#nor would he have missed Trent’s book signing

[trentcrimmapologist]

so many moments happened after Ted left that i would never imagine him missing??

the fact that he left and never looked back, seemingly cutting ties with everyone, just doesn’t sit well with me??

[ohnoregard]

Love is not a Fairytale (Except it Kind of is)

In which each member of the Mighty Nein realise/learn about Beau’s feelings for Jester before Jester does, and reflect on their own experience of love along the way.

Read on AO3 or below the cut. 7,790 words.

  Nott

Nott lay in the darkness and watched a love story unfold. She hoped.

Across the room in a well of candlelight, Jester and Beau sat huddled together, silent and content. There was enough floor space for them to sleep separately, more than enough, but this is what they did. It was what they had always done. They were the roommates. They shared beds and bedrolls and no one thought anything of it. Except now, Nott thought, that maybe there had been signs.

Like just a few minutes earlier, when Jester had slipped back into their shared room in the Gentleman’s establishment and her near soundless approach had caused a soundly sleeping Beau to stir and wake before even Nott’s keen ears had heard her coming.

It made Nott think of nights in Felderwin, long ago. She had always woken to the sound of Yeza’s soft footsteps, her husband sneaking up to bed after a late night of experiments. The mere presence of the person she loved most in the world had been enough to pull her from sleep. Even when she had been heavily pregnant and so tired that she thought that she would never feel fully awake again. Yeza had always been her person. The one she had an almost symbiotic existence with. At least… she had.

But she wouldn’t dwell on her and Yeza. Or her and… no. Right now she needed to distract herself. And what better way than to focus on Beau and what exactly her intentions towards Jester were? Because Nott felt protective towards Jester but also, strangely, towards Beau as well.

So she watched as Beau – her eyes heavy with sleep – had pulled herself somewhat ungracefully from her tangle of blankets and lifted a corner to invite Jester inside.

Something in Jester had been off. Her momentary pause in the lit doorway had given Nott a view of her face as they briefly locked eyes. Jester was caught in the middle of some kind of quandary. Happy but confused. Disappointed but accepting. All emotions that Beau seemed to pick up on immediately.

“Oh Jessie, come here,” Beau had whispered, opening her arms wide and smiling sadly at the woman – Nott realised with shock– that she loved.

Not just like. Not just ‘had a crush on’. But LOVED. The kind the got written in all capitals on your heart the moment it beat in time with another’s.

And in response… Well, Jester all but dove across the room, narrowly missing a gently snoring Caduceus in her dash to reach Beau’s embrace. She hadn’t spared another look at Nott. She had just burrowed under the blanket and into Beau’s arms, sighing contentedly as Beau whispered something that only she could hear.

Whatever it was, Nott knew that she had said it with love.

 Caleb

There’s a battlefield before them, somewhere in their future. They could all feel it. War was in the air, bubbling over into every corner of every town, no matter how far from the front.

The attack on Rexxentrum had taken them by surprise. Both the Nein and the everyday people of the Empire. Rexxentrum was so far inside the border that they had all thought it safe. Protected by distance, and perhaps, the Nein’s naïveté. Naïveté that would have them believe that as long as they were after the beacon – at least in a larger, less immediate sense – then there would be some kind of… well if not a ceasefire from Xhorhas then at least a lack of escalation.

They had been distracted, yes, but by the kind of world-ending things that could not wait. Yasha and the Chained Oblivion and cults so out of their depth that they were playing with the very existence of sane, free life on Exandria. Those were not the kind of forces that you could put on hold whilst you searched for a lost relic. Not even the kind that a whole civilisation’s religion revolved around.

And now… now they were peacekeepers. Supposedly working for a force that none of them trusted, yet were wholly beholden to. Pissing off the Xhorhassians would have been one thing… They could have retreated back into the Empire or the Menagerie Coast. The Bright Queen could have sent assassins after them but they were so unimportant back then that she probably wouldn’t have bothered. But the Empire… the Empire and its institutions were insidious. Their shadow assassins would hunt them to the ends of the Earth. As far even as Allura’s Tal’dorei.

Trent played at indifference, but Caleb knew that it was an act. If he had his way, he would rip away any remnant of home and family that any of them had. Beauregard, as little as she cared for her family, would have to find a way to get them out. Jester would move the world to save her mother, and the Nein would move it right along with her. Then of course there was Nott and her husband and child. Whatever they did in this time and place, however the peace treaty and their dealings with Trent went… it could endanger it all.

“I said her name.”

Caleb looked up from the book he had been reading, pouring over his Dunamantic spells for any small hope of a way out of this mess. Beau was sat beside him by the fire, picking at the ribbon Jester had tied to her staff. It was frayed now and battle-worn, but still as bright a blue as ever.

“Ja,” he confirmed. “I am sorry.”

“S’not you’re fault,” she muttered. “S’mine.”

She was exhausted, they all were, but, like himself, he doubted she would sleep tonight.

Caleb was sure that they were being watched in the Cottage’s common room. Which is why tonight they were all crammed into one room, whiling the evening away. One room with alarms on the doors and windows, and a thorough sweep by Fjord’s new all-seeing sword. Still, they had to assume that they were being watched. They had to be careful about what they did and did not say.

“I am sure that they would have gotten our names by some magical means,” Caleb said, aiming to comfort her at least a little.

He understood her anguish. She alone of the Nein knew and appreciated everything that Trent had done. Nott knew the facts, but Caleb didn’t think that she quite grasped the true extent of the manipulation, the utter overwhelming overwriting of everything Bren had been. But Beauregard understood.  Nott feared Goblins and Ghouls. The monsters of the world. Beauregard knew that the races more commonly regarded as ‘people’ could be far crueller. She had even experienced a little of it herself.

“If they hurt her…” Beau gritted out, her teeth clenched so hard that she must be in pain from it.

Her understood that too. Inflicting a little pain to punish yourself.

“I will burn them to the ground before I allow them to do that,” he promised her.

For them to hurt Jester would be worst of all. She was so full of light and kindness. So ready to see the good in the world, even when no one else could. Trent would ruin her. Break her in a way that Caleb wasn’t sure that they could pull her back from. After all, Caleb had once been wide eyed and idealistic too.

Then Trent had cut it out of him with every slice of his dagger. Every white-hot pain as another shard of crystal had been slipped inside his body. Every defilement of the boy he had been, leaving scars to show that he could never go back to Bren the boy. Bren who had loved his parents and his Empire in that order. Scars that he imagined marring the soft blue of Jester’s forearms. Cutting through the delicate, glittering lines of her tattoo.

“Fuck!”

Beau had sworn so loud that the whole room had stopped what they were doing to look at her.

“Sorry, fuck. Just an ember from the fire,” she lied.

Caleb watched as her face contorted, the pain she was feeling of the mind, not the body.

“Do you need me to heal you?” Jester asked worriedly, jumping up from whatever she and Caduceus had been doing to run to Beau’s side.

“No, no it’s fine. Didn’t even leave a mark. Just scared me a little.”

More lies, but Caleb didn’t begrudge them.

Jester, it seemed, didn’t believe her either, but in an entirely different direction. She poured over Beau’s body, lifting her arms and unfurling her legs, looking for any sign of injury.

“Jessie,” Beau said, her voice as soft as her expression as she smiled gently at Jester. Softer and more gently and with her eyes filled with more tenderness and affection than she ever showed to anyone else and… oh.

No wonder her worry for Jester was consuming her. Beauregard, against all expectations, was in love.

 Yasha

Yasha knew what it was to be in love. She knew love in all its shades and stages. In its brilliant sunny yellows and blood-stained reds, it’s sorrowful blues and the empty greyness that the sorrow left behind. She knew it. She had felt the shame that came from falling for someone that she knew could never ben her mate but loved non the less. She knew the brilliant excitement of love when it was new. And most of all, she lived now in the soul crushing, life ending rawness of loss, of walking around with a hole in her chest where Zuala once lived. Where now was only death and emptiness and whole other kind of shame.

So that’s why – when she saw the true depth of the fear in Beau’s eyes when their foe turned its attention from Beau herself to the approaching Jester – that Yasha knew that Beau was in love.

At first, she was jealous. Only for a moment. Not because she wanted to be in either woman’s position. She’d had Zuala and lost her. That was it for Yasha. She neither expected nor wanted to love again. She did not think she was capable. And to do so would feel like desecrating a grave that she did not have it in herself to even visit.

No, Yasha was jealous for a wholly different reason. She was jealous that Beau got to be afraid that Jester might die. Because that meant that Jester was alive. It meant that Beau had the world to fight for. To live for. And that, Yasha knew, was a precious thing. One that could all too suddenly be taken away.

Once she noticed it – Beau’s love, that is – Yasha didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed it the moment she rejoined the group. The dynamic in their shared room had been… off. She had put it down to the strangeness of sharing her space with friends again and, perhaps, some lingering mistrust or unease that they may have around her. But now she understood. She might not have been a famous rock harp player in her blackout years, but she knew a little about rhythm. Enough to spot it in the way that Beau and Jester moved around one another. Enough to see the way that her presence in their space threw it off. Not because either of them wished she wasn’t there, but because the two of them alone was a complete melody. She was chord that was obsolete.

She wasn’t sure if the other members of the Nein had noticed it yet, and she would not rat Beau out. But she would try to talk to her. Remind her that time and life were fickle things. Things that in their line of work, they could not risk taking for granted.

“Beauregard, may I speak to you.”

“Yeah. Uh. Sure.”

“Please would you walk with me a little?”

Where Yasha walked, Beau tentatively followed. As the warm light of their campfire faded and they passed out into the darkness beyond, Beau flipped her goggles onto her eyes and blinked slowly into the night. The lack of direct eye contact was a relief for Yasha. She did not think she was up to that yet. Not with any of them. It hurt too much to see that they didn’t hate her.

They walked until they found an outcropping of rock where they could dangle their legs and look out over the moon-lit landscape. In this light, the land around them reminded Yasha of home. Of Zuala tracking through the sparse woodland. Of stolen moments than time and fate had stolen back.

“What’s this about?” Beau asked eventually, clearly trying her hardest not to sound pissed off. She was shivering, though. Yasha had forgotten how much Beau and Caleb felt the cold. They seemed to feel everything so intensely, those two. Maybe it was the human thing, but Yasha doubted it.

“I would like to talk to you about Zuala and… Jester.”

Beau frowned, then softened. Then looked almost ready for a fight.

“Does Jess remind you of her or something? Your wife, I mean.”

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Yasha said quickly, before Beau could get the wrong idea. “Jester is a very different person from Zuala. Though I suppose in different circumstances they could have been more alike.”

Beau relaxed beside her, her dangling feet beginning to sway in the night air.

“I know that we’re not, like, the closest or anything. But you can talk to me about her if you want.”

“No that is… err… No, thank you. But I would like to talk to you about Jester.”

Beau froze.

“How’d you know?”

“I saw your concern for her. And then, once I had an idea, it was pretty obvious.”

“Great,” Beau huffed. “Even when I try to be super subtle I’m clearly failing.”

“Perhaps it is just that I know what to look out for. I think… I think that we are perhaps similar, you and I, Beauregard.”

“How so?” Beau asked, half standoffish, half eager.

“Our families did not understand us. Often the world judges us before they get to know us. Perhaps that is why we look for the light itself instead of what the fight can bring us. Why I looked for Zuala and you for Jester.”

“Hmm.”

Clearly she was not convinced.

“I am not asking you to talk about your feelings, Beauregard. I think that you know me better than to think that I would be any more comfortable in that situation than you. But I wanted to talk to you anyway. To remind you that love is easily lost. Especially in the kind of life that we live.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“But you are in love.”

It wasn’t a question. They both knew the answer.

“So?”

Yasha looked out over the plains. She could see a copse of trees to their left. Thin, hardy trees like the kind that occasionally grew in small groups in her part of Xhorhas. They reminded her of times spent hunting with Zuala. Helping her skin a still warm rabbit and sharing the meat over a midday fire. That one memory was enough to fill her with enough warmth – no matter how fleeting – that she did not think that she would have felt even the fiercest of icy winds.

“No matter how it ended, I do not regret what Zuala and I had. We had love. She knew that I loved her and I knew that she loved me. Now that she is gone, that is a comfort to me. That and the memories of the times we shared as mates.”

“You’re saying that I should tell Jester that I love her in case I die?”

“Regret is the most terrible thing, Beauregard. I would not wish the depth of regret that I feel on anyone. Let alone you.”

“I’m not good enough for her,” Beau muttered, smothering with her foot a lone flower growing courageously out of the rockside.

“Do you not think that that is for her to decide?”

They sat in silence for a while. Both lost in their own thoughts until Beau’s shivering become too pronounced to ignore.

“Come on. We had better get back. The others will be worried.”

When they arrived back at camp, Nott was eyeing them suspiciously. She was crouching by the fire, tracking their movements like they were prey.

“What were you two doing?” She asked accusingly, jabbing the dagger she had been sharpening in their direction. “You weren’t fucking, were you?”

Yasha watched as Jester snapped to attention at that, her deep blue eyes going big and wide as she looked worriedly between Yasha and Beau.

“What? No! Don’t be stupid.” Beau replied, as brash as ever. “We were just having girl talk, that’s all. Just because we fuck other women doesn’t mean we can’t have girl talk, alright!”

Everyone but Yasha and Caduceus flinched.

“Nott!” Jester admonished. “Of course not, Beau. Nott is just being silly, aren’t you Nott?”

Beau and Nott stared each other down for an uncomfortably long period of time before Nott finally nodded and relaxed back onto her log.

“Fine, yeah, sure, whatever.”

After that, Jester ushered Beau closer to the fire and draped a blanket around her shoulders. She was smiling up at Beau brightly and for just a moment, Yasha was sure that she could hear Zuala laughing.

  Fjord

He noticed it in the middle of one of their scariest battles yet.

It was a stressful day, even for them. Near death situations had been had by all, but what they all were struggling to deal with was the horrifying realisation that the person nearest to death had been Jester.

Beau had been down numerous times. Caleb perhaps even more. And whilst Fjord could remember Jester being knocked unconscious in the heat of combat before, it had never been for that long. It had only ever been moments before Caduceus or a health potion had gotten her back on her feet.

This time it had been… longer. Considerably longer. Caduceus had been incapacitated and try as they might, none of the rest of them could get to Jester with a health potion. Not for a really, really long time.

It had been Nott who had eventually saved her. Just when Jester’s breaths had started to slow and turn shallow. Just as Beau, held tight beside a stunned Caduceus in the creature’s grasp, screamed out for their downed cleric. The kind of scream that you can never unhear. The kind that Fjord was certain he would hear in his nightmares night after night.

And then… Jester had been alive. Irrefutably alive as she had rushed at the beast and inflicted such wounds that it had died in an instant of tremendous pain. Pain which it – in Fjord’s opinion – more than deserved for hurting his friends.

“Yo, that was awesome Jessie!” Beau had said with more shake than bravado from the spot on the ground where the now deceased monster had dropped her. “I’m just gonna, you know. Sleep here a little.”

They had all noticed then how badly Beau was hurt. Fjord had no idea how she had managed to remain conscious with the deep slashes in her belly and neck. But if the scream had anything to do with it, he was pretty sure that the only thing holding her together had been the desperate need to get to Jester.

“Damn it, Beau,” Fjord said with a wince as he wrapped his palm around her rapidly bleeding throat and cast Lay on Hands. “What the hell were you thinking, taunting the damn thing like that?”

“Had no health potions,” she croaked, her throat raw and, most likely, still torn after his meagre healing. “Had to get Caduceaus free. For Jester.”

Despite the fact that Beau’s wounds were inarguably far worse than Jester’s, once they were all healed up and hobbling towards the nearest inn for a good strong drink and a warm bed, it wasn’t Beau that they were all fussing over, but Jester.

“You guys, I’m fine!” Jester insisted. “The Traveller wouldn’t just let me die! I’m his favourite, you know? He told me.”

“Yeah – urgh – even so. I think we need to set out some kind of system for health potions. It’s kind of pointless for one person to have three of them if that person can’t get to someone who is down,” Beau said, taking charge as she often did these days. She was looking Fjord dead in the eye as she said it, but he wasn’t offended. He agreed.

“That’s my fault. I should have handed these out. Here, everyone without a health potion please take one.”

Fjord pulled three basic and one greater healing potion out of his bag and lined them up on the table.

Beau grabbed a basic and slid the greater towards Caleb.

“Here. I’m going to get a drink.”

“But you already have a drink!” Jester called after her as Beau slid out of the booth and stumbled her way over to the bar.

“I think she just needs something a little stronger,” Fjord reassured her. “I’ll go make sure she’s okay.”

He hadn’t even gotten within ten feet of her when Beau’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Wanna go fuck each other up?”

For the briefest moments, Fjord was confused. Then he realised what she was asking.

“Is this just your way of beating me into a bloody pulp?”

“Or the other way around. Either way works. Just need to punch something.”

“Does this mean we can skip training in the morning?”

“No.”

He sighed. He was pretty sure that Beau wouldn’t skip training even if a volcano was erupting around them. Which, given their upcoming destination, wasn’t entirely out of the question.

“Lead the way.”

Beau led him out into a back alley that she had clearly scoped out earlier. It was pretty narrow, but it was deserted and dark, so he supposed it would do. At least when she won, no one would see him pass out.

“So, you wanna talk or are we just going to punch?”

Her fist connected hard with his chin, snapping back his head and making him see stars.

“I guess just fists then.”

Mid way through his sentence, Fjord rocked forward on the balls his feet, and struck out at Beau’s core. He had aimed as close to centre as he could, yet still managed to strike nothing but fresh air.

“Gonna need to try harder than that,” Beau said as she brought her fists up in front of her chest and waited, poised for his next attack.

Fjord feinted to the left, then struck out hard with his foot, swiping for Beau’s legs. Again, nothing. She seemed not even to move in place as she deftly jumped above his sweep, taking the opportunity to rain down four consecutive hits to the side of his head.

This time, Fjord retreated, dodging just out of the way of her next attack.

“Fists aren’t fair,” he panted.

“So use your sword,” Beau bit, anger flashing in her eyes. “Or this isn’t even worth it. I might as well be punching Frumpkin.”

Saying a quick prayer for guidance to the Wildmother, Fjord summoned his new blade and dove for his friend.

This time, he felt an impact. The cold steel of his sword sliced through flesh once, then again, tearing through the place where Beau’s robes met at her naval and leaving them stained in a bloom of red. Far more than he had expected.

It was then that Beau really came alive. She ducked his next blow, then used her crouched position to send a flurry of punches to his stomach that left him locked in place, tensed from head to toe in a mixture of pain and itch-like tension.

Blow after blow hit him from one side, then the other as she spun around him, pulling out her staff and swiping for his legs, knocking him onto the floor before retreating and going back into her defensive stance.

Power crackled reflexively in Fjord’s palms and before he knew it, two shots of bright green energy rocketed from his palm, lighting up the alley in all it’s dank, moss-covered glory before hitting Beau square in the chest.

The blows knocked her back, but not for long. She pulled a throwing star from the pouch and her hip and launched it at his outstretched palm.

The warm metal bit into his flesh, one pointed prong sticking into his palm and making the magic there fizz.

“Come on!” She screamed. “Fucking hit me!”

“Why, so you can manipulate Jester into kissing it all better?”

He regretted it the moment it left his mouth. The pain and adrenaline of battle had made him forget who it was he was talking to. That she was his friend. Perhaps his best friend. And that this… this thing they were doing was for her catharsis, not an opportunity to say something he didn’t mean. To hurt her.

“Beau.”

“Fuck you, Fjord. Fuck you.”

With that, she turned and ambled, limping slightly, back into the inn.

Fjord dropped to the ground, panting. He sat there for a long moment, feeling the regret build in his chest, forcing his lungs into an ever-smaller space until it felt like he was drowning.

It wasn’t long until the door to the inn slammed back open and Jester, purple with rage, stormed out into the ally.

“Jester, I-”

Her palm connecting with his cheek knocked the rest of his sentence right out of his head.

“How dare you hurt her!”

“She asked for it! It was her idea!”

Jester towered above him, looking more demon than person.

“What did you say to her?!” Jester screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She wouldn’t even look at us… at… at me!”

“Where is she now?” Fjord asked, getting shakily to his feet and backing away a little from the terrifying Tiefling.

“She… she talked to Yasha for a moment and then they went and bought a room just for the two of them and…”

“Oh, Jester.”

Ignoring the potential harm to life and limb (or, more accurately, to his conscience), Fjord pulled Jester into him and held her tight.

“What are they even doing that they need their own room?” Jester sobbed.

Given the fact that Fjord was pretty sure that Beau was in love with Jester, he was pretty certain that she hadn’t dragged Yasha off to let off some steam of the non-punching variety.

“I don’t know, Jess.”

She pulled away, glaring at him again before making for the inn door.

“I’m going to bed. Tell the others not to bother me, okay?”

   Caduceus

The people at this inn were really nice people. It was a good morning. A really good morning.

The rest of the Mighty Nein were asleep in their rooms and Caduceus was slowly brewing them all tea and cooking up some eggs and spinach. Or at least, kind-of-spinach. It definitely looked and tasted like spinach. Apart from it being purple. And tasting a little… zingy. But zingy was good in the morning. He’d put a little of it into their tea. It was really nice of the inn staff to let him use their kitchen.

The second person from their merry band to wander downstairs was, predictably, Beauregard.

“Hey Caduceus.”

“Hey. I made eggs and purple stuff. Want some?”

“Sure, why not.”

Beau sat down in a booth and pulled out a book whilst she waited. Caduceus pottered around the kitchen, smiling at the way the steam curled up from the tea in waves. It was going to be a good day, he could feel it.

“Here you go,” he said as he set down a plate and wooden mug of tea in front of Beauregard. “Breakfast of heroes. Well, one hero at least.”

She was frowning at him when he slid into the booth with his own plate and mug.

“What do you mean, hero?”

“You saved my life yesterday, so there’s that. Petty sure that thing would have crushed me in one of it’s arms if you hadn’t distracted it.”

A smile appeared on Beau’s face for a flicker of a second before it was gone. Replaced again with stoicism.

“Yeah, well. That’s what friends are for. Doesn’t make me a hero. I hate that hero bullshit. So full of expectation and responsibility.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Caduceus, can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” he said, smiling big.

“I’m in love with Jester.”

The moment she said it, she exhaled deep and dropped back against the back of the booth.

“What, you’re not going to say anything?” She said after a moment.

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, huh.”

“Why ‘huh’?”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say it out loud.”

That got her to roll her eyes and fold her arms in front of her chest.

“Well fuck. How come everyone seems to know?”

“You – err – You love real deep. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

“Fjord and I punched the shit out of each other last night. Well, he also slashed and blasted the shit out of me, but whatever. You think he’s mad at me for liking Jester?”

Caduceus shrugged.

“A shrug? That’s all you’re giving me?”

“It’s all I have to give.”

Another loud exhale and Beau picked up her tea.

“I’m kind of worried this whole thing is going to fuck up the group.”

“First Fjord is mad at me, then Jester is going to go comfort him and they’ll get together and I’ll just be sat wallowing in a corner. I’m not sure I can do that, man. I don’t think I could stay and watch that shit.”

“What makes you so sure that Jester would choose Fjord?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m such a fucking mess, Caduceus. Not even my own dad wants me. Fjord’s got the whole Tusk Love thing going on. And what am I? Who’s going to write a romance novel about someone like me? No one, that’s who. Not even when the fucking Kryn get romance.”

She signed and slammed down her tea on the table.

“You can only be what you see, you know? And all these stupid books are feeding her some bullshit idea of what love is and I’m scared it’s going to fuck her up. She’s going to end up with someone she doesn’t really love just because she thinks that’s how the story is meant to end.”

“And how is it meant to end, Beau?”

They both froze at the sound of Jester’s voice.

“Fuck, Jessie I…”

“Don’t.”

  Jester

Everything would be okay, Jester was sure. Except right now everything felt not okay in the biggest, more terrifying way.

She had spent all night lying awake and wondering what Beau and Yasha were doing in the room across the hall. She had even tried sneaking up to their door and listening, but all she had heard was whispering and then silence. A really long, terrifying silence. What could they be doing that was so quiet? Were they keeping quiet intentionally so that she couldn’t hear them? Did they know that she was there??

That thought had sent her skittering back to her room where she had tried to talk to the traveller. She tried all night. Whispering all these confusing feelings and fears to him. And after a while, he had sat on the end of the bed beside her and told her to follow her heart. That she already knew what she wanted. But all that did was make Jester more confused. Because she didn’t understand at all.

Which was why, when morning finally crawled around, she had leapt from bed – Sprinkle tucked into her cloak – and had snuck into the town’s bathhouse to make herself feel more like Jester again and less like some twitchy ball of confusion.

It was pretty easy to break into the bathhouse. No one was there and the locks broke pretty easy when she hit them with her axe.

It had been difficult figuring out how to heat the water and fill the bath by herself, but she had done it in the end and had even found a bottle of rose oil to empty into it. Though maybe emptying the whole bottle into the bath had been a bad idea. It had kind of stung her eyes a little, but that was okay because then it was for sure the rose oil making her eyes water and definitely not because she was crying.

She was even feeling sort of cheery – all clean and sweet smelling – by the time she walked back into the inn. Right until she had heard Beau – the one person who had never treated her like a child – complaining to Caduceus about how stupid she was and how she knew nothing about love apart from what she read in books. Which was totally not true. Not at all!

Except… maybe it was… just a little bit.

She knew her Mom’s love and the Traveller’s love. And they were both really, really great. Like, the best. But when it came to love love, it was true that the only thing Jester knew was what she had read books. Books about fated romance and torrid affairs. Books that had been Jester’s only real window into the outside world. Books that turned out to be kind of, maybe, sort of… wrong.

“Jessie!”

She heard Beau calling for her a long time before she saw her. After she’d run out the inn, she had hidden herself down by the lake’s edge, her knees drawn up to her chest as her mind tried and failed to magnify the sound of the soft lapping of the water into the familiar call of the Nicodranas sea.

“Jess…”

She didn’t look up.

“Go away, Beau.”

“Look, Jess, I’m sorry. I just… I came to tell you that I’m leaving. I’m going back to the Archive in Zadash. I won’t bother you again.”

Jester was… confused. Sure, she was upset at what Beau had said but it didn’t mean that Beau had to leave.

She looked – her face full of a frown – up at woman who had begun to mean so much to her. More than she had let herself believe before she had seen her dragging Yasha up to bed. More than Oscar or Fjord. More than any of the other Nein.

Now here she was with her pack on her back, telling Jester that she was leaving. And Jester had never been more afraid in her life.

“It’s okay, you know, if you don’t want to room with me anymore,” she hurried out, desperate for Beau to stay. No matter what. No matter what that meant or who she was staying for. She just had to stay. She had to. “You could just tell me that you want to stay with Yasha now.  I – I won’t be offended. And – and I promise that I won’t get in your way.”

Except she was sobbing and clearly, definitely, way beyond offended. She was breaking inside because Beau – Beau! – was going to leave just because she couldn’t stand to be around her any longer.

“Wait… wait, what? You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?” Beau asked as she sank into the sandy bank beside her.

“No!” Jester exclaimed, leaping forward to wrap her arms around Beau’s neck. Because whatever Beau had said, whatever she wanted now with Yasha, Jester couldn’t stand it if she left.

“Jessie… Jess… I…” Beau pushed her back, holding her shoulders to keep her at arm’s length. “What exactly did you hear?”

Jester sniffled and looked away.

“You know, that stuff about me knowing nothing about love apart from what I read in books and stuff.”

Beau breathed long and soft, then pulled her back into a hug, this one softer than the one before, full of tenderness that Jester hadn’t felt anywhere but in her mother’s arms.

“And that’s why you’re upset?” Beau asked, her voice as tender as her hug.

“Well yeah, obviously.”

This time, when Beau pulled back to look into her eyes, she looked scared and relieved at the same time. Which was… weird. And kind of confusing. And also a little scary.

“I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I just meant … Look, people don’t write – or I guess publish – books about real life. I was angry that the only books that people get to read are about stupid fairy-tale romances that bear no resemblance to what love is really like. And all the young girls that read them get fooled into thinking that’s what love is because that’s all they see, you know? And then when they find someone who fits that fairytale, they just settle for it because that’s what they think love is. Except it’s not.”

“I know that.”

Beau sighed.

“I know you do, Jess. And some of those other girls do to. But it’s hard to recognise something you’ve never seen. If I hadn’t found Tori, I might have been that girl who didn’t know what to look for or who she is.”

Jester shrugged and sagged back onto her heels, pulling out of Beau’s hold. She didn’t like it when Beau talked about Tori.

“Maybe if my Momma and Dad had stayed together…”

“Yeah, Maybe,” Beau said with a sigh. “But then your whole life would have been different and you might not be the you that you are right now.”

“Maybe that would be better?” Jester wondered. Maybe then she’d be more like Yasha. Stronger and more stoic. The kind of person that Beau really wanted to be around. Not some silly girl who liked to play tricks and eat sweets. Even if there was so much more to her that people just didn’t seem to see.

“I happen to think that you’re pretty great just the way you are. So don’t you dare think about changing that for someone else, okay?”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t think I’m stupid? Or a child?”

Beau smiled soft and warm.

“No, Jessie. I don’t. Not at all.”

Now Jester really was confused.

“Then what do you think I am?”

Beau smiled again, kind of sadly this time.

“The most incredible kind, funny, smart, beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

“Beau…”

“Listen Jessie, I know that you and Fjord maybe have this thing going on, but I love you and I can’t keep it in longer. And I don’t mean like a friend kind of love. I mean like the kind of love that people in your books have. Only real and really fucking painful.”

Jester was… Shocked. Beau was so… Beau. She was so incredible and amazing and okay maybe what Jester had been feeling wasn’t the normal kind of friend feelings. Friends don’t spend all night crying because they think their friend might be sleeping with someone else. At least, she didn’t think that they did. And what about…

“What about Yasha?”

Beau frowned, like she was confused beyond measure that this was the question that Jester was asking.

“What about Yasha? She’s a friend.”

“You shared a room with her last night.”

Beau sighed, understanding.

“Yeah. Fjord and I got into it a little bit and I needed some space to talk it out.”

“Space from me?”

“Yeah,” Beau admitted reluctantly.

“Why?”

“Because… Because Fjord said something out of order about my feelings for you and it… it pissed me off. And… scared me.”

“Why would it scare you?”

“Because I’m terrified that you’re going to fall in love with him and I’ll have to watch,” Beau admitted, her head hung and her voice so full of pain that it hurt Jester just to hear it.

“Beau, I’m not in love with Fjord,” Jester said seriously, insistently, leaning forwards so that her hands rested on Beau’s knees and she was so close that Beau couldn’t even try to look away.

“No?”

“No.”

“Good. That’s good. Because… well, that would kind of suck. Like really fucking suck.”

“Yeah,” Jester agreed, falling back into her own space. It would suck. Because Fjord was nice and all but he wasn’t Beau.

“Yeah,” Beau repeated, her face a little dazed. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“You didn’t mean to call me stupid. I just didn’t hear the whole conversation.”

“No, I mean, you’re not mad at me for having these feelings for you?”

“What? No!” Jester cried. “Of course not, Beau! Why would I be mad?”

Beau shrugged, avoiding her eyes again.

“I’m not mad,” Jester promised. “I’m just a little confused.”

“How come?”

There were those eyes again. Soft and understanding. Calm and raging all at once. A little like the ocean.

“Well, when Fjord had to give me air in the ocean it was kind of like a kiss, you know? And I’d never been kissed before so after I asked Nott how it was supposed to feel.”

“And what did she say?”

“I don’t remember exactly. But it was something about how it felt like this whole big thing that made you feel properly alive or something. I don’t really understand what she meant because I already feel alive…”

Beau laughed, nodding.

“You’re the most alive person I know.”

“I know right? So, anyway. She said all of that and I realised that when Fjord and I kind of kissed it didn’t really feel like anything. Just a little bit scary and weird.”

“Okay.”

“Which I was not expecting at all because of Tusk Love, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What does it feel like to kiss a girl?”

Beau’s breath caught and for a minute Jester thought she was going to pass out.

“I can’t really say how it’s different,” Beau began tentatively. “I’ve never kissed a guy before. But kissing someone new sort of always feels different. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like very much and sometimes it does. It depends on the person. But I’ve never had fireworks or anything like they say in books. But I guess it could be because I’ve not really been in love with any of the women I’ve kissed. Not in love, in love anyway.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

She’d said it before she even realised that she was going to say it. But as soon as it was out of her mouth she knew that it was right. This is what she wanted. This is why she had lain awake all night fearing what Yasha could give to Beau. This was the fiarytale she wanted, not some perfect romance. She wanted real. She wanted her best friend. She wanted the girl who made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Who always went along with her crazy ideas and never once judged her for it. The girl who was always there. The one who made Jester’s heart beat faster than it ever had before. Even when she had been facing down that dragon all alone.

“Jester…”

Jester shook her head and realised she had been monologuing in her head but not out loud and now Beau looked worried.

“All I could think about last night was that Yasha might be kissing you and I was super jealous because I don’t want anyone kissing you but me.”

That wasn’t quite the extent of it, but Jester’s mind was messy right now and she wasn’t sure how to articulate that epiphany she had just had in words that didn’t sound like nonsense.

But, as it turned out, it didn’t matter. Because Beau froze on hearing those words. Froze like a rabbit caught in a fox’s glare. Then she smiled. Really smiled. And kissed her.

The moment that Beau’s lips touched hers, Jester didn’t see fireworks, she saw whole constellations exploding behind her eyes. Hot, nervous tension flooded her, rushing into her chest from every corner of her body until she felt sure that she was glowing. Her hands grabbed for Beau’s robes, desperate to pull her closer. To make sure that the kiss would never end because this… this was what Nott has been talking about. This was the kind of world-changing kiss that made everything fall into place. The kind of kiss that punctuated a life. The kind that divided it into the time before she knew what it was like to kiss Beau – Beau who was her best friend, her roommate, her real life fairytale – and the time after it when nothing made sense but wanting Beau and needing Beau and loving Beau.

Because that was what she had been feeling. She knew it now. Knew it for sure. This was what her Momma had told her about. This was love.

“Jessie? Jess, are you okay? I didn’t fuck up did I?”

She realised that she had stopped kissing Beau and had gotten caught up in her own head again. And Beau was looking at her because of it so soft and broken. So wonderfully beautiful and afraid.

“No,” she whispered, kissing her again. “You didn’t fuck up Beau. You did everything just right, okay?” She kissed her again. “I promise.”

This time, Beau looked dazed when she pulled away.

“You smell like roses.”

Jester grinned. “I broke into the bathhouse.”

“What? No way?”

“I drew the biggest dick on their wall. It was awesome! But I also left some money because I felt kind of bad for using a whole bottle of scented oil.”

“Yeah, we can pay for that stuff now, so it’s not as much fun to take it,” Beau reasoned.

“I know right! What’s up with that?”

“I guess they’re not the establishment now or whatever. We’re richer than them so it’s not like taking from the rich and giving to, well, us. Because we’re the rich ones now.”

“That’s pretty smart, Beau.”

“Thanks, Jess,” Beau said, kissing her with a smile. “You can still draw the dicks though. And mess with their stuff.”

“You want to come with me next time?”

“Always.”

Jester smiled, her happiness so big that she felt like she was floating.

“I love you, Beau. The proper kind. Not just the friend kind.”

Beau’s smile was like a warm ocean breeze.

“I love you too, Jessie.”

And then Beau kissed her long and deep. She pressed her down into the sand and covered her face with soft kisses that made her giggle, before pressing back into her mouth, opening her up and bringing back those fireworks.

Jester hadn’t know what romantic love was. Not until she had met Beau. But this, this was the stuff that real fairytales were made of.

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Twenty-Eight

There was a moment of silence. Even a fart would have been drowned out in the silence. Maybe the smell would linger, but other smells would drown it out as well until all was neutral once again.

I wasn't planning on letting one rip. I looked toward her. I couldn't tell if she was planning to either. After all, I wasn't a mind reader.

Well, maybe I could have been. But digging into others' thoughts wasn't something that brought me joy.

She looked my way as well. Her face was void of joy or sorrow. On the contrary, it was a face of both joy and sorrow. Complete release.

After such sterile silence, so painful, I lifted myself to my feet. My original plan was to leave. Leave here there and go about my way. Where? Why, any which way. Wherever made me happy.

“Sit,” she commanded. I obeyed.

“Care to share a drink with me?”

“I'm sorry. I'm not a vampire,” I teased, though my tone may have come off as more scathing.

“Very funny. I ought to kill you,” her response was just as playful in turn. Childlike, not the collected demeanor I had come to expect. There was a certain glow to her, though not an illuminating one. Radiating, maybe, but one akin to magma or the aftermath of a nuclear reactor collapsing.

“No,” she continued, more zest in her voice, yet also a sense of exhaustion. “I was actually thinking of champagne.”

She procured a bottle and two glasses, a sign that the two of us now shared something. Such a fact didn't bring me joy, but I could tell she enjoyed it, so I gave up thoughts on throwing it out.

“We're popping the biggest corks when The Flashbulb is defeated!” I cracked a joke, which she just responded by tilting her head

“I...I was trying to make a funny...”

“Let's start this day over from the beginning,” she began.

“You're going to be my therapist for real this time?”

She shook her head, her smile more warm. “I don't think I would be the right person for that job. I was thinking instead of us talking as if we were two world-weary travelers meeting at the twilight of our journey.”

“That sounds like some romantic BS,” I yawned. “But fine. I've got time. I'll indulge you.”

She closed her eyes and smiled, then took a sip from her glass. I didn't recall the champagne bottle being poured into our glasses, but I suppose the 'no recollection' thing was just par for the course.

“So what did it feel like, when you, you know...” I had trouble asking something so simple. Perhaps it had something to do with it being a process involving my own body which I did not plan for, yet if I were to be curious about anything, that would be the first thing to come to mind.

“Have you ever felt so happy you could die?” She asked in response.

Ah, I see. The old 'answering a question with another question' tactic. I took a sip from the glass, then spit out what I had drank. How did anyone enjoy such things? After wiping my mouth, I found just what to say.

“Can't say I have.”

“Then I can't really tell you what it felt like, now can I?” She laughed and hiccuped. Her glass wasn't even empty yet. Did it not take much for her to be intoxicated? I just tilted the glass to and fro, unsure if I wanted to drink the rest.

“Truth is, I'm not even sure how to be happy.”

She leaned back, startled by my response.

“Oh, so you can lie to your guardian angel, can you?”

I didn't know how she knew that or if she even knew that she knew that.

“I doubt she'd be very happy to find out you've been lying to her,” she continued, wagging her finger in disapproval.

“Well, I mean, I just don't really know what it means.”

“Look, you've got the smiling part down.”

“Yeah, but you can go around smiling and think about killing yourself all the while,” I pointed out.

“Is that what you do?”

I shook my head. “I told you! I've already died a few times. Totally overrated.”

“So you're telling me when you do all these things and say you're able to do them because it makes you happy, you're not really happy?”

I shook my head again. “Not at all. I am, I'm just not sure how I am, or what it means to be happy.”

“Do you know how to be sad? How to be mad? Do you know what any of those things mean?”

“Well, no? Yes? I don't know?”

I felt a little dizzy. I was pretty sure I wasn't the one doing most of the drinking.

She belted a hearty laugh.

“You're a funny kid, you know that?”

“Hey, I'm twenty-four!”

I shook my head.

“Actually, I guess I'm only four years old. But since I have all the memories and appearance of someone twenty-four years old, I like to think I ought to be twenty-four.”

“What? Really?”

She stared as if I said something strange. Nothing was strange at all. I was born one day in the exact image, mind, and memories as someone else who happened to share the same name. The other me was 20 and this me has lived for about four years, so I couldn't tell what was so confusing.

“Well, what about you?”

She nudged me. “Please, you're not supposed to ask a lady her age. But if you ought to know, I am most certainly an adult!”

I puffed my cheeks. Such a cop out. In retaliation, I held out the glass and she took the cue to fill it further. I downed the drink, doing my best not to spit it out. If it made her happy, I would be happy as well. Maybe that was why I smiled throughout guzzling it down. She shook her head. Mine was dizzy.

“You're not supposed to chug it, you know. You're supposed to take slow sips.” Her voice could be heard. I ignored it in favor of my own.

“Do you believe in angels?” Was the question I posed. She turned her head and looked up. There were dolphins swimming through the walls, though that was neither here nor there.

“When I was little I believed there were fairies in the fields near where I lived. Even when I grew up just a little and met my girlfriend, we would sit atop her van and ingest mushrooms. It was during those times that we thought we could see those fairies and even thought if we stayed real still, they would grant our wishes.”

She paused.

“That's right...”

“Are you okay?” my head spun, but my words still found their center.

“Before I met Juniper I had a girlfriend who I just left. I went forward too many years. I can't go back. I've abandoned so much in this new life and I miss it. I can't see her how she is now. I don't know how she is now. She may be dead, she may be much older, she may have met someone else a long time ago. If I were to go back, I would be an adult and she would be a teenager. We couldn't continue as we had. I am someone different.”

She clutched her head, pulled out the bangs of her hair, and leaned against her raised knee.

“Even as I have become, I don't know what I'm supposed to do.”

My gut told me to say “whatever you want to do”, but when I looked at her, she looked more and more like a child. Even though I knew she was older (and I had assumed wiser) than me, I also sensed both this naivety and fragility. Blonde, silver...someone so brave, so cruel, so scared, so considerate.

“Why don't you tell me about that life?” Was my compromise.

Must have been the alcohol. So giddy, so plush. Lush. Charms I gave myself. Such power I had obtained and here I was using it to talk with the source. Who I would consider responsible.

I just had to laugh.

“No wonder you were so happy. To think I have just a little bit of what you have,” I mused. Yes, I was dodging the issue.

Blanc grinned as well, a grin or a grimace. It still had the visage of happiness, in either case.

“You feel it and at first you're in disbelief, but it feels so good. You want more. You get more. Then, you feel like there's still something missing in spite of it all. But when you try to seek out more in hopes that it can fill whatever's missing, it's gone.”

“Is that what you're going through?”

Blanc bared teeth, the grin brighter.

“Nope! Because I have it again!” But then shifted just a little. “Though it is dangerous...entropic.”

Just a little...more...

“So, are you going to tell me or what?”

I blinked. Snapped back to reality. What was that song Trent would go on about? Something about spaghetti...

“Very well,” I declared while waving my glass about now. Empty or full, the liquid would still find its way.

“You're starting to slur...” Blanc groaned in a rather sing-song way.

“I lived with my mother and father. Only child, lucky me. Father was always away in the garage, had the door locked. Hard at work on some invention or other. Dr. Stromboli, he was called. We never knew his actual last name. Although both my mother and I's last names were Modelo, his could have been anything. That was the life he lived. My life was spent trying to get in. Chip away at that life to be a part of it. He loved us, he did. I think he did. I loved him.”

“So you didn't know much of him?”

I shook my head. Such a silly notion.

“I knew much. We shared a home together. We were family. I didn't know much of what he did, but I understood his dedication. When he would come out and greet everyone with a smile, I knew he still cared. At times, losing track of time. We shared dinner together. There were times he would let me in after I banged on the door, and I would watch him work on things. I would help out by bringing parts over or certain books. It wasn't a constant, but it was a nice opportunity. Whenever he came out whether it be to eat or just to greet us, his face showed exhaustion, yet he continued to hold a smile.”

“Would you call him neglectful?”

“Not at all! Other fathers had their TV's, he had his inventions.”

Blanc stared at their glass. Or mine, that I gave to Blanc. Or was it Blanc's, as if not for Blanc, I wouldn't have been able to conjure a glass? Yet, it was mine, for it was me who took the initiative.

“My mother was a quiet, demure woman. Loving, rare to raise her voice. Educate, rather than scold. Kindness to a fault, I would say.”

“So you guys were a family, but separate from each other?” Blanc seemed to be trying to fit together a puzzle whose pieces weren't necessarily meant to fit together.

“We were together. Quite a while. The two were the irritating quiet, a separation I couldn't endure. I was the firebrand. He would always say I had a fiery personality and mom hated how I was quick to yell. She tried to teach me better, I think, but I wouldn't listen.”

“Sounds typical, then.”

I smiled, serene. “Yes, I suppose it was.”

Still silence. This new self was starting to revert to an old, younger self.

“...And I hated it. I saw war and injustice. He toiled away and she stayed silent. In my eyes, she believed that it didn't concern her so no need to worry, and he must have thought there were more important things to do. He was toiling away doing lord knows what, meanwhile there's a war going on that we had no business being in. We were just adding to the massacre.”

“Talking about Iraq? Afghanistan?”

“Vietnam.”

Blanc spit out their drink. How rude.

“How old are you again?” They asked, before stopping themselves. “Right. Time travel.”

Again with the rudeness.

“You just had to bring that up, didn't you?” I scowled.

The memories were returning. Unsure if it was something painful or an addition to the happiness – memories of a life I once lived.

“I remember seeing an article on Stonewall and yelling 'I should have been there!' Maybe I was romanticizing something awful, but I didn't see it that way. He told me, 'there are far more important things' and that sent me flying! I shot back: 'then why aren't you doing them? These are MY people! They fought for something important!' You understand, don't you?”

“I don't know...I don't really think about those kind of things. But I guess it's good if it inspires you,” they shrugged. I must have had a moment of passion, something I would have usually kept in check.

“Instead, do you know what he does? He builds a time machine, uses it, and disappears. I go after him, leaving behind my mom and my girlfriend. Leaving behind my passion. Where I arrived, he was nowhere to be found. Just another device, a cryptic message, distorted image of him. Wherever he was, whatever happened to him, I don't know and I may never.”

Great. I could feel the sting. Tear ducts opening to signal departure. How unbecoming.

“You know, if it makes you happy, you could...”

“Would finding out make me happy? If I find out he's alive, and stuck somewhere I could never reach, then what? Or he's dead and The Flashbulb killed him? I've thought of that, too. Any of those answers would only bring me pain.”

“But if pain leads to happiness...”

“No!” I fired back. “Not my pain. Never my own.”

So that was Etna...or...

“Is there a name you would like, by the way?”

“Vesuvius. I thought of Molly at the start of our conversation, but a little on the nose, if you catch my drift.”

I didn't. Wasn't sure if she did either. I didn't know what a drunk person looked like, but I was pretty sure she was drunk. Then again, I was pretty sure she was already drunk before the alcohol.

“That name makes me happy!” I smiled and nodded.

“Does everything make you happy?”

“I think I get mad sometimes!” Even saying such made me giddy. “I just don't get sad anymore!”

“I see...” She noted, then downed another glass. “I have a question for you, seeing as you asked me about my past.”

“Shoot!” I replied, then remembered the gun she held. Ouch.

“When you broke free, I recall seeing a blade shoot out of your arm. That wasn't something my wife created when she made your prosthetic, was it?” I inquired, my head bobbing as the question arose.

Blanc's eyes widened; a cat's expression for when they want to play. If Blanc had a tail it would have been swishing from side to side.

“Nope!” In exclamation.

“How did you get it, then?”

Blanc placed their finger on their chin. “Maybe I'll tell you sometime!”

“Let me guess: you used those powers of yours?”

“Sorta! In a roundabout indirect way, I think that happened!”

That's when I was certain the truth would come out.

Looking back on the day, a fondness sprouted, a spoonful of honey with a dash of sunshine.

I sat alone at a bench, an overcast day at the park. Children and their parents ran about, I couldn't ignore the commotion. Smile spread, until I looked down and noticed my arm. Although a wonderful parting gift, I still had trouble with it. As this stood, I only had one functional arm. I could move it about but it felt more like the jingling of keys. I couldn't flex the metal parts that would have made up a hand.

Dashing toward me, clacking of heels against pavement.

“Hey! Cool arm you got there!” Prospective mechanic with a suit fashioned more for a businessman greeted me.

“Thanks,” was my reply, and I couldn't help but scratch the back of my head. “This really cool and smart person named Juniper made it for me as a gift!”

“What if I told you I could make it better, though?”

“Oh?” Maybe that would have made me a little happier. Being able to use it.

“Yes! You've inspired me! Come with me to my lab, it's just a few blocks from here!”

I crossed my legs before leaping up from the bench.

“Sure! Not like I was doing anything anyway!”

We walked together, kindred spirits in curiosity. Or me, just hoping to pass the time away until the next event took place. Once inside said building, a cold box of sorts that appeared much smaller on the outside. Crisp air, conditioned and sanitized. Still, so full of life. I couldn't wait to see what this benefactor could do.

Although I would have to part with an arm for a short time, I felt no loss.

“Can I get a hand blaster kind of like Mega Man?” I leaned forward, breaking the engineer's concentration.

“No, but I was thinking of making your arm more sturdy, give it an extra layer of protection. Send signals through to your brain through microscopic wires to allow full range of movement. On top of that, I'll even add a layer of skin on top, so in essence, you'll have a fully functioning arm!”

The lame-ass smarty-pants must have thought so high and mighty after explaining away all that. But that was all boring basic stuff.

“So are rockets out of the question?”

Short pause, a stare.

“What's your deal with wanting weapons so bad?”

I shrugged.

“I just think they're neat!”

Bright and hopeful provider of improvements gave a look of disapproval.

“I'd also like a sword,” I added.

There was a sigh, though it could have been steam from nearby machinery.

“How about this: I can add a button that you can press where a blade can spring forward from the side of your arm. Deal?”

“Hell yes, let's do it!”

“...Are you by any chance the violent type?”

I shook my head.

“Nah, but you never know when it might come in handy!”

“On that note, you can just press the button again and the blade will retract. The artificial skin will even repair itself.”

“You really are all that, aren't you?”

Oh my, I awoke the beast. My improver stood tall, a flashy grin and sparks emanating.

“I really am!”

It took a few months before it was all ready, in the meanwhile I was given a place to stay and even got free food. I would say it was a good deal, all things considered.

“I see,” I noted after having taken another sip. “So in other words, you took what she made for you and trashed it in favor of something better.”

“Well, gee, when you put it that way, do you think she'd be mad at me?”

I shook my head and took another sip.

“No, she's not the type of person. She just likes to help people out, regardless of her skill level. I imagine if she were to find out, she'd just say something like 'I'm glad you were able to make improvements to it and you're doing better now'. Honestly, it's one of the things I don't like so much about her. For as tough as I know she can be, she's uninterested in hurting a soul, even if it's to defend herself.”

I smiled, thinking it would sting to hear such words. Then, I added, “in my opinion, you took advantage of her kindness and as soon as you found something better, you didn't give it a second thought.”

When I looked over, Blanc was still smiling. I think I even heard a little laugh.

“I'm glad to hear she's so forgiving, then!”

I reeled back.

“To think there are people like that! It makes me happy!” Then Blanc swayed their head. “Though I'm really not deserving of it.”

I would have had to agree on that one. “Doesn't matter. She's just like that. If anyone's undeserving of her kindness, it ought to be me. I just appeared one day.” It dawned on me that both Blanc and I just appeared one day. I laughed as well, though stifled.

“I don't think of you as a monster, you know...” Blanc muttered. Wasn't fooling me, though. I heard well enough.

“Who ever said...?” I didn't know where I was going. Room was a blur. I was still on the floor.

“You know, I could never hate you,” Blanc continued, meanwhile tilting the glass as if showing disrespect to the drink. “Regardless of what you do or have done. I told you before, I consider you, Juniper, and Trent to be like a family I never had.”

I sobered up. Or, I would have liked if it was so simple. Still, hearing that was sobering enough.

“Thank you for that.”

I watched as we both drank once more. I was gentle, Blanc chugged it all down, only to spit it out.

That's not how you drink that, you buffoon.

“I on the other hand, know that I may no longer be myself. I don't care, though. I wanted to make sure my friends were happy. The thing is, I may never even see them. I won't know for sure. I'm not as generous as Euphoria; I want to see those I care about happy. I don't care about everyone and everything.”

“That's fair, too, I think. Having this, I feel so great, and I would love to share it, but there's also a strong desire to take as much of it as possible and keep it for myself.”

“The thing is, I did all this, and maybe the only reason I did it was to feel some sort of gratification. Some purpose for doing something. In truth, I really do think well of them, but I'm not even sure if I've even crossed their minds.”

“Do you really believe you aren't loved?”

Blanc looked taken aback. “Why'd you say that?”

“Is it true?”

“I don't know. I don't know if I am or not. How am I supposed to tell?”

I shook my head, as if a mother scolding their child. “You have an angel within you willing to give you their power, you have people who have taken you in with no caveat, yet you still question it? It's like you're happier, but your mind is the same.”

“Yeah, but she...they love everyone!” Blanc protested.

I just shook my head again. “Stubborn as a mule, I tell you what.”

Blanc looked about to say something else, but I interrupted.

“What would your friends think if they heard you?”

I remembered Conrad telling Kelly Roger and Velvet how everything he did was for my sake. Or, for another version of me's sake. I was never there, nor was the version of me that Conrad surely meant. Such forbidden memories I should have been used to by now. Snooping around wasn't great, but the Beige practically encouraged it.

I was sitting at the couch one day at Trent's apartment, flipping through channels on the television, with my good arm, of course. Not that the other was bad, but was just unusable.

Trent walked through the hallway in a robe and saw me.

“See anything good?”

I shook my head. “Everything sucks.” Then I came across something. “Never mind, actually. Everything is awesome.”

Trent leaned his head over. “Ah, the Lego Movie.”

I was in a trance. How something so brilliant could flash before my eyes.

“You know, I probably have to go soon. I could get a call to the hospital at any time. You know how those guys are.”

“Yeah, price gouging everyone. Letting people die.”

Trent winced. “Bad mood?”

Actually, yeah. I think I was. “Metal arm hurts, nothing good on TV. Haven't had coffee. Don't even know if I could hold a mug. Also coffee is gross without a shitload of cream. Can't think of anything fun outside, need an ID to get a job. No money for food. Still can't remember anything about myself, either. So yeah, a little grumpy.”

“Have you thought of using a fake ID?”

“What?”

Trent shrugged. “I mean, I'm not suggesting anything, but I don't see the crime in using a fake ID to get a job. I'm pretty sure my sister's done it before, so it's probably fine.”

“You're telling me...”

“I'm not telling you anything, just an idea.”

“Well, I'll think about it.”

He went over to the kitchen and got himself a bagel. At this point, I wasn't even paying attention to the brick people.

“Do you remember anything at all?” He asked, mouth full of bagel.

“Not really, and it still sucks. I mean, I'm happy living here, I really am, but I still think there could have been this long and epic backstory that's hidden from me and I may never get to see it.”

“I feel ya there. I once looked into the history at the hospital I work at. Did you know that the building used to be used for satanic rituals? Blew my mind.”

“Well, on that note, I think I remember something. I think I remember this computer who kept insulting me.”

“Hmm...sounds like Portal.”

“Yeah, was probably nothing.”

I shrugged, he shrugged. We both went back to our respective tasks. His pager rung, he waved goodbye and ran out the door. I just got to the part where Will Ferrell showed up.

My arms were crossed, I was still steaming in my own grump.

“You know,” I told myself. “Maybe some fresh air will do me good.”

Even though I said that, I knew when I exited that door, I wouldn't be returning. It wasn't so much of a plan as something that fell in my lap. For months and months I had been avoiding the outdoors, living in the care of these people I got to know. But they found me at a park and I thought that maybe if I were to return to said park, I might find a clue or something.

...Looking back, that sounds totally dumb, but as we all know, I am a big dumb-dumb.

“Such a simple day and none of us realized we wouldn't see you again,” I noted. “You know, we missed you. Trent said he saw you before he left. None of us knew what to do. We thought of a missing persons report, but us being careless in our own right, couldn't think of how to word it and didn't really trust the cops. So we just let things go and returned to our lives.”

“That's what I hoped would happen.”

“Why?”

“Just seemed ideal I always felt like this world I dropped off on was the ideal world. Like everything that I could have asked for, even before I regained my memories. Maybe Euphoria really had been with me since the beginning.”

“Euphoria?”

“It's what I call the angel. In reality, I don't think they have a name. But any name is her, their, name.”

“It's a little hard to believe. An angel. But, I know it's true as what else but an angel would grant me such abilities?”

“Maybe some cosmic entity. Don't even know if angel is the right word, but angel makes Euphoria happy. As does anything.”

“Angel, demon. Something we don't understand. Something that doesn't make sense. Something that just works. Kind of beautiful, if you ask me.”

I swayed to and fro. Life sure was beautiful. “So, tell me about these friends of yours?”

“Well, there's Velvet, she's like this super cool secret agent and also this huge dork. I guess I don't know a lot about her but I know she likes to have fun. Then there's Conrad, who's like this super secretive conspiracy nut who hung out at the basement of a college. I want to say Conrad was my best friend, but I hardly knew him. Another version of me knew him very well. I actually knew Velvet more, but I didn't know her for a super long time. Then again, I wasn't alive for a super long time, as it was...” I knew I was starting to ramble. Maybe it was the drink actually taking effect. Or maybe it was just that rambling made me happy.

Vesuvius, as she wanted to be called, was leaning over now, looking at the floor. Her glass, nowhere to be found. She heaved multiple times until vomiting out reddish-black substances. I could smell the stench of blood.

“Hey...are you okay?”

She looked over at me, smiling. “Yes, I guess I'm still not used to it. Such an incompatible thing is a part of me now.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I wasn't sure what was going on. Last thing I know, we were just going back and forth with our small talk. Now she looked like death. Her face had gone red, veins spreading across.

“Just lift me up, please.”

I leaned down and she took my arm. I let her rest her head against the back of my shoulder. Her head bobbed to and fro and I didn't think much of it, but then she sank her teeth into my shoulder and bit out of a chunk of my flesh. I pushed her off. She still stood, staggered.

“I needed more...”

“No way! Nu-uh! You've had plenty.” My flesh repaired itself and the pain washed away.

She gave that sly smile. “You have to be more gentle with me,” she crooned, before spitting out more blood.

I sighed. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Just walk with me out of the room.”

“Fine, but no biting, okay?”

“Not even a little nibble?”

I felt like retching, myself.

“No!”

She fell onto my back and we trudged out of the room. “You know,” I told her. “Once we're out, we'll be going our separate ways. There won't be any more blood you're getting. Are you sure you'll be alright?”

“This new form of mine will take some getting used to, but I'll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I'm capable. I know how to find my way back to my own time.”

The doors opened and I let go of her. She looked like she was about to fall over, but stood up, her movements stilted. I wasn't sure where she was headed, but what I set out to do was done.

In truth, I didn't need any more blood. What I had been granted gave me enough knowledge to know that it was already a part of me and no amount of purging would change that. I needed an excuse for Blanc to hate me. I needed to act dependent to make sure I would never have to depend on them again. Was I disgusted with myself? Maybe a little, but there were more pressing matters.

I was weakened. More than I should have been. I knew where I was going. I had to go to the source.

Several halls down, along a winding stairwell, lie a room with a large computer in the middle. I walked up to the computer, stared at the foreign buttons and the console, and spoke to it.

“Hello, me,” I pushed my glasses up, hoping it would help me look more composed.

I didn't expect a reply.

“How funny it is that the two of us should meet,” she announced herself. Her presence was somewhere nearby, I could tell. Her icy voice pierced and sent shivers. “What business could you have here? Are you here to shut me down, make sure I leave no impact?”

“No. You know I could do no such thing.”

“What, then?”

“I want you to tell me something.”

She appeared, just as she disappeared. Just a glimpse. She was around me. She was me, somewhere.

“I want you to tell me what happened to my father,” I echoed. Realizing how cliché those words were, how I must have seen similar sentiments in cheesy movies watched at the apartment. Still, she must have known and if she knew, then I had to know.

“You already know.”

“Why would I ask you if I already know?”

“Good question. I too wonder the same thing. Maybe you have been repressing such a memory.”

I grit my teeth, my hands balled into a fist. I shouted the order:

“Just tell me!”

She was somewhere near, in front of me. Far, or close. I should have been in front of the console to the computer, but instead I was on the far edge of the room, and she was in the middle, where I had been. She inspected her nails, a look of disinterest as she didn't dare dignify me with a glance.

“You killed him,” was her response. Passive, such cold apathy.

I already knew her previous forms. I knew my previous forms. I knew so many things I shouldn't have known, so I knew as well that her words were a farce.

“That's just one of those false memories you created for yourself!” I shot back.

“Ah, and what might my inspiration have been? I do not deny being capable of such things, but would you believe I just conjured such imagery from nothing?”

“Why would I...” I didn't want to entertain her further, but I knew she knew the answers, even if she was keeping them from me.

“You were tired of the abuse you and your mother faced. Either neglect one day, or beatings the next. One day you grabbed the pistol he kept stashed and when he wasn't paying attention, you shot him. Shocked by what you had done, you ran off with his time travel device and took on a new identity.”

“That...That makes no sense! He loved us! He disappeared! What about the video that played on the device? I wasn't the only one who saw it! The brother and sister I met saw it too! Juniper and Trent! They both saw it! I know they did! I know he's out there, or was, or he was in danger, but I don't know where, but I know I wasn't the cause!”

She laughed, devoid of any humor or enthusiasm.

“Is that the story you tell yourself? The memory you constructed?”

“I would never!”

Laughter continued.

“When you came here with Blanc, affected by the angel's power, your one source of happiness to end all the panic around you, was to hold a pistol and shoot Blanc. Do you think that was such a coincidence?”

“I...I...”

“You and I both know how capable you are of committing such acts. While it is true that in previous iterations of me, I was born from both yours and Juniper's mind, my cruel side was inherited from you.”

“I'm not!” I fell to my knees. I never knew what I was getting myself into, did I? I never know. That must be the problem. I always want to be in control, but how often does that come true? “I never wanted to leave! I loved my family! I loved my girlfriend! I left so much behind! I had to!”

“Why did you feel you had to?”

“Because...I...didn't know how to go back...”

“Didn't know how to return to that time, or didn't know how to face the consequences of your actions?”

What actions? What actions did I ever commit? Attempt to search for...

“Solace? Your thoughts are my own.”

“No! Search for what I had lost! He disappeared, he...” I was drawing short on breath. Desperation. What else could I even say at this point? She knew whatever response I would make.

“You ask for the truth and refuse to believe it when I tell you.”

“Why should I trust you? You lie, you manipulate, you create false memories!”

“I do not deny any of those. But why should you trust yourself when you do the same?”

I shook my head. I have created names for myself, took on different forms when I needed to. I just couldn't accept that. How many years had I yearned for the truth? That couldn't have been it. I had been searching and I couldn't have been searching for that. No.

“You cannot accept your memories. You pick and choose what you remember and what you forget. Paint a beautiful picture, all for yourself.”

She just kept talking. I couldn't stand it. Why did I come here? Why did I think this would be constructive? My stomach was getting sick again. I was sick of everything around me. She was everything around me. Standing. Judging me. For what? I came here. I came here for answers. Or to destroy her. To show her that I held the power.

“Accept us. Embrace us. Accept yourself.” She, they, all chanted, circling around me. Closing in.

I clutched my head, ready to pull out my hair. I had no weapon to defend myself. To destroy her. She needed to be ended. I had nothing. I just wanted to see them again. To be the child I once was. Attend school, grow up, become respected in whatever field I chose. Or an activist, among a crowd, champion a cause. Instead, all of this had to happen and I don't even know anymore what it was that happened.

“This is who you are,” Each of them took turns whispering in my ear.

“I WANT MY OLD LIFE BACK!” I shouted, screamed, sobbed. My lungs ached, but in time they would heal. I knew because I knew what I was.

“Then take it,” that disinterested doctor stood again, so close, so far. Her glasses and demeaning pursed lips. “You and I both know you're not helpless, girl.”

“I...I don't know how,” I muttered, still sobbing. My arms were on the floor, my back hunched.

“You did it so well when you took from Blanc without consent.”

“I...” I shook my head.

“You came here because you were starting to feel weak and you couldn't take any more from Blanc. You thought you could feed off of me for power. Am I wrong?”

“No.”

“You wish to suck me, even though you and I are already one?”

“Not like that...”

“Did you really believe that by draining from me, you would draw more power? If anything it would be like inflicting wounds upon yourself expecting to gain strength. 'What doesn't kill me...'? Girl, please.”

“I am not you!” I picked myself up.

“I agree. You lack the scope. I can save the world. You are only interested in your own gain.”

“That's not true either!”

“And how do you suppose that? We both have the capacity to bring happiness to the world, yet you would rather focus on your own.”

“That's normal!”

She nodded.

“Maybe so. But whereas I so love the world, you lack any sense of love.”

“My family!”

“Abandoned.”

“My wife...Juniper...”

“She was the first person you latched onto. It could have been anyone.”

Lies. Such a waste of a computer. It could have been anyone. I made my choice and I knew what to do next. End her.

I picked myself up, a new resolve. My body shook. Around me were the various faces of ecstasy, each taking their turn biting into my flesh, laughing and moaning all the while. I pressed on, each pace, further resolve.

In my hands lay a wooden stake which I used to plunge into the heart of the mainframe. In response, liquid red wires sprung out, covering my face, staining my cheeks, smearing my glasses. That furthered my rage and I lifted the stake and slammed it down once more. Again. Again. There was a body forming, the heart of the matter. Some stranger. I knelt down and drank her blood. Tasted nothing like her, nothing angelic. Nothing like myself. I wiped my mouth and removed my glasses. I took a cloth out from my pocket and wiped away the material.

I knew where my home was.

There was no need to worry about Vesuvius. She was capable. She had some of Euphoria in her. There was no doubt in my mind that she could make it back to her own time. Or any time she wanted, for that matter. So, I left the room and whistled, not a worry or care in the world. Happiness was all around me.

“Hey!” Someone called out. I should have just been able to hold a time cube and leave without a hitch.

Maybe she weakened me a little...

I turned around to face two men and without even focusing on their features, my eyes went straight to their badges: Dr. Ridley and Dr. Kraid. Obvious Flashbulb members.

“Uhh...hey!” I waved. “How can I help you, I'm doctor...”

“Save it!” The one with the Dr. Kraid nametag demanded. “We know you're not one of us. For that matter, we know we should erase you from existence here and now if we knew what was good for us.”

Just like I did with one of you guys earlier...

“Are you saying you don't know what's good for you guys?”

Dr. Ridley stamped his foot. “Dammit! Fell right into that one!”

Dr. Kraid looked unamused.

“Do you have any idea what you did? What you unleashed? With Etna able to shift between a holographic form and a physical, she can exist without the need for a computer at any time.”

“And?”

“For that matter, now human Etna is walking around with the same power! We were supposed to keep Etna in check, but do you know what human Etna just did?”

“I believe her name is Vesuvius,” I corrected.

Again, unamused.

“She just went into an empty room and killed an intern! Do you know how hard interns are to come by? Most of us want to get rewarded for our efforts!”

“So...?”

“So now she's loose and could spell ruin for us!”

I shrugged. “Not my problem.”

“But --”

“Not. My. Problem.”

I then walked away and went back to whistling. If they wanted to do something to me, they should have done so then and there.

“Wait!” I recognized the voice as Ridley.

I turned my head.

“How would you like to join us? We could use someone like you!”

I tried to hold back a laugh, but the smile slipped through.

“You know, I was thinking it might head in this direction. Tell you what: when this is all over, maybe I'll think about it.”

In truth I had no intention of saying yes, but I knew it would be happy to hear such an answer. After all, “I'll think about it” sounds like “probably” and “probably sounds like “potential yes”.

I kept walking, meanwhile digging through my pants pocket. Inside was the time cube. I fiddled around with some buttons, unsure what I was clicking, but also sure I knew where I would be headed. Because where I wanted to go was somewhere that would make me happiest.

Whether or not that was the case, well, I'd just have to see.

[lilyvandersteen]

Puppy Eyes Chapter 17

Warning for unapologetic schmoop and cotton candy fluff. Please brush your teeth extra carefully after consuming this :-)

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you’re wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

Chapter 17: With All My Love

Kurt had gone to sleep happy after getting the macarons and the love letter. Blaine was thinking of him. Blaine wanted him back!

Part of Kurt had wanted to run to Blaine straightaway and lay the world’s most passionate kiss on him, but he remembered what Trent had told him when Kurt had called him, in tears, two days after the Sebastian incident. “Don’t give in too soon. If you do, Blaine will just go back to the way things were before, because it’s convenient for him. Wait it out. Wait until Blaine is ready and willing to give you the kiss that will break the spell. And whatever you do, don’t move back in with him until he’s at least proposed to you.”

So Kurt waited, and to his delight, Blaine sent him a new surprise every day.

The macarons were followed by a Wicked poster signed by the original cast – “No-one will ever sing Defying Gravity better than you. Nothing moves me as much as your singing. There’s so much raw emotion in it that it tears me up every time.”

After that came a book bag with a design printed on it that made Kurt giggle. Blaine had drawn stylised versions of himself as a puppy, sitting, lying, running, jumping, eating, looking up with a doggy smile, tongue hanging out. Kurt marvelled at all the different drawings – none of them were identical, and there were dozens! Around the puppies, there were paths of paw prints, adding a swirling pattern to the design to make it even prettier.

The accompanying note said:

“Dearest Kurt,

I noticed your book bag was getting kind of frayed, so here’s a new one for you. Maybe I should have drawn different kinds of dogs, but… This is from puppy me to you, so I’ve drawn my likeness in the hope that you won’t forget about me.

With all my love,

Blaine”

Professor Scher noticed the book bag the next time he had class with her, and cooed over it. Kurt felt his cheeks heat up and fiddled with his brooch to manage his nerves, but luckily, she didn’t ask where he’d gotten the bag.

A few days later, though, she called him to her office, and as soon as the door was closed, she handed him a package that was clearly from Blaine.

Professor Scher grinned at Kurt’s bafflement, and explained, “I knew that bag was Blaine’s design. I’d recognise his style from miles away. So I asked what was going on, and Blaine said he’d been giving you presents to make up for what happened with Sebastian. He blames me, can you believe it? Thinks that I should never have brought Sebastian here so he could see Blaine and instantly fall in lust with him.”

Professor Scher laughed as if that was an excellent joke, and Kurt felt his face turn into an icy mask.

There’s nothing funny about Sebastian and his inappropriate behaviour. Don’t expect me to laugh it off.

Professor Scher sighed. “But you’re as much of a stick-in-the-mud about it as Blaine. Seb’s harmless, really. A slut, yes, but he’s into consensual sex. He really thought Blaine was agreeing to it.”

“So did I,” Kurt said in clipped tones. “That’s why I left Blaine.”

Professor Scher nodded. “But by now you know better, right? Blaine’s not the kind to have hook-ups. And he’s really cut up about this misunderstanding. So take pity on the guy and take him back. He’s been sulking and whining non-stop and I’m sick of it.”

Kurt squared his jaw. “Thank you for the package, Professor.”

He turned around and left the office without one more word.

That afternoon, Sebastian dropped by the designers’ department to talk to Kurt, not in the least disturbed by Kurt’s arctic glare. “Paula says you’re miffed because I made a move on that hot colleague of hers. I didn’t know he was your boyfriend, man. If I’d known, I swear I’d have backed off.”

Kurt didn’t answer. He just turned back to his computer screen and went back to work.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Sebastian insisted. “And pass that on to the boyfriend, too, will ya?”

Kurt tweaked a circle he’d just drawn and completely ignored Sebastian until he went away. When the door closed behind him, Kurt let out a shaky breath and willed away the tears that were threatening. My boyfriend. I wish.

When he opened the gift that night, it was a balm for his wounded soul. Blaine had sent him a beautifully illustrated fairy tale book, and the note that came with it read,

Dearest Kurt,

Sometimes I feel like I’m in a fairy tale, waiting for my prince to come and rescue me. Only, he was there all along, wasn’t he? I was just too blind to see it.

Kurt, my fair prince, I will dream of you at night and think of you by day and count down the days until you return to me, and we can live our happily ever after.

With all my love,

Blaine

K & B

Kurt did his best not to let his feelings show when he had class with Blaine, keeping his poker face on and not interacting with Blaine any more than he had to. That became harder week after week, because all Kurt could think of when he saw Blaine was the love notes and the gifts he kept sending Kurt.

The Burberry leash, because “it will go so well with your Burberry rain coat” – and of course it did.

The charming Alice in Wonderland themed tea set, complete with chamomile tea and a pot of organic honey, because “I heard you coughing in class, and I don’t want you to get ill again, please. This will soothe your sore throat and help you fall asleep.”

Blaine had always been attentive and caring, and Kurt had thrilled to that from the very beginning, but now Blaine was taking it to a whole new level, and slowly but surely chipping away at the walls Kurt had put up.

Kurt was starting to look forward to the gifts and the notes, and knew he would miss them when Blaine’s charm offensive ended.

Three weeks into the spring semester, Kurt hummed happily as he came home from R/GA and put leashes on the poodles to take them to the park. It was Friday, so he had the whole weekend to look forward to, and at eight p.m, he’d be picking up three other dogs to go jogging with Trent, who no doubt would have a new surprise for him. Kurt couldn’t wait to see what it was.

In the park, Kurt let the poodles run free for a moment and sat on a bench, day-dreaming. All of a sudden, his phone went off. An unknown number was calling him, and proved quite persistent. The ringing continued for a long time, and as soon as his phone pinged with a missed call notice, the same number called again.

Frowning, Kurt accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr Hummel. This is Denise Peters of the Sweetest Thing Bakery. You had an appointment with us at four p.m. to discuss your wedding cake and taste samples, but neither you nor Mr Anderson showed up.”

Kurt, thinking on his feet, said, “Let me check my agenda, ma’am.”

He rifled through one of his text books for school and then added, “Oh dear, it seems like we got our wires crossed. I have the appointment jotted down for tomorrow, at the same time. I’m so sorry, ma’am. Blaine must have made a mistake writing down the date.”

“So you’re still interested in having your wedding cake made by us?”

“Oh, definitely, ma’am, you were our top pick,” Kurt lied glibly.

Denise seemed mollified by his praise and rang off with a “Oh, all right then, see you tomorrow at four!”

Kurt put his phone back into his pocket, whistled at the poodles to call them to him, and took them back home, fuming inside, and already thinking of what he was going to say to Blaine.

Seriously, who plans a whole wedding for someone he’s not even dating? Was this supposed to be Blaine’s last surprise? “I’ve brought all your friends and family here, and they’re expecting us to get married today. Surprise!” That is just wrong on so many levels!

As soon as the poodles were in the apartment and their food and drink bowls had been topped off, Kurt jogged to Blaine’s apartment, furious clean through.

When he banged on the door, though, it was Trent who answered, explaining that Blaine had turned into a dog again the previous night. Kurt knew the transformation had been involuntary, as always, but still, it incensed him even more that he’d have to wait a week to confront Blaine about this. The anger swirling in his gut exploded, and before Kurt knew it, all his vexation came tumbling out, the words coming so fast and furious that he stumbled over them.

Trent patted him on the arm and led him to the sofa with a, “I’ll make us some coffee and we can talk it over, okay?”

Kurt sank down on the sofa with a sigh. This whole situation is such a mess!

Then, he noticed the state of the coffee table, which was chock-full of books and papers, and he decided to make some room for the coffee tray. But when he crouched down to pick up a few books and put them elsewhere, he recognised the top one as one of his own scrapbooks. How did that get here? He looked at the other books, and yes, they were all his. How did Blaine persuade Burt to give him Kurt’s scrapbooks?

And then Kurt remembered the call from the bakery and gritted his teeth. Of course. Blaine must have called Dad with his wedding spiel, too.

Kurt took the topmost book of the stack. He recognised his most recent wedding scrapbook, compiled when he was about sixteen. He’d used several of these ideas for Burt and Carole’s wedding, but had adapted them to fall colours and a ditto theme.

A few brightly coloured pieces of paper fluttered out of the book, and that tickled Kurt’s curiosity. He picked them up, and read on the first one, “Top three for blue orchids: Stephanotis, Mary Quite Contrary, Top Pick Flowers. See wedding binder for more.” The second one was about venues. “First available date at the Bowery Ballroom: 7th of June. At the NY Public Library: 14th of July. At the Loeb boathouse: 9 September. For more dates and venues: see wedding binder.”

Intrigued now, Kurt sat down again and cracked open the book. It was full of post-its. Each one proved that Blaine had taken note of Kurt’s wedding preferences and researched suppliers that could turn his vision into reality.

Moreover, the post-it notes also contained proposal ideas, each of them so very Blaine that they made Kurt tear up.

Contrary to what Kurt had thought, Blaine hadn’t made any definitive plans yet. Most of the post-its mentioned the top three suppliers and a reference to this ‘wedding binder’.

Kurt looked for the binder on the coffee table, and soon, he was completely engrossed in it. Blaine had thought of everything, making lists of suppliers for every aspect of the wedding, with extensive notes as to whom Blaine would pick and why. “I’d go with Stephanotis. Pricey but quality flowers, wide range on offer, quick delivery, beautiful compositions.”

Soon, Kurt was full-on sobbing, because what Blaine had put together was so perfect that it hurt. It hurt so much, because Kurt wanted it. He wanted it all, and he wanted it now. He was so tired of fighting this. He was done being angry and sad and lonely. His heart yearned for Blaine.

All of a sudden, there was a warm body next to him, and a long tongue licking the tears from his cheek. Blaine! As always when he was a dog, he knew just what Kurt needed. That realisation tipped Kurt over the edge and made him break down completely. He put his forehead against Blaine’s and cried his heart out.

How ironic was it that the puppy version of Blaine was so much more in touch with his emotions than human Blaine? Kurt had never once doubted puppy Blaine’s love and devotion, because it just shone from his eyes and transpired from his every move.

On and on rolled his tears, and on and on, a warm and agile tongue made them disappear. Rather than grossed out, Kurt felt cherished and loved. He closed his eyes and stroked Blaine’s back with the hand not holding the binder. I love you. I never stopped. I wouldn’t know how.

The next thing he knew, there were arms around him, and kisses all over his face, and a voice soft and sweet like honey whispering love declarations.

Blaine! He was human again!

Kurt knew that he had to be strong. That he had to hold out, like Trent had advised him. But Blaine was right there, wanting him. For now, yes. It might not last and it might not work, but he needed to do this. He needed Blaine to know that he felt the same. Still. Always. “I… I love you too.”

That made Blaine’s face light up from within, and he kissed Kurt’s cheek.

How had he transformed again so quickly? Kurt had had class with him only yesterday! And he always stayed a dog for a week. Unless…

And yes, when he asked, Blaine confirmed it. The curse had been broken. By Blaine licking him as a dog.

I’m sorry, what? True love’s kiss is supposed to be a fairy tale moment, and this is what I’m getting? So. Unfair. I wanted a real kiss! With fireworks going off in my head and a popping foot and everything like in the movies. This is such a let-down!

Blaine found Kurt’s indignation hilarious, which made Kurt even angrier, but then Blaine promised him as many kisses as he wanted, and that shut him up at once.

Oh yes, please!

Kurt closed his eyes and leaned in, and soon, Blaine’s lips were brushing his, tentatively at first, and then more firmly. It felt every bit as magical as Kurt had always hoped his first kiss would be, and he sighed happily and drew Blaine in closer.

Kurt could have stayed like this for days on end, the two of them exchanging kisses and sweet nothings and laughing from sheer happiness. But all too soon, his alarm went off to warn him he had dogs to walk. He sighed and got up.

“You’re leaving?” Blaine pouted.

“Duty calls,” Kurt sighed.

“I’ll come with you,” Blaine offered. As he stood up, a dangling motion alerted Kurt to the fact that Blaine was naked as the day he was born, and that sent him into fits of laughter.

“You… You had better… put some clothes on,” Kurt wheezed out as soon as he could speak again, “if you want to come with me.”

Blaine looked down in astonishment, and started laughing too. “I’ll be just a minute.”

Ten minutes later, they were walking the dogs of Kurt’s eight p.m. assignment to the park. That reminded Kurt of his jogging appointment with Trent. “I’m supposed to meet up with Trent. When did he leave, anyway? At some point, I looked up, and he was just… gone.”

Blaine smiled. “Somewhere around our first kiss. I don’t think he’ll show up tonight. Won’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Oh,” said Kurt.

“Do I sense disappointment?” Blaine asked. “What does Trent have that I don’t?”

Kurt felt his cheeks heat up. “No, it’s not… I… It’s just… Whenever we’ve gone jogging together, the past few weeks, Trent always slipped me a gift from you. I’m going to miss that. I looked forward to it every day.”

Blaine grinned. “Wait ‘till we’re in the park.”

As soon as the dogs were running around freely, Blaine took something out of his coat pocket and handed it to Kurt. “For you.”

It proved to be a unicorn brooch, with colours that really popped, and a note that made Kurt’s throat clog up and reach for Blaine with trembling hands. “Never. You’re all I can see, too. You’re it, for me.”

Blaine beamed and kissed him again, so thoroughly that he took Kurt’s breath away.

When he came up for air, Kurt said, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that. You know, I never understood what all the fuss about kissing was for. Swapping spit doesn’t seem sexy, does it? But I get it now. I love kissing you. I never want to stop.”

That declaration made Blaine reach for Kurt’s face and claim his lips again.

The dogs got less petting and a longer playtime than usual that night, but none of them seemed to mind in the least. Their frolicking showed that they were just as happy as Kurt and Blaine.

After the dogs had been brought back to their respective homes, Blaine took Kurt’s hands in his. “You’re still dog-sitting, right?”

Kurt nodded. “For another three weeks and a half. Until the 20th of February.”

“Can I come with you?” Blaine asked. “Please? I won’t… I promised I won’t try anything. I just… I haven’t slept properly in weeks. I just want to hold you and know that I’m home.”

“Ha! You won’t be. It’s not even my home.”

“Home is not a place, for me,” said Blaine. “It’s the people that I love that make me feel at home. Wherever we are.”

Kurt smiled tremulously. “Aww, you sap!”

“So can I come?”

Blaine unleashed the full force of his puppy eyes on Kurt, and of course Kurt gave in.

Later, when they lay in bed together, Kurt knew exactly what Blaine had meant. He’d clambered into bed and into Blaine’s waiting arms, and it did feel like coming home.

They kissed for a good long while, until they started to nod off.

“Well, we’d best get some sleep,” Kurt sighed. “I have to get up early again tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Blaine said.

“Goodnight, honey.”

“Kurt? May I take you on a date tomorrow?”

Kurt smiled into the darkness. “Yes. Yes, you may.”

[tradcatmaria]

I'm a former-Christian who is an atheist now. I want to believe again. However I can't help but think atheism is just more logical. I know it's silly but I think I miss Jesus -though I don't believe he's God now-. Do you have any advice? Any books, articles, websites you recommend?

Hello!

Thank you so much for reaching out to me! There are logical reasons to believe in God. Reason is actually from Him. “Since the same God who reveals mysteries and infuses faith has bestowed the light of reason on the human mind, God cannot deny himself, nor can truth ever contradict truth” (Catechism of the Catholic Church 159).

I have some recommendations for you:

1. Orthodoxy by G. K. Chesterton

2. Heretics by G. K. Chesterton

3. The Case for Jesus: The Biblical and Historical Evidence for Christ by Brant Pitre

4. Answering the New Atheism: Dismantling Dawkins’ Case Against God by Scott Hahn and Benjamin Wiker

5. Five Proofs of the Existence of God by Edward Feser

6.  Cold-Case Christianity: A Homicide Detective Investigates the Claims of the Gospels by J. Warner Wallace

7.  Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis

7. PragerU’s channel on YouTube, especially this video 

8. The writings of St. Thomas Aquinas, G. K. Chesterton, C. S. Lewis, Scott Hahn, Trent Horn, and Peter Kreeft

9. Catholic Answers (and their YouTube channel) 

10. This website called Strange Notions

I don’t think it’s silly that you miss Jesus. Actually, I think it’s a sign. If you don’t believe, why would you miss Him? Maybe the Holy Spirit is nudging you. So many of the early Christians, including most of the apostles, died for what they saw and their belief in Jesus being the Son of God. If it were all a lie, would they really allow themselves to be martyred? It’s highly unlikely that they would all choose to die for a lie. There are historical reasons to believe in the Gospels and some of my recommendations above go into that. 

I recommend looking into Catholicism. Catholic Answers is a great resource and played a huge role in my conversion. Try to get involved in a Catholic church nearby. I think this would help you. 

Again, thank you for reaching out to me! If you need anything else, let me know.

God bless you!

Ad Jesum per Mariam,

María de Fátima

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2020 NFL draft analysis updated live for every pick

The 2020 NFL draft is underway, with the first three rounds in the books. While some teams have found their new franchise quarterback in the draft — including Joe Burrow, Tua Tagovailoa and Justin Herbert — others used their picks on elite playmakers on both sides of the ball. And how about all of those trades?

If you missed any of it — or just want to catch up on deeper analysis — read on for insights on every team from our crew of reporters.

Jump to: ARI | ATL | BAL | BUF | CAR | CHI | CIN CLE | DAL | DEN | DET | GB | HOU | IND JAC | KC | LV | LAC | LAR | MIA | MIN NE | NO | NYG | NYJ | PHI | PIT | SF SEA | TB | TEN | WSH

There’s no way the Cardinals could’ve passed on Isaiah Simmons, who’s widely considered the best defensive player in this year’s draft. He’s often referred to as a positionless player, and with Arizona’s issues defending tight ends over the years, Simmons can be an instant fix. He can also rush the passer, drop back into coverage, play safety … basically, he can do everything. Analysis of every Cardinals pick from Josh Weinfuss.

The Falcons needed a starting-caliber cornerback after releasing Desmond Trufant, and A.J. Terrell has the size (6-foot-1, 195 pounds) and speed (4.42 seconds in the 40-yard dash) to be a longtime starter. Analysis of every Falcons pick from Vaughn McClure.

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The Ravens filled their biggest need, but Patrick Queen doesn’t look or play like Ray Lewis or C.J. Mosley, the two other middle linebackers who’ve been selected by Baltimore in the first round. Queen is a safety-sized, multitalented defender. He can go sideline-to-sideline to stop the run, drop back in coverage to blanket tight ends and blitz from anywhere on the field. Analysis of every Ravens pick from Jamison Hensley.

With at least six players on the board who also fit a team need, the Bills selected a player many analysts believed had first-round value. After losing pass-rusher Shaq Lawson and signing veteran Mario Addison in free agency this offseason, Buffalo needed a foundational piece at defensive end, and A.J. Epenesa fits that mold. Analysis of every Bills pick from Marcel Louis-Jacques.

The Panthers went with Derrick Brown over Isaiah Simmons, in part because they have only two defensive tackles on the roster, and in part because they believed Simmons to be a better fit for an established team than one in a rebuild mode. Put Brown beside Pro Bowl lineman Kawann Short, and the Panthers now have one of the stoutest inside duos in the NFL. Analysis of every Panthers pick from David Newton.

The Bears had the NFL’s least productive tight ends group in 2019, and used their first pick of the draft on Notre Dame TE Cole Kmet. Expect him to have a significant role, alongside free agent signing Jimmy Graham. Analysis of every Bears pick from Jeff Dickerson.

In Joe Burrow, the Bengals selected a quarterback who is expected to be the face of the franchise and the starter immediately. Getting Burrow acclimated to the NFL will be challenging, given the restrictions during the coronavirus pandemic. However, the 23-year-old figures to be up for the challenge. Analysis of every Bengals pick from Ben Baby.

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Ben Baby breaks down why the Bengals made the right choice in taking Joe Burrow first overall in the 2020 NFL draft.

Although there was plenty of outside smoke about the Browns potentially trading for Washington veteran All-Pro Trent Williams to address their void at left tackle, they remained committed to drafting their left tackle of the future. In Jedrick Wills Jr., the Browns got exactly what they had hoped to land in this draft — a long-term blindside protector for Baker Mayfield. Analysis of every Browns pick from Jake Trotter.

Drafting CeeDee Lamb can be viewed as a Dak Prescott-friendly move. Lamb gives the Cowboys a big-play threat on the outside with the ability to move around the formation. Alongside the equally mobile Amari Cooper, Lamb will put pressure on defenses in how they want to match up against the Cowboys. Analysis of every Cowboys pick from Todd Archer.

• DraftCast » | Best available prospects » • Round 1 analysis: Kiper » | Experts » • Pros and cons of every draft pick » • Round 1 trade tracker » | Draft order » • Fantasy spin » | Social reactions » • Full class rankings from Scouts Inc. » More NFL draft coverage »

Jerry Jeudy will play immediately — and a lot — for the Broncos. His ability to line up all over the formation made him the perfect intersection between the biggest need on the depth chart and the best player on the board when the Broncos’ turn arrived. Analysis of every Broncos pick from Jeff Legwold.

On a team that traded Darius Slay to Philadelphia last month and then signed Desmond Trufant in free agency, there was still a hole for a starting corner opposite Trufant. Now the Lions have a player who should transition into a No. 1 corner sooner rather than later in Jeff Okudah. Analysis of every Lions pick from Michael Rothstein.

Aaron Rodgers has always played with a chip on his shoulder, and this might be another reason to do so. But by taking Jordan Love in the first round, the Packers get the option of a fifth-year deal on his rookie contract. Analysis of every Packers pick from Rob Demovsky.

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Rob Demovsky details whether the Packers made the right choice to take Jordan Love with the 26th pick in the 2020 NFL draft.

With their first pick of the draft, the Texans filled the need for an interior lineman, getting TCU DT Ross Blacklock. The Texans like Blacklock’s versatility and fit in new defensive coordinator Anthony Weaver’s defense. Analysis of every Texans pick from Sarah Barshop.

The Colts, who didn’t have a first-round pick, are giving Philip Rivers some help at receiver. Michael Pittman Jr. joins a receiving group that lacked depth because of injuries, and didn’t get enough production from the healthy players at the position last season. Analysis of every Colts pick from Mike Wells.

Defensive tackle and corner are the Jaguars’ two biggest needs this offseason, and some analysts saw C.J. Henderson as a better cover guy than Jeff Okudah, the third overall pick. Then, at pick No. 20, the Jags landed an elite pass-rusher, LSU’s K’Lavon Chaisson. Analysis of every Jaguars pick from Mike DiRocco.

Relive the NFL’s greatest games, original series and more. Watch on ESPN+

The rich just got richer. The Chiefs had some depth at running back, including Super Bowl LIV star Damien Williams, but neither Williams nor the team’s other backs are in the same playmaking class as Clyde Edwards-Helaire. Analysis of every Chiefs pick from Adam Teicher.

With this pick, the receiver-needy Raiders had all of the consensus top-three wideouts at their disposal, and they had an Al Davis moment — they went with the fastest guy in the draft, Henry Ruggs III. And to help slow down all the elite receivers in the AFC West, they also snagged CB Damon Arnette at No. 19. Analysis of every Raiders pick from Paul Gutierrez.

The Chargers’ decision to select Justin Herbert sets the course of the franchise for the foreseeable future as they attempt to move on from veteran quarterback Philip Rivers, who departed in free agency after 16 seasons. Then, after trading up to No. 23, they landed three-down linebacker Kenneth Murray. Analysis of every Chargers pick from Lindsey Thiry.

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Lindsey Thiry breaks down whether the Chargers made the right decision to move up and select Kenneth Murray with the 23rd pick in the 2020 NFL draft.

After releasing Todd Gurley, it was expected that the Rams would select a running back on Day 2 of the draft, and they did just that with Cam Akers. Akers rounds out a running back room that also includes Darrell Henderson and Malcolm Brown, and the trio is anticipated to share the load next season. Analysis of every Rams pick from Lindsey Thiry.

The Dolphins were faced with the choice of taking a chance on Tua Tagovailoa and his injury/durability risks or “settling” for a lesser quarterback prospect in Justin Herbert. They chose Tagovailoa, the most efficient QB in college football history, who can rise to become the face of Miami’s rebuild and the franchise QB that this team desperately needs. At No. 18, they got their new QB some protection by drafting offensive tackle Austin Jackson. Analysis of every Dolphins pick from Cameron Wolfe.

Mel Kiper, Todd McShay and Chris Sprow preview the 2020 NFL draft. • First Draft podcast »

The unpredictable nature of the draft played in to the Vikings’ favor in a big way. They were able to check the best-player-available box and draft for need with the same pick, getting WR Justin Jefferson at No. 22. Then, after an offseason exodus at cornerback, they landed Jeff Gladney at No. 31. Analysis of every Vikings pick from Courtney Cronin.

At just shy of 6-foot-1 and 217 pounds, Kyle Dugger is a box safety and linebacker type in the mold of Patrick Chung, who fills a valuable role on the Patriots’ defense. With Chung closer to the end of his career, Dugger is a potential future replacement and should be an immediate contributor on special teams. Analysis of every Patriots pick from Mike Reiss.

Drafting Michigan center Cesar Ruiz wasn’t a sexy pick, but don’t say we didn’t warn you. The interior offensive line was the only position Saints coach Sean Payton identified by name as a draft need. While a WR or front-seven defender might’ve been more exciting, the Saints have a strong record of investing in young offensive linemen. Analysis of every Saints pick from Mike Triplett.

The Giants needed a tackle, and Andrew Thomas was their top choice. He will come in at the start and compete at right and left tackle, and he is a perfect fit for what new coordinator Jason Garrett wants to do with the offense. Analysis of every Giants pick from Jordan Raanan.

The Jets could have opted for a wide receiver — they were tempted by CeeDee Lamb and Henry Ruggs III — but they made the right call by locking down Sam Darnold‘s blind side with 6-foot-7, 364 pound Mekhi Becton. Analysis of every Jets pick from Rich Cimini.

Football Outsiders projects the top draft prospects at key positions:

• QB booms and busts » • Playmaker Score: The top WRs » • BackCAST: Projections on top RBs » • SackSEER: The best pass-rushers » • Team-by-team draft guides » • More NFL draft coverage »

The Eagles made a bold move by selecting Jalen Reagor at No. 21 with Justin Jefferson still on the board. Reagor is a burner, and that’s exactly what Philly was looking for after slogging its way through much of the 2019 season on offense. Analysis of every Eagles pick from Tim McManus.

Though he’s listed as a wide receiver, Chase Claypool has the body of a tight end at 6-4, 238 pounds. His addition gives quarterback Ben Roethlisberger a third receiving target of at least 6-4, joining tight ends Eric Ebron and Vance McDonald. Analysis of every Steelers pick from Brooke Pryor.

It probably should come as no surprise that the 49ers once again invested in the defensive line; this is the fifth time in six seasons they’ve used their first pick on the defensive front. In Javon Kinlaw, the Niners hope to have found their replacement for DeForest Buckner as the three-technique defensive tackle. Later in the first, the Niners moved up six slots to nab wide receiver Brandon Aiyuk. Analysis of every 49ers pick from Nick Wagoner.

Taking Jordyn Brooks at No. 27 was every bit the first-round Seahawks surprise, just as James Carpenter was in 2011, Bruce Irvin was in 2012 and Rashaad Penny was in 2018. Say what you will about the Seahawks drafting a player you didn’t expect them to, but you can’t fault them for adding a speedy playmaker to a defense that struggled across the board in 2019. Analysis of every Seahawks pick from Brady Henderson.

The Bucs were hoping one of the four top-tier offensive tackles would fall to them at No. 1, but decided to jump one spot to grab Tristan Wirfs; it’s a small price to pay when considering how paramount protection is for 42-year-old Tom Brady. In Wirfs, they have a plug-and-play, Day 1 starter. Analysis of every Buccaneers pick from Jenna Laine.

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Jenna Laine believes the Buccaneers made the right decision in trading up to select Tristan Wirfs with the 13th pick in the 2020 NFL draft.

The Titans added a player who will help their rushing attack. Isaiah Wilson has already proved that he can excel as a run-blocker, having played in a zone-oriented scheme at Georgia, and he helps offset the loss of Jack Conklin in free agency. Analysis of every Titans pick from Turron Davenport.

The Redskins made a no-brainer choice by selecting Chase Young second overall. Coach Ron Rivera and defensive coordinator Jack Del Rio, between them, have coached Von Miller, Khalil Mack and Julius Peppers. They know what an elite edge rusher can do for a defense, and that’s what they’re expecting from Young. Analysis of every Redskins pick from John Keim.

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Tags: 2020, 2020 NFL draft, Analysis, daily, draft, grades, live, NFL, nfl draft, Pick, picks, Rankings, Updated

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Arsenal and Emery’s plan badly backfires at Liverpool. PLUS — Griezmann steps up for Barcelona

Gab Marcotti is here to recap a busy, dramatic weekend in soccer. Welcome to Monday Musings.

Jump to: Arsenal’s errors at Liverpool | Real still a mess | Spurs’ Eriksen problem | Refs wreck Fiorentina vs. Napoli? | PSG need Neymar | More Man United woe | Mihajlovic is inspiring | Lewandowski carries Bayern | Griezmann the hero for Barca | Business as usual for Juve | Milan’s epic fail

What Arsenal got wrong vs. Liverpool

Unai Emery’s resume is what will likely get him a pass for what Arsenal fans saw on Saturday. A decade at the highest level with Valencia, Seville and Paris Saint-Germain, often succeeding because of his tactical nous and his ability to read opponents and exploit their weaknesses, means that you want to give the benefit of the doubt. But having watched the approach to Liverpool away at Anfield, it’s a tough thing to do.

It’s not just the midfield diamond that ceded the flanks to Jurgen Klopp’s crew (who, for those not paying attention, have two pretty darn good providers in Andy Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold). Nor was it the decision to try to keep possession without Lucas Torreira, your second-best passer. Nor was it the insistence on playing out from the back against arguably the best high-press team in the Premier League, just a week after another high-press team, Burnley, had given them fits. And, for that matter, neither was it the reluctance to occasionally mix in the long ball (the two times they did it, it worked well) when you have speedy forwards like Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Nicolas Pepe.

It’s that it’s really difficult to figure out what pathway Emery sees towards success at Arsenal.

Emery’s career has earned him some time, but there’s little sense in how he set Arsenal up in Saturday’s defeat at Liverpool.

There’s nothing wrong with adding Dani Ceballos for a season in midfield, but if you’re trying to build something, do you really want everything to hinge so heavily around a guy who’s there on loan? And given that it’s hard to find a natural home for Mesut Ozil and Henrikh Mkhitaryan in the setups he has used this season, is it really wise to write them off at this stage?

Arsenal finished two points away from third place last season in Emery’s first Premier League campaign. They may well hit the target this season, or come close to it, but that has more to do with issues elsewhere. The real goal has to be reducing the 27 points that separated them from Liverpool in second. It’s not clear at all that Saturday did that.

– Weekend Review: Are Tottenham getting stale? – O’Hanlon: Should we be worried about “superteam” Man City? – Jones: Sheffield United prove heart can beat talent

As for the European champions, they played with big-game vitality and intensity as Klopp opted to turn in one of his extreme high-press performances. I’m not sure how often we’ll see that from him this season. It’s extremely taxing on the front men and the midfielders, which is why, incidentally, you should expect more rotation in the middle of the park this year. Not to mention the fact that you’re always vulnerable to the ball over the top or teams with enough quality to break the press wide open.

All that said, in one-offs and for shorter spurts during games, it remains a devastating weapon.

Real Madrid still a mess

Against Valladolid, Real Madrid managed to field not just an entire XI without newcomers, but also one where every outfield player was on the club’s books since at least 2014. Sure, Eden Hazard is injured (and you assume they’ll make room for him when fit) but apart from two Luka Jovic substitute appearances, we haven’t seen any of the four new signings. Instead, we’re seeing plenty of James Rodriguez and Gareth Bale, two guys with giant “For Sale” tags around their necks for most of the summer.

Zinedine Zidane is doing things his way, and to be fair, the Pep Guardiola-style 4-1-4-1 we saw in the first half Saturday is worth revisiting. Less impressive was the late collapse that left two points on the table. And the fact that Valladolid’s equaliser was scored by a guy named Guardiola (Sergi, no relation, although he was once on Barca’s books), makes it hurt a little bit more.

I made this point before but it’s worth making again: no clean sheets and two points dropped after two games does not mean Real Madrid absolutely need to sign Neymar. Their four new signings have played a total of 34 minutes, and they’re already stacked in Neymar’s position. (What’s more, Zidane is getting those guys on the pitch.)

There may be a price/package at which Neymar makes sense, but most likely, there isn’t.

Tottenham’s Eriksen problem

Tottenham knew what they were getting when Newcastle United rolled into town. They were taking on an embattled veteran manager who had lost his first two games and was getting criticised locally. No prizes for guessing what Steve Bruce was going to do: sit deep with a virtual 7-2-1 formation and pray for the best.

So why take the pitch without Giovani Lo Celso and Christian Eriksen, arguably Spurs’ two best creative passers? Beats me.

Mauricio Pochettino’s negativity over Eriksen and his contractual situation — he recently called it “difficult” and said he “didn’t know” if the Dane had played his last game for the club — is understandable to some degree and you can find some sympathy too. But equally, that’s not a reason to bench him or, for that matter, Jan Vertonghen, the guy who was (and maybe still is?) Tottenham’s vice-captain until last season.

You can blame the media for many things but there are legitimate questions to answer about the club’s strategy and the degree of freedom which Pochettino has… or maybe doesn’t have as manager.

Refs ruin Fiorentina vs. Napoli?

After the wild Magic Mountain ride that was Napoli’s 4-3 win away to Fiorentina in Serie A’s curtain-raiser, the last thing you want to do is talk referees. But that crew, particularly with the penalty Dries Mertens “won,” leaves little choice.

You can understand the mistake in awarding it — referees are human and Davide Massa isn’t just human, he’s not particularly good either — it’s harder to accept why VAR didn’t ask him to take another look. The whole crew is likely to sit out the next round (and Mertens, reportedly, could face retrospective punishment), which is encouraging.

On the pitch, Fiorentina’s young ones (who later made way for the golden oldies, Franck Ribery and Kevin-Prince Boateng) were fun to watch and played without fear. It will be a transition season but the future is bright. As for Napoli, the Smurf Squad did its thing and with Arkadiusz Milik and Hirving “Chucky” Lozano added to the mix, this is a side that can beat you many different ways.

PSG might need Neymar after all

Last season it was the teeny, tiny senior squad: a direct result of Financial Fair Play. This year, Paris Saint-Germain have more bodies but they’re dealing with injuries. Against Toulouse they lost Edinson Cavani, Abdou Diallo and Kylian Mbappe in one fell swoop, which rather muted celebrations for their 4-0 win.

None of the injuries looked season-ending, God forbid, and we’ll get an update soon, but with Neymar out of the squad pending the final days of the transfer window, it’s looking like an uphill ride for Thomas Tuchel. What does appear clear (despite the naysayers) is that if the transfer deadline comes and goes and Neymar is still there, he’ll be a professional and quickly slip back into the lineup. For Tuchel, that won’t come soon enough.

What does Solskjaer want Man United to be?

Aside for a few episodes — think the Marcus Rashford missed spot-kick, some strong penalty appeals — Manchester United could easily have beaten Crystal Palace. And while they weren’t stellar, they didn’t play particularly badly either. But they remain a frustratingly one-dimensional team: fine on the counterattack and toothless with the ball, unless Paul Pogba invents something or Rashford picks out that little pass for Anthony Martial that seemingly nobody can cope with.

That’s what is disconcerting here. We know Ole Gunnar Solskjaer can do that reasonably well, but what else can he do? Is there an alternative way of playing — one that actually works — that he can turn to? That bit isn’t clear at all.

It’s not just about personnel (though it’s pretty clear he would have liked a couple more signings) which, to some degree, is out of his control. It’s about what he can affect: the way United play and right now, it seems to be in transition only. That has to change if they’re going to finish top four.

Mihajlovic is inspiring

Six weeks after telling the world he was battling a severe form of leukemia, Bologna coach Sinisa Mihajlovic slipped out of the hospital and took his place on the sideline for his team’s opening fixture, a 1-1 draw at Verona. Doctors had initially advised against it but relented when they saw his mind was made up. And anyone who has followed his career as a manager and a player will tell you that once he’s determined to do something, there’s no stopping him.

The players themselves only found out a few hours before kickoff. He wore a baseball cap and a large bandage on his neck. He was gaunt and had clearly lost a lot of weight. It obviously was a struggle but in case you hadn’t noticed, whatever else Mihajlovic is, this man is a warrior. He’ll fight cancer the way he lived his life: no retreat and no surrender.

Lewandowski keeps carrying Bayern

Robert Lewandowski‘s hat-trick overshadowed Philippe Coutinho��s debut (he came on as a substitute) on Saturday in Bayern’s 3-0 win over Schalke and it’s as good a time as any to remind ourselves of his everyday brilliance. He has scored every single Bayern goal this season. He has 197 in 246 appearances in all competitions and since 2010, he has missed just 16 league games for Bayern and Borussia Dortmund.

Appearing on the Gab + Jules podcast last week, Jan Aage Fjortoft said “they must go to church every day in Munich praying he doesn’t get injured.” He’s right. He carries the can on his own up front and, for most of his tenure, he’s had no credible back up.

It’s not surprising, then, that Bayern are about to extend his contract by another two seasons, taking him up to 2023. When you’ve been that consistent for that long, doing otherwise would be madness.

Griezmann proves himself for Barca

With Lionel Messi, Ousmane Dembele and Luis Suarez unavailable, Ernesto Valverde conjured up a new front three for the visit of Real Betis Sunday night. Alongside Antoine Griezmann were Rafinha (who had played once since November 2018) and Carles Perez, who had played 35 minutes of top-flight football in his entire career. (He was later replaced by Ansu Fati, who is only the second youngest debutant in the club’s history.)

Having gone a goal down, they stormed back to win 5-2 and a lot of the credit has to go to Griezmann. It wasn’t just his two goals: it was the leadership, drive and personality he gave the side (evidently qualities seared into his DNA after years with Diego Simeone), which, at times, had you forgetting that you-know-who wasn’t there. Critics will fault Rubi’s top-heavy Betis side for failing to manage the lead but the way Barca’s second half unfolded, there was no containing them.

As with Real Madrid, they’ll want to think long and hard about whether they really need/want Neymar…

Business as usual for Juventus

There wasn’t much new or interesting in Juve’s seasonal debut, a 1-0 win over Parma. None of the new signings started and, in fact, the new manager Maurizio Sarri, battling pneumonia, wasn’t there either. Leading the line was Gonzalo Higuain, who resurrected his old Real Madrid partnership with Cristiano Ronaldo.

Might he end up doing so all season long for Juve? It’s increasingly looking that way, if only by default. Of the club’s three potential centerforwards, he’s the least likely to leave and he’s the one who knows Sarri best.

Milan get a little too creative

Milan boss Marco Giampaolo said that his formation didn’t work in the opening day 1-0 defeat to Udinese. Kudos for honesty, even though he did sound like Captain Obvious following a game that saw his team fail to record a shot on target and his centerforward, Krzysztof Piatek, get just 18 touches.

Giampaolo is an “outside-the-box” type of guy who likes to get creative, so he’s entitled to be unconventional. But playing a midfield three of Fabio Borini, Hakan Calhanoglou and Lucas Paqueta plus Suso in the hole behind the Piatek-Samu Castillejo partnership is waaaaayyyy outside the box.

It’s simply lining up without recognised central midfielders. To paraphrase Billy Joel, do that and you walk away a fool or a king. He was no king on Sunday.

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[shenukaj]

The Eucharist. The true body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ or merely a symbol?

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.” (Luke 24:30-31)

The Eucharist, the church names this the “Source and Summit of the Christian Life” and is very clear and strict with her teachings, and this is especially seen in the dogmatic constitution of the Council of Trent.

“If any one shall deny, that, in the sacrament of the most holy Eucharist, are verily, really, and substantially contained the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ, and consequently the whole Christ; but shall say that He is only therein as in a sign, or in figure, or virtue; let him be anathema.” (Canon 1, Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent,Session XIII, Sacrament of the Eucharist) 

Yet, I myself struggled with this teaching for quite some time, as reason suggests, what the church calls Holy Communion, looked like bread, tasted like bread, and reason would suggest to me that is just nothing but bread, and I thought they meant that this bread was merely a symbol of the what they called the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ.

However, by reading the decree and canon of the Council of the Trent mentioned above, it is very clear that this may not be permissible to be interpreted as a symbol. So, one has to ask the question, “if I believe in Jesus Christ, I need to believe what He really taught, and what the early church taught, and if that is contrary to the Catholic church, the Catholic and Orthodox church is wrong. However, this teaching is exclusive only to the Catholic and Orthodox church, if this is true, then they both preach the truth on this matter, and all teachings of Protestantism on this matter is false”

I will present 3 different types of evidence here, some based on theology, some on the history of the early Christian church, and scientific evidence. Please appreciate the fact that just one of these topics is so huge and has so much evidence and content that there have been numerous books written on each subject and I cannot present them all on a blog post, and can only present those which I think are the most significant. 

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Theology

When looking at a certain doctrine such as this, one must turn to an agreeable canon, common ground as being totally infallible such as the Bible (and this section is presented to those who believe in the infallibility of the Holy Bible, that it is the true voice of the Holy Spirit and contains no error). Let us turn to the very moment of the institution of the Eucharist,

And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me." (Luke 22:19)

It is important to note that at this moment of the institution of the Eucharist it was on the feast of the Jewish Passover, and some things were very clear as to what a Jew would do on the feast of the Passover (see Exodus 12- 13). In summary, they would slaughter a lamb as a sacrifice, take its blood put it on the wood of their doorposts, roast the lamb and then eat it with unleavened bread. Then they would recite the “Hallel” psalms (Psalms 113-118) as a thanksgiving, and appropriately in the gospel of Matthew, he accounts they sang a hymn at the end of the last supper and also accounts they did prepare for a Passover feast (what the Jews now call the Pesach Sedar feast)

“When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.” (Matthew 26:30) 

On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?” He replied, “Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, ‘The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.’ “So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover. (Matthew 26:17-19)

So the last supper had all the important elements of the Passover, except for one thing, the lamb, where was the lamb they had to traditionally sacrifice and eat at Passover? And this was a highly important element of it, as in the first exodus the people believed if the father of the family (the priest) did not eat the lamb the next morning he would find his first-born son dead. The father of the family had to eat the lamb even if he did not like it. But at the last supper, this element was missing, why? St. John the Baptist and St. Paul points this out in scripture very clearly 

“The next day he (St. John the Baptist) saw Jesus coming toward him, and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29)

“Get rid of the old yeast, so that you may be a new unleavened batch--as you really are. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.” (1 Corinthians 5:7)  

Instead of having a roasted lamb, our Lord takes the bread and says “This IS MY BODY”, He is that Passover Lamb, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. In the gospel of John, he makes it very clear at the Bread of Life discourse (See John 6:26-70) how the apostles are to interpret this when he will later institute the Eucharist,

“They said therefore unto him: Lord, give us always this bread. And Jesus said to them: I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall not hunger: and he that believeth in me shall never thirst.” (John 6: 34-35)

“47 Amen, amen I say unto you: He that believeth in me, hath everlasting life.48 I am the bread of life.49 Your fathers did eat manna in the desert, and are dead.50 This is the bread which cometh down from heaven; that if any man eat of it, he may not die.51 I am the living bread which came down from heaven.52 If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give, is my flesh, for the life of the world.53 The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying: How can this man give us his flesh to eat?54 Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen I say unto you: Except you eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you.55 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath everlasting life: and I will raise him up in the last day.56 For my flesh is true flesh indeed: and my blood is true drink indeed.57 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, abideth in me, and I in him.58 As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father; so he that eateth me, the same also shall live by me.59 This is the bread that came down from heaven. Not as your fathers did eat manna, and are dead. He that eateth this bread, shall live for ever. (John 6:47-59)

Please appreciate the fact that in these sort of instances if his disciples do not understand, he usually explains further, whereas over here he did not, he spoke with such a literal expression and all his disciples left him because they were so scandalized by the idea of cannibalism, and yet Jesus did not stop them to explain further. Further yet, in similar instances he would at least explain to his 12 apostles, which he also did not, he remained steadfast in his literal expression and I am confident the apostles themselves were also in shock but remained with him because they truly believed in him. They understood further at the last supper what was meant by this.  

Finally St. Paul makes it very clear in his epistles,

“23 For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed, took bread. 24 And giving thanks, broke, and said: Take ye, and eat: this is my body, which shall be delivered for you: this do for the commemoration of me. 25 In like manner also the chalice, after he had supped, saying: This chalice is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as often as you shall drink, for the commemoration of me. 26 For as often as you shall eat this bread, and drink the chalice, you shall shew the death of the Lord, until he come. 27 Therefore whosoever shall eat this bread, or drink the chalice of the Lord unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and of the blood of the Lord. 28 But let a man prove himself: and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of the chalice. 29 For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning (recognizing) the body of the Lord.” (1 Corinthians 11:23-29)

And I emphasize verse 29 once again, “For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning (recognizing) the body of the Lord”. These words of the Holy Scripture are clear, then prove the doctrine of the Eucharist.

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Early Christian Church History

Let us also appreciate the fact that there was no scripture formalized as canon in the first 4 centuries, and Christians had to rely on the teachings of their bishops and the tradition handed over to them by Jesus Christ. So, what do the early Church Fathers write with regards to the Eucharist?

St. Ignatius of Antioch (c. 110 A.D.)

I have no taste for corruptible food nor for the pleasures of this life. I desire the Bread of God, WHICH IS THE FLESH OF JESUS CHRIST, who was of the seed of David; and for drink I DESIRE HIS BLOOD, which is love incorruptible. (Letter to the Romans 7:3)

Take care, then, to use one Eucharist, so that whatever you do, you do according to God: FOR THERE IS ONE FLESH OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, and one cup IN THE UNION OF HIS BLOOD; one ALTAR, as there is one bishop with the presbytery… (Letter to the  Philadelphians 4:1)

They [i.e. the Gnostics] abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they do not confess that THE EUCHARIST IS THE FLESH OF OUR SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST, flesh which suffered for our sins and which the Father, in his goodness, raised up again. (Letter to Smyrnians 7:1)

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St. Justin the Martyr (c. 100 - 165 A.D.)

We call this food Eucharist; and no one else is permitted to partake of it, except one who believes our teaching to be true and who has been washed in the washing which is for the remission of sins and for regeneration [Baptism], and is thereby living as Christ has enjoined.

For not as common bread nor common drink do we receive these; but since Jesus Christ our Savior was made incarnate by the word of God and had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so too, as we have been taught, the food which has been made into the Eucharist by the Eucharistic prayer set down by Him, AND BY THE CHANGE OF WHICH our blood and flesh is nourished, IS BOTH THE FLESH AND THE BLOOD OF THAT INCARNATED JESUS. (First Apology, 66)

Moreover, as I said before, concerning the sacrifices which you at that time offered, God speaks through Malachi [1:10-12]…It is of the SACRIFICES OFFERED TO HIM IN EVERY PLACE BY US, the Gentiles, that is, OF THE BREAD OF THE EUCHARIST AND LIKEWISE OF THE CUP OF THE EUCHARIST, that He speaks at that time; and He says that we glorify His name, while you profane it. (Dialogue with Trypho,41)

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St. Irenaeus of Lyons (c. 140 - 202 A.D.)

…He took from among creation that which is bread, and gave thanks, saying, "THIS IS MY BODY." The cup likewise, which is from among the creation to which we belong, HE CONFESSED TO BE HIS BLOOD.

He taught THE NEW SACRIFICE OF THE NEW COVENANT, of which Malachi, one of the twelve prophets, had signified beforehand: [quotes Mal 1:10-11]. By these words He makes it plain that the former people will cease to make offerings to God; BUT THAT IN EVERY PLACE SACRIFICE WILL BE OFFERED TO HIM, and indeed, a pure one; for His name is glorified among the Gentiles. (Against Heresies 4:17:5)

But what consistency is there in those who hold that the bread over which thanks have been given IS THE BODY OF THEIR LORD, and the cup HIS BLOOD, if they do not acknowledge that He is the Son of the Creator… How can they say that the flesh which has been nourished BY THE BODY OF THE LORD AND BY HIS BLOOD gives way to corruption and does not partake of life? …For as the bread from the earth, receiving the invocation of God, IS NO LONGER COMMON BREAD BUT THE EUCHARIST, consisting of two elements, earthly and heavenly… (Against Heresies 4:18:4-5)

If the BODY be not saved, then, in fact, neither did the Lord redeem us with His BLOOD; and neither is the cup of the EUCHARIST THE PARTAKING OF HIS BLOOD nor is the bread which we break THE PARTAKING OF HIS BODY…He has declared the cup, a part of creation, TO BE HIS OWN BLOOD, from which He causes our blood to flow; and the bread, a part of creation, HE HAS ESTABLISHED AS HIS OWN BODY, from which He gives increase to our bodies. When, therefore, the mixed cup and the baked bread receives the Word of God and BECOMES THE EUCHARIST, THE BODY OF CHRIST, and from these the substance of our flesh is increased and supported, how can they say that the flesh is not capable of receiving the gift of God, WHICH IS ETERNAL LIFE -- flesh which is nourished BY THE BODY AND BLOOD OF THE LORD…receiving the Word of God, BECOMES THE EUCHARIST, WHICH IS THE BODY AND BLOOD OF CHRIST… (Against Heresies 5:2:2-3)

There is only overwhelming evidence to prove that even they themselves truly believed in the Real Presence of Christ, and believe anything else to be heresy. Now let us say even after all this theological and historical evidence of Christian belief, your reason would still suggest otherwise, and you refuse to believe that what looks like bread and taste like bread could never be the true Body of Christ because you would think God would never condescend to such a thing?

First of all, yes He would, because God is love Himself. It is unfathomable to the Muslims that God would condescend so much to make himself a human being and be put to shame on a cross, but He did, why? Simple, because of Love. And God does humble himself, even more, to condescend in the simple form of bread, where He knows many will not believe, He gives himself so availably, why? Because of Love.

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Science

So let us then turn to the lowest form of evidence here, science. 

“If anyone says that divine revelation cannot be made credible by external signs, and that therefore men and women ought to be moved to faith only by each one's internal experience or private inspiration: let him be anathema.” (Canon 3, Part 3: On Faith, First Vatican Council)

St. Thomas was a man that disbelieved in the resurrection, yet our Lord as an act of mercy gave him sure proof by appearing right in front of him that he may believe. Here, I present the sure proof of the miracles Jesus Christ has worked to prove His Real Presence in the Eucharist, and their scientific examinations so you will believe, but be warned, 

Then Jesus told him (St. Thomas), "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." (John 20:29)

There are many instances of these Eucharistic miracles, but I will focus my attention only on one, the Eucharistic miracle of Lanciano. 

Ancient Anxanum, the city of the Frentanese, has contained for over twelve centuries the first and greatest Eucharistic Miracle of the Catholic Church. This wondrous Event took place in the 8th century A.D. in the little Church of St. Legontian, as a divine response to a Basilian monk's doubt about Jesus' Real Presence in the Eucharist.

During Holy Mass, after the two-fold consecration, the host was changed into live Flesh and the wine was changed into live Blood, which coagulated into five globules, irregular and differing in shape and size.

The Host-Flesh, as can be very distinctly observed today, has the same dimensions as the large host used today in the Latin church; it is light brown and appears rose-colored when lighted from the back.

The Blood is coagulated and has an earthy color resembling the yellow of ochre.

Various ecclesiastical investigation ("Recognitions") were conducted since 1574.

In 1970-'71 and taken up again partly in 1981 there took place a scientific investigation by the most illustrious scientist Prof. Odoardo Linoli, eminent Professor in Anatomy and Pathological Histology and in Chemistry and Clinical Microscopy. He was assisted by Prof. Ruggero Bertelli of the University of Siena.  (click here to see the full paper translated to English,

click below to see the original publication in Italian; https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B460KmaYemMXeU00MHVQUE9vb1k/view?usp=sharing

click here to see the publication from the National Center for Biotechnology Information)

The analyses were conducted with absolute precision and they were documented with a series of microscopic photographs.

Fig. 1 - Eosine x 200. Overall histological aspect of a Flesh sample with fibers collected in bundles with longitudinal orientation as it occurs in the outer surface layers of the heart. 

Fig. 2 - Miracle Heart in Lanciano. Mallory x 250. An artery and, very close, a branch of the vagal nerve.

These analyses sustained the following conclusions:

The Flesh is real Flesh. The Blood is real Blood.

The Flesh and the Blood belong to the human species.

The Flesh consists of the muscular tissue of the heart.

In the Flesh we see present in section: the myocardium, the endocardium, the vagus nerve and also the left ventricle of the heart for the large thickness of the myocardium.

The Flesh is a "HEART" complete in its essential structure.

The Flesh and the Blood have the same blood-type: AB (Blood-type identical to that which Prof. Baima Bollone uncovered in the Holy Shroud of Turin).

In the Blood there were found proteins in the same normal proportions (percentage-wise) as are found in the sero-proteic make-up of the fresh normal blood.

In the Blood there were also found these minerals: chlorides, phosphorus, magnesium, potassium, sodium and calcium.

The preservation of the Flesh and of the Blood, which were left in their natural state for twelve centuries and exposed to the action of atmospheric and biological agents, remains an extraordinary phenomenon.

This was then peer-reviewed by Dr Ruggero Bertelli, a professor of normal human anatomy at the University of Sienna. He not only concurred with all of Professor Linoli's conclusions but also presented an official document to that effect.

[gadgetsrevv]

Arsenal and Emery’s plan badly backfires at Liverpool. PLUS: Griezmann steps up for Barcelona

Gab Marcotti is here to recap a busy, dramatic weekend in soccer. Welcome to Monday Musings.

Jump to: Arsenal’s errors at Liverpool | Real still a mess | Spurs’ Eriksen problem | Refs wreck Fiorentina vs. Napoli? | PSG need Neymar | More Man United woe | Mihajlovic is inspiring | Lewandowski carries Bayern | Griezmann the hero for Barca | Business as usual for Juve | Milan’s epic fail

What Arsenal got wrong vs. Liverpool

Unai Emery’s resume is what will likely get him a pass for what Arsenal fans saw on Saturday. A decade at the highest level with Valencia, Seville and Paris Saint-Germain, often succeeding because of his tactical nous and his ability to read opponents and exploit their weaknesses, means that you want to give the benefit of the doubt. But having watched the approach to Liverpool away at Anfield, it’s a tough thing to do.

It’s not just the midfield diamond that ceded the flanks to Jurgen Klopp’s crew (who, for those not paying attention, have two pretty darn good providers in Andy Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold). Nor was it the decision to try to keep possession without Lucas Torreira, your second-best passer. Nor was it the insistence on playing out from the back against arguably the best high-press team in the Premier League, just a week after another high-press team, Burnley, had given them fits. And, for that matter, neither was it the reluctance to occasionally mix in the long ball (the two times they did it, it worked well) when you have speedy forwards like Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Nicolas Pepe.

It’s that it’s really difficult to figure out what pathway Emery sees towards success at Arsenal.

Emery’s career has earned him some time but there’s little sense in how he set Arsenal up in Saturday’s defeat at Liverpool.

There’s nothing wrong with adding Dani Ceballos for a season in midfield, but if you’re trying to build something, do you really want everything to hinge so heavily around a guy who’s there on loan? And given that it’s hard to find a natural home for Mesut Ozil and Henrikh Mkhitaryan in the set-ups he has used this season, is it really wise to write them off at this stage?

Arsenal finished two points away from third place last season, in Emery’s first Premier League campaign. They may well hit the target this season, or come close to it but that has more to do with issues elsewhere. The real goal has to be reducing the 27 points that separated them from Liverpool in second. It’s not clear at all that Saturday did that.

– Weekend Review: Are Tottenham getting stale? – O’Hanlon: Should we be worried about “superteam” Man City? – Jones: Sheffield United prove heart can beat talent

As for the European champions, they played with big-game vitality and intensity as Klopp opted to turn in one of his extreme high-press performances. I’m not sure how often we’ll see that from him this season. It’s extremely taxing on the front men and the midfielders, which is why, incidentally, you should expect more rotation in the middle of the park this year. Not to mention the fact that you’re always vulnerable to the ball over the top or teams with enough quality to break the press wide open.

All that said, in one-offs and for shorter spurts during games, it remains a devastating weapon.

Real Madrid still a mess

Against Valladolid, Real Madrid managed to field not just an entire XI without newcomers, but also one where every outfield player was on the club’s books since at least 2014. Sure, Eden Hazard is injured (and you assume they’ll make room for him when fit) but apart from two Luka Jovic substitute appearances, we haven’t seen any of the four new signings. Instead, we’re seeing plenty of James Rodriguez and Gareth Bale, two guys with giant “For Sale” tags around their necks for most of the summer.

Zinedine Zidane is doing things his way and, to be fair, the Pep Guardiola-style 4-1-4-1 we saw in the first half Saturday is worth revisiting. Less impressive was the late collapse that left two points on the table. And the fact that Valladolid’s equaliser was scored by a guy named Guardiola (Sergi, no relation, though he was once on Barca’s books), makes it hurt a little bit more.

I made this point before but it’s worth making again: no clean sheets and two points dropped after two games does not mean Real Madrid absolutely need to sign Neymar. Their four new signings have played a total of 34 minutes and they’re already stacked in Neymar’s position. (What’s more, Zidane is getting those guys on the pitch.)

There may be a price/package at which Neymar makes sense but most likely, there isn’t.

Tottenham’s Eriksen problem

Tottenham knew what they were getting when Newcastle United rolled into town. They were taking on an embattled veteran manager who had lost his first two games and was getting criticised locally. No prizes for guessing what Steve Bruce was going to do: sit deep with a virtual 7-2-1 formation and pray for the best.

So why take the pitch without Giovani Lo Celso and Christian Eriksen, arguably Spurs’ two best creative passers? Beats me.

Mauricio Pochettino’s negativity over Eriksen and his contractual situation — he recently called it “difficult” and said he “didn’t know” if the Dane had played his last game for the club — is understandable to some degree and you can find some sympathy too. But equally, that’s not a reason to bench him or, for that matter, Jan Vertonghen, the guy who was (and maybe still is?) Tottenham’s vice-captain until last season.

You can blame the media for many things but there are legitimate questions to answer about the club’s strategy and the degree of freedom which Pochettino has… or maybe doesn’t have as manager.

Refs ruin Fiorentina vs. Napoli?

After the wild Magic Mountain ride that was Napoli’s 4-3 win away to Fiorentina in Serie A’s curtain-raiser, the last thing you want to do is talk referees. But that crew, particularly with the penalty Dries Mertens “won,” leaves little choice.

You can understand the mistake in awarding it — referees are human and Davide Massa isn’t just human, he’s not particularly good either — it’s harder to accept why VAR didn’t ask him to take another look. The whole crew is likely to sit out the next round (and Mertens, reportedly, could face retrospective punishment), which is encouraging.

On the pitch, Fiorentina’s young ones (who later made way for the golden oldies, Franck Ribery and Kevin-Prince Boateng) were fun to watch and played without fear. It will be a transition season but the future is bright. As for Napoli, the Smurf Squad did its thing and with Arkadiusz Milik and Hirving “Chucky” Lozano added to the mix, this is a side that can beat you many different ways.

PSG might need Neymar after all

Last season it was the teeny, tiny senior squad: a direct result of Financial Fair Play. This year, Paris Saint-Germain have more bodies but they’re dealing with injuries. Against Toulouse they lost Edinson Cavani, Abdou Diallo and Kylian Mbappe in one fell swoop, which rather muted celebrations for their 4-0 win.

None of the injuries looked season-ending, God forbid, and we’ll get an update soon, but with Neymar out of the squad pending the final days of the transfer window, it’s looking like an uphill ride for Thomas Tuchel. What does appear clear (despite the naysayers) is that if the transfer deadline comes and goes and Neymar is still there, he’ll be a professional and quickly slip back into the lineup. For Tuchel, that won’t come soon enough.

What does Solskjaer want Man United to be?

Aside for a few episodes — think the Marcus Rashford missed spot-kick, some strong penalty appeals — Manchester United could easily have beaten Crystal Palace. And while they weren’t stellar, they didn’t play particularly badly either. But they remain a frustratingly one-dimensional team: fine on the counterattack and toothless with the ball, unless Paul Pogba invents something or Rashford picks out that little pass for Anthony Martial that seemingly nobody can cope with.

That’s what is disconcerting here. We know Ole Gunnar Solskjaer can do that reasonably well, but what else can he do? Is there an alternative way of playing — one that actually works — that he can turn to? That bit isn’t clear at all.

It’s not just about personnel (though it’s pretty clear he would have liked a couple more signings) which, to some degree, is out of his control. It’s about what he can affect: the way United play and right now, it seems to be in transition only. That has to change if they’re going to finish top four.

Mihajlovic is inspiring

Six weeks after telling the world he was battling a severe form of leukemia, Bologna coach Sinisa Mihajlovic slipped out of the hospital and took his place on the sideline for his team’s opening fixture, a 1-1 draw at Verona. Doctors had initially advised against it but relented when they saw his mind was made up. And anyone who has followed his career as a manager and a player will tell you that once he’s determined to do something, there’s no stopping him.

The players themselves only found out a few hours before kickoff. He wore a baseball cap and a large bandage on his neck. He was gaunt and had clearly lost a lot of weight. It obviously was a struggle but in case you hadn’t noticed, whatever else Mihajlovic is, this man is a warrior. He’ll fight cancer the way he lived his life: no retreat and no surrender.

Lewandowski keeps carrying Bayern

Robert Lewandowski‘s hat-trick overshadowed Philippe Coutinho‘s debut (he came on as a substitute) on Saturday in Bayern’s 3-0 win over Schalke and it’s as good a time as any to remind ourselves of his everyday brilliance. He has scored every single Bayern goal this season. He has 197 in 246 appearances in all competitions and since 2010, he has missed just 16 league games for Bayern and Borussia Dortmund.

Appearing on the Gab + Jules podcast last week, Jan Aage Fjortoft said “they must go to church every day in Munich praying he doesn’t get injured.” He’s right. He carries the can on his own up front and, for most of his tenure, he’s had no credible back up.

It’s not surprising, then, that Bayern are about to extend his contract by another two seasons, taking him up to 2023. When you’ve been that consistent for that long, doing otherwise would be madness.

Griezmann proves himself for Barca

With Lionel Messi, Ousmane Dembele and Luis Suarez unavailable, Ernesto Valverde conjured up a new front three for the visit of Real Betis Sunday night. Alongside Antoine Griezmann were Rafinha (who had played once since November 2018) and Carles Perez, who had played 35 minutes of top-flight football in his entire career. (He was later replaced by Ansu Fati, who is only the second youngest debutant in the club’s history.)

Having gone a goal down, they stormed back to win 5-2 and a lot of the credit has to go to Griezmann. It wasn’t just his two goals: it was the leadership, drive and personality he gave the side (evidently qualities seared into his DNA after years with Diego Simeone), which, at times, had you forgetting that you-know-who wasn’t there. Critics will fault Rubi’s top-heavy Betis side for failing to manage the lead but the way Barca’s second half unfolded, there was no containing them.

As with Real Madrid, they’ll want to think long and hard about whether they really need/want Neymar…

Business as usual for Juventus

There wasn’t much new or interesting in Juve’s seasonal debut, a 1-0 win over Parma. None of the new signings started and, in fact, the new manager Maurizio Sarri, battling pneumonia, wasn’t there either. Leading the line was Gonzalo Higuain, who resurrected his old Real Madrid partnership with Cristiano Ronaldo.

Might he end up doing so all season long for Juve? It’s increasingly looking that way, if only by default. Of the club’s three potential centerforwards, he’s the least likely to leave and he’s the one who knows Sarri best.

Milan get a little too creative

Milan boss Marco Giampaolo said that his formation didn’t work in the opening day 1-0 defeat to Udinese. Kudos for honesty, even though he did sound like Captain Obvious following a game that saw his team fail to record a shot on target and his centerforward, Krzysztof Piatek, get just 18 touches.

Giampaolo is an “outside-the-box” type of guy who likes to get creative, so he’s entitled to be unconventional. But playing a midfield three of Fabio Borini, Hakan Calhanoglou and Lucas Paqueta plus Suso in the hole behind the Piatek-Samu Castillejo partnership is waaaaayyyy outside the box.

It’s simply lining up without recognised central midfielders. To paraphrase Billy Joel, do that and you walk away a fool or a king. He was no king on Sunday.

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