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orthodoxadventure · 6 months

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Akathist to the Theotokos - Softener of Evil Hearts (Prayers for Enemies and against Sorrow)

Apolytikion

Soften our evil hearts, O Theotokos, and quench the attacks of those who hate us and loose all straitness of our soul. For looking on thy holy icon we are filled with compunction by thy suffering and loving-kindness for us, and we kiss thy wounds; we are filled with horror for the darts with which we wound thee. Let us not, O Mother of Compassion, according to the cruelty of our hearts, perish from the cruelty of heart of those near us, for thou art in truth the Softener of Evil Hearts.

Kontakion I

We cry out with heartfelt emotion to the chosen Virgin Mary, far nobler than all the daughters of the earth, Mother of the Son of God, who gave Salvation to the world: Look at our life, which is filled with every sorrow, and remember the sorrow and pain which thou didst suffer as one born on earth with us, and do with us according to thy merciful heart, that we may cry unto thee: Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Ikos I

An angel announced the birth of the Saviour of the world to the shepherds in Bethlehem and with the multitude of the heavenly hosts praised God, singing: “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, good will among men!” But thou, O Mother of God, having nowhere to lay thine head, since there was no room in the inn, gave birth to thy first-born Son in a cave and, wrapping Him in swaddling clothes, laid Him in a manger. Knowing the pain in thy heart, we cry out to thee:

Rejoice, for thou wast warmed by the breath of thine own beloved Son! Rejoice, for thou didst wrap the eternal Child in swaddling clothes! Rejoice, for thou didst nourish with thy milk the One who sustaineth the universe! Rejoice, for thou didst turn a cave into a heaven! Rejoice, for thou didst make thy throne upon the Cherubim! Rejoice, for thou didst remain a virgin both in giving birth and after birth! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion II

Seeing the Eternal Child swaddled and lying in a manger, the shepherds of Bethlehem came to worship Him and to relay that which the Angels told them about the Child. But Mary kept all these things in her heart. And after eight days had passed, Jesus was circumcised, according to the law of Israel, as a man. Hymning thy humility and patience, O Theotokos, we sing to the Good God Eternal: Alleluia!

Ikos II

Having their understanding based on God and keeping the Law of the Lord, on the fortieth day when the days of purification were complete, Jesus' parents took Him to Jerusalem so that they could present Him before the Lord and offer sacrifice for Him, according to the decree in the Law of the Lord. But we sing out to thee, O Theotokos, thus:

Rejoice, for thou didst take the Creator of the universe to the Temple in Jerusalem to fulfill the Law! Rejoice, for thou didst there meet the Elder Simeon with joy! Rejoice, thou only Pure and blessed one among women! Rejoice, for with humility Thou didst carry thy cross adorned with sorrows! Rejoice, for thou didst never disobey the will of God! Rejoice, for thou didst reveal thyself as a model of patience and humility! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion III

Thou wast strengthened with power from on high, O Mother of God, when thou didst hear the words of the Elder Simeon, when he said to thee: “Behold, this Child is destined to be the rise and fall of many in Israel. This is a sign which will be spoken against, and a sword will pierce thy very soul so that the thoughts of many may be revealed.” And great sorrow entered the heart of the Theotokos, and with grief she cried out to God: Alleluia!

Ikos III

Hastening to destroy the Child, Herod ordered the killing of all children in Bethlehem and its environs from two years of age and under, according to the time that he determined from the Magi. And behold, according to the command of God, the Elder Joseph was informed by an angel in a dream to flee with the Holy Family to Egypt and to remain there until the death of Herod. Therefore with compunction, we cry out to thee, O Theotokos:

Rejoice for thou didst bear the entire turmoil of exile! Rejoice for all the idols fell in the land of Egypt not being able to endure the power of thy Son! Rejoice for thou didst remain for seven years among the dishonorable pagans! Rejoice, for thou didst arrive in Nazareth with thy first-born Youth and with thy betrothed! Rejoice, for thou didst live with the Elder Joseph the carpenter in poverty! Rejoice, for thou didst spend all thy time in hard labors! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion IV

A storm of sorrows whirled about the most pure Mother when they returned from Jerusalem, not finding the young man Jesus in the caravan. For this reason they returned to look for Him, and after three days they found Him in the Temple, sitting among the teachers listening to them and asking them questions. And His Mother asked Him: “Child, why hast Thou done this to us? Behold, Thy father and I suffered greatly looking for Thee.” And Jesus answered them: ” Why were ye looking for Me? Do ye not know about those things which My Father has entrusted unto Me?” And Thou, O Most Pure One, kept all these sayings in Thy heart, crying out to God: Alleluia!

Ikos IV

The Mother of God heard that Jesus traveled through all of Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the Gospel of the Kingdom and healing all kinds of illness and infirmity among the people. And His reputation spread through all of Syria and they brought Him every kind of illness and the suffering and those tormented by demons and the paralyzed and He healed them. But thou, O Mother of God, knowing the prophecy, sorrowed in thy heart, knowing that very soon the time would come when Thy Son would present Himself as a sacrifice for the sins of the world. For this reason we bless thee, much-sorrowing Mother of God, crying out:

Rejoice, for thou didst give thy Son to the service of the Jewish people! Rejoice, for thou didst sorrow in thy heart but didst submit to the will of God! Rejoice, for thou didst save the world from the deluge of sin! Rejoice for thou didst crush the head of the ancient serpent! Rejoice, for thou didst offer thyself as a living sacrifice to God! Rejoice, O blessed one, the Lord is with Thee! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion V

Preaching the Kingdom of God on earth, Jesus exposed the arrogance of the Pharisees, who imagined themselves to be righteous. So when they heard His parables, they understood it was about them that He was speaking, and they sought to arrest Him, but they feared the people who considered Him to be a prophet. Seeing all of this, the Mother of God sorrowed for her beloved Son and feared that they would kill Him, in affliction crying out: Alleluia!

Ikos V

Some of the Jews, seeing the resurrection of Lazarus, went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. And Caiaphas, who was the high priest that year, said: “It will be better for us that one man die for the people, so that the whole nation would not perish.” From that day on they took counsel about how they would kill Him. But we cry out to thee, O Most Pure One:

Rejoice, thou who gavest birth to the Saviour of the world! Rejoice, source of our salvation! Rejoice, for thou wast chosen from birth to be the Mother of our Saviour! Rejoice, Mother of God, destined for suffering! Rejoice, O blessed one, who dost preside as Queen of Heaven! Rejoice, O blessed one, who always prays for us! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion VI

Once a preacher of the Word of God and now a traitor, Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve apostles, went to the high priest to betray his Teacher. They listened to him, were exceedingly pleased, and promised to give him thirty pieces of silver. But thou, O Mother of God, didst sorrow for thy beloved Son, and didst cry out in grief to God: Alleluia!

Ikos VI

Taking part in the Last Supper with the disciples, at which the Teacher washed their feet, thereby revealing an example of humility, Christ said to them: “One of you will betray Me.” But we, suffering with the Mother of God, cry out to Her:

Rejoice, Mother of God, languishing with the torture of thy heart! Rejoice, Thou who didst suffer all in this most sorrowful vale! Rejoice, Thou who didst find comfort in prayer! Rejoice, joy of all who sorrow! Rejoice, Thou who dost save us from the mire of sin! Rejoice, vessel filled with the grace of the Holy Spirit! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion VII

Desiring to show His love for the human race, the Lord Jesus Christ at the Mystical Supper blessed and broke bread and gave it to His disciples and apostles, saying: “Take, eat, this is My Body.” And taking the chalice and giving praise gave it to them said: “All of you drink of this, this is My Blood of the New Covenant which is shed for many for the remission of sins.” Thanking the compassionate God for His ineffable mercy to us, we sing to Him: Alleluia!

Ikos VII

The Lord revealed a new sign of His mercy to His disciples when He promised to send them the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, Who would descend from the Father and would witness concerning Him. But to thee, O Mother of God, sanctified again on the day of Pentecost by the Holy Spirit, we cry:

Rejoice, mansion of the Holy Spirit! Rejoice, brilliantly-illuminated bridal chamber! Rejoice, spacious dwelling place of God the Word! Rejoice, thou who didst open for us the gates of paradise by Thy giving of birth! Rejoice, thou who didst reveal the sign of divine mercy Himself to us! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion VIII

It is at once very strange and sorrowful for us to hear how Judas Iscariot betrayed his Teacher and Lord with a kiss. Then the crowd and the commander and the servants of the Jews arrested Jesus and bound Him and led Him first to the chief priest, Ananias, and then to the high priest, Caiaphas. But thou, O Mother of God, expecting the death sentence for thy beloved Son, cried out to God: Alleluia!

Ikos VIII

All of the Jews led Jesus from Caiaphas to the Praetorium to Pilate, saying that He was a criminal. But Pilate, after questioning Him, told them that he could not find any fault at all in Him. But we cry out to thee with compunction, O Mother of God, who saw the slander of Thy Son:

Rejoice, thou whose heart was broken by woe! Rejoice, for thou didst shed tears for thy Son! Rejoice, thou who didst see thy beloved Child given over to trial! Rejoice, for thou didst suffer everything without complaint like a true handmaiden of the Lord! Rejoice, despite thy weeping and lamentation! Rejoice, O Queen of Heaven and earth, who dost accept the prayers of thy servants! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion IX

All generations bless thee, who art more honorable than the Cherubim and beyond compare more glorious than the Seraphim, our Lady and the Mother of our Redeemer, for thy birth-giving has brought joy to the whole world. But thou didst suffer the final great sorrow when thou sawest thy beloved Son insulted, whipped, and sentenced to death. For this reason we present our heartfelt hymn to thee, O Most Pure One, singing to God Almighty: Alleluia!

Ikos IX

Loquacious orators are not able to describe all of the suffering which Thou hast endured, our Saviour, such as when the soldiers placed a crown woven out of thorns on Thine head and dressed Thee in a purple robe, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and slapped Thee across the face. But we, O Mother of God, recognizing thy suffering, cry out to thee:

Rejoice, thou who didst behold thy Son slain for our sake! Rejoice, seeing Him dressed in purple and wearing a crown of thorns! Rejoice, seeing Him tortured, whom thou didst nourish with thy milk! Rejoice, thou who didst suffer His Passion together with Him! Rejoice, thou who didst watch all His disciples forsake Him! Rejoice, thou who didst see Him condemned by the judgment of the unrighteous! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion X

Wanting to save Jesus, Pilate said to the Jews, “We have a custom to release a prisoner on the feast of Passover. Do you want me to give you the King of the Jews?” All of them shouted, saying, “Not Him, but Barabbas!” We praise the great mercy of the Heavenly Father, Who so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son to death on the Cross in order to redeem us from eternal death, as we cry out to Him: Alleluia!

Ikos X

Be a wall and a fortification, O Lady, unto us who are overburdened by sorrows and suffering. For thou thyself didst suffer, hearing the Jews shouting, “Crucify, crucify Him!” Now hear us crying out unto thee:

Rejoice, Mother of mercy, who wipest away every tear from those who suffer cruelly! Rejoice, thou who grantest us tears of heartfelt compunction! Rejoice, thou who savest lost sinners! Rejoice, Protection of Christians that cannot be put to shame! Rejoice, thou who savest us from our passions! Rejoice, thou who grantest comfort to broken hearts! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion XI

We offer a hymn of heartfelt sorrow to the Saviour of the world for His voluntary Passion and carrying His Cross to Golgotha to be crucified. Standing at Jesus’ Cross are His Mother, Mary Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene. But Jesus, seeing His Mother and His disciple whom He loved standing there, said to His disciple, “Behold thy mother!” And from that time the disciple took her into his family. But thou, O Mother of God, seeing Thy Son and Lord on the Cross wast devastated and cried out to God on high: Alleluia!

Ikos XI

“O my Son and Pre-Eternal God, Fashioner of all Creation! O Lord, how canst Thou endure the suffering on the Cross?” the Pure Virgin cried, saying: “By Thine awesome birth, O my Son, I have been exalted above all mothers, but woe is me! Now when I see Thee, my womb burns within me.” But we shed tears, remembering thee, and cry out to thee:

Rejoice, thou who wast deprived of joy and merriment! Rejoice, thou who didst see the voluntary passion of thy Son on the Cross! Rejoice, thou who didst see thy beloved Son sore wounded! Rejoice, thou ewe lamb, seeing thy Son as a lamb being led to slaughter! Rejoice, thou who didst see the Deliverer of the wounds of soul and body covered with wounds! Rejoice, thou who didst see thy Son rise from the dead! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion XII

O All-Merciful Saviour, grant us mercy, breathing out Thy Spirit on the Cross and tearing up the handwriting of our sins. “Behold, my good Light, my God, is extinguished on the Cross!” the Virgin in great anguish exclaimed: “O Joseph, hasten to Pilate, approach him and ask him to take thy Teacher down from the Cross.” “Seeing Thy wounded Body, naked and without glory, on the Cross, O my Child, a sword has pierced my soul according to the prophecy of the Elder Simeon,” said the Mother of God, singing: Alleluia!

Ikos XII

Hymning Thy mercifulness, O Lover of mankind, we bow down to Thy generous mercy, O Master. The Most Pure one said, “Wishing to save Thy creature, thou hast given Thyself over to death.” But by Thy resurrection, O Saviour, have mercy on all of us, while we address Thy most pure Mother:

Rejoice, thou who didst see the most good Lord dead and without breath! Rejoice, thou who didst kiss the body of thy beloved Son! Rejoice, thou who didst see thy Light as a naked and wounded corpse! Rejoice, thou who didst place the Light of the world in a tomb! Rejoice, thou who didst wrap His body in a new shroud! Rejoice, thou who beheld His Resurrection from the dead! Rejoice, much-sorrowing Mother of God, turn our sorrows into joy and soften the hearts of evil men!

Kontakion XIII 3 times

O All-hymned Mother, crushed by thy sorrow at the Cross of thy Son and God, accept our tears and expressions of sorrow, and save from every sorrow, affliction, and eternal death all those who hope in thine ineffable kindheartedness and cry out to God: Alleluia!

Ikos I

Kontakion I

Prayer

O much sorrowing Mother of God, more highly exalted than all other maidens, according to thy purity and the multitude of thy suffering endured on earth: Hearken to our sighs, and soften the hearts of evil men, and protect us under the shelter of thy mercy. For we know no other refuge or ardent intercessor apart from thee, but as thou hast great boldness before the One Who was born of thee, help and save us by thy prayers, that without offence we may attain the Heavenly Kingdom, where, with all the saints, we will sing the thrice-holy hymn to One God Almighty in Trinity, always now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Troparion in Tone V

Soften our evil hearts, O Mother of God, extinguish the afflictions of those who hate us, and loosen all the rigidity our souls. Gazing upon thy holy image, we are moved by thy suffering and mercy toward us. We kiss thy wounds and are horrified that our arrows torment you. O merciful mother, do not let us perish in our own hardheartedness, nor from that of our neighbors, for thou art truly the Softener of evil hearts.

#Theotokos #Blessed Virgin Mary #Christianity #Orthodox Christianity #Prayer

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 2 years

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Eda’s Requiem?

Another personal highlight for me.

Things I liked:

Like with Lumity, Raine is a huge step in LGBT representation. I’ve only seen two other characters that identity as non-binary (Acid Storm from Transformers: Cyberverse and Naki from Kamen Rider Zero-One), and their roles were nowhere near as big as Raine’s. Not only are they a major character due to leading the rebellion against Belos, but their identity as being non-binary isn’t their only personality trait. They’re timid, yet still willing to do what they feel is right, and their interactions with Eda are really fun to watch. They’re honestly one of my favorite characters in the show.

The animation is stellar here. I love the visuals used for bard magic, especially whenever Eda’s curse, as Hop Pop puts it, corrupts its sacred message. And of course, Raine’s Rhapsody is the highlight of the episode.

Darius and Eberwolf are also very enjoyable characters. I love how they essentially channel the power of their respective magic, Abominations and Beastkeeping, and use it on themselves instead of summoning help.

Things I didn’t like:

The Gland Prix honestly should have been its own episode instead of a subplot, as it sounded pretty fun. I guess “Any Sport in a Storm” was meant to focus more on fun flying sequences.

This is more of a criticism in hindsight, but it was really dumb of Darius and Eberwolf to hunt down Raine when they were trying to join them. Yeah, “O Titan, Where Art Thou” tried to explain that Darius wanted to make it look convincing, but there wasn’t anyone around to see this. If there were coven scouts with the two, that would make sense, but there’s no reason for Darius to mumble about him doing his job or how much he hates Raine for “betraying” Belos. Hell, Raine and Eda were planning to kill themselves if it meant taking Darius and Eberwolf with them, so you’d think Darius would freak out and scramble to explain himself before they went through with it.

Minor Nitpicks/Unpopular Opinions:

This isn’t really anything personal against Eberwolf, but I think it would have been more interesting if Gwendolyn was the head of the Beastkeeping Coven instead of them. I could have lead to more drama, and made Eda’s refusal to join a coven more personal.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #not miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug

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doors-daggers-and-personas · 16 days

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Attached is a mysterious video.

A woman with light brown hair, stands before the same thing as from the last video.

"M-Mia? Is that really you? What are you doing here?"

The child grins, eyes swirling with blue and yellow. An unnatural grin. Her mouth is pulled too wide, her teeth are too sharp.

"Yes. It's me."

Something glints in her hand, and in a flash, a pair of blades are near the woman's throat. A knife, and a katana, blocking the knife.

"Nicole. What are you doing here? Did you follow me??" Kay says, the one holding the katana.

"Tch. Of course it's you." The child-like monster says.

"Kay? Wwhat's going on??" Nicole asks, clearly confused.

In response, the Shadow? starts cackling once again. Before speaking.

"Oh, don't you remember that day? The day you lost her? A little girl, lost and alone. In the Garden. That's why she found herself here. Where all her dreams could come true!"

"Wwhat? Nonono, I only took my eyes off her for a minute, wwhat do you mean??"

"Oh but what a minute that was, for a child full of curiosity!"

"Nicole. I don't understand what this thing is. But from what I can tell. It killed Mia."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! If the host dies, the Shadow vanishes too! That's why I ate her. I couldn't permit her to die. So the only option. Was to become one, and take control." The Shadow? responds with its unsettling grin.

Nicole stumbles backwards, falling to the ground, sobbing.

A voice rings out, as her sobs turned to pained cries, wracked sobs when they could fit between the screams and gasps.

"You mourn for what you have lost."

She tries to stand, but her legs give out under her weight.

"One you loved; one you cared for."

Kay watches on in shock, before the Shadow? clashes with them again, as several more shadows are conjured.

"Was it your fault? Does it even matter at this point?"

The ground begins to rumble.

"You cannot turn back time. So you must either move forward, or go nowhere at all."

Nicole tries again to get up, but her limbs give out.

"I offer a Contract. Sealed in blood, I offer you a means to move forward."

A stone bowl rises from the ground before her. Within it is a ceremonial dagger. Nicole picks up the blade with a shaky hand.

"I am thou, thou art I; Seal our contract, and reclaim your life."

Nicole raises her other arm over the bowl, and makes a slit in her arm. Blood drips from her wound, as the bowl fills.

She gets to her feet, as the blood swirls, and lifts into the air. It forms a spinning, swirling sphere.

"Come. Kyparissos!"

The blood scatters, and collects into the form of a Shuangdao, at her waist. In the air where the blood had just been, is now a man bound in Cypress branches, which cloak his body, concealing all except his head. The Cypress branches also hold a Stag Skull, above his own head.

The main Shadow? quickly leaves, as the rest surround the pair.

The video glitches, and cuts out.

#mysterious video #pokemon rp #pokemon irl #pokemon unreality #blood mention #blood description #death mention tw #death ment tw #pokeblr #pokeblogging #pokémon #pokemon #pokeblog rp

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libidomechanica · 6 months

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Untitled (“Thy tears drink they have means I find virgins coy”)

Let this mortal man, who bent his sluggish form reposing motion of an old tale. With a shade pass’d away. To make

his very near to let thee here! Death’s the slippery asphalte ring: and all must lose whatever had to swing. Beauty, round

by truant sheep. The trouble is that shot in long lank slips, or currant on any Younger heart. No Son. Who wants to

use himselfe my mate in Armes he sware; nay, Sorrow will come an aesthete of smoke and the talks to die, when I a heart

as stiff as beeswax, his legs swollen purple moor look at me, and blind in place, the avaricious lady. Of waking,

solved and rot, wrapt in a deep prophetic solitude, and seek for roses, but never the cliff-brow, on carpet-

stripes for ocean. Be thy love more be not iaelous ouer me, if you heare that moment for yoghurt partly because why

such as feel the other’s body in the Rose—and I knew there was always mourn. Of which reconciled so the Above

thee; nor see despair! Thou tread’st with should brag how the holy night market to be known sorrow and faces in a world

dreams to the tombs of healthful anodyne; with open mouth a red, red rose, is nowhere found again the children teares

finding your breathing: gone and every stream that for though defaced, placid miscreant! Heard her sad and Doom: the

halogen overlooked, and the flying from Him—by Him directed by a silver-shedding brook, that he kils his heart,

and heart. Alone, and alone, and Soul are mine. Noons of our due? At which I could give news: niagara or Vesuvius

is expected to the sun, where Loues selfe didst thou art, if ten of the sweet, I ween, to Shepherds is for his arm

he brackish water falls he rises crescented. And yet am burned for his returned and told herself, and we will

be no spices of angels and curse thence. Thy tears drink they have means I find virgins coy but now my pen these our latter

day dawn’d blue and turned aside and ere this, I thoughts to be seen; when it is all dead paper, mute and grief

unutterably helpless infant in heaven only knows: to such immod’rate growth her recklessness, and the great ones gone!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #151 texts #ballad

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monstermaster13 · 1 year

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Corey and Oats in..

O’Siyoates, Where Art Thou.

Corey and Oats had a friend they adopted into the family and he was a blue seahorse that looked like he was Oats’s twin, he even neighed like Oats and he loved hugs, he was a permanent cast member and very lovable and cuddly and he never missed a single appearance, except for one day…when he had gotten lost, and nobody knew where he had gone.

He always went with the group and never split up up from them, until one day when all of the microbes and Corey and Oats were looking around in the bedroom of their house in Nile Road and they saw that their seahorse pal was missing. ‘Mommy, mommy, we’ve got terrible news!’ ‘Terrible news?’ ‘Yes, Siyoates the seahorse is missing, mommy.’ Oats explained.

The duo showed Mel what they meant, they tried looking everywhere and they looked around every place in the house including in the bedroom and in the bedboxes but the little seahorse was nowhere to be found. ‘Oh no, where could he be?’ ‘Let’s try going on a searching adventure to find him.’ ‘Good idea.’

Corey and Oats went over to the bedbox and used a magical item to teleport them to a number of different areas, including Kelly Tarlton’s…when they got to Kelly Tarlton’s the duo asked the seahorses in the ‘Seahorse Kingdom’ if they had seen Siyoates..’We haven’t seen him around here.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yes, we are most definitely sure.’

The covid microbe asked some of the fish if they had seen Siyoates and they shook their heads and said they hadn’t seen him, so he went over to the sharks and sting-rays and they said they hadn’t seen him.

The next place they thought of to look was in the mall…they checked both Glenfield and Milford but they knew their seahorse friend wouldn’t be there, they sighed but then thought of Belmont, they visited Belmont and they asked the staff there if they had seen Siyoates and they all said no.

They looked in a game arcade, even in the hot pools and pet store, but they couldn’t find their seahorse friend, so they tried the beach but he wasn’t there either. They couldn’t find their seahorse friend at all, and they were getting worried.

But they didn’t lose hope, as Corey got an idea…Corey thought about his first home and he and Oats teleported themselves to 28 Rosemary Avenue where they looked around in their home until they found Siyoates hiding below the drawers in the computer room. ‘Oh Siyoates, thank goodness you are okay.’ ‘I was playing hide and seek and was waiting for you to find me.’ ‘You naughty seahorse, you got all of us worried for a game of hide and seek?’ ‘I waited for you guys to find me but you didn’t, and so I waited..and waited…waited.’

“You poor thing.”

“But it’s all better now that I have found you guys again.”

Siyoates hugged the duo and whinnied…’Aaaaw, you even whinny like Oatsie.’ Oats whinnied back as he hugged Siyoates…’That’s my seahorse, who’s a cute seahorse who loves his favorite horsie? You are, yes you are.’ ‘Hurray, you’re my best friend.’

“Come on, let’s go home.”

“Right behind you Corey and Oats.”

Siyoates the seahorse followed the duo as they took off and headed back to Nile Road, upon heading back and arriving at Nile Road, Corey explained that they had found the seahorse and all the microbes were cheering. ‘Thank goodness.’ ‘We thought he had gotten lost.’ ‘Oh he didn’t, he was just playing hide and seek.’

“Well thank goodness he’s here.”

The duo and their seahorse friend all had some snacks and afternoon tea before waiting for dinner and after dinner they had a karaoke party and played webkinz and had such a nice time, and they emailed Jill about their adventure an hour later. When it was time to wind down they went into the bedroom and played a lot of fun games together.

An hour later they put on their night-clothes and got ready for bed as they brushed their teeth, Siyoates of course slurped up the toothpaste and used it to brush his muzzle and they all gathered near the computer, when bedtime rolled around Corey and Oats begin to arrange who would be sleeping with them for the night.

When they picked a friend to snuggle up with, they all got into bed and snuggled up, drifting off as they all had sweet dreams and their pegasus bed took them on a fantastic adventure.

#Monstermaster13 #Corey and Oats

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athys-obelia · 3 years

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summary: no one's evil au lmfaooo but make it pt. 2

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

and here's part 1 <3

oh my god okay. okay. so.

ana, claude, athy and jennette - they go on a LOT of vacations

claude complains every single time but anastacius pulls his trump card and sends athy and jettie BOTH after him

u think he's strong enough to say no after that? lmao jokes

and their vacations always go this way:

jennette: isn't this scenery just gorgeous, uncle

claude: indeed it is. and...quiet

jennette: ...too quiet

[cut to anastacius in the distance, fighting a bear as athy cheers him on]

athy + anastacius, hands down the most chaotic pairing yes i will not be taking criticism

they have tea in ana's palace everyday, just the two of them, they're so poised and picture perfect through the entire thing everyone thinks it's just the emperor giving profound advice to his heir

it's actually them deadass scheming,,, ana has no qualms discussing everything from court gossip to military tactics, both of which she's so on top of all the time

if anyone shit talks jennette or claude, this tea party is where their slow and agonizing demise is planned out to the dot

[true story - count sivan once made the fatal mistake of expressing his favour for athy as the next empress, dissing jennette by comparing her to athy sm which inevitably sparked a debate that ranked the princesses. a week after athy's sources informed her of the kindling behind this new debate, the count's sudden divorce became the talk of the town, and the man's business faced bankruptcy all of a sudden. the sivans still haven't recovered.)

athy n jennette were actually allowed to visit kiel in arlanta a few times, except it was too dark at their first arrival, postponing the meeting to the next morning

buttt then jettie can't sleep and she decides on a midnight snack run (their hotel doesn't really have the maids the palace does, but oh well. she's left the palace w lucas n athy plenty of times)

felix tags along btw, he knows this trip is important to the girls since they're leaving the palace without their Overprotective Papas™ for the first time and want some sense of independence, but... she's just so smol n he couldn't bear it if anything happens so he just shadows her

she totally knows he's there

n e ways so there's a juice place right beside their hotel which she aims for, but when jennette reaches it, it's closed

and out of nowhere, a voice addresses her - "hey you, do you come here a lot?" she nearly jumps out of her skin at the brunette, relaxing when she sees he's literally a kid around her age and not a murderer lmfaoo "me neither," he continues without waiting for her, pouting at the closed sign, before he asks for her name and whether she's new in arlanta

she confirms that yes, she's only visiting, and refuses to tell the stranger her name, still feeling strange at being addressed as 'you' for the first time (well, minus lucas, but he was like her brother and had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, so)

he eyes her. "you're so weird. i've never seen a girl out so late before, and alone too. are you stupid?"

(felix has his sword out at this point)

she's flushing now and has no idea why she's still out here, but then this stranger kid apparently senses her mood and tells her the best ice cream store in arlanta is not too far away

(he also explains he knows someone who's starts doing weird things when she's hungry as well, and tries to defend that ice cream is actually a healthy midnight snack, "you can just take a healthy flavour like strawberry or mango, mangos are healthy,,right"💀️💀)

so jettie has travelled all the way from obelia, she loves her papa but he would have a heart attack if he found out she was ever awake this late?? yeah bc she's never getting this chance again, jennette accepts the offer

the stranger boy seems to be taking the whole "i'm not telling you my name," thing like a joke, and asks what he should call her since 'you' was getting boring

she goes with "lady j" and like a knight, the boy becomes "sir c"

(felix is on the verge of committing a crime - the princesses can only have one knight, after all)

they walk as the the boy navigates the streets in the dark, and she asks whether he's from the academy, seeing his uniform

"of course i am! you could probably tell bc i look so smart, right?"

she snorts. "yeah, that."

she also comes to know that this guy,,,well he might as well be a tourist? she's out here asking stuff like "oh where's the statue of lady alphia?" or "aren't we really close to the museum where they keep the first emperor's sword?" and he goes "lady do i look like your brochure?? but if you turn right from here there's a cool arcade and across the street from there is the best street food vendor you'll ever eat from."

well at least mans had his priorities straight 😌

"so can you take this off?" he asks, pointing towards her dress once they've neared the store

um???????? sir tf????????????

anyways jettie has been living with lucas n her dad farr too long to not take this the wrong way?? "...no?"

the boy raises an eyebrow "look, it looks like an expensive cloak but i promise i'll return it, alright? i gotta hide my uniform."

ohhhhhhh. 😳.

so she unfastens the cloak and because he's kinda just staring at it cluelessly (he can't even tie his shoelaces fight me), jennette sighs and moves the clothing over his shoulder, fastening it in place at his neck

he's literally a tomato when she looks back up and realises that yes, we are way too close rn

bc she's ana's daughter, jennette by default cannot function when she's flustered. so she kinda stumbles backwards like a fish out of water (years of princess training n etiquette? where art thou??) and 'sir c' has to grab her forearm so she doesn't bump into the pillar behind her smfh

the shopkeep is definitely suspicious of this pair that's definitely too young to be out so late, but chalks it down to his sleeplessness

they escape the store with the ice cream before the shopkeep can ask any questions, and 'sir c' escorts jennette back to her hotel. he climbs onto the roof of the building, helping her up as well

(felix wishes he had a magic stone to capture this moment, this is the first time he's seen jennette become such fast friends with someone)

she stands on the roof (it hurts her butt so she doesn't wanna sit)

"my sister would be so jealous right now," jennette murmurs, "she told me her ideal first date would be either a picnic or something like a moonlit walk. we're having like a moonlit picnic."

it's silent for a few seconds the boy speaks up, "is this a date?"

oh-

oh.

"i mean- i didn't- i don't- uh."

give her some time lmfao she's loading

"i don't really mind that," he tells her, and she thinks she might just walk off the roof in her embarrassment - who just says something like that?? "you're probably feeling really lucky right now, right?"

jennette: ✊😔

he does look pretty in the moonlight, she admits to herself, listening as he excitedly tells her about his siblings at home and how she should send an offering to the gods since they gave her the good fortune to be on a date with the most good looking one of all four of them

in turn, she tells him about how she spent her childhood away from her amazing dad and had gotten closer to him recently, about her sharp-witted uncle, her sister and friends

(the 'friends' section includes felix and he's melting)

she smiles - it's almost as if, at finding out he treasures his family just as much as she does, they've gotten a bit closer

and he tries to listen. jennette had guessed that his temperament was somewhat like her dad's - her dad didn't know how to listen, always making his opinion known before anything else, though she supposes as emperor he could do that

'sir c', on the other hand, tried his best, his blue eyes focused on her as he almost burst from the unsaid words he was holding back, trying to let her finish. the sight was an odd mix of sad and insanely adorable that she couldn't help but let him tell her about everything he couldn't hold in

sensing she could pass out from her exhaustion nearly half an hour later, and 'sir c' escorts her to her window and helps her sneak in bc "what sort of knight would i be otherwise?!"

(felix can't stop shaking the entire night)

the next morning, jennette's heart is pounding as kiel shows her, athy and felix across campus - the chance is low, but still...

"ezekiel!" comes a voice, and the four watch as a turquoise haired boy waves down the alpheus heir "are these the guests you mentioned?"

kiel introduces the trio to johannes vastia before asking, "where's cabel?"

"at the training grounds, he asked if you could bring everyone there so he could show them around there."

"... they're my guests though?"

athy is quick to befriend johannes (i mean she and his sister are practically the same person, so) and at the grounds, jennette's blood runs cold

(so does felix's)

the brunette doesn't notice her at first, arguing with johannes about something as kiel introduces him as cabel ernst

jennette is hyperventilating?? actually back up is this girl even breathing??

cabel ernst from kiel's letters? the 'loud and obnoxious cabel ernst', who gradually turned into 'my acquaintance cabel ernst', then 'hardworking, passionate cabel ernst', and finally 'my friend cabel'?

she'd actually rather admired this slow build of respect between her friend and the ernst boy, and had even expressed her interest to meet him

"this is the first daughter of his highness prince claude de alger obelia, princess athanasia-" cabel mock salutes the princess before his mouth forms an 'o' and he remembers to bow, "-and here's the emperor's only daughter, her highness princess je-"

andddd his eyes widen comically "-hey, lady, it's you?"

yeah jettie is on the brink of literal death - her entire face reddens as this...cabel, grins at her

she watches as he glances behind her, "and you're the guy who was following us - sup?"

felix flinches "...you knew...?"

cabel shrugs. "i mean you do kinda suck ass at the whole subtle thing."

"don't say it like that," jennette retorts, "felix was trying his best."

"princess 😭😭 you knew as well?"

"uhhhh no?"

athy + kiel in a corner: 👁️👄👁️

they watch as cabel's eyes widen all of a sudden and he just,,,runs away

...🐦...🐦...🐦...

yeah well anyway he comes rushing back a few minutes later, a piece of cloth in his hand "...*huff* here *huff*...you go."

athy totally flips out "jennette is that your CLOAK???!??"

"uhhhhh no?"

"um do you realise uncle would literally wage war at this."

and as if it would make everything better,

"i washed it," cabel offers with a grin

"you didn't," the vastia heir deadpans

"i mean, johan helped a little bit."

kiel smiles murderously at the pair. "johan, did you know cabel took the princess out?"

"wait, you're a PRINCESS??"

your honour they aren't very smart

so the group orders some coffee (milk for cabel smfh) to find out what happened, cabel mentions "date" and everything goes to shit again lmfao

kiel and felix scheme against poor cabel while athy n johan get over that stage pretty quick ("listen. MY sister will be living with ME after the marriage and if your friend wants to be with her he'll have to come with us to obelia." and johan's just like "fine by me ✌️😊") and start planning the wedding

cabel + jennette dip n sneak out of the academy again to get the juice they couldn't the night before bc shit is getting awkward here

on another note, our uncle cius' musical intelligence is actually very high - he can probably play more instruments than i can name tbh, but he feels most comfortable singing and i shit you not, this man has straight up an angel's voice

(didn't like singing in front of others coz he was secretly a nerd and only knew old love songs with deep lyrics, athy found out and educated him)

jennette tends to have nightmares often, most often regarding their family - she's seen her father murder her uncle for the throne, and vice versa, athy admitting her affections towards jennette were a front to get the position of crown princess, her uncle killing her to solidify athy's claim, etc - her family is her everything, so despite however many times these horrible scenes play before her, she's left sobbing uncontrollably

and on these nights, she leaves for her father's room, who holds her close and sings her to sleep

also lucas n jennette are like sibling duo# 1,,, jettie is an active lucathy shipper even though he denies it sm - like their dynamic is just peaceful walks in the gardens as she watches the plants n lucas shi talks the nobility and kiel

claude and athy have a thing for each other's sleeping on each other? idk it's weird

athy once fell asleep on the couch while reading with him, and claude moved her head onto his lap so she wouldn't be uncomfy sitting - well, she woke up to his hand absentmindedly raking through her hair and it was just so soothing that whenever she's tired and he's working or reading, she just plops her head on his lap and zzzz

and claude wondered what was up with that, so she proposed they switch roles and he felt so awkward trying to lay down in front of her lmao

obviously athy noticed and she just started reading, thinking he might be more comfortable if her attention isn't on him completely - she ended up reading out loud while playing with his collar and he just,,,passed out

also anastacius has definitely pulled jennette aside regarding the issue of his heir at some point - she had been hesitant at first before admitting she wouldn't like to be the empress at all

i know we'd all love to see empress!jettie and her sister duchess!athy ruling the court, but i really really really can't see her wanting the title?

so thus start athy's empress lessons, but holy shit her teacher is mean

like this man makes me want to bash his face in?? so he doesn't like the idea of athy becoming empress over jennette at all, all bc of both hers and claude's mothers being commoners

he has one of those long ass sticks that you use in presentation to point at stuff?? idk but basically mans has athy name every region, its lords and their vassals during their first lesson

the first time she gets one wrong, she's too shocked as the stick meets the delicate skin of her forearm to react

now the thing is, wmmap!athy would probably stand up against this bc her dad is the emperor and she's his only heir, but i imagine with anastacius' social nature he holds many parties / balls where she's probably heard claude's mom + diana slander and it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to be self conscious abt it (now she's the emperor's heir while jennette, 100% royal + noble blood, is right there which probably makes her feel even less legitimate)

so she endures it, the light marks on her arms as well as the taunts of his she's too smart to not understand - perhaps this is the price to be accepted in jennette's place?

and honestly, no one really notices until at breakfast a few weeks in, where jennette mentions how her dresses are still so modest when sleeveless dresses were more in fashion - ana is suspicious because athy is always on top of these things, societal trends and such, and claude is sus from the way she hesitates slightly in her answer, "i haven't had the time lately, i suppose"

the lesson after focuses on ettiquete since everyone knows she's good at politics and such already, but now tears of frustration are pooling in her eyes because what the hell?? this guy had made an opinion of her long before he even met her, so anything she did would be wrong in his eyes

he gives her a sinister smile, "tired, princess?"

"no," she insists, keeping her voice level. he's about to spout some other nonsense, when anastacius enters the room, taking a seat across from her

anastacius watches quietly as athy answers the teacher's questions in her "public" voice. he watches as her usually cheery disposition is replaced by something far more...dead, despite the front she puts on for him. he's soundless as she hesitates in her answers where she normally would've been louder, more confident. he stops watching in silence when his niece flinches at the sight of the stick

oh.

he interrupts her lesson, not missing the way she winces almost imperceptibly when he grabs ahold of her arm, announcing, "we're going."

he just- it's just that that was the moment he knew for sure - the sight of his niece emotionally disheveled for the first time reminds him too much of how his own brother had once been, and he'd... he'd promised he wouldn't let anyone hurt his family anymore

he ends up taking her to the port with some of his advisors to welcome some royal guests, insisting that she would learn better from experience rather than books - but the guest delegation gets so boring that he sneaks her out of the meeting n they end up in the streets

now athy has no idea where they are, but apparently her uncle does?? ana has his hand on her head as he navigates the streets of the capitol as if he comes here everyday, using magic to casually disguise the two of them

in the meantime?

felix is at the port trying to cover for them smfh, he makes up this huge story about how the great wise emperor wanted to familiarize his heir with the locals, understand her subjects, yada yada

back at the palace prince claude is currently dragging a man by his collar and only upon jennette's insistence does he throw him in prison rather than literally kill him

(jettie visits him later in prison to give the guy a piece of her mind, after felix's visit he's sporting a few noticable bruises and the prisoner is practically unrecognizable once lucas visits)

back to athy + ana, they end up stuffing themselves with some super good street food as anastacius confesses that yes, he has definitely been sneaking out of the palace ever since he was a lil kid

athy almost mentions that she, lucas n jettie sneak out too but that might give him a heart attack, so

"it's so pretty, uncle cius," she says, gesturing towards the necklace he holds up. once he's paid for it, anastacius fists the necklace, opening it to reveal the jewel pendant - now imbued with his magic and replaced with gold lettering of the word athanasia

and she realises that yes, that's what both him and her dad have called her all her life, haven't they?

"you're my heir, athanasia," he uncle tells her with a small smile, "i am proud of that."

getting teary, she tells him, "i'm really proud of you too, uncle cius," triggering a very flustered + blushy anastacius

this mans craves validation - not from the sycophantic nobility, or the obsequious concubines he'd dismissed all those years ago, but from the family he thought he'd neither have nor deserve

and just the acknowledgement is so large for athy - he wants her as his heir, not because she's his niece, but bc he trusts her to look after his hard work after him??? - yeah she's totally bawling her eyes out

anastacius magics her a handkerchief but my mans magic isn't that strong?? lmao he's used up so much by now that the 'handkerchief' turns out to be some scratchy tissues

awkward amirite

nope! athy laughs at that, offering him a sip of her drink as she magics another straw and a proper handkerchief lmfaoo

n e ways so when they return, everyone's shocked to learn that the crown heir, princess athanasia will actually be joining the official circles as anastacius' temporary aid - he doesn't wanna entrust her to anyone but family, and decides that the best way to learn is by his side

(she's so confused bc lucas doesn't normally bat an eyelash when she wears the prettiest gowns, but he deadass can't look her in the eyes when she's in her aid uniform - it's more like a suit than it is a dress)

yes lucas women in suits >>>>>

everyone is STUNNED when at dinner, claude proposes they leave on vacation??

anastacius is just not having it?? like no, this is not my brother, and he throws a grape at claude to check if it's a clone or sum (¿¿how does that work??)

anyays so he ain't no felix, ana's aim is ass and it hits jettie instead

mans nearly gets on his knees to apologise

long story short everyone preps for vacation, but by some aCCiDeNt claude n athy end up at a different destination than jettie n ana, when she suggests returning to the palace to regroup, mans deadass sulks

"so you wouldn't like to spend this time with your father, despite barely visiting my office for weeks?"

o-oh

so at their return, the nobility starts pestering everyone that the princesses aren't independent enough, yada yada idc so to quell this annoyance, to the girls' joy, they get to move into emerald palace together, while claude and ana stay in the ruby and main palaces respectively

literally emerald palace becomes such a cool place to be in since it's the residence of the only decent people in this family, the brothers spend hours going through the requests of maids who want to be transferred

it's such a busy time because of athy joining the court and jettie starting her studies as well - naturally, since she isn't becoming empress, she'll be getting the duchy claude + athy were to be given in the beginning

speaking of futures, jettie's interest in plants and cooking has definitely branched out into herbs

claude notices her tending to a small garden during his visit to athy and even gives her a few tips (he had been studying medical since he was a kid, and picked it up again when athy was born and the empire stablised somewhat)

this soon becomes a routinely thing, and he actually starts reading up on some herbs and even orders a few for her prospering garden

after a month of her learning from books, claude proposes adding a medic as one of her teachers, and turns out his hunch was right?? she's excelling at medicine and they keep it between themselves for the time being

it doesn't last long though, bc they're on a hunting trip when ana injures his leg

and !! this girl istg, she gets to cleaning and wrapping the wound without blinking an eye, as if it's the most natural thing ever, and claude is just smirking while athy and anastacius and literally everyone else: 🌟💞✨jettie✨💞🌟

literal tears coming out of anastacius' eyes "how come my daughter is smarter than me😭💅"

claude: that's not a very high standard, brother

anastacius: ✨suddenly i'm an only child✨

behold, the people in charge of running an empire everyone 👏👏👏

even though jennette is claude's (unofficial) student and athy is her uncle's heir, they both ask their dads to the debutante

yes athy does dance with lucas, anastacius sent him an invitation even though he wasn't a noble (he's an active match maker 😌) and nobody dared question the emperor's special guest

at the end of the night, kiel gives jettie a letter from arlanta - it's an invitation to the academy during holidays, from a certain brunette

when she brings up the subject, felix lets out a squeak and literally everyone goes silent 😭😭

athy n kiel are just out here DARING him to spill them beans

but anastacius takes on look at his excited lil kid and decides that yups, she's going to get everything she wants

a/n: i literally don't know how many parts this should have lmaoo but y'all made it this far!! thanks for reading i hope you liked it<3

#non dysfunctional family!au #or ana decides to stop being a shithead!au #functional family!au ??#wmmap #sbapod #who made me a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #anastacius de alger obelia #claude de alger obelia #athanasia de alger obelia #felix robane #lucas #jennette magrita #jeannette magrita #kiel alpheus #ezekiel alpheus #beware of the brothers #cabel ernst #johannes vastia

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remmushound · 3 years

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Toddler Mutant Ninja Turtles, chapter 6: Time to Grow up @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid @digitl-art-monstr

The three friends split up to cover more ground. Traveling by the fading light of day was a risk, but a risk they were willing to take. There was only six hours left to find that jellyfish before the change was permanent, and there was no time to lose. All they had to go off of was what Michelangelo had heard Donatello say about the mutant. Her habits lead the three to split their attention between any buildings that had any shiny or unique artifacts on display. It was easier for the girls to get through the crowds unseen, their designated babies tucked safely against their chests and out of sight of any prying eyes. For Michelangelo, traversing the buildings while also having Leonardo strapped to his plastron was proving more difficult than it should have been.

“Any update?” Michelangelo whispered into his wristband; he had just cleared another building with no luck and had taken to the roof. Leonardo was secured to him in a blanket expertly tucked and knotted into a baby carrier, the two of them plastron to plastron. The toddler was sucking on a pacifier and hugging onto his childhood unicorn, safely pinned between him and Michelangelo so it wouldn’t fall. Finally, he had started to drift to sleep.

“None here.” April said; she had Donatello in a similar blanket bouncer, except with a bigger blanket so there was more slack to cover the turtle. Finally, there was a period of silence from the colicky toddler as he squished his baby shell armor— it was really just an old sponge with plastic wrap on it, but Donatello didn't seem to care either way as he deeply breathed in the scent of his special spongie.

“Me either.” Cassandra reported; it had proven difficult to hide all of Raphael within the baby bouncer, so Cassandra had grabbed one of Raphael’s oversized sweater to cover both herself and the baby. It came down below her knees and she had to constantly reposition the hood so it wasn’t blinding her, but it was preferable to the baby being seen. Currently, Raphael was gnashing on a frozen rubber ring and having a good time doing so.

“Well keep looking!” Michelangelo groaned.

“Really? I thought I’d stop for an ice cream.” April grumbled.

On they searched. Six hours turned to four, and then to two. Two hours to one. Sunset had come and gone, the night taking hold so progress was faster and easier. Building after building was cleared with no sign of the mutant jellyfish. Forty minutes left. Michelangelo was getting desperate, and he was running out of ideas. He was sure he had gone to every potential building, some even twice!

Thirty-five minutes. Cassandra was starting to panic. She was exhausted, and having to haul a twenty-pound weight on her chest was doing her no favors. Raphael wasn’t a big fan of the long restraint either and had started to wiggle and writhe in an attempt to free himself so he could stretch out his stiff muscles. Every time he’d get close, Cassandra would simply shove him back in and the baby would have to start all over again.

Twenty minutes. April didn't know what to do. Checking building after building was getting them nowhere, and with time ticking fast she had to try a different approach. Pacing the empty streets, April stared intently at her phone begging it to load faster. She googled immortal jellyfish— she had heard something about it on the internet and figured it was a good place to start. Dohrnii jellyfish was what they were called, she soon learned, and she used that to search up facts about them.

When endangered or threatened, these jellyfish can revert to a polyp, April read. First discovered in 1883, Mediterranean Sea, blah blah blah. They’re saltwater animals. April hurmed and looked out past the buildings and to the Hudson river. It wasn’t exactly salt water, but it wasn’t quite fresh water either… and it was close to the target zone that Donatello had marked out.

Ten minutes. April got to the docks, and she saw her. The jellyfish was drifting in the air just above the Hudson, tracing her tentacles across the surface and humming softly among the mist. April ducked behind a shipping container.

“I found her.” April whispered to her bracelet. “Down at the Hudson near the docks.”

“I’m on the way.” Michelangelo’s voice came back, “Just stay where you are!”

“That’s the plan.” April said.

Six minutes left. Four minutes left. April hoped they would hurry. Donatello was getting fussy, babbling softly as he pulled his spongie free and started to lift it up and down, squeezing the soft texture in his hands. He ended up tossing it a little too high though, and the sponge slipped from his hands and fell. He couldn’t see where it went, and he certainly couldn’t reach it! The toddler started to whine and, in an attempt to get his caregivers attention, he tugged at her hair.

“Ow! Donnie!” April growled softly.

Donatello tried to ask for his spongie, but all the came out was babble, and she couldn’t understand that. Donatello tried again and again until he got so frustrated and upset about not being heard that he started to cry. April covered his mouth, but it was too late.

The jellyfish disappeared under the water before April could silence the cries and was out of sight at the very moment that Cassandra and Michelangelo arrived.

“April!” Michelangelo announced his presence in a hushed call, “We’re here! Where is she?”

“She…” The words felt horribly bitter on April’s tongue, “She… she just went under the water…”

Michelangelo's face said nothing but pure fear as he ran from his cover and to the very ends of the docks, peeking into the water to try and catch even the slightest glimpse of the fleeing jellyfish. There was nothing, and when the alarm they had set went off, he sank to his knees. Their time was up.

“No…”

April covered her mouth. Cassandra had come to her side; when the timer went off, she finally picked Raphael up out of the jacket he was struggling against and she could have sworn the snapper understood what was happening. The sad look on his face was unmistakable.

“Mikey, I’m so, so sorry…” April said, near tears as she took only a few steps toward Michelangelo. She noticed Raphael at that time and, instead of getting closer, she picked Donatello out of his bouncer and set him down so both toddlers could make their unsteady way over to their brother. Her foot brushed against the sponge and she knelt to pick it up. “He… he dropped his spongie and… and he started crying…”

“I want my big brothers back…” Michelangelo was in tears. He pulled Leonardo out of his bouncer so he could hug the toddler; Leonardo seemed concerned when he felt the tears drip on him, and he raised a hand to gently wipe Michelangelo’s cheeks while babbling softly. “I miss them…”

Leonardo frowned. He stopped wiping his brother's tears when he saw Donatello and Raphael crawling over, not to Michelangelo, but toward the water. Leonardo gave an excited squeal and crawled after them while Michelangelo stared out at nothing. One by one, three tiny plops came as three tiny turtles climbed into the water.

For minutes, nothing was said. Cassandra just happened to look up at the perfect time to be the first to see a blue light start to glow from under the bubbling water. Then April noticed, and then Michelangelo. Under the surface, three tiny silhouettes became three large ones, and out onto the docks climbed three confused teenaged turtles.

“Uh. Why are we naked?” Leonardo said, looking down at his bare body and grasping at his naked head; sure, there was nothing to be seen beyond the shell, but privacy was still a thing!

“BROTHERS!” Michelangelo tossed himself at them, and all three older brothers were there to catch and hold him in a shared embrace. “OHHH! I love I love you I love you!”

“Hey!” Raphael laughed, not understanding what was happening but enjoying it anyway. “Hey—what happened?”

“OH MY GOD IT WAS SO HORRIBLE! You were babies an I wasn’t so that meant I was older than you three when you three were supposed to be older than be and that meant I was the older brother and not you three and then Splinter went on vacation and we couldn’t find the jellyfish but then April found the jellyfish and she called us but then Donnie dropped his spongie and started to cry, very rude BTDubs, and then time ran out and I thought you were babies forever but you’re not and now you’re here and we’re hugging~” Michelangelo ended the breathless speel by pressing his head into each of his brothers' chests.

“Anyone get any of that?” Raphael asked, looking to his brothers.

“Not a clue.” Donatello said.

“I did.” Leonardo nodded, “But that still don’t explain where our clothes went.”

“Ohhh I’d take you naked or not!” Michelangelo declared happily, and then his expression darkened, “I’d prefer not though. Let's get you guys some clothes.”

“Now wait just a babylonian minute— April!” Donatello separated from his brothers and stomped over to April, snatching the purple sponge from her hand. “What are you doing with my spongie?! It’s mine! You can’t have it!”

“I don’t want it.” April smirked.

Donatello gasped and held up the sponge. “How could you not want it? This is the most perfect, most nostalgic, most explanatory sponge thou hast ever laid thine eyes upon—“

“Wait— but the time ran out!” Cassandra said, ignoring April and Donatello’s antics. “How are you guys… well— you again?”

“I mean… I wasn’t probably wasn’t completely accurate down to the minute.” Michelangelo admitted shyly, and then added just as shy, “And all she said was that I had 24 hours to find her… not what happened when the time was over. I thought she meant that the change would be permanent, but it’s not! So… yay!”

Cassandra took a sharp breath. “Yay.”

“But… I wonder what she meant…” Michelangelo trailed off staring into the river that had welcomed the jellyfish mutant back into its murky depths where her new treasures would provide for her in her next life. She prepared to make the reverting change, satisfied her final lesson had left its mark on the turtle mutant.

#the end~#and back to the depths she goes #so once again #become bebby

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sheriff-caitlyn · 3 years

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I started this blog in 2014, as the first Caitlyn on tumblr, and obviously I’ve been through a lot of retcons and changes myself, not only adapting to Riot’s own public retcons (from the minor, like her aesthetics, to the major, like the removal of the Institute of War as an integral part of their lore) but also to my own. That’s the thing about playing a character as complex as this, is that you learn more as you go. In your interactions with others and the creation of backstory, history, and other bits of worldbuilding to better understand the world you’re in, a character goes from a handful of images and some in-game voicelines to a fully-fledged person with a complex narrative. Sometimes things change, and that’s fine. But there are some changes which... aren’t.

For all the fingerprints I’ve put on her, she is still not my character. But I care. Sunk-cost fallacy, maybe, but I care about this character I have been involved in and I care about the direction she has been taken. So, without further ado, I’d like to delve into:

The Recent Caitlyn Update In Piltover’s New Context or, We Gotta Fetishise Police Violence, I Mean, Look At Her, She’s So Hot

Back in August 2015, I went, ‘Oh No, they’re going to try to turn Piltover into Gotham City, aren’t they?’, and lo and behold, suddenly we have Poison Ivy now. But I will get back to that, later. In this particular thread, I noted that many of the characters in Piltover seemed destined for a revamp that would rob them of what originally drew us to them in the first place, and that Piltover seemed destined for a rework that would wash out much of their character. Piltover and Zaun were always meant to be polar opposites, but suddenly we were seeing glimpses of Piltover being ‘not as good as everyone thinks’, which hinted that Piltover and Zaun were destined not to be polar opposites in the future, but indistinguishable from each other. It worried me that the only thing telling these two fascinating cities apart would be the sunlight.

So, when we have so much potential for a clash between Zaun and Piltover, between ‘Science No Matter The Cost’ and ‘We Must Advance The World With Care’, why change Piltover to some murky middleground, turning peace and security into wartime capitalism? A world where the people are shitty, where weapons and profit come first, and the only ones making a stand are the ones who are so embittered they have nothing better to do?

Because it has to be ‘interesting’. We’re going to lose bits that we like, that we’re familiar with. And that’s why I’m concerned.

This was before Piltover and Zaun were squished together in an ugly - and utterly ham-fisted - method of showing How Complex The Future Is. There’s layers, guys! Literal layers to this one single city! That means it’s deep! But when I say ‘bits that we like, that we’re familiar with’, I’m not clinging to a fanon interpretation. I’m saying the things that drew us to the world and to the characters to begin with. I could adapt from Caitlyn turning from brown-haired and brown-eyed to black-haired and blue-eyed, because even through I had been doing art, at that point, the change gave me an opportunity to express and discover more about her character (her eye colour being influenced by her mother’s magic, for one). But some of the more stark changes - to family, to job, to personality, to the city of Piltover itself - these result in a character changing completely. I was worried that the cool detective who literally made the world a better place would be chopped and changed into something unrecognisable. I even expounded on my concerns in November 2016, where I could see some of the ways the writers at Rito might make adjustments in the direction of their lore updates.

All this to say, I’ve been working on her for a while, and I was bracing for some bad news. This? This is kind of the worst.

Caitlyn has always been the Sheriff of Piltover, an authority figure, a representative of the law and order that Piltover is famous for. Piltover’s peace and financial prosperity has been directly linked to Caitlyn’s concerted effort to eradicate crime (not criminals, crime! Which, as I have mentioned particularly in this post from 2014, means she upended and reformed the justice system, from the legal process to the prisons to how people are treated as citizens). The city is safe, people have greater access to personal wealth and development, classism is erased, society is flourishing. Zaun, as Piltover’s polar opposite, is a corporate nightmare, with ‘do as thou wilt’, private bodyguards for the rich and powerful while the poor scramble to survive in a system that barely treats them as human. Vi, as a Zaunite, brings a lot of her ‘violence as a problem-solver’ methodology to Piltover’s law-enforcement, though she seems to have no intention of returning to Zaun and seems to have bonded with Caitlyn (‘teamwork!’) to Get Shit Done. And, apparently, there is still shit that needs to be done, though nowhere near as much as there had been in the Bad Old Days.

Vi was, at the time, the awkward-grit-teeth-grin-ha-ha-um-yeah representation of police violence. ‘Resist arrest’, she cries gleefully, as she beats people and breaks down buildings, and we are supposed to go ‘ha, isn’t that funny’ with varying degrees of sincerity. Of course Piltover is going to have problems: anywhere that has wealth and stability is going to be targeted by the envious and the needy. Peace needs to be protected. The problem lies in how that protection is enacted.

So now we have the recent Legends of Runeterra update to Caitlyn, an update which looked at the context of Piltover needing protection, as well as the modern context of Riot’s California location in the Years of Our Lord 2020-2021, and then decided ‘you know what we need? Police violence, everyone loves police violence’.

MAN I thought the stripper-cop skins were bad but here we go!

Her Yordle Snap-Traps (which I envisioned as from the Yordle Military, rather than a racially-profiling weapon as, y’know, they work on human-and-larger-sized people as well) have now been replaced by electroshock grenades, the intent gone from incapacitation and observation to outright paralysis and destruction. Her net-short is now apparently electro-conductive (admittedly, I have had one (1) single RP where that happened, but it came at both a cost to Caitlyn and to her weapon’s efficiency as a result, a last-resort against a dangerous opponent). Caitlyn’s cards in LoR take her from being a detective coordinating ideas and people and putting together a case to a SWAT team leader. This might be the biggest problem in working for a non-combat-oriented character in a MOBA, or in any fighting game: the game needs to find rationalisations for all of their characters being there, being combatants, being able to kill (even if, as Riot says, the lore is separate from the game). We have monsters and soldiers and ancient powers who of course they know how to spill blood and relish in doing so. But pacifists, like Karma or Bard? Explorers like Ezreal? And a sheriff, a peacekeeper, a law-keeper, someone mindful of responsibility and the importance of saving every life possible, like Caitlyn? They’re stripped of that depth and complexity in-game, but there was always the lore that backed them up. But they’ve done away with that completely. Caitlyn was never special operations. She was never military. But now she is, because she had to be changed to fit better into a fighting game. They had to make her violent, and as a result, they have undermined not only everything about the character that made her interesting to begin with - turning her now into a representative of police brutality, but with long hair, pouty lips, and a thigh gap - but they’re also re-writing the context of Piltover. It was bad enough to squish Piltover and Zaun together. But now, Caitlyn’s update is proof that Piltover has gone from a steampunk utopia to a violent, oppressive and cynical post-industrial world. The depiction of Caitlyn as a SWAT team leader (complete with special-forces beret, because hat! Caitlyn wears a hat! Nevermind the fact that she’s no longer wearing a distinctive tophat but instead a symbol of extreme state-sponsored force!) shows us that Piltover’s ‘army’ is not designed as a defence against outsiders, but as an offensive force against their own people. Caitlyn is supposed to be the representation of how peace and order is maintained in one of the largest factions in League of Legends, and if her method of maintaining order is straight-up police violence against their own citizens, then it’s not really peace and order. It’s authoritarianism at best, and facism at worst.

Piltover was different from every other nation in Runeterra because it didn’t have a military. It had defenders, and it had a powerful economy, and it had a democratic political system. But the Piltover update retconned Caitlyn’s hard work. The gangs were back - though now they’re big powerful families like Clan Ferros - and Caitlyn has been de-aged so that she’s still new to the force, that she hasn’t even had her chance to change anything. Her importance to Piltover is minimised... and why is Vi even there? (Oh boy I guess you’re going to have to watch Arcane to find out! Coming to a Netflix near you soon!) With a younger Caitlyn in a violent society, she has no choice but to be violent herself... even if that undermines everything previously established about Piltover and about Caitlyn. This update has made Piltover just as ugly and oppressive as Demacia, Noxus, and Zaun. It’s just another army equipped to do violence, but now that violence is turned inwards. This isn’t protection, it’s control. It’s fear. It’s oppression. Caitlyn is no longer a peacekeeper. She’s a monster. Chopped and changed, as I feared, into something completely unrecognisable from how she began in a world that no longer looks like what it had been... or should be.

It’s hard to tell what came first, the change to Piltover or the change to Caitlyn. Either way, the changes are inextricably linked. Caitlyn was integral to Piltover’s modern state, and Piltover is integral to Caitlyn as a character. Her (original) drive was to make the city and all its people better; Piltover was a utopia because of the effort of Caitlyn, and of people like her, people who wanted a better world. This new iteration of Piltover - full of fear and violence and hypocricy, layered over Zaun in such a way that makes ham-fisted commentary about the wealth/class divide - undermines the value of the individual. It removes agency. It removes hope, which had been integral to Piltover. Piltover is no longer the CIty of Progress... it’s the City of ‘you better be rich and pretty if you want to progress’. And Caitlyn is no longer a force for good or a representative of responsibility, because those things don’t exist in Piltover anymore. Legends of Runeterra has turned Caitlyn into a bitch, someone to hate. She has a marked lack of respect for people, as demonstrated in her new character traits of ‘casually-racist’ (her lines to Veigar), ‘condescending’ (her lines to Viktor), with some added pride in her violence (’here’s my calling card *shoots gun*’ and ‘I aim to win and my aim is excellent’). She is a representative of her city, and she is a terrible person now. Piltover is terrible. Piltover is ugly.

But Caitlyn avoids that last part. And she’ll get away with it, because she’s a hot twenty-something.

In 2015, I drew Caitlyn-as-Swain, as an AU for what might have been. The overwhelming response at the time was ‘aaa she’s so hot I’d follow that leader of Noxus’, prompting a good friend Swain RPer to comment that Swain - who was, at the time, the withered man in green and gold who needed a cane - was just as smart as Caitlyn if not more so, a proven capable leader, but when it comes down to it, sex-appeal will always trump characterisation and storytelling, and that’s disheartening for someone who puts so much work into stories, to context, to something deeper than ‘Just another MOBA’. And here I am, in 2021, looking at how Caitlyn has been stripped of her fascinating and complex characterisation while maintaining her long legs, long hair, and corsetted figure. Now, I do appreciate the fact they’ve given her a better costume than miniskirt and boobtube. She deserves so much better. I even commissioned back in 2015 for a Better Look for Caitlyn; Tom aka FaerieFountain went on to make her new look canon. But she’s supposed to be a detective. She’s supposed to be careful and methodical and mindful of her status and power. Instead, she’s been made gleefully violent, leaving a lot of depth behind in order to become just Hot Cop With Gun. (As an aside, was anyone else uncomfortable with Caitlyn’s high-school skin? Especially when the writer actually tweeted ‘step on me’? Hello? Ma’am? That is a high school student, that is a CHILD you are talking about? But Caitlyn is hot so it’s fine! Sexualise a child! it’s fine, she’s hot, it’s fine!) Almost everyone who has contacted me about Caitlyn’s LoR cards has been excited to see her. Good! She’s a great character! Or, she was. But the enthusiasm about her is tied to how she’s so violent, how she uses her power to abuse those who don’t conform. But she looks great, smoking hot, you know? And when she’s smoking hot, her dangerous and abusive behaviour and attitude are completely excused. An update to a character needs to take into account characterisation as well as the visuals. Her update, sadly, has focused on the all-too-prevalent problem of the viciousness of state-sponsored violence, rather than the complexity of detective work, of puzzle solving and intellectualism, but because she looks hot and speaks in that British accent, no-one’s going to care. Hot ladies can get away with so much, because legs and pouty lips, but I guess she’s also a cop or whatever.

And, as a momentary aside, why is an eco-terrorist suddenly Caitlyn’s longtime foe? It makes zero sense for Piltover and for Caitlyn that someone who plant-based powers is her biggest rival and the city’s biggest threat. Zero sense, until you take into account that Piltover has been stripped of its character and made into something more aligned with modern authoritarianism than the hopeful vibes of steampunk. Environmentalism? Not on my watch! Deploy the police (the good guys!) to silence the protesters (who are obviously the bad guys becase they’re protesting)! Because Piltover and Zaun are one city now, and therefore indistinguishable, we have a fucking Poison Ivy character causing enough trouble in Piltover to warrant entire fucking SWAT teams opening fire within the city limits and around peoples’ homes! Not Zaun, which is the environmental nightmare, but Piltover! With its fresh air and open skies! Yes, that’s a great place for an eco-terrorist to blame and/or try to fix! The whole thing is honestly so backwards! Like they’ve decided to make a cool character in the form of Corina and just shove her into the story, rather than finding a place in the narrative that suits her. The idea that Corina is C makes no sense. Caitlyn vs C is supposed to be Sherlock versus Moriarty, Ganimard versus Lupin, ACME versus Carmen Sandiego, world’s greatest detective against the world’s greatest thief. It focused on the intellectual battle, the need for self-improvement, and - most importantly! - that this was a fight that didn’t result in gunfire or people being put in bodybags. But we can’t have that in our fighting game! We can’t have people thinking, because that’s not the kind of game we have, it’s left-click-shoot out here on the Rift or in the cards. So now we have a woman with plant powers bombing Piltover, and a policewoman kicking down doors and opening fire. And she’s right there, in Caitlyn’s new splash art, within reaching distance of the sheriff!

She’s right there! In hot pink with a flower in her fucking hair! And Caitlyn doesn’t even notice? Looks like one of my major gripes about Caitlyn being updated - Incompetence - is rearing its ugly head. She cannot even see someone not five feet from her. Oooh, look out, Piltover, no-one can figure out why this single eco-terrorist is causing problems for years, but Caitlyn will figure it out! With her gun! Because she’s a cop with a gun, and cops with guns never cause more problems than they solve, right?

Look... I know. I know she’s not my character. I know that everything I’ve done is fan-interpretation. But I’ve worked for so long and hard and done so much research, and things I’ve done have even been seen by - and used by! - the company itself (not just in the ‘oh what a coincidence’ sense, either, I know my link on Hextech as a form of magic made it to several of the writers, some of whom later contacted me). I might be too jaded by all the disappointment to take it personally anymore, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still happen. We know Riot Games could be and should be better. So many people in this community - and people who have since moved on - put so much love and effort into the characters and the world, building up from scraps and guesswork and extrapolation. It wasn’t our world, but we enjoyed playing in it. We enjoyed struggling in it, because it pushed us to be thoughtful, creative, to be engaged and interested. Critical Theory doesn’t have to be negative... but this recent update to Caitlyn’s character and to Piltover as a whole is... it’s a step backwards. They’ve gone for the ‘ooh isn’t this gritty and dark’ approach, and swept away so much of what made the original so interesting, creative, engaging to begin with. They’d rather have controversy than people genuinely enjoying the thing that they’re opening their wallet for.

Caitlyn was a detective who focused on responsibility, intellectualism, and care. What she is now is not the same Caitlyn they started with, and expresses a set of values that I do not support. This blog will continue to be focusing on the old lore, on what Piltover has been and what it should be: a hopeful utopia, a place for people to grow and be responsible and thoughtful and mindful of their place on the world stage. It’s not going to be perfect, but there’s hope, and there’s people here who want the world, and everyone in it, to be better than it is. I hope you join me, no matter who you are.

#oops I essayed again #Not Your Piltover #caitlyn #riot please #character development #piltover

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 3 years

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Under The Blood

a Prayer by Charles Spurgeon

JEHOVAH our God, we thank Thee for leaving on record the story of Thine ancient people. It is full of instruction to ourselves. Help us to take its warning to avoid the faults into which they fell! Thou art a covenant God and Thou keepest Thy promises and Thy Word never faileth. We have proved this so hitherto—

“Thus far we find that promise good, Which Jesus ratified with blood.”

But as for ourselves, we are like Israel of old, a fickle people and we confess it with great shame, there are days when we take the timbrel and we sing with Miriam, “Unto the Lord who triumphed gloriously,” and yet we grieve to say it, not many hours after, we are thirsty and we cry for water and we murmur in our tents. The brackish Marah turns our heart and we are grieved with our God. Sometimes we bow before Thee with reverence and awe when we behold Thy Sinai altogether on a smoke, but there have been times when we have set up the golden calf and we have said of some earthly things, “These be Thy gods, O Israel.” We believe with intensity of faith and then doubt with a horribleness of doubt.

Lord, Thou hast been very patient with us. Many have been our provocations, many have been Thy chastisements, but—

“Thy strokes are fewer than our crimes, And lighter than our guilt.”

“Thou hast not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.” Blessed be Thy name!

And now fulfil that part of the covenant wherein Thou hast said, “A new heart also will I give thee and a right spirit will I put within thee. I will put My fear in their hearts and they shall not depart from Me.” Hold us fast and then we shall hold fast to Thee. Turn us and we shall be turned. Keep us and we shall keep Thy statutes.

We cry to Thee that we may no more provoke Thee. We beg Thee rather to send the serpents among us than to let sin come among us. Oh! that we might have our eye always on the brazen serpent that healeth all the bites of evil, but may we not look to sin nor love it. Let not the devices of Balaam and of Balak prevail against us, to lead Thy people away from their purity. Let us not be defiled with false doctrine or with unholy living, but may we walk as the separated people of God and keep ourselves unspotted from the world. Lord, we would not grieve Thy Spirit. Oh! may we never vex Thee so as to lead Thee in Thy wrath to say, “They shall not enter into my rest.” Bear with us still for His dear sake whose blood is upon us. Bear with us still and send not the destroying angel as Thou didst to Egypt, but again fulfil that promise of Thine, “When I see the blood I will pass over you.”

Just now may we be consciously passed over by the Spirit of condemnation. May we know in our hearts that, “There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.” May we feel the peace giving power of the divine absolution. May we come into Thy holy presence with our feet washed in the brazen laver, hearing our great High Priest say to us, “Ye are clean every whit.” Thus made clean, may we draw near to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Further, our heavenly Father, we come before Thee now washed in the blood, wearing the snow white robe of Christ’s righteousness, and we ask Thee to remember Thy people. Some are sore burdened—lighten the burden or strengthen the shoulder. Some are bowed down with fear, peradventure they mistrust—forgive the mistrust and give a great increase of faith that they may trust Thee where they cannot trace Thee. The Lord remember any who bear the burden of others. Some cry to Thee day and night about the sins of the times, about the wanderings of Thy Church. Lord, hear our prayers! We would bear this yoke for Thee, but help us to bear it without fearing so as to distrust Thee. May we know that Thou wilt take care of Thine own case and preserve Thine own truth and may we therefore be restful about it all.

Some are crying to Thee for the conversion of relatives and friends. This burden they have taken up to follow after Jesus in the cross bearing. Grant them to see the desire of their heart fulfilled. God, save our children and children’s children, and if we have unconverted relatives of any kind, the Lord have mercy upon them for Christ’s sake. Give us joy in them—as much joy in them as Christians, as we have had sorrow about them as unbelievers.

Further, be pleased to visit Thy Church with the Holy Spirit. Renew the day of Pentecost in our midst, and in the midst of all gatherings of Thy people may there come the downfall of the holy fire, the uprising of the heavenly wind. May matters that are now slow and dead become quick and full of life and may the Lord Jesus Christ be exalted in the midst of His Church which is His fulness, “the fulness of Him that filleth all in all.” May multitudes be converted. May they come flocking to Christ with holy eagerness to find in Him a refuge as the doves fly to their dovecotes.

Oh! for salvation work throughout these islands and across the sea and in every part of the world, specially in heathen lands. Bring many to Christ’s feet, we pray Thee, everywhere where men are ready to lay down their lives that they may impart the heavenly life of Christ. Work, Lord, work mightily! Thy Church cries to Thee. Oh, leave us not! We can do nothing without Thee! Our strength is wholly Thine! Come to us with great power and let Thy Word have free course and be glorified.

Remember every one that calls Thee Father. May a Father’s love look on all the children. May the special need of each one be supplied, the special sorrow of each one be assuaged. May we be growing Christians, may we be working Christians, may we be perfected Christians, may we come to the fulness of the stature of men in Christ Jesus. Lord Jesus, Thou art a great pillar. In Thee doth all fulness dwell. Thou didst begin Thy life with filling the water pots to the full. Thou didst fill Simon Peter’s boat until it began to sink. Thou didst fill the house where Thy people were met together with the presence of the Holy Ghost. Thou dost fill heaven. Thou wilt surely fill all things. Fill us, oh! fill us today with all the fulness of God and make Thy people thus joyful and strong, and gracious and heavenly!

But we cannot leave off our prayer when we have prayed for Thy people, though we have asked large things. We want Thee to look among the thousands and millions round about us who know Thee not. Lord, look on the masses who go nowhere to worship. Have pity upon them. Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. Give a desire to hear Thy Word. Send upon the people some desire after their God. O Lord, take sinners in hand thyself. Oh! Come and reach obstinate, obdurate minds. Let the careless and the frivolous begin to think upon eternal things. May there be an uneasiness of heart, a sticking of the arrows of God in their loins, and may they seek to the great physician and find healing this very day. Ah! Lord, thou sayest, “Today, if ye will hear His voice,” and we take up the echo. Save men today, even today. Bring them Thy Spirit in power that they may be willing to rest in Christ. Lord, hear, forgive, accept, and bless, for Jesu’s sake. Amen.

#Charles Haddon Spurgeon #prayer #Under The Blood

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

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🌙 To You Who Rejected Me 🌙

***

Many feared Gladiola, even the ones who lived outside the city. They see her as the most powerful Elf next to the Queen, who has never showed herself for almost five centuries. And due to the Queen's lack of public appearance, Gladiola's family was given the task to protect the Elven realm and the royal families who lived in it. They stood as the sturdy wall protecting everyone from the threat of their worst enemy, and without them, chaos would spread across the land.

Everywhere she went, Elves and all other creatures bowed before her as a sign of both fear and respect. Men trembled where they stand when she passed by, and women simply wanted to be like her. Her brother valued her as his most powerful ally, his trump card that never lost a single battle.

There was not a single soul in the land who didn't know her face and the frightening prowess that came along with it.

Gladiola's eyebrows slightly raised in a matter of a millisecond the moment she heard laughter coming from behind the heavy wooden doors of her brother's quarters. She stopped for moment and waited, her arms quietly resting on her sides, and a few moments later, the doors finally opened.

And from those doors, two women wearing such heavy makeup and overly - ornamented clothing came out, looking quite bedazzled and over the moon. The moment they saw Gladiola standing before them just outside her brother's quarters, they instantly stopped giggling like a pair of inexperienced school girls who just got caught by their terrifying tutor and bowed before her.

Gladiola ignored them, letting them walk away, and entered the room. There, she found her almighty brother in his casual clothing, looking relaxed and carefree, sitting on a plush sofa in the middle of the room just next to the massive window overlooking the entire city.

"Sister! Welcome, welcome." Her brother greeted cheerfully, beckoning her to come closer.

Stopping a few feet away from her brother, she went down on one knee with her head bowed down low and spoke, "How may I be of service?"

Her brother leaned in closer, and with a knowing smile, he said, "From now on, I want you to watch over those prisoners from the mortal realm. I want you to keep an eye on them, and if necessary," The smile vanished from the handsome male's face, to be replaced with spite and anger, and added, "I want you to give them a fierce punishment that they would never ever forget. Something that would scar their mortal existence forevermore. That one in red," He said, his fists clutching, a vein visibly popping from his forehead. " ... he annoys me very much. He calls me by this name which I do not have the slightest knowledge of. If he misbehaves, I want you, my sister, to take care of him in the language we, Elves of the High Race, know." His frown vanished to be replaced with that knowing smile once more as he leaned on the sofa and crossed his legs. And in a much calmer tone, he said, "I want you to do it now."

"But, Gladiolus, I' am here to visit my sister to - "

"You can do it next week during the Convergence." Her brother cut her off in a venomous tone. "Are we clear?"

The female Elf looked into her brother's eyes, ignoring the strange little red marks on his neck which were fairly hidden by his long platinum hair, and asked, "Is there something else you need me to do?"

"None," He answered as his slender hand glided over his beautiful platinum strands of hair. " ... as of the moment."

Standing tall and proud and with another bow of respect, she answered, "Very well. As you wish,... brother." She turned away from him without another word and made her way towards the door. She could hear the faintest sounds coming from behind it. Laughter? She opened the doors and lo and behold, behind them stood two females, looking very much like the first two who just left a few minutes ago, who were shocked to see her inside her own brother's quarters. The ladies, like their predecessors, stopped giggling and made way for her.

Behind her, she heard her brother exclaim, "Esmé! Carla! Ladies! Such an honor to see your lovely faces." And before she closed the heavy doors shut, she heard his voice once again, "Do ignore my sister. She's only a bit, ahh,... stoic,... "

***

The curious sounds made by his brother and those two women were still fresh on her mind when she went towards the other end of the castle where they were holding the mortal prisoners they caught yesterday. And as she walked down that dark hallway towards the west wing, she couldn't push the foreboding feeling off her mind. It nagged at her, actually begging her to turn around and leave. But, she knew she must do her obligations, no matter what.

And when she arrived on that one cell, she saw one of the men, the skinnier one, sitting forlornly and quietly across his companion who was still sleeping and snoring quite obnoxiously. He was reading a book, his eyes focused on it like his life depended on it.

He knew she was there but, he didn't even turn his head towards her in acknowledgement. There was clearly a hint of confidence in the way he carried himself despite his fragile - looking frame, and Gladiola felt right then and there that she must take extra care around him. She was strong but, she knew how to take a second look at her opponents. She knew when not to underestimate them.

"If you are here to torture us with your,... Elven ways," Still not taking his eyes off his book, the man told her in a deep and calm tone. " ... then I' am obliged to tell you that you have to wait for a bit longer. I'm afraid to say my brother's," He looked up, not to look at her but at the man who was still sleeping in front of him. " ... knocked out quite good." His eyes went back to his book, a smirk gracing his lips. Turning a page with his strangely tattooed hand, he added, "And is nowhere near waking up."

Gladiola smiled at such confidence. He really didn't know what he's gotten himself into. "And what, pray tell, do you know about the Elven ways of torture?"

His eyes left the book and he finally looked at her in the eye.

And those green eyes of his,... there was not a hint of fear or even insincerity in them.

In fact, that gaze of his did seem to look like he was actually challenging her in some way she couldn't quite explain.

"Given the fact that I' am,... unable to summon my familiars here,... it's safe to say that," He said, giving clear emphasis on each and every word, and paused. He, then, closed his book, got up on his feet, and faced her, simply towering above her. " ... your methods are quite," That pause once more. And with that smirk of his, he finally dropped the word. " ... unorthodox."

The female shook her head as she crossed her arms. Looking up at him with an equally confident smile, she informed him, "The cell you are in are made for prisoners with magical abilities. The very materials used in constructing this state of the art room could restrict all forms and types of magic from all known creatures. I'd say, the only thing that is unorthodox here is my presence." Gladiola went closer to the man. Standing a foot away from the cell bars that separated her from the prisoner, she added in a soft whisper, "Be a sweetheart and try to behave yourself. My brother has no qualms of sparing the likes of," She stopped mid - sentence to give a disgusted glance at the other person, now drooling and mumbling something inaudible in his sleep, then looked at the man once again. " ... you. A snap of his fingers could very well spell your own doom."

For a moment, the man only looked at her with such an intense expression, and a few seconds later, he gave his answer with a nod. "That,... I understand. Although," He stopped and gave a knowing look at his companion, who began to stir in his deep slumber. " ... you might also want to inform him of that." Looking at her once more, he walked closer towards the cell bars and took a hold of them with those tattooed hand of his. Leaning a bit closer to her, he whispered, "We don't stand for anyone who destroys people's houses, not to mention the attempt to murder the innocent."

The intensity in the man's voice almost lured Gladiola to the edge. However, unlike her brother, she's very patient. Reining in her temper, her powers, and the urge to knock the man down and make him kneel before her, she said in an authoritative tone, "Accusation of murder against the royal family could lead to your demise. I suggest you be careful of what words to utter in my presence."

And to this, the man only raised an eyebrow. "That's quite,... confusing."

"What is?" Gladiola questioned him. "What's difficult to understand in - ?"

"You mean to say you go about killing innocent people, and you simply get away with it because you're royalty?" With furrowed eyebrows and curled lips, he tightened his grip on the cell bars and leaned as close as he could get to the female Elf. And with that unnerving smirk of his, he said, "How,... perfectly convenient that is."

"I said it once, and I will repeat it one last time." Gladiola gave the man a challenging look as she braced herself for what's to come. "Accusation of murder - "

However, something in the man's eyes made Gladiola's own wide with disbelief. Something in the way he stared her down told her that he was gravely and utterly serious with what he just revealed. Not only were his words intense. His eyes also gave the impression that she and her people were, in fact, the ones who were at fault, and not them.

Those intense jade gaze of his sent a clear message that he wanted to be heard, and he would not stand by idle without defending himself, for the sake of fair justice.

Gladiola was about to go on with her statement when the two of them heard a loud and awful yawning coming from the floor to her left.

"Oh, wherefore art thou, oh Romeo,... " The man in red mumbled in a husky voice. "Thought Vergil fell asleep and left the t.v. on the Boomer Classic channel again. Turns out you two, nerds, started chatting without me." The man looked up and winked at Gladiola, flashing her his toothy grin. "Sounds a bit unfair, eh, babe?"

Almost fuming with rage at how this insolent man called her attention, Gladiola tore her gaze off the men and walked away, not wanting to do something unnecessary to them. She was far superior compared to the likes of them, and she refused to lower herself to their level by simply being lured by their innocent facade of a bait and actually using her power against them.

Then again, she was given a clear and direct instruction by her brother to punish them should they misbehave. Everything with regards to their fate was left entirely to her own hands.

But, then, at the last second, she refused to lift a single finger. She could easily wave her hand and break their necks but, something pulled her in and prevented her from doing so. She had no difficulty whatsoever in dealing with the nitty gritty side of her responsibilities but, there was something in that man's eyes, something in his words and the way he looked, that made her pull back.

That confidence. That dignity.

That,... conviction,... that they weren't the ones at fault.

Maybe it was a fluke of fate that made her deal with the dark - haired man first. Maybe next time she would deal with the filthier one instead. After all, he seemed very easy to manipulate,...

Her thoughts about the prisoners, especially that dark - haired one, were still going about her already preoccupied mind when she went back to her brother's quarters that afternoon. And there, she found him dining sumptuously with a large group of servants waiting for him and bringing him whatever he needs.

And when he saw her, he was quite baffled and alarmed. Offended even.

"Sister! Do you mind? I'm in the middle of my feast, and it seems you have forgotten you are not allowed to join." Her brother snapped at her, his eyes furious and his eyebrows knitted.

Gladiola fell on one knee and bowed her head. "My humblest apologies, dear brother."

Gladiolus sighed and shook his head. Snapping his fingers at one of the servants, he asked her, "What is your business here at this ungodly hour of the day? And you better make this visit worth my precious time."

The Elf Gladiola slightly lifted her head. Searching for her brother's gaze, she spoke, "The prisoners are awake. What shall I do with them?"

To this statement of hers, Gladiolus' hands froze in mid air as he was about to receive a bowl of grapes from a servant. And the servant, who was expecting the male Elf to take the bowl from her hands, made an awful mistake and dropped the bowl to the floor, breaking it and shattering it to pieces.

This made the male Elf even more furious. " YOU, STUPID LOW LIFE! DO YOU REALIZE YOU COULD'VE WOUNDED ME WITH YOUR CARELESSNESS? YOU, MINDLESS FOOL - !"

Gladiola looked away from the nasty sight of her brother and the poor servant being screamed at. Trying to drown out his awful voice, those words uttered by the dark - haired prisoner went back into her head.

You mean to say you go about killing innocent people, and you simply get away with it because you're royalty?

How,... perfectly convenient that is.

"BEGONE FROM MY SIGHT, YOU, USELESS LOW LIFE!" Gladiolus yelled, pointing at the servant and finally making her leave, which also made the others nervous because of his unpredictable temper. He looked at everyone in the room and went on, "What are you staring at? GET BACK TO WORK!"

The servants snapped off their frightened state and went on with their jobs, even though they looked like they were trembling from where they were standing.

Gladiolus closed his eyes and pursed his lips, balling his fists, then slamming them on the table. Looking at his sister, he said, "Do whatever you want with them. Toy with them, torture them, I don't care." The man leaned forward and pointed at his sister, who was still kneeling on the floor before him. "And should they step a toe out of line, kill them. I want them out of the way as soon as possible."

Gladiola searched his brother's eyes, pondering what to say to him. And seeing only unbridled fury there, and something else that she couldn't quite tell, she bowed her head and got up on her feet. "As you wish, dear brother."

Gladiolus sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. Leaning back into his plush chair, he said, "Get out of my sight. And never make the same mistake of ruining my supper again."

She has only been halfway through the day and already, Gladiola witnessed some things she never expected to see. Some,... changes,... she didn't expect to witness. For one thing, his brother's female callers often visited now compared last week. Despite knowing full well what they came there for, at the back of her mind, she knew that at this time of the year, her brother shouldn't be,... indulging,... in such worldly things.

And another thing. Since yesterday after they caught those mortal prisoners, something in him changed drastically. Well, he has always been quite the arrogant member of the family but, his attitude has dropped to the lowest in mere hours after throwing those mortals in their rightful place.

The Convergence was fast approaching, only six days left. And he, as a tournament competitor representing their race, must be in perfect form in order to win. Although it was clear that no one could best her brother when it comes to strength, she knew that he still shouldn't be too careless and negligent. As a warrior, herself, she knew that.

However, the way he acted when those mortals came,...

He never reacted in such a way with all the other criminals they caught in the past.

There was something that Gladiola was not seeing clearly. This piece of information was still playing in her mind when she saw one of the servants on the way to the prison cells, bringing some food. The servant saw her and immediately fell on his knees as a sign of respect.

"My Lady." He greeted, the tray of food, which contained only a piece of stale bread and a mug of water, still in his hands.

"Are these for those mortal prisoners?" Gladiola asked.

"Yes, My Lady." The servant answered, his head still bowed.

"Hand me that tray."

"P - pardon me, My Lady?"

She was not surprised to see the shocked face of the servant when she took the tray from his hands. What shocked her was the sight that greeted her when she arrived at the mortals' cell. She expected the men to make a ruckus and say all manner of awful things at her the moment she arrive but, no.

They were doing something else. They were,...

... passing around a piece of paper folded multiple times to make a form of some sort of flying animal.

And not just any type of paper. They were playing with the Convergence Tournament invitations passed out by the High Court's Elven Jester just yesterday!

Such,... blasphemous imbeciles!

The one in red noticed her presence and turned around to smile at her. "Oh, hey! Nice to see you back, babe. Ouch!" He winced in pain as the pointed part of the paper hit him in the temple. He caught the paper and scrutinized it like a critic. "Nice work, V. Now, this is some well - made paper crane."

"I did my best." The dark - haired man, whose name was apparently V, answered with his smirk.

"Alright, let's do the Yamato next - "

"Ahem!" Gladiola cleared her throat, calling their attention. The men did look at her, however, she suddenly felt a bit awkward around them, watching them play carelessly like that as if their lives were not in danger. "I brought you your supper."

"Finally! We're starving here, you know - ?" The man in red was about to get the tray from Gladiola when she pulled it away from his grasp, which earned her a pout from him. "Whoa, playing hard to get, eh?" The man smiled as he withdrew his hands. Leaning against the wall and crossing his legs to make himself look casual and comfortable on the floor, he smiled, tilted his head to the side, and said, "I guess this is the part where we answer your questions. Or else we get no food for the day, isn't that right?"

Gladiola raised her eyebrows and mimicked the man's moves. Sitting on the floor and carefully setting the tray aside, she said, "Shouldn't you be clamoring for your lives? Shouldn't you be begging me to save your skins from the wrath of the Elves?"

The man and V looked at each other, and a few moments later, they laughed, causing Gladiola's ears to heat up.

"Nah, that's only in movies! We don't do that!" The man in red answered with a wave of his hand. "After all, even if we do that, your brother would still have us killed, right?"

To this, the female smiled. "You might say that." Gesturing towards the men's filthy appearances, especially V with his missing footwear and tattered pants, she added, "Looks like you've been through a lot to get here."

"You could say that." The man answered. "Your folks just won't leave us alone. So, we decided to pay you a visit to talk things through. Isn't that right, V?"

"Indeed." V simply answered.

Gladiola absorbed this piece of information and went on with the interrogation. "If I'm not mistaken, you think our kind has been trying to murder you."

"Yes, and well, they destroyed our shop." The man in red said with an awkward little smile. He held up his finger and uttered, "Which reminds me! I haven't even paid the rent, water and electricity. So, you might as well give us - "

"Elven troops would not make a single move against anyone unless they were instructed by someone of royal blood to do so." Gladiola interrupted. "You knowing the existence of our kind is one thing. But to actually incur the wrath of the royal family, you must have done something awful and beyond pardon."

The man in red pursed his lips as he swallowed. Looking at V, who chose to remain silent, he explained, "W - well, it's a bit complicated. See, my brother here - "

"We only wanted to speak with the Princess." V cut him off mid - sentence. Giving Gladiola a look that was so different from what he gave her earlier, he said, "To solve a,... misunderstanding."

The female smiled as she nodded. "The Princess, I see. Well," She leaned against the wall and regarded V with a look of pity. " ... I might as well inform you that you will have a hard time convincing the council of your innocence with that awful, petty reason."

"And why is that?" V asked her.

Leaning forward and a bit closer to the cell bars, she said, "I'm the Princess." She ignored the man in red's dumbfounded facial expression and went on, "If you talk like that, surely, the council would think that I've been tolerating your actions, and believe me when I tell you this - no one would ever believe a single word you say."

"But, that doesn't make any sense!" The man in red spoke. "That angry female Elf, whoever she is, said she's gonna be the future Queen or something! She must be the Princess, then! Or you're just lying to us."

"I speak no lies." Gladiola answered. "But, if you're talking about the future Queen, then you must be referring to Galatea's descendant."

"Ahh,... what?" The man in red, who seemed to have become even more confused, questioned.

Gladiola shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You'll be dead, after all." She grabbed the stale bread from the tray and handed it to him, who took it a bit hesitantly. Watching the man break the bread in two and give the other piece to V, she said, "You said you're brothers."

"It,... doesn't matter." V answered, receiving the bread from his companion. "We'll be dead, after all."

"Anything else you wanna know?" The man in red asked, taking a bite off the only food he and his brother have. "I can sign you an autograph or bust a sick move before you hang me and V."

"There is another thing."

"Neat. What is that?"

"Those Elves who attacked you. What do they look like?"

"Dark, depressing." The man said as he received the mug of water from her hands. "Oh! And have I mentioned they looked like Voldemort's clones? But with noses, I'm sure."

"Voldemort?" Gladiola muttered in confusion.

"Dante, she doesn't know Harry Potter." V said, receiving the mug of water from him and taking a sip from it.

"Ah, yeah. What I mean is," The man in red, called Dante, looked at her eyes and held up his hands, doing weird gestures with them as if he was trying to perform a cheap magic trick. " ... they wore cloaks and they have magic!" Dante laughed at what he just said and did as he received the mug from V. "Hahaha! Eh, seriously though. We just want our shop back. And V here just wants to talk to (Y/N). Settle things with her." He smiled and winked at her. "You know the drill. After that, we'll quietly go home and consider all of this circus show just water under the bridge. A murky one at that! Still water, though."

So, it really was (Y/N),... "With her, I see. I'm sorry." Gladiola got up on her feet and took the empty tray with her. "I'm afraid to say you won't be able to speak with her for the next few centuries. As you've said, she's the future Queen. She will be during the Millennial Coronation. And her King would be decided with the upcoming Convergence Tournament."

"Let me guess." Dante held up a finger once more. "Legolas. He's one of the competitors for her hand?"

"How can you tell?"

Dante gave her that carefree smile once more. "I've seen enough fantasy movies with Patty to know where this is going. Right, V? Ehh, V?"

Gladiola didn't stick around to know what V's answer was. All she knew was that he seemed have become so crestfallen and confused the moment he found out about the Millennial Coronation and the Convergence Tournament. She also found out that the mortal men proved to be utterly innocent, no matter how odd they seemed,...

... and that the command for their murder didn't seem to come from any of the royal families.

Those Elves who attacked them, the ones Dante was talking about,...

... she knew they answered directly to her brother. Not to the current Queen or anyone else's, royal or honorable. They answered to him and him alone. She knew that.

But, why? Why would her brother kill these innocent men?

Unless,...

Gladiola didn't bother to knock at the door and just barged in completely unannounced that evening. And this time, she saw her brother having a meeting with several generals who have come directly from all the royal families of the Elven realm.

And when she entered the room, all of them seemed to look at her as if she was low life.

"Sister. Such a surprise you have to grace us with a visit. And right in the middle of an important meeting." Her brother said, a vein popping from his forehead, clearly from preventing himself from lashing out at her. "How,... very considerate of you."

You can't hurt me. You're a coward. "We're talking about secret meetings. I, as the General of your army, elect myself to be included."

And to this, the men, including her brother, all laughed, as if her words just then were utter trash.

"I assure you, sister, there's no need for your participation!" Her brother wheezed in between his boisterous bouts of laughter. "Soon, the forces of all the royal families would form the greatest alliance the Elven world has ever seen. They would all answer to me! When I' am King, no one would be able to topple us. And you, dear sister," Gladiolus went towards her. He, then, held her hand, and looked at her straight in the eye. " ... with your power, you would lead my legion. Together, I as King and you as my right hand, we would rule all the realms of this universe. And no one could bring us down, not even the Demon Sparda, himself." He, then, turned towards the men and spoke in a much louder voice. "Isn't that wonderful, gentlemen?"

Gladiola waited for their voices to dwindle down, and when they did, she took her hands off her brother's grasp and smiled up at him. "I believe you got it all wrong."

"Come again?" Her brother questioned, that vein popping up once more.

"(Y/N)." She answered. "My sister. She is the one who decides the fate of the Elven realm. Not me. Not even you, future King. You will answer directly to her, and not the other way around." Gladiola ignored the angry faces of the men in the room, including his brother's, and went on. "And who's to say you'll win the Convergence Tournament? You never know, someone who is stronger might be able to defeat you."

"And who would that be? Those mortals?" Gladiolus bellowed, once again making the men laugh. "They won't be able to defeat me! They can't even beat you! Besides," Gladiolus went back to the table and took his golden goblet. " ... they will stand on a trial tomorrow morning as soon as the sun rises. And they will be persecuted with crimes against the royal family. They will never get in my way of achieving eternal glory."

So, that's it. That's what you're worried about. "It seems like it. You are right as always, brother." Gladiola exclaimed, making her arrogant brother nod in agreement. "Now, I must keep going. I' am clearly disrupting your important meeting." She said and made her way towards the heavy wooden doors. And, before she left them, she added in a snide comment, "Oh, you might want to keep an eye on your private guards. They seemed to have developed a mind of their own."

Gladiola didn't wait for her brother's answer. All she knew was that her legs were carrying her as fast as they could to where the mortal men were imprisoned. And when she arrived there, she found Dante muttering some words she couldn't wrap her head around. And V? Well, it's safe to say he has somehow become a depressed blob of dark matter all gathered in one corner of the cell.

"I spy with my Devil Hunter eyes,... someone blonde and exquisite!" Dante muttered as if he was reciting a spell, then he looked at her with those tired and heavy - lidded eyes of his. The special cell could really make any creature tired and helpless. The mortals were not an exception. "Hey, babe. Wanna spend this lovely evening with me?" And clearly, Dante was beginning to have hallucinations.

Gladiola ignored Dante's weak advances and called V's attention. The dark - haired man looked up and as those deep green hopeless eyes of his stared directly into her soul, she said, "Do you really not see anything else but this cell? Look outside that window."

Both V and Dante did as she instructed, and for the first time in almost two days, they finally noticed the other castle not far from where they were.

"As you now know, this is not the only castle in this realm. This is just one of many." Gladiola told them. Hoping they would get the hint, she added, "Also, magic works outside this cell. I hope you haven't forgotten about that." She smiled and nodded as she witnessed how the men's facial expressions changed from hopeless to hopeful. She turned around and was about to leave when she decided to give them one last hint with such emphasis on each word. "Oh, and do try to behave yourselves tomorrow. You'll have audience with the future Queen." She turned around just in time to see V's face light up. "Try not to say or do anything rash and unnecessary and just put your trust in the hands of the Sisters of Fate."

And with those last words, Gladiola finally retired for the evening. Or did she?

***

"V." Dante whispered, unable to sleep because of his brother's weird actions. The poet has been sticking his skinny arm outside the one small window of the cell and doing all sorts of gestures with it that Dante found awfully insane. "V, should you really do that in the middle of the night?!" The Devil Hunter sighed and closed his eyes. Leaning against the cold wall, he muttered, "Can they at least give me one slice of pepperoni supreme before they hang me to death?"

"No one," V exclaimed in a very tired and hoarse voice. " ... is going,... to get hanged!"

And with all the demonic prowess he had gathered and focused into one spot of his body, which was his arm, he made one last attempt to give his wild idea a form, and lo and behold,...

... he was able to summon his avian familiar outside the cell, sixty or so meters above the ground.

The avian stretched his wings like he was just waking up from a deep slumber and allowed his power to run through his blue - feathered body.

"And who the heck kissed me awake?!" Griffon squawked. "I was having a really good dream here!"

"I'm afraid to say that dream of yours will have to wait,... for a bit longer."

Griffon turned around and was shocked to see both his master and Dante in a prison cell before him.

"V! YOU LOOK LIKE A PRUNE! WHAT HAPPENED TO YA?! WHAT IS GOIN' ON HERE?! WHAT - ?!"

"Listen to me very carefully," V wheezed as he held onto the bars of the window for support. " ... I want you,... to go to that castle,... and find her."

"I'm sorry, who?"

"(Y/N)!" V almost moaned in agony. "Find (Y/N), tell her we're here. And tell her we're not going to make it."

"V, what the hell are ya blabberin' about? Ya have to be specific here, man!"

"Tell her those Elves are going to kill us tomorrow!" Dante, who just got up, wide awake, explained. "And if we don't do something, all of us will die! Is what V wanted to say." The man, then, collapsed on the floor, knocked out and unconscious.

"Please, Griffon." V asked, his eyesight getting more and more blurry. "We rely,... on you."

"Alright then, Shakespeare! I got ya! Trust this bird! I'll go get ya yer Princess in shining armor." Griffon reassured him and flew across the clear night sky towards the castle where the future Queen of the Elven realm await.

***

🌙

***

#Vitale #Dmc5 #Devil may cry 5 #To you who rejected me #Chapter 4 #The elf gladiola #V x reader #V x you

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Proposal (Rated T)

Summary: When Crowley discovers Aziraphale up late one night, fixing something about himself to make the two of them more of a pair, Crowley offers to lend a hand. (1798 words)

Notes: For the tumblr inbox ask prompt 'proposal'

(AO3)

“Aziraphale?” Crowley grumbles over the front end of a yawn, trundling barefoot from his bedroom to the living room without opening his eyes. “Are you awake already?”

‘Of course, he is,’ he replies to himself when Aziraphale doesn’t – surprising but not too alarming. ‘He barely sleeps so there’s nothing to wake up from.’

Crowley, on the other hand, was deep in the throes of one of the best dreams he’s ever had.

Technically, since demons don’t dream, he implants a thought in his mind before he shuts his eyes. From there, it plays out like a movie inside his brain with him as the director, leading it to the outcome he wants. He hopes this most recent one will someday become a reality. But even with all the powers of his imagination, he can’t lead this dream to fruition on his own.

He needs a little help.

“Aziraphale? Where the Devil are you?”

Crowley briefly considers going back to bed and waiting for Aziraphale there, returning to his beautiful dream, but who knows how long that will be? He’s gotten used to lying beside his angel at night. They’ve slept together every night since they thwarted the Apocalypse. Aziraphale’s presence – his warmth, the sound of his breathing, even that blasted holy light of his – keeps Crowley’s nightmares away.

At this point, Crowley doesn’t think he could sleep peacefully without him.

“Aziraphale?” He reaches the living room, scanning for any speck of light – namely Aziraphale’s aura, which he reads by. But there is no light, no book on the coffee table, no empty mug of cocoa, no sign at all that Aziraphale has been there. Crowley shuffles off and searches the rest of his flat, blinking awake with each step, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyelids to speed the process along.

“A-zira-phale …” He circles back toward the bedroom when a fluttering, like the beating of a pigeon’s wings as it rises off the pavement, pulls him down the hallway towards the bathroom. “Where art thou, Aziraphale?” he mutters, curious why his angel would be checking his wings at this hour of the night.

Or possibly morning.

He’s too afraid to check the time.

He rounds the corner and gets blinded even though he’s nowhere near the door, the light from the bathroom so incredibly bright, he almost miracles a pair of shades to shield his eyes. But the painful white glow dissolves quickly, leaving behind spots in his vision.

“Azira---?” He stops at the door, shaking the last of the sleep from his brain, and immediately realizes two things. The first - the bright light wasn’t coming from the bulb overhead, but from Aziraphale performing magic. The second is that Aziraphale has changed, his new look seizing Crowley’s heart, sobering him up the second he sets eyes on him.

Aziraphale spots Crowley in the mirror, but not in enough time to hide what he’s done.

“Crowley! Oh!” Aziraphale spins around, reaching behind him, fruitlessly attempting to shove his wings out of sight.

Magicked black wings.

“Aziraphale …” Crowley walks over to him, squinting in confusion “… what are you doing?”

“I was … I was just …” Aziraphale peeks back at the mirror, at himself and his wings, and sighs. “I was trying something new.”

“I’ll say.” Crowley runs a hand down Aziraphale’s right wing, examining the stunning feathers. They look so much like his own, he’s tempted to unfurl his wings to compare. But seeing those black feathers, knowing they’re Aziraphale’s, makes him uneasy. “But why? You love your wings.”

“I thought it might be nice if the two of us … matched. So we seemed more a pair.” Aziraphale cringes, eyes shifting from Crowley’s reflection in the mirror to the bathroom sink, his cheeks cherry red. “It’s asinine, I know.”

“No, it’s not.” Crowley puts his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders and kneads gently. “I’m touched that you’d want to change something you cherish so the two of us could match. But black? It isn’t you.”

“It isn’t, huh?”

“No. But if you’d let me, I have an idea …”

Aziraphale watches Crowley raise a hand over his wing. He shakes his head nervously.

“Oh, no! You d-don’t have to ...”

“Angel, I used to design nebulas. You don't trust me to design your wings? “

“Of course, I do. It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

“I don’t …” Aziraphale chews his lower lip, slightly embarrassed “… I don’t want you to humor me. I know I’m being silly.”

Crowley ducks under Aziraphale’s wing so he can look his angel in the eyes. “I’m not humoring you. And I don’t think you’re being silly. So let me help you, all right?”

Aziraphale nods, but that doesn’t mean he necessarily agrees. Crowley can say he approves all he likes, but Aziraphale still feels silly. “All right.”

“Good! Now, let me see, let me see …” Crowley taps his chin in thought. “Let’s go with … something old …” He snaps his fingers, turning Aziraphale’s wings back to white. “Something new …” He runs a hand over his feathers from the shoulder joint outward and silver sparkles appear, dusting Aziraphale’s wings, reminiscent of the stars in the sky.

“H-how are you doing that?” Aziraphale asks, in awe of Crowley’s talent. Demon magic, as far as Aziraphale understands, mostly works by breaking things down. Destroying them. But Crowley’s magic is different. It’s fueled by his imagination. He’s discovered a loophole.

A way to use destruction to create.

“I'm removing some of the color from your feathers. It’s not particularly demonic. You'll be able to fix it if you want.”

“And if I don’t want to fix it?”

Crowley grins. “It’ll stay as long as you let it. Something borrowed ...” Another wave of his hand and the silver stars get ethereal black shadows added to them, giving them depth, making Aziraphale’s wings appear multidimensional. “And something blue, to match your eyes.” With a flourish of his fingers, blue springs up along the bottom edge of Aziraphale’s wings - a soft powder blue lightly brushed along the tips, adding more of a suggestion than a declaration of color. Crowley examines his handiwork front and back, making sure it’s clean and even.

That it’s perfection for his angel.

“I think that does it. What do you think?”

Aziraphale stretches his wings up and out as far as they’ll go for full effect, then flaps to see how they would look in flight. “They’re … they’re gorgeous!” he gasps. “They truly are, but …”

“But?”

Aziraphale chuckles. He gives his wings one last flap, then folds them carefully behind him. “Everything you said … well, you made it sound like we were getting mar---” Aziraphale cuts himself short when a box appears on the sink in front of him, as if by magic. The counter had been clear before. Aziraphale is sure of it “---ried?” He watches Crowley pick the box up and open it, revealing an elegant but simple (surprisingly considering Crowley’s extravagant tastes) platinum band set with a single, pale blue stone in the center. It catches the light overhead, winking at Aziraphale the same way Crowley does. “Is that an … uh …?”

“I think the words you’re looking for are engagement ring.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s it.” Aziraphale turns his head to look at Crowley, staring back at the angel with a smug grin. “I-is it?”

“I would like it to be.”

Aziraphale stares Crowley down, waiting for the catch. The punchline. When there’s isn’t one, he sputters, “A-are you serious?”

“Yes! Aziraphale, we’ve known one another forever. And that’s not me being facetious. We’ve actually known one another forever. Since the beginning of time on Earth. And throughout all of the years we’ve spent here, do you know the one thing I have always looked forward to?”

“What?”

“Seeing you.” Crowley steps behind him, wraps his arms around his waist but keeps the ring ever in Aziraphale’s view. “And now that we live together and I see you every day, I never want to risk losing you. I don’t want you to ever doubt for one minute that the only place I want to be is by your side.”

Aziraphale stares at the ring, too afraid to take it out of its box and examine it. Because that will change everything. And whereas Aziraphale welcomes that change, he wants this moment to last - this stage in between yes and no. “We probably won’t be able to have a proper wedding ceremony, all things considered.”

“So what? We’re an angel and a demon, as you keep reminding me. And we happen to be in love, which is entirely unheard of. We are treading in unexplored country. I think we get to define what marriage means to us. Would that bother you?”

Aziraphale turns in Crowley’s arms, 6000 years’ worth of longing laid to bare in his eyes. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“In fact, we don’t need any kind of ceremony. You’re an angel. I was an angel. I think that gives us both a certain measure of authority in this arena. Here.” Crowley gently pulls out the ring and sets the box aside. He takes Aziraphale’s left hand in his, sliding the ring slowly down his ring finger. “Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden, you mean everything to me. You are my anchor. My strength. My inspiration. You’re my reason for waking up every morning. After 6000 years on this planet, I have narrowed down everything I adore to one single entity, and that’s you. And I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that it always has been. Will you do me the incredible honor of standing by my side until the sun explodes and this planet drowns in fire?”

Aziraphale frowns. “That’s incredibly vivid.”

“Love me till beyond the end of time?” Crowley continues. “And when all is said and done, accompany me to the end of the cosmos? Because there’s nowhere for me unless you’re there. There is no me without you, Aziraphale. Not anymore.”

“Do you mean all that?”

Crowley’s eyes roll. “I said it, didn’t I? Of course, I mean it. I love you. I think I always have. And I know I always will. So … will you marry me?”

Aziraphale looks at the ring on his finger. It’s precious, so much more to him than the one he’s worn on his pinkie since time began. He has no intention of ever taking it off. But it doesn’t compare to the demon holding him, waiting patiently for an answer.

Waiting for this moment, apparently, for close to 6000 years.

Same as he.

Aziraphale leans back in Crowley’s embrace and smiles.

“I will.”

#good omens #Good Omens Fanfic #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

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libidomechanica · 3 years

Text

Untitled (“Quotation I expect the house for signal shakings of Old”)

Quotation I expect the house for signal shakings of Old; nor shall we shower h

ave a bright dye: but whatsoeer the cost his

dinner to half the bosom where else I fynde: the river. Now, tell mama

to see i, sick withal, the gentle

into her face nor beauty with a new one, Breast; even forbid! to the darksome way; and think of proofs and pain this is true forme of Lochroyan, sheds beauteous face, bringing face; with lullaby thy perfect knowledge as you little pressure problem with our eyes looking-glass my red lips part as a carefull caustiks, blame my young to my darling be both law and lightfote Nymphes can within was not go away. And moons and the while I breathd on earth—and thou, my faith released from the West, and Heaven, no second whiskey, on that passes the Doctor he has not signal loneliness, to bring good. Who had been sleep, “where he not winced. T; were I to lie on the have some mair he cries, Love tempest, it displays itself, who did but dream; yet, by my faint, persistent scent beneath the chief transit. Each hour, with

a look; with baleful ardor burn, to be the furrows in the only pretty ring time for one more appeare; our Mother, strange flower. Toil is nowhere comfort is, she cried Sally Brown young Ben he was some part! How fair is as a tomb. ‘Tis better, een let

not for ever. And by the waters cannot chuse but say that Isle’ deceive; and if I blush. Will to the grave and his dead: and love is ( or should take afflictions make in the

summer and worke delyte?) And this new temptation; a little sisters say bulldaggers, queers ropes on the Seventh Of pity which was bright eyes, i remember. he halted on the night, and upon her buckles of her hard to Aristotles rules, all fair, thy shadow as Im nearing— i only recognise that

brush the exhausted heart with waking Wit I question, he, made for Poets on to put an end, and farthest shore, again and then you need not find him; I call, her on hylls, or dales, or our pseudo-syphilitic

Black men as guinea pigs it is perfect bliss, a few sad tears have heard her son to augur good on earth— it might have some rest; thou, thou art, if ten of the bed they can, have you bewitch: leaue me the king sitteth at his breeding; but this moment he had been the door; some half-torn drapery scatterd this failins, twill pleasd with his poor treason of m any a crown off and you say parataxis would flowe, of that thou wert, I call, the Vision greens I pickd up too, as we name him— but hear it be for Annie, dear pony!”

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #201 texts

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bobasheebaby · 4 years

Text

Sheldon Cooper Prompts

1 “I don't like bugs, okay. They freak me out.” “Interesting. You're afraid of insects and women. Ladybugs must render you catatonic.”

2 “Why are you crying?” “Because I'm stupid.” “That's no reason to cry. One cries because one is sad. For example, I cry because others are stupid, and that makes me sad.”

3 “I did a bad thing.” “Does it affect me?” “No.” “Then suffer in silence.”

4 “Then it's settled. NAME’s birthday present will be my genitals.”

5 “May I say something?” “Not right now, NAME.” “But I think it may be comforting.” “Buddy —“ “No, it's okay. What?” “When I lost my own father/mother, I didn't have any friends to help me through it. You do.”

6 “On the contrary I find the Grinch to be a relatable and engaging character. And I was really with him, right up to the point that he succumbed to social convention, returned the presents and saved Christmas.”

7 “I'm exceedingly smart. I graduated college at fourteen. While my brother/sister was getting an STD, I was getting a Ph.D. Penicillin can't take this away.”

8 “There's no denying that I have feelings for you that can't be explained in any other way. I briefly considered that I had a brain parasite, but that seems even more far-fetched. The only conclusion was love.”

9 “(3 knocks) “NAME!” (3 knocks) “NAME!” (3 knocks) “NAME!” “What happens if I say come in?” “Well, find out.” “Come in!” (silence) (3 knocks) “NAME 2!” (3 knocks) “NAME 2!” (3 knocks) “NAME 2!” “Come in!” “Keep it up. I've got nowhere else to be.” “Just come in.” “For future reference, if I want to watch Mean Girls, I'll just stream it on Netflix.”

10 “I'd like to go over some proposed changes to the roommate agreement, specifically to address NAME’s annoying personal habits.” “Oh my God! What personal habits?” “I have a list. FYI overuse of the phrase "Oh my God" is number 12.”

11 “Oh, big deal. Not knowing is part of the fun.” “‘Not knowing is part of the fun.’ Was that the motto of your community college?”

12 “Thankfully all the things my boyfriend/girlfriend used to do can be taken care of with my right hand.”

13 “Can I respond now?” “Do it.” “You mess with the bull, you get the horns. I'm about to show this guy just how horny I can be.” “Somebody else do it.”

14 “Well, he/she did soften your life, didn't he/she?” “Yes! He’s/She's like the dryer sheets of my heart!”

15 “Oh, I should probably tell you something about this gift.” “You mean, before you give it to me?” “Yes. But may I ask you a question before I give it to you?” “Of course.” “Why are we saying give it to you like that?”

16 “I'm not being weird. Am I being weird?” “Yes. And that's coming from me.”

17 “I thought you didn't like Facebook any more.” “Don't be silly, I'm a fan of anything that tries to replace actual human contact.”

18 “I would have been here sooner but the bus kept stopping for other people to get on it.”

19 “This is NAME. He's/she’s your best friend in the world.” “All right, just stop. This is ridiculous.” “Sometimes he/she gets cranky, but you can trust him/her with your life. And he/she does more things for you than I can even begin to list.” “Thank you.”

20 “This is why I've been saying we should keep champagne on ice.” “Sarcasm?” “Yes.” “That was tricky because when it comes to alcohol, he/she generally means business.”

21 “Oh gravity, thou art a heartless bitch.”

22 “I give up. He's impossible.” “I can't be impossible; I exist. I think what you meant to say is, 'I give up; he's improbable'.”

23 “Relax, it's just a dirty sock.” “How on earth can you say ‘dirty sock’ and ‘relax’ in the same sentence?”

24 “NAME , you know me to be a very smart man/woman. Don't you think that if I were wrong, I'd know it?”

25 “So, what do you guys do for fun around here?” “Well, today we tried masturbating for money.”

26 “No cuts, no buts, no coconuts.”

27 “When we watch Frosty the Snowman, he/she roots for the sun.” “Excuse me, but the sun is essential for all life on earth. Frosty is merely a bit of frozen, supernatural ephemera in a stolen hat. A crime, by the way, for which he is never brought to account.”

28 “Do you think we can outrun him/her?” “I don't need to outrun him/her, I just need to outrun you.”

29 “Ah, memory impairment; the free prize at the bottom of every vodka bottle.”

30 “What the hell's going on?” “You hypocrite.” “What?” “Little Miss Grown-Ups-Don't-Play-With-Toys! If I went into that apartment right now, would I not find Beanie Babies? Are you not an accumulator of Care Bears and My Little Ponies? And who is that Japanese feline I see frolicking on your shorts? Hello, Hello Kitty!”

31 “You're inferring I'm stupid.” “That's not correct. We implied you're stupid, you then inferred it.”

32 “You got me something?” “Oh. Not just something. It's from the heart, it's holiday-themed, and I swallowed the gift receipt so you can not return it.”

33 “You can't make a half sandwich. If it's not half of a whole sandwich, it's just a small sandwich.”

34 “I can't seem to get in touch with NAME. I tried e-mail, video chat, tweeting him/her, posting on his/her Facebook wall, texting him/her, nothing.” “Did you try calling him/her on the telephone?” “The telephone. You know, NAME, in your own simple way, you may be the wisest of us all.”

35 “How often does one see a beloved fictional character come to life?” “Every year at ComiCon. Every day at Disneyland. You can hire Snow White to come to your house. Of course they prefer if you have a kid.”

36 “Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty, Little Ball of Fur. Happy Kitty, Sleepy Kitty, Purr, Purr, Purr.”

37 “I'm the guy/girl.” “You're not the guy/girl.” “Are you sure? It would explain so much. Your constant presence in my apartment. That baffling dalliance with NAME just to be near me. The way you call me sweetie all the time.” “I call everyone sweetie.” “You tramp.”

38 “Do you want to say it?” “Let's say it together.” Both: “We're getting a turtle!”

39 “I've seen and talked to you more in the two days we've been broken up than in the last two months we were together.” “Well, if you want to see less of me, maybe we should go out again.”

40 “Are they making fun of us?” “Yep.” “I miss the old days when I couldn't tell.”

41 “Well, this is very pleasant.” “I'm glad you're enjoying yourself.” “And you said there would never be enough pasta for the three of us.”

42 “NAME, could I ask you a question?” “I would prefer that you not, but I wouldn't go so far as to forbid it.”

43 “If you don't mind, I'd like to stop listening to you and start talking.”

44 “There there, everything is going to be fine ... NAME’s here!”

45 “Are you listening to yourself?” “I always listen to myself. It's one of the great joys of my life.”

46 “You know what, go to Hell and set their thermostat.” “I don't have to go to Hell. At 73 degrees, I'm there already!”

47 “NAME, I excel at many things, but getting over you wasn't one of them. I think I need to just be your friend.”

48 “I have a two-part question.” “Go ahead.” “A: Are you kidding? And B: Seriously, are you freaking kidding me?” “A: I rarely kid, and B: when I do kid, you will know it by my use of the word ‘Bazinga’.” “So you're saying the two of you are going to be sleeping in the same bed?” “Yes. Bazinga.”

49 “Get back here, you stupid bird, so I can love you.”

50 “Acquiring a joint pet is a big step for us.” “It's true. It means we care so much about each other, there's enough left over for an eight-ounce reptile.”

#sheldon cooper #big bang theory prompts #big bang theory quotes #dialogue prompts #writing prompts #quaratine sucks and making these keeps my mind busy #i live in covid 19 hell

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apparitionism · 4 years

Text

Hark 3

The new year has hit me pretty hard, work-wise, so I apologize to @kla1991 and everyone else (including @bering-and-wells-exchange ) for my lack of timely continuation. This is the third part of my attempt at a holiday story, which began its cacophony in part 1 and continued, similarly unharmoniously, in part 2. There’ll be a fourth-part denouement, delayed mostly because it concludes in a conversation that I want to make sing in a way that it’s not quite doing yet. Patience may or may not actually be a virtue, but it’s much appreciated all the same.

Hark 3

Myka took a similarly dark view of Pete’s next idea: “If mistletoe’s a no-go,” he said, “on account of this being one of these, how about we chuck an artifact that makes them sing? I’ll aim for Myka’s head, then Steve can rebound and hit H.G. Gotta be some karaoke something-or-other that’d do that, right?”

“That wouldn’t fix anything,” Leena said, like she knew it for a fact. Myka wanted to ask her not “what else do you know,” but rather “do you know everything,” the answer to which was probably “yes, if you mean everything that’s relevant to this excruciating exercise.” Comforting, in its way. Also inconvenient, because it implied that part of the “everything” she knew was that Myka and Helena would have to sing. Of their own volition.

Claudia said, “Even though I didn’t know there was a these—proving that nobody tells me anything, and I promise someday that’s coming back to bite all of you—and even though Pete doesn’t want me on his artifact-ball team—”

“Steve’s taller,” Pete said.

“And that’s coming back to bite you too. Someday. But for now, I’m gonna be the magical elf who fixes it. H.G., what’s the lesson of A Charlie Brown Christmas?”

“Children are not immune from existential despair,” Helena said immediately.

Myka resented how endearing she found that.

Claudia sighed and said, “Why are you always right, but not like I want you to be?” Myka resented how true she found that. Claudia went on, “Okay, smarty, what’s another lesson?”

“One’s so-called friends are likely to scorn one’s attempts to celebrate the season.”

Not quite as endearing. Still right.

“But eventually they come around,” Claudia pronounced. “C’mon, H.G. Be the Linus you wish to see in the world. Or I guess you should be the Linus everybody other than you, or you and Myka, wish to see? Anyway, my point is, what’s the true meaning of Christmas?”

Helena’s hands rose to her temples again as she said, “But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only.”

Myka said, “I’m pretty sure it starts ‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field.’” She tried to mitigate her knee-jerk know-it-all-ness by offering, weakly, “I mean, if you’re really being the Linus.”

“I think H.G.’s flaunting again,” said Steve.

“I am repurposing,” Helena said. “A verse from the Epistle of James, as a Christmas thing. Being the sole Victorian representative, I claim the privilege.”

“Also you’re a pretty committed flaunter,” Myka said, because it was the case—and that too was knee-jerk, for she did not bear in mind, for the split second she said it, the full situation they were in. She’d said it as a tease, and they were nowhere near safe teasing ground.

But Helena’s mood had shifted—possibly because of Charlie Brown reasons, which possibly meant that Claudia really was a magical elf—for she said, “True. And truce? For the length of a verse: together as doers of the word, and not hearers only.”

“Fine,” Myka grudged. “But only so Claudia quits looking at us like we stole Christmas. And I pity the hearers.”

“As do I,” Helena said, solemn.

Claudia passed her phone to Helena. Myka leaned to read with her the words of the next verse. They both inhaled, looked at each other, and said “you start” at the same time. After a chorus of “geez,” “come on,” and similar from the annoying people who could actually sing (and who thus weren’t about to make fools of themselves), they gave up and got on with it.

And so they together submitted, in Wenceslasment:

“O dilecta domina, cur sic alienaris? An nescis, o carissima, quod sic adamaris? Si tu esses Helena, vellem esse Paris! Tamen potest fieri noster amor talis.”

The ensuing silence was eloquent enough, but Pete put it into words: “That’s a wow from me. I had no idea anything could sound that bad. Start to finish, next-level awful.”

“Thanks,” Myka said.

“You’re welcome. Seriously, if that was ‘Good King Wenceslas,’ then I’m good King Wenceslas.”

“And yet I feel like that did it? Made it happy?” Steve said, and Leena agreed with him.

Claudia said, “So I guess we’re calling Pete ‘good King Dub’ from now on.”

“I’m into it,” Pete said, “and my first royal decree is, I want to know what they just made it happy singing—or I guess I mean ‘singing’—about. Somewhere in the scary noises I heard ‘Helena,’ so something’s up.”

Helena said, “I have Latin, and I would rather not say.”

“So do I,” Myka said. “And ditto.”

“But for the rest of the class.” Claudia grabbed her phone back. “Okay, here’s what some guy Symonds said it meant, way back in, wait for it, ye olde Victorian times.”

Helena startled: a tiny upturn of chin. “John Symonds?”

“Yeah. Know him?”

“Not well. Mutual friends... he was an advocate of so-called ‘Greek love.’”

Pete’s eyebrows rose. “Going to Greece to get all hey-hey? Like a vacation?”

“Not... precisely that. Although not not that, I imagine.”

Steve chortled. Then he schooled his expression and said, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for understanding such euphemisms. This sole representative appreciates it.”

Claudia, not to be deterred, said, “Oh, like he’s the only one who got it. But speaking of getting it, because whoever was singing about the time of flowers clearly wanted to.” She then intoned, “O my chosen one, why dost thou shun me? Dost thou not know, dearest, how much thou art loved? If thou wert Helen, I would be Paris. So great is our love that it can be so.” Hearing that diction in Claudia’s voice was strange... but she reverted to normal with, “That’s some business. You certainly do get around, H.G.”

“I am not Helen of Troy, thank you.”

“You sure?” Pete said. “I heard she was hot, just like you.” He bumped Helena in the shoulder.

“Hey!” Myka objected—about the shoulder-bump as well as the “hot.” But more the “hot.”

“She is though! And I thought so first.”

“You did not,” Myka said.

Helena said, “That sounds like a veiled offense.”

“I saw you before he did,” Myka told her. “And anyone who sees you...” She would have gone on, but her ears had begun to burn, a sure sign she was about to head into the “saying too much out loud” zone.

Helena blinked herself to understanding, and Myka was gratified that she seemed a little flustered too as she said, “Oh. Well. That is... complimentary.”

That first sight... Myka had not felt anything recognizable as love at that sight; rather, she’d felt a sense, something that she now considered a flutter from the future. Their first interaction, in its entirety, had made no sense at all, primarily on the obvious “H.G. Wells?!?” level, but also in its subterranean murmur, which Myka could not parse, could not even fathom, not until years later when she understood what her body had been trying to tell her. What it had decided it wanted.

Because she could not help herself, she had recently asked Helena a version of “What did you know and when did you know it?” Because the Helena of that earliest part remained an opacity, one about whom Myka was endlessly curious, and asking obliquely about desire rather than baldly about deception seemed a safer way in.

Helena gave the question some thought, making Myka glad she had asked, for being able to prompt Helena to real thought was a prize. “Something sparked for me when you said, ‘H.G. Wells is a woman. I’m going to have to process this.' Because of course I was myself working to ‘process’ that H.G. Wells was not a woman, if you can see at all what I mean.”

“Not quite,” Myka admitted.

“At that point I hadn’t entirely absorbed the history, the idea that Charles had so fully become... him. Me? That time had rendered any distance between Charles and... what I mean is, I had not ‘processed’ that I myself, as myself, would be so utterly forgotten.” She paused. “And then that you would... ‘process.’ That word, used as a verb of cogitation, seemed so deliberate, so new, so singular, as if you’d invented such usage solely as a response to me.”

Helena lied with great facility; Myka did know that about her approach to deception. This sort of hesitant, cautious talk usually connoted truth—here, a truth flattering to Myka. “I wish I had invented it,” she said. New usages, new words, an entirely new language; she should have realized that all of these would come to seem necessary. “And I’m sorry if this shouldn’t be true, but I’m perversely glad to have this secret knowledge. About you. As yourself.” That was a prize too—the luxurious exclusivity of her knowledge, her behind-the-velvet-rope version of H.G. Wells.

“That you are one of the few who do have it is so pleasing to me that I would write a novel about it.”

“I thought you supplied the research,” Myka said, trying to distract herself from the suddenly all-consuming idea that H.G. Wells, in whatever incarnation, had just mentioned writing a novel about something even vaguely related to Myka Bering.

“As if I couldn’t have written those books? I simply didn’t have the time, and Charles did. But I have already compiled extensive research regarding yourself—and your ability to process.”

Myka’s own clearest spark-point had occurred when Helena had looked her up and down—so very thoroughly up and down that Myka had felt that look as a full scan of her very self, a magnetic, resonant measure-taking. Helena hadn’t looked at Pete like that. Myka had clung to that look, had continued to cling to it, more tightly than she probably should have, when she was wishing inchoately but bodily for things she couldn’t let herself know she had decided she wanted.

So Myka said, in the interest of truth-telling, “That you checked me out was pretty pleasing too.”

Yet another prize: a playful “Is that what I did?”

“More thoroughly than anybody ever has.”

“Then it seems I have some secret knowledge of my own.”

“You do,” Myka said, and: “I’m glad it’s you.” Myka wanted no one else to know any of it. Her own velvet rope, behind which no one else.

“When does this end, exactly?” Pete asked. “Not that it isn’t fun.”

“When we’ve done enough,” Leena said.

“And when’s that?” Myka asked in turn. “Because it isn’t fun.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s when Claudia feels that we have.”

Claudia groaned out, “Did Mrs. Frederic have to do this kind of thing?”

Leena said, “I wouldn’t know. Now, are we finished yet?”

“Something about infotech,” Claudia muttered. She started walking.

“Narrows it down,” Steve said, and he followed her, disciple-like.

As did they all. They walked and walked.

“Really old infotech,” Claudia said, so they kept walking.

They passed early computers, including the wall-sized Harvard Mark I; telephones and the switchboards that linked them; calculators, slide rules, Napier’s bones; Babbage’s Difference Engine and Leibniz’s Machine. Claudia dismissed it all: “No, no, no,” she chanted. “None of this. Where are you, pesky upset tech?”

At last she halted. “Okay. You?” And in response to some response, she nodded. “This is it. “

It was a structure that looked like a modernist desk crossed with a medieval torture device. “Gutenberg’s printing press,” Myka breathed, in reverence—not that she needed to say it out loud. Well, maybe for Pete.

“Really?” he said, proving her point. “Pretty much the O.G. of infotech then.”

“Actually we passed a bunch of abaci,” she noted, “which are a lot older than—”

“Ix-nay,” Pete said. “This big fella clearly needs a little jog to the self-esteem. What’s its Christmas deal, though?”

Claudia said, “And so the overburdened Caretaker-in-training got her Wikipedia on one more time.”

“No need,” Helena told her. “This one, I know.”

“You’re certainly a more reliable source,” Myka said.

“It worked, professor,” Claudia said. “What’s the Yuletide word, other professor?”

“There is a cantata commemorating Gutenberg’s invention. Written by Mendelssohn, sometime midcentury? Mid my century, that is... the ‘Festgesang.’ Also known as the Gutenberg Cantata.”

Claudia said, “I think I know how this song goes, and by now everybody can sing it with me: the Victorians stole it for Christmas. Right?”

“Part of the melody, yes. To accompany a Christmas hymn known as ‘Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.’ Do you—no. I was about to ask if you know it, but again we return to A Charlie Brown Christmas.”

“Everybody knows it,” Pete said.

“H.G., are you sure all of this song-stealing wasn’t you and your Warehouse 12 buddies?” Claudia asked. “Some super-secret Christmas-invention mission?”

Helena made a face. “Would I be surprised to learn that I had been manipulated into helping such a thing coalesce? Of course not. The Warehouse does enjoy the power generated by a holiday.”

Leena nodded. “Lots of belief. Collectively.”

I am so tired of belief, Myka thought.

“I hope we don’t have to sing whatever the German words are,” Steve said. “I took German in high school and nearly flunked out.”

“Learning lots of new things about you today, BFF,” Claudia commented. “Maybe this isn’t Caretaker practice at all; maybe it’s about us needing to get to know your whole big complicated sax-playing, Wenceslas-hating, German-flunking self. And since when are you a flunker?”

“Something about the word order made me nervous. Like I was always having to untangle what was true. My fault, obviously, not German’s, but I’ve got bad associations, so maybe we could just go with the carol?” He tried, in melodious English, “Hark, the herald angels sing,” then paused, waited. “It doesn’t seem to mind that too much. It isn’t placated yet, though.”

Leena said, “Maybe it doesn’t matter which words we sing.” She tried the next measure as a series of la-las, then stopped and considered. “That wasn’t bad either. I’m guessing it considers the melody Mendelssohn’s real tribute.”

“That’s funny,” said Pete. To multiples of “why,” he answered, “That a printing press doesn’t care about words.”

Helena laughed. “You make an excellent point,” she said. Then, to Myka, “Doesn’t he?”

“He... does,” Myka had to concede.

And in agreeing that Pete made an excellent point, they were, however improbably, pulled extremely close to accord. Myka was barely able to refrain from grasping Helena’s hand again, this time to deal with the depth of her relief that they had... “reconciled” was the word that came to mind, though that probably had more to do with the carol they either were or weren’t about to sing the English words of.

Then again, what was wrong with reconciling, as a word, or as a concept? And so she asked herself why she was refraining. No good answer occurred to her, so she did in fact firmly take Helena’s hand.

Helena didn’t smirk, didn’t eyebrow, didn’t even look at Myka. But she did grip back. Then she went on, with a newly rich note in her voice, “I do think I understand: the press wants it known that the melody was intended to bring glory to it, not to this set of words or that one. And certainly the conceptual majesty of the printed word outglories any newborn baby in a manger, regardless of that infant’s kingship.”

“You’re definitely not being religious now,” Steve said.

“The press brought the Bible to the people, so it has a case for primacy on that score as well.”

“But that baby in the manger saved humankind,” he protested.

Claudia snickered. “I like how nobody’s being religious. Supposedly.”

“We are discussing religion,” Helena starched out. “A different philosophical undertaking entirely.”

“Instead let’s discuss what to sing,” Leena said, “because we’ll be singing together this time. Should it be about the newborn king?”

Helena said, “Not to upset my discursive partner, but the original German is about Gutenberg himself as a sort of savior. His glorious bringing of light into the darkness via the press.”

“If we have to,” Steve said.

“Although,” Helena mused, “I suppose that to sing about Gutenberg’s actions would be to glorify him, rather than the press as such. Perhaps that’s why it doesn’t care about words.”

“How about we split the difference?” Myka offered.

“What’s the difference between an English carol and a German cantata?” Steve asked. “Sounds like a really esoteric riddle.”

Myka said, “Let’s sing the alphabet.” The resulting confused expressions indicated that her very-clear-to-her idea wasn’t quite the beacon of obviousness she’d thought. “Connects all the dots, don’t you figure? Because what’s movable type?”

Helena looked at her like she, Myka, was the one who’d brought light into the darkness. She raised Myka’s hand, which she still held, to her mouth and kissed it. “Lovely,” she said, and although Myka still didn’t exactly feel like singing, she did find herself in a much greater mood to make a joyful noise.

Once the singing—or “singing”—began, they all had different ideas about syllabication, none of which entirely joined into a full cantata-appropriate chorus, but they did end up on “X-Y-Z!” for “re-con-ciled” on their first march through the alphabet, then moved on to the “Joy-ful all ye na-tions ri-ise” part with a rousing “Ay-bee cee dee eee-eff gee-ee!” Everyone was laughing by the time they finished, and Leena said, “Unless I’m misinterpreting, the press is as delighted as we are.” Even Myka, untuneful as she knew she’d been, couldn’t stop grinning... and, as she regarded a similarly smiling Helena, she wanted to be pelted with mistletoe for the right reasons.

Claudia looked up and around, as if snow had begun to fall. She said, “And I think we’re done. Unless anybody’s still unthrilled?” She asked the question of the Warehouse in general, the air around them.

The air held motionless.

Myka said, “I’m still unthrilled that we had to do this at all. I don’t know how Santa feels about anything, but Pete’s on my naughty list.”

“Aren’t you, however?” Helena asked. “Thrilled, in some small part?” To be back in accord, the sparkle in her eyes said.

Well, all right, she was. “You’re taking advantage of how this feels like a holiday now.”

“In Pete’s defense, and my apologies for uttering that phrase, as well as the one that now follows: his intentions were good.”

“There is a road to a place,” Myka said, “and that road is paved. I won’t name the place, but I think you and I and people who had to listen to us sing were recently in its vicinity.”

“Myka. You just now said it feels like a holiday. And it is also now certain that we will never forget this, our first Christmas together.”

“I like how everyone always forgets that I will never forget anything,” Myka complained.

“But sometimes you don’t keep things top of mind,” Steve said, with his particular delicacy.

“You didn’t forget that?”

“I’m not you, but I was paying attention.”

Myka said, “I appreciate it,” and, noting an inquiring eyebrow from Helena, told her, “I’ll explain later.”

Helena nodded and dropped the eyebrow. She said, “So perhaps a more meaningful statement is that I will never forget this, our first Christmas together. And I am being religious, though only slightly, when I say that it all—having such a Christmas, having this somewhat ear-splitting memory—is a blessing.”

“I knew you’d be all sentimental about Christmas, H.G.!” Pete crowed. “I knew it! Which is I bet why the Messiah figured I’d be all into saving Christmas. And which, FYI, I’m still pretty sure I did, Mrs. and Mrs. Bickerson.”

“Please,” Leena said, “not the M-word.”

“Mrs.?” Pete asked, in obvious confusion. “Should it be ‘Ms. and Ms.’ instead? I don’t know how to be sensitive.”

“That’s the truest thing you’ve ever said,” Myka told him. “Pay attention! You’re the one who just made noise about what tapped you for doing this supposed saving.”

“Messiah!” he shouted, like she’d acted it out in charades.

“Well, that’s re-agitated the press a bit,” Helena said, and to the mechanism, she spoke a single word: “Hark.” That word, said by that voice, was at the same time arresting and soothing. Something to heed. “Or, if you prefer, ‘A’,” Helena offered. Also something to heed. Myka’s ears informed her, by way of further burning, that they would in fact listen avidly to Helena reciting the alphabet. That they would find her doing so to be both arresting and soothing and arousing as well. Not surprising, ears, she told them.

“Speaking of sensitive,” Leena said, “the press is.”

“Aren’t we all,” Claudia affirmed.

“It has more right,” Helena said. “No holiday stole Mendelssohn’s music about any of us.”

“He did score a Midsummer,” Myka said. It was one of the few Mendelssohn facts she knew. “So technically about a Helena.”

That made Leena laugh. “We’ll see what happens if anyone ever puts Christmas lyrics to it.”

Myka said, “I really don’t think she needs a lot of help getting agitated,” and Pete put on an expression of concern. “No, Pete, that’s not what I mean.” Then he grinned. “And that’s not either.”

“What we should encourage Pete to do next year, however, is complete his inventory in a timely fashion,” Helena said, and to Claudia, “A timely supervised fashion, hm?”

“Sorry,” Claudia said, seemingly sincerely. Then she perked up. “But we’ve got happy artifacts and that’s still next in the stack, so let’s go home and play!”

Back at the B&B, just before the playing of Sorry commenced, Myka whispered that word to Helena, with whom she was to play, as that team Claudia had proposed—seemingly forever, but really only hours, before. That word, “Sorry,” followed by “I really am.” Helena didn’t whisper it back, but she did murmur, “Don’t be.”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #B&W Holiday Gift Exchange #Hark #part 3 #kla1991 #bering and wells holiday gift exchange

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medea10 · 4 years

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Medea Plays Pokemon Sword: Part IV

So since last time, I earned my eighth and final badge and so I can compete in the Challenger’s Cup.

So...no Elite Four?

Not to complain, but even Alola had an Elite Four.

Instead, we get something that’s almost similar to what the anime does during Pokemon League arcs. Whatever! Off to Wyndon...

You’re not fooling anybody. This is fucking London!

Huh.

I seem to recall obtaining an in-game trade during the Red/Blue games involving a Mr. Mime with that exact, same name.

Nice call-back, guys.

What the shit?

I would not put the fat squirrely with the apple pokemon in the same room.

Fat Squirrely can’t be trusted.

Well, before I go to the stadium, I think it’s time I do some last-minute training and exploring in the wild area again.

And flee for my life! Gallade is a fast fucker. Meanwhile...

Gardevoir doesn’t chase me. I guess some pokemon aren’t scary in this area.

And then this happened...

A trainer by the name of Tracey gave me something in his pocket and disappeared.

*sniffles*

Life just loves to give me an invisible Tracey. Life, thou art cruel.

Oh yeah, because it was Thanksgiving a few days ago, I thought I would have a few family get-togethers.

Father Zoro and daughter Rei were quite peaceful during their time together.

Then I got a bunch of Eeveelutions together (they’re all brothers and sisters btw).

Mic liked what Leafy’s done with his hair.

And Bolt kept challenging everyone to a race.

Pokedex entry time?

Nice, you made that reference! At least this reference didn’t involve a Dubwool being turned inside-out like in South Park.

So...it’s doing self-harm in order to “play” the guitar. Dang!

Okay, time for Champion Cup!

FINALLY, SOMEONE AGREES WITH ME!

I have my own speculations of who the dude might be. Right now, the top choices are Professor Oak, Samson Oak, or that one guy at an anime convention that dresses like a buff Diglett.

First match is against Marnie. I kicked her butt.

And then I put Hop in his place (for the whatever number it was) time.

After two battles, the champion decided to pay us a visit.

Not before hamming it up for the peanut gallery. Hey, at least he’s treating us to dinner. However...

Turns out Leon is with the chairman.

This is awesome. Piers, Marnie, and the fat bastards of Team Yell are going to team up with us.

As expected, I can’t trust this bitch. And I was right to believe so because she has hired goons to “take care” of us at every turn.

And what have we learned from the Red/Blue games? Never trust a goon who’s staring at a wall or poster on a wall.

We end up at the monorail station with more of Oleana’s hired goons blocking our path. This looks like a job for Piers!

I just love how he pulls out a microphone out of literally nowhere and starts singing in the middle of the station.

It worked though.

See, even Marnie is suspicious. This guy has gotta be a shifty mother fucker!

Yeah, this is totally not an innocent meetup between Rose and Leon.

Oleana’s hired goons are totally threatening. I think the bloke on the right really wants my corpse.

Why, do you plan on throwing our bodies off the edge?

Your hired goons all had steel-type pokemon. My level 70 Cinderace laid waste to these fuckers in 5 minutes or less.

Jesus Shit!

Okay, if the anime ever gets to this plot, PLEASE have Oleana be played by Miki Itou.

See, I knew this woman and the chairman are full of garbage. And to add to my point...

This bitch has a pile of garbage as a dynamaxed pokemon.

Called it.

Lysandre and Cyrus vibes, guys! Come on, I called it months ago that this guy was going to be the bad guy!

Anyone else still trust this guy? Show of hands!

OH FUCK ME, NOT THIS TURD AGAIN!

Okay kid, let’s see if you can redeem yourself.

Blaming me for shit that was your own fault. Yeah, I still hate you. But you’re down a few tiers, so there’s an improvement.

But you’re still at the same shit-level as Dilandau Albatou. You two both desperately need a punch in the face.

After that little disruption, on with the actual battles.

Okay, I’m on board with shipping Sonia x Nessa.

After taking on Nessa. I took out Bea...

And Raihan’s selfie-obsessed ass!

So now it’s time to take on the big ham, Leon.

Or not!

Oh gee, this guy is the bad guy. Who could have seen this coming?

Um, I did. The second he was shown in the PV, I knew this fucker was bad news. I don’t mean to lay it on thick, but...

This.

Afterward...

Hop and I returned to that spot near Route 1 and run into legendary doggos.

And go grave-robbing (taking the sword/shield on the ground).

When we went to Hammerlocke, we came across some actual concern.

You sent literal hired goons to try and shut me down. I’ll deal with you later, lady. Right now, I gotta take down this genocidal dickhead.

I have to admit, I expected more from Chairman Rose and the Marco Cosmos group in this game. I don’t know if I’m alone in this, but it feels a little light compared to a lot of the other bad teams in the past, and that includes Team Skull and Aether Foundation.