the Daily Prophet ruined their life.

Not Sirius. It was the only thought that mattered as there was yet another tremendous BANG! and this time he had to grasp onto Sirius to stay upright, and of course he caught him. The two were now grasping the steering wheel, his best mate looking dazed as if the words never quite sunk in.

Remus listened to Alice read the article with a detached horror. One part listened to every detail stuttered out, cataloging everything like he would any stupid rumor he heard in school. He couldn't look away from Sirius through it.

As Alice fumbled through the rest of the article and finished, the most silence this bus could contain managed to linger. The engine still revved in their ears, the beds all crashed together like cymbals, and the presence of magic in the air filling yet another BANG! could not be unheard, but none was louder than the stillness of the eight of them as this news sunk in.

Regulus burst out laughing. It was more empty noise really, his eyes were buggered practically out of his head and it was very clear he was now clinging to a bed-frame for more support than their mad journey required with that white-knuckled grip.

"Err, Alice, how about we ah, continue this back upstairs-" Frank began, already trying to make his way there.

Prongs immediately surged forward, anger blistering off of him with such intensity Peter wondered if the windows would implode. "What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"That we'd like to not have to spend anymore time around you lot than we have to," Alice snapped back at once, only half his size but crossing her arms and backing to where her boyfriend was now, though she'd hesitated to follow him a mere second ago.

Clearly sensing danger and always trying to diffuse it first, Remus stepped forward and tried to pull him back, "let it go Prongs, if they think-"

"That damned paper doesn't mean anything!" James was red in the face now, more angry than any of them had ever seen him. "And I don't appreciate the insinuation you think otherwise! Sirius has never, would never-"

"What?" Evans snapped, getting in between him and Alice with her own fiery glare that was much more familiar. "Tried to blow his way out of a problem? Attacked others to get what he wants?"

Peter's heart actually stuttered in his chest with fear as a muscle started ticking in Prongs jaw, he looked for a second like he'd quite like to hit something, and he'd certainly never looked that way at Evans.

BANG!

The new location outside only succeed in tossing them all about again, but of course the tension only grew worse the more chaos their surroundings offered. Remus grasped James' shoulder firmly now and actively tried to pull him away from the three.

Sirius still hadn't moved.

"Come on Prongs, it's a bloody stupid article, probably some misunderstanding-"

"People don't get sent to Azkaban for misunderstandings!" Frank shot back, his hand twitching uncomfortably for his wand.

BANG!

"Can someone please finish the ruddy chapter and get us off this bus!" Regulus interrupted, a gray pallor to his skin as he watched the lot. He'd made no move to intervene in the fight, but it was as clear to him as anyone that's what was about to happen.

"Happily," Alice pacified by sitting down where she was for whatever stability that could give her.

Nobody really took in another word, not Harry's childish worry about whatever trouble he'd caused and certainly little care for whatever the Minister was doing arriving. Frank and Evans remained tense and right beside Alice as if fearing an attack any second. Moony alternated between keeping his hand on Prongs who never stopped glaring at the lot, and watching Sirius, who seemed to have locked down.

Peter and Regulus were left to stand across from each other, to watch and wonder not for the first time if they were going to get out of this alive.

HPHPHPHP

Ah chaos, the best friend a writer needs to advance the plot in awkward silence. I regret nothing! Hope you enjoyed!

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if Bella and Renata changed places in the story? What would change?

... You sure you want me to answer that?

This, my friend, is the path to the heart of darkness.

First, for my sanity’s sake, when you say switch places I’m assuming that things like genetics/gifts are staying intact.

This is a meta to be written, but at least on some level, while gifts are informed by genetics they also are informed by what you need. Jane and Alec point to this as well as surviving vampires whose gifts were curiously helpful. Of course, there’s something to be said that perhaps this is survivor bias. The ones with helpful gifts survive because Afton was murdered. And there’s something to be said for that, and I do think that comes into play, but in a different meta.

RIGHT

What Happens to Bella

Bella is molested if not raped by her Uncle Luca.

Bella is groomed from... some point that’s worryingly early in her life, to be turned into a vampire when she’s an adult. Given Renata’s story and her gift, given Makenna’s centuries later, it’s highly likely that Uncle Luca rather than making a fellow “protector” of the family is taking tithes in the form of daughters to become his brides for a time.

And when I say highly likely I mean I can think of no other explanation where everything in the backstory lines up so neatly.

Renata’s saved from rape and molestation thanks to her gift. Bella’s gift is extremely powerful and versatile as well, however, while it does change to suit her needs it seems to rely heavily on precognition and mental protection. In canon, having Renata’s abilities would have made Bella untouchable by James, Victoria, and Laurent. Instead, she gets warnings through Hallucination Edward and precognitive dreams or else is able to shield herself entirely mentally.

As a result, I imagine Bella would have terrifying prophetic dreams growing up, in which Uncle Luca, the patron saint of the family that no one has ever seen, turns out to be a flesh eating demon who rapes her. She might even have a Hallucination Edward equivalent who tells her to GET THE FUCK OUT.

Bella is reassured by her entire family that everything is fine, Luca’s the family protector and certainly not a demon, and that Bella joining him when she turns 20 will be a wonderful thing.

As a result, Bella probably grows up a neurotic mess, probably just as isolated if not more so than she was in canon.

And then it’s too late.

As Luca’s pulling the same stunt he did in canon, I imagine the Volturi eventually show up. Bella is offered the same out she was in canon and, like Renata, I imagine she takes it desperately.

Only, given everything, she likely doesn’t have the same attachment to the family that Renata did. I imagine as a survivor of sexual assault who was sold off by her family, however unwillingly they did so or however much they were hoodwinked, that she wouldn’t know what to think of them. Not for a very long time, anyway. So, I imagine in this universe, Uncle Luca and all the humans who knew of him die. 

Renata not existing, Bella is taken on as a bodyguard, and is a pretty good deal. She’s not Renata, who is the best bodyguard anyone could wish for, but she shields well from mental attacks and they can have someone like Felix be the muscle where appropriate. In this world, Aro probably actually would have some eventual use for Alice, as she could support Bella in predicting any direct attacks on at least the Volturi coven (Aro, Caius, Marcus, and the wives).

Bella is a mess for a very very very long time. While I like to think eventually she’ll recover, I can’t tell you what this would be. I think Bella would be extremely hesitant to ever take a lover or get married, and would instead devote herself to Aro’s protection with at least Renata’s zeal if not more so.

What Happens to Renata

For the sake of my sanity, to truly put Renata in Bella’s place, I’m imagining she’s Edward’s singer. You’re not living the Bella experience if you don’t have to deal with Edward.

Renata, in 2005 for reasons unknown, moves to Forks to live with her estranged father Charlie. 

Renata attends Biology that first day of school where she’s very nearly eaten by Edward. Only, instead of Edward not being able to read her mind, he finds himself unable to get close to her. He can’t sit at her table, her gift sends him wandering in a drunken daze across the room and into the wall.

Edward is very confused, utterly humiliated, but he has no idea what’s happened. Part of Renata’s gift is that you don’t realize you’ve been deflected. You just suddenly find yourself not having approached Renata like you expected.

Edward probably tries to return to his seat, holding his breath, and thinking of Carlisle’s beautiful face (he seriously does this in canon). However, he’s unable to that time either, and this time Renata probably pushes him out of the room entirely.

Edward congratulates himself for unconsciously resisting temptation in the classroom (which would have been very bad and required his brutal murder of all the witnesses).

He’ll eat her after school.

Much like canon, Edward upon leaving school is probably able to clear his head enough to realize he does not have to eat Renata Swan. So he flees the state, lives with the Denali for the two days it takes to get sick of them, and comes back.

And here’s where things get... bad.

Presumably, Renata does not struggle with depression the way Bella does. Terrible things happened to her in canon, and it’s true we know very little about her, but for all she shadows Aro she doesn’t seem to give off those same depressed vibes Bella does.

Renata also, presumably, does not have the weird genetic quirk Bella does where she finds vampires a) not terrifying at all b) omg hawt.

Most people in canon, when they look at a vampire, see something that’s hauntingly beautiful but also wrong. Vampires are fucking scary looking. Even at their gentlest, they do not look right. Bella’s just... into that.

So, unlike canon, the second Biology class Renata looks at Edward in complete terror and Edward can read every thought through Renata’s mind that he tried to eat her. Edward has a complete existential crisis over this as Renata was witness to his most demonic side that he loathes.

Edward will never be with Renata the way he was with Bella because of this. Part of what appeals to him about Bella is that he can a) project a persona of his choosing onto her while thinking he knows her well b) she’s this angelic creature who sees the best in demons. Renata sees demons and sees demons.

Biology is awkward and terrible, Renata probably desperately thinks about switching seats, but doesn’t want anyone to sit next to Edward the demon. 

Then the truck happens.

Much like Bella, Edward saves Renata’s life (and I headcanon that Renata’s gift actually allows for this due to the imminent danger coming from a truck rather than a person). Only, this time, there’s no excuse that he was secretly doing it for love, he’s doing it for that sweet sweet blood.

Renata is taken to the hospital, she’s seen everything, and Edward can see every thought in her head where she absolutely knows Edward Cullen is not a human being.

The family has their vote, only this time, it goes differently.

Renata would never let Alice play Barbie Bella, and thus, Alice does not see Renata as her future best friend forever. Nor does she see Renata becoming Edward’s future lover and mate.

However, Alice still votes no, because it’s not going to work. None of them are going to be able to murder Renata.

Edward is conflicted and votes no, but doesn’t have the reassurance that it’s because he’s in love, it’s secretly because he wants to eat her. He’s not admitting that to himself yet.

As in canon, Carlisle tries to think well of his ridiculous family, and tells Rosalie, “No, Rosalie, killing a teenage girl because you don’t want to move high schools is bad.”

Jasper thinks carefully about this, and tries to devise different schemes to kill Renata and gauge Alice’s opinion. Unlike in canon, he’s not given the two certain futures: Edward will eat Bella or Edward will turn Bella.

Jasper eventually decides to lace Renata’s house with explosives and, when she’s home (preferably if she’s alone but he’s alright with Charlie Swan as collateral damage) blow the place up from a distance.

Alice saw this succeeding, unfortunately, Edward and Emmett make a few decisions.

Jasper is blowing up a motherfucking house. The police chief’s house no less. This is the coolest thing the family has ever done. That Rosalie approves, while not saying as much out loud due to her abiding by Carlisle’s decision, makes this even better. Emmett wants involved, desperately, Jasper gives him some small task that he fucks up.

The wiring is done incorrectly, the bomb will never detonate.

Edward is now in full protector of the women and children (and blood bags) mode and plans to counter Jasper’s attack and confronts him and Emmett. They have the all out brawl that Alice saw in canon.

Renata wakes up in the middle of the night to find the family of demons fist fighting each other outside her house, having wired her house to explode. They have now gone past the point of no return, in a sense, where in canon Bella had had a car accident and would in time remember this as a very strange incident in her life, now the vampires have tried to blow up her house.

I imagine things continue to escalate as the witness now really has to be murdered. They fail every time, Renata lives in a paranoid hell where she can’t tell anyone that every night demons come to murder her in her bedroom.

Carlisle is appalled by everyone and eventually tells Renata the truth and offers her immortality.

[wisdomrays]

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: What could be said about comprehending the essential natures of the soul and the conscience, which play a dramatic role in the rise and fall of human beings?

The nature of human beings bears both material and divine aspects. Some other expressions, like angelic-satanic, material-moral, corporeal-spiritual, and sensual-conscientious, are also used to refer, with nuance, to the same dichotomy. To us, it is much more suitable to handle and assess the moral and material aspects of human beings, one by one, as distinct mechanisms apart from each other. I would rather call the moral one as “the mechanism of the conscience” and the other as “the mechanism of the soul.” Innermost faculties such as the heart, the spirit, the secret (sir), the private (khafiy), the most private (akhfa), willpower, the conscious, feelings and senses form the mechanism we call the conscience. All kinds of lust, caprice, spite, hatred, anger, and obstinacy – the features endowed to human beings for particular reasons and purpose – compose the mechanism of the soul (nafs). These two mechanisms almost always function against each other. However, if the mechanism of the conscience overcomes the other, the mechanism of the soul, too, is transformed to positive, and becomes a mechanism serving human beings to rise and be exalted.

As classified by sufis, the mechanism of the soul may become useful for human beings if “it” breaks away from the state of evil that commands it (ammara) and moves on to higher levels of self-condemnation (lawwama), inspiration (mulhama), serenity and peace; these represent the soul at rest (mutmainna), the soul well-pleased (with God) (radiyya), the soul pleasing to God (mardiyya), and the purified or innocent self or soul (safiyya). Due to this fact, it is deficient to only deal with the mechanism of conscience of the human beings.

Let’s take lust as an example. If this feeling is merely employed for its own sake, it shall become a complete source of evil. However, it can become a means of sainthood when used within permissible conditions, say between married couples whose love and marital relations will be rewarded. When the companions of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, were surprised to learn this, he explained that “if a person does not fulfill that desire within permissible conditions, he or she would do it through forbidden means. By keeping himself within lawful terms, he avoided the forbidden.” Avoiding a sin is as rewarding as if one has fulfilled a required duty. This is a very logical explanation, as much as it is very much in compliance with human nature. So, even through this feeling belonging to the mechanism of soul, one may gain Paradise.

As a matter of fact, we may use all senses under the mechanism of the soul as inducements for the beauties of Paradise. I mean, just as one may live some dimensions belonging to Paradise through the feelings and senses belonging to the conscience, he or she may, in the same way, feel and comprehend the incidents belonging to Paradise through some senses belonging to the soul, assuming those senses have been followed with a particular discipline. Indeed, this may be one of the mysteries and causes of the fact that Paradise shall address both the soul and the corporeal body. (As a side note, it would be rather reasonable to interpret Adam’s creation from soil such as loam, dried clay, etc., as to inform us of the nature of human beings. Otherwise, interpreting them as the clay and loam of the world known by us shall be a deficient interpretation.)

Another example could be feelings of rage or anger. The feeling of rage has the potential to make people turn rotten; they can so far as to become murderers, like Pharaohs who have blood in their hearts and minds, hands and eyes. However, if one can activate the feeling of rage when he or she needs to fight for honor and homeland, they will be ennobled with praise and reward. You see, such anger is welcomed by God, just as favorably as mildness is. Now, take into consideration that merely using our earthly aspects correctly can make people rise so high, and then imagine what may happen if we use our conscience well!

Yes, one can reach the levels of angels, even through his or her earthly side. And if the conscience, in addition, becomes part of this ascension, he or she shall be superior to the angels. Indeed, there is no compulsion for angels; their will power is manifested in the form of choosing from alternatives, all of which are good anyway. Human beings are charged with using their will power to make a choice between good and bad. As the award shall be proportional to the difficulty, a human choosing goodness, despite the temptations of their carnal soul, shall be superior to the angels.

Conscience originates from a root that means “to find” in Arabic. One uses his conscience to find both himself and his Lord. Hundreds of thinkers – from great figures of Islamic thought like Imam Rabbani, Imam Gazali, Rumi, and Bediuzzaman, to many others in the West – have handled the question of human conscience with their particular inner discoveries and perceptions.. Here, I want to draw special attention to the terms of “inner discovery and perception.” In fact, saints experience the pleasures of the conscience through inner discoveries, as truths are unveiled in their hearts. Thinkers and philosophers, on the other hand, experience this “finding” through perception. Interestingly, both groups agree with the fact that the conscience never lies. Among the main and essential evidences demonstrating the existence of God, Bediuzzaman counts the conscience, too, in his early works. But later, as he did not consider the conscience as an objective everyone could understand, he discounted it.

Yes, indeed, not every one is able to comprehend the cryptic language of the conscience. Thus it cannot be considered as objective evidence. But, for those who can understand that language, the conscience is the greatest and keenest of all the evidences. No other information or wealth of knowledge can make one attain a higher level of awareness than what they can attain through their conscience.

There are two main points about the realm of the conscience: the point of support and the source of help. With these, we comprehend very clearly that we are impotent and destitute. And, with this comprehension, we rely fully on God Almighty and wish from God whatever we wish. In as much as we bear that need to seek help, it becomes clear that there should exist Someone to give that help to us. Otherwise, giving this need to human beings would be absurd. Indeed, there exists no absurdity in the universe. There is definitely a counterpart to any feeling we human beings bear. In the same vein, there shall undoubtedly be counterparts of those points in the conscience. Nevertheless, it is not possible to sense this for someone who has not listened to his or her conscience in his or her life. Though consciousness is a part belonging to the conscience, it does not bear any value, for it is a single entity. At the time, when willpower is controlled by feelings and the heart, it, too, becomes almost another center of conscience. Like all the loquacious, eloquent witnesses of the existence of God, the conscience, too, is a holy and heavenly resonance that calls out the truth. But, this merely happens if a particular conscience is one of the consciences we have described above. Otherwise, to expect those results from a conscience yoked by its carnal soul would be impossible.

Yes, imagine someone who has completely become a slave to lust, animosity, anger, or worldly status. Whatever he or she does, this person is under the impact of these negative feelings that are wrapped around his or her soul. Such a conscience is bound hand and foot, and it lacks any influence. We call such a person “conscienceless,” in the fullest meaning of the term. These kinds of people do not have any kind of knowledge about the mechanism of the conscience; it is not possible for them to feel the meaning it denotes and its objective beyond objectives. Another significant remark on the matter is from Immanuel Kant, in the Critic of Pure Reason. He notes that God shall be known through practical reason, but not a theoretical one. That is, the nice behavior and actions of someone become, through time, the very nature of him or her, and help them reach the point that may not be attained through abstract knowledge. Yes, abstract knowledge and information can never ascend people to those high positions. No matter how many books they read or memorize, those lacking resolution and deprived of theological practice cannot attain the peace felt by believers. The necessary practices are clear to us: the practices that are approved by faith as good, and defined as “righteous actions.” In this way, we properly utilize the conscience, and can implement its lessons to carry out righteous acts in real life.