#she reads that in the temple and suddenly shes like i see.... without condemning or condoning i See...

[rosykims]

looking at two pictures of ketheric and lilithira side by side sweating and twitching because its the same picture

[cozy-the-overlord]

Funny Little Ups and Downs

Summary: Loki is having a bad day. The love of his life is being sent away to marry some ridiculous Vanir prince, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then her little sister shows up to give him a pep talk.

Word Count: 3,824

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

A/N: Sound the alarms! Alert the media! Cozy wrote something happy! I actually wrote the majority of this over three months ago, then got stuck on the ending and forgot all about it until a few days ago. It’s inspired by “I Love Melvin,” a silly little musical from 1953 starring Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor that employs my favorite trope of all time: the main character’s little sibling bonding with the romantic interest. It’s fun, it’s cute, and I just had to write it. Consider it an apology for all the angst I’ve been throwing your way XD

Warnings: None

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Spring in Asgard was truly something to behold. The last dredges of winter melted into memory, leaving behind a crispness in the air and a radiance in the land as vibrant life bloomed across the planet. It was a kind of brilliance that one could hardly resist, and so it was no surprise that the palace gardens were alive with activity— novice warriors sparring in the field, strolling couples engaged in lively conversation, giggling children chasing each other through the labyrinth of brick and shrubbery.

It seemed the very universe was mocking him.

Loki held his head in his hands, huddled in a despondent heap at the edge of the garden bench. It was truly amazing how quickly the sweet spring air turned foul. The day had started with such promise, and now …

“Hi your Highness!” Loki jumped when the little girl plopped down next to him without a warning, crumbs spilling into her braids as she munched on a cookie.

He sighed. “Oh, hello Milla.” He couldn’t say he particularly cared for company at the moment, but he couldn’t find the energy to shoo her off.

Milla studied him, chewing intently. “Are you crying?” she asked.

“Of course not!” Loki bristled. Was he now so pathetic that he was garnering the pity of a child? He huffed in indignation.

She patted his arm as if in consolation. “It’s okay to cry, Prince Loki. I cry all the time.”

Norns.

He swallowed the temptation to shove her away and abandon the bench, electing instead to change the subject. “Did Sigyn send you?”

It wouldn’t have been the first time she delegated her little sister to the position of messenger. Perhaps Milla was here with some kind of news, that the whole thing was a misunderstanding and Sigyn wasn’t getting married after all. But deep down, Loki knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. If that were the case, Sigyn would have come herself.

“No,” Milla said, dashing what little hope he had against the brick walkway. “I saw you leaving from my window. You looked sad.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Was Sigyn mean to you?”

It was such a childish question that Loki laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. Sigyn didn’t have a mean bone in her body. It was something of which he was in perpetual awe. It didn’t matter how badly her day had gone, how grievously she had been wronged—she always had a kind word or a sweet gesture and an eagerness to help. There was a grace about her, a grace that Loki had never seen from anyone else in court.

The way she had broke the news to him, pushing him into the hallway outside her apartment before he even had the chance to knock … it was cruel, but it wasn’t a cruelty she had chosen. He understood that at least.

Loki heaved another sigh. “It wasn’t her fault.”

For a moment, Milla was quiet. He turned away from her. It seemed he really was that pathetic.

“Sigyn got all upset after you left,” she finally said. “She went running upstairs and hid in her room. Now Daddy’s mad because Prince Sverrir is coming over and she’s not ready.” Sverrir. Loki dug his fingernails into his palms. Milla didn’t seem to notice his tension.

“Do you know Prince Sverrir?” she asked.

Loki grit his teeth. “I’ve met him.” It was astonishing how his opinion of the Vanir Crown Prince had changed from aloof indifference to outright hatred within a matter of words. Loki had known Sverrir since they were both children, when Vanaheim’s royal family had come to Asgard for a few weeks to celebrate the millennial anniversary of the end of the Aesir-Vanir War. He had found him to be tiresome as a boy, a trait that did not improve upon adulthood. Loki had avoided him when he could.

Sverrir had only become relevant to him within the last few years, when after one royal visit he began to express an interest in Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir. At this point, Sigyn and Loki had been seeing each other in secret for quite some time, and while a public courtship was still out of the question, Loki had no intention of allowing the foreign prince to pursue what he already called his own.

The court was appalled when it discovered that Sverrir had been hiring harlots and bringing them into his chambers—his guest chambers, the very rooms in which the Asgardian royal family had so kindly allowed him to stay! His insistence that he had never even interacted with the ladies of the night, let alone allowed one on to palace grounds, fell upon deaf ears and Sverrir was forced to return home to avoid further scandal. Loki remembered watching him cross the Bifrost, with his unnatural posture and his idiotic attempt at regality, certain that they’d seen the last of him.

But now here he was again, back with a few years distance and an ailing father, and suddenly every woman in Asgard was ready to fall at his feet. Which would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he decided upon the only woman who didn’t want him in return.

Loki groaned, rubbing his temples. Besides him, Milla prattled on.

“He’s very dull, isn’t he?” she was saying, brushing the cookie crumbs off the front of her dress. “The last time he came over he just sat in the parlor and talked about how much Sigyn would like Vanaheim. I don’t think she was all that interested. And he kept calling me Mina!” She scowled at the ground, as if Sverrir was there, sitting at her feet, before turning back to Loki. “I like you better. You’re nice to me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yeah!” she grinned, tapping his shoulder enthusiastically. “You know my name, at least. And you gave me my good-luck charm!”

She pulled the charm out from under her top, fastened to her neck by thin strip of leather. It was nothing special, just a simple wooden carving of a cat’s head that he had whittled himself during his time serving as diplomat in Alfheim. He didn’t have near the talent for woodworking of the Elven carvers, but he was patient in his practice. By the end of the trip, he had spent hours upon hours working on the carving of a wolf’s head, Sigyn’s favorite animal, to give to her upon his return. Milla’s cat had been something of an afterthought. Still, he hadn’t been able to hide his smile at the way she squealed in delight when he presented it to her, and Sigyn had seemed more touched by the fact that he thought of her sister than at her own gift.

“Has it worked for you?” he asked.

“I think so,” Milla said, running her finger across the cat’s ear. “Good things happen when I wear it.”

Loki laughed bitterly. He could use a bit of that now. “Have good things happened today?”

She didn’t look up. “I’m still waiting to find out.”

A silence fell over the two of them, heavy and stiff. He wondered what Sigyn was doing, if she was still hiding in her room as her sister claimed. She had been waiting for him that morning, ready to push him out into the hall with shaking hands the moment he arrived at her doorstep. He knew immediately that she had been crying—if her swollen eyes weren’t enough of a giveaway, then the little hiccupping gasps that peppered her words certainly were.

“You can’t be here right now,” she had hissed. “If Father sees you, he’ll lose his mind!”

“What happened?”

“Sverrir made an offer for my hand. My father—Loki, he accepted.”

It had taken a moment for those words to sink in. When they had, he had demanded to speak with her father.

“Loki—”

“He can’t do this! He can’t sell you off like cattle—”

Only he could, and they both knew it.

“Prince Loki?” He turned away from his thoughts and back to Milla. She was looking up at him with wide eyes, her voice suddenly very small. “Is Sigyn going to marry Sverrir?”

Loki found he couldn’t answer. There was a threatening lump in the back of his throat, making him unwilling to trust his voice. Sigyn … she was always supposed to marry him. He had been sure of it from the moment he met her, back when they were taking their lessons together. He had pretended to trip when walking by her desk and spilled his potion all over the floor just to have an excuse to talk to her. Thor had rolled his eyes when he heard of it (“could you not just speak to her like a normal person?”), but Sigyn had laughed and offered to help him clean it up, just like the angel she was. And when class ended, he offered to walk her back to her apartment.

Sigyn had smiled, that shy little smile she seemed to reserve for only him. “I’d be honored, my prince.”

Loki was smitten.

And now he was heartbroken.

“You know she doesn’t want to marry him, right?” Milla asked, tugging at his sleeve. “She doesn’t even like him.”

Loki inhaled. “Marriage isn’t just about who you like.” Sigyn had explained this to him just now in the hallway. Her family may have been prestigious in her great-grandfather’s heyday, but a series of poor investments and bad choices had set them on a steady decline. Her marriage to Sverrir would secure their position permanently. Her father would condemn her to a life of loneliness to maintain their status. And Sigyn would accept it, because she was far too good a person to refuse. “You have to think about your future, and your family, and Sverrir is a prince—”

“But you’re a prince too!”

“I don’t have a throne.” Loki sighed. He had never been jealous of Thor’s position as Crown Prince, not really—kingship came with hundreds of little hinderances and headaches that Loki was perfectly content to live without. But if he could stand before Sigyn’s father, not as Odin’s forgotten son but as Asgard’s future ruler … well, he wouldn’t be having to stomach discussion about some Vanir prince, that was for sure.

Milla yanked on his sleeve even harder. “But Sigyn loves you.”                        

Loki’s eyes widened. “She told you that?”

“No.” She said. “But I know she does. She reads your poems every night before she goes to bed.”

He flushed crimson. “Does she?” Oh, those poems. He had never considered himself to be much of a poet, but there was a soft sense of familiarity in words that he had never found anywhere else. And Sigyn … how could one not write about Sigyn?

He never had the courage to read them to her in person, silly, romantic things that they were. Instead he kept to leaving them hidden in spots where only she would find them—wrapped up in her napkin at dinner, buried in her bag at the healing ward, slipped into her dress pocket as they danced. She never said anything about them to him, but he lived for the way she’d squeeze his hand after he passed one to her.

Milla nodded, grinning. “She has them all in a little book, and she keeps it under her pillow.” Loki smiled too at the image, just for a moment, but then reality came crashing back down. She could hold on to as many poems as he could write—it still wouldn’t change anything. He buried his face in his hands once more.

He felt another tug at his sleeve, and he turned to find himself face-to-face with a creased brow. “You love her too, don’t you?” Milla asked. “That’s why you’re so upset.”

Loki huffed. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! It has too!” she insisted, shaking his arm. “You can make it matter.”

“Make it matter?” Suddenly, looking at her there, with her braids and her “good luck” charms and her childish hope was too much to bear. “What would you have me do?” he snapped. “Kidnap your sister?”

Milla flinched. “No … But—”

“There isn’t any ‘but.’ Your father will never allow her to settle for me when there’s a superior option. My father will never care enough to intervene on my behalf.” Norns knew he had tried. But Odin had nothing to gain from a marriage between Loki and Sigyn, and if Odin had nothing to gain, he saw no reason to act. “It’s useless to pretend otherwise. Now are you just going to sit here and bother me all day or do you have somewhere else to be?”

She gulped, abandoning her place besides him on the bench. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I’ll go.” Loki watched her slink off back towards the palace, head down like a whipped pup. Somehow, he felt even worse.

…

Dinner was miserable.

Loki picked at his food out of a sense of courtesy, with no real appetite to be found. How could he eat, when four seats to his right Sverrir was regaling his audience with descriptions of his perfect bride-to-be? The prince hadn’t yet mentioned Sigyn by name, but he didn’t have to. Loki could see the way his gaze lingered on her table as he described her “perfect form.”

It made him sick.

He had still barely touched his meal by the time many of the merrymakers had moved to the dance floor. Sverrir had gone, too—Loki watched him practically slither across the room to Sigyn’s side to ask her for a dance, watched Sigyn’s nearly imperceptible nod in assent. Now, they commanded the whole of the floor, gliding through the steps as flawlessly as a couple could, Sverrir grinning ear to ear and Sigyn the epitome of quiet repose.

Loki wished he could return to his rooms. He didn’t want to sit there, watching his heart spin and twirl in the hands of another man. But he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze away from her. Her sea-blue skirt matched Sverrir’s cape as it twisted about her, giving her the appearance of some sort of oceanic goddess. He wanted to hate the color, but of course it was beautiful on her. Everything was beautiful on her.

“Prince Loki!”

He was startled out of his despondent silence by the child shrieking his name. Loki barely had the chance to turn around before Milla was upon him, grabbing at his arm and trying to pull him to his feet.

He frowned. “What are you doing up here?”

“Come on!” She yanked at his cape. “You have to dance with Sigyn.”

Wary of making a scene, and too flustered to push her away, Loki stood. “Milla, I—”

“You have to,” she insisted, giving him a push towards the dance floor. “Go! Dance with her!”

He stumbled forward, but the little girl kept corralling him down the podium stairs, towards Sigyn and her aggravating prince.

“Milla!” he hissed. “Can’t you see she’s already dancing with someone?”

“Who cares?” she hissed back, shoving him again. “Dance with her!”

And so Loki made his way down to the dance floor, cheeks burning, holding himself with as much dignity as one could after a literal child herded them like a sheep away from their meal. Luckily, few in the the ballroom seemed to be paying him any mind.

One of the positives of being the forgotten son, he supposed.

Sverrir and Sigyn were in the middle of the floor, still wrapped up in the music. At least, Sverrir was. Sigyn was holding herself as if someone had strapped a wooden board down her back. He couldn’t remember a time where he had seen her so tense. The sight made Loki stiffen.

With a sudden burst of confidence, he tapped on the Vanir prince’s shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said, not bothering to hide the tightness in his voice. “Would you mind if I cut in?”

Sverrir started. “Oh. Uh—” he glanced back at Sigyn. “Do you mind, darling?”

She shook her head, features still perfectly neutral. Only then did Loki notice that, while she was wearing blue, the ribbons weaved through her braids were emerald green.

“Oh!” Sverrir seemed surprised, but quickly shook it off. “Well, then, of course not!” He stepped aside, making a grand gesture towards Sigyn as Loki took his place in her arms with a rigid nod.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, slowly swaying to the notes of the waltz in silence. Sigyn looked away first, turning to watch her feet on floor as if she were a girl in pigtails still learning to dance.

Loki swallowed the desert on his tongue. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Well enough, I suppose,” she murmured. When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy, her features twisted in an attempt to hold back the tears. “Loki—I’m sorry.”

There was a lump in the back of his throat. He wished he could hold her to his chest, cup her cheek and promise her that everything was fine. Instead, he only shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I just …” She inhaled. “I wish things were different.”

Don’t we both?

“Is he kind to you at least?” he asked. He would at least be able to rest easier knowing that Sigyn was well cared for, and as irritating as Sverrir was, Loki had never seen anything to suggest that he was cruel. Although … he almost wished Sverrir was a beast of a man—horrible, vicious, barbarous— just so he could have another reason to despise him.

Sigyn shrugged. “He talks a lot.”

“Oh? About what?”

“Absolutely nothing!” she cried. “I’ve never heard of a man who could go on so long without a single thing to say. It makes my head ache.” Sigyn sighed. “But Father finds him interesting.”

Loki scoffed. “Your father would be fascinated by grass growing.”

She laughed. “Probably.”

They danced in silence for a while longer. He liked the silence—the soft, soothing movement was almost enough to make him forget why this night was different from every other he had spent dancing with her. But soon enough, the song came to an end, and he made ready to bid her farewell.

A familiar voice cleared his throat, rasping across the hall. The hum of conversation stopped as everyone turned to face the royal podium, where Prince Sverrir stood, smiling over the masses.

“Ladies and gentleman, if I may have your attention!” he called. “I would like to make an announcement.”

“Here we go,” whispered Sigyn. She reached out to grasp Loki’s hand.

When the crowd thronged around the podium had appeared to reach a size to his liking, Sverrir continued.

“As many of you know,” he said. “My father’s health has been failing for the past several months, and he has voiced that it is his greatest wish to see me married before he passes. Therefore, I am overjoyed to announce my engagement to one of your very own Asgardian ladies—” He stretched his hand out towards Sigyn, grinning widely as the rest of the nobles whipped around to follow his gaze. “The lovely Lady Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir!”

The ballroom erupted into applause. Sigyn sighed, but quickly masked it with a gracious smile, letting go of Loki’s hand in order to make her way to the podium.

To her fiancé.

Loki didn’t even think. When he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to his side, he was acting off pure instinct.

“That’s impossible!” he cried to the crowd, to Sverrir. “Completely impossible, your Highness. She can’t marry you.”

The applause fizzled out as quickly as it begun. Confused whispers began skating through the onlookers.

“Loki!” Sigyn hissed. “What are you doing?”

Above them all, Sverrir frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Prince Loki,” he said. “Lord Yngvarr had given me his permission, and Lady Sigyn has accepted. Why can I not marry her?”

Loki didn’t blink. “Because she’s already married to me.”

The crowd exploded into outraged gasps.

Besides him, a wicked grin was blooming across Sigyn’s face.

Sverrir seemed to have been rendered incapable of response. He stood stuttering on the podium, any words he did manage drowned out by the commotion of the entire court processing what was turning out to be even more of a scandal than the last time the Vanir prince came to visit.

Until finally one voice cut through the chaos.

“Liar!” yelled Yngvarr, pushing his way through the crowd. “My daughter would not betray her family in such a manner.” He turned back to Sverrir, fuming. “Your Highness, I’m afraid Prince Loki seems to be playing a prank, and a decidedly unfunny one at that, at the expense of my daughter’s reputation.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest his offense, but before he could find the words, yet another voice joined the foray of madness.

“It’s not a prank, Daddy!” Milla grinned, materializing seemingly out of thin air to pull at her father’s sleeve. “It’s real! I heard them talking about it a week ago.”

Yngvarr whipped around so quickly that one of his whiskers caught on his shoulder plate. “What?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Prince Loki came through the window! They were talking about how they were going to get married as soon as possible, because they love each other so much and they’re soulmates and … and …” she trailed off, seeming to only just be realizing that every pair of eyes in the ballroom was on her.

“And what?” snapped Yngvarr.

Sigyn stepped forward. “And I’m pregnant!”

The roar was deafening.

She turned back towards Loki with a smirk. He could only gape at her.

“What?” she asked. “Did you think I was going to let you have all the fun?”

Loki didn’t bother trying to find words. He just planted his lips on to hers. “I love you,” he whispered when he pulled away. He had never meant anything more in his life.

She laughed. “What now?”

“Well,” he said, grinning as he offered her his arm. “It seems we have to get married. After that—” he stopped abruptly. There was something in his pocket, something that he knew hadn’t been there before, bulky and solid. Frowning, he pulled it out to find the rough carving of a cat’s head tied to a loop of worn leather.

He looked up again in confusion. His eyes landed on Milla, beaming at him from across the room. She winked.

Good things happen when I wear it.

Loki smiled, slipping the charm back into his pocket. Next to him, Sigyn tugged at his arm.

“After that?” she repeated.

“After that?” he shrugged, smirking. “We improvise.”

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All that Was Fair

Chapter 5: You Can Never Go Home Again

Chapter Summary: Jamie and Claire deal with the fallout of her revelation. 

Read on AO3

Read chp 5 below the cut:

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Chapter 5

*

“What do ye mean, ye canna go home?” Jamie asked as his own concern began to ramp up in earnest. 

Claire was trembling again, her hand anxiously squeezing his and her free arm still wrapped tightly around herself. Drawn to comfort her, Jamie gathered her into a one-armed hug and pressed her against him. He could feel her distress pulsing through her like an electric current. 

She rested her temple on his collarbone— deflated by the enormity of what she was saying and desperate for safe harbor— and then she finally expanded.

“I don’t know anything, Jamie, really. But if I’m right, the only way I could return to my plane of existence— to my realm and the seelie court— is to go back through the stones. But I can’t do that, Jamie, I can’t. I think it might kill me.” 

During her revelation, a flurry of emotions was swirling inside Jamie so vehemently that he lost hold on the present for a second. His heart was breaking for her. The thought of being forever stranded in an unfamiliar place— away from her home and people— the terror and loss must have been debilitating. At the same time, some secret part of Jamie was rejoicing. Losing her so soon after she’d dropped into his life and changed him forever would have crushed him. But if she really couldn’t go home, that meant that she would stay with him…. 

Jamie could only dare to hope about the possibilities. 

But as soon as that thought surfaced, he began to feel guilt twisting in his middle. She was quite obviously suffering. Her body was shaking against him, overcome by the gravity of the realization, and here he was delighting in her news. 

Hooking a finger under her chin, he raised her face to look up at him and saw her eyes were glittering with tears. 

“Listen to me, mo nighean donn, ye’re no’ alone. I’m right here wi’ ye, and I willna let anythin’ happen to ye. If this is true, ye can stay wi’ me for however long ye choose, and I will care for ye and see ye safe.” 

Tears dripped from her face and onto his hand where it remained rested gently under her face. She nodded a little against him, lips wobbling as she tried to hold back the tide of her emotions. His heart broke for her all over again. 

“Come here,” was all he could say, and then he was wrapping her fully in his arms. 

She went willingly, all but collapsing onto his chest. Both of her hands clutched one of his arms and she buried her face into his shoulder. The moment their bodies made contact, she began to cry. Hitched sobs escaped her as she tried to contain the onslaught. 

“It’s alright, mo Sorcha, let it out,” he murmured into her hair. 

She did, and simply cried against him as the reality and weight of what was going on truly hit. And all he could do was hold her. 

He didn’t like seeing her like this. Ever since she’d woken up in his arms while he was carrying her down from the stones, Claire had been so incredibly brave. She’d been taking everything miraculously in stride. Curious and inquisitive, she was bold in her explorations and delighted in the human world. Now though, she seemed thoroughly broken. More than wary, she was fearful of the unknown she’d been thrust into without any possibility of return to what she knew. It was one thing to explore, he supposed, but quite another to be condemned to a life of the unfamiliar. 

In that moment, Jamie promised himself that he’d make this world safe for her so that she’d never have to feel this kind of fear again. 

And if she’d let him, he’d walk beside her through it. 

“We’ll sort it out,” he whispered, “no matter what. Together.” 

She nodded against him, tear-soaked face pressing against his shirt. It would surely be stained and damp, but it was of no import. 

He brought a hand up to her neck, cupping the tiny curve of the base of her skull, and began to knead his thumb in gentle circles there. At the same time, Gaelic started to flow instinctively from his lips, and he made shushing sounds in between the mindless reassurances. It’ll be alright. I’m here, mo nighean donn. Dinna weep. All of this and more he whispered into her hair, his lips barely brushing it as he breathed the words. 

A whimper escaped her as she cried, and if his heart wasn’t already shattered into a million pieces at seeing her like this, that tiny sound would have obliterated it. 

He had no idea how long he stood there— holding her as she cried for the life she had lost— but it felt like hours to him. Finally, she began to calm. Her crying subsided and breathing slowed until she went quiet against him. 

Carefully, he drew back to look down at her. The bonny face was streaked with tear stains and her lips looked somehow a deeper color than usual. Her golden-eyes held grief, ringed with red, and moisture beaded on the long, dark lashes. But behind it all was an incredible strength. A determination held in those whiskey depths. 

He cupped her face with both hands and began to gently smooth his thumbs over her cheeks to clear away the tear tracks. 

“Ye’re sae strong. I ken ye’ll be okay no matter what happens,” he told her with complete conviction. 

That brought another single tear rolling silently down her cheek. She held his gaze as it made its slow trail downward, as if pleading for him to make it all better. He wished to God that he had that power. But there was nothing he could do, save perhaps distraction. 

“Here, I have another thing to show ye that I think ye might like,” he said as a thought struck him. 

Letting go of her face to instead take her hand, he led her across the room to the counter where a box of tissues lay. With his free hand, he withdrew one, and then gently used it to clean her face as he explained, “we use them to dry tears and such.” As he wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, one of her hands raised to take the edge between her fingers and rub cautiously. 

“It’s soft,” she commented with a tremulous laugh and a watery smile. 

The way she said it— a hint of her usual delight and awe creeping into her voice despite her sorrow— made Jamie indescribably happy. 

“That’s what I thought ye’d say,” he chuckled fondly. 

It seemed to have been just the thing to help her, because once he’d finished drying her face, she straightened up and mustered another smile for Jamie. 

“Will ye show me more things?” she asked. Her voice was still thick with emotion but she seemed eager to gather herself. 

“Of course,” he said, his tone still laced with soft understanding. 

Jamie’s thoughts raced as he tried to come up with the best thing to show her that would take her mind off things. The TV came first to mind, but he quickly dismissed that as being just a bit too overwhelming for this moment. They’d have to work up to that. Jamie thought about everything he knew Claire liked, and suddenly the perfect idea came into his head. 

“There’s somethin’ I think ye’ll like verra much in the basement. That’s eh— the level below this.” 

His house’s basement was small— just a carpeted room with a couple odd couches, his old tv, and Adso’s litter box haphazardly arranged. Jamie didn’t spend much time down there, and as a result, didn’t bother cranking up the heat enough to warm it much. Being low as it was, it was always cold. 

He led Claire by the hand down the steps. She seemed a bit wary of descending but simply clutched his hand and followed. When they emerged downstairs and he flicked on the lights, her gaze swept over the room. She looked at him inquisitively, obviously wondering what exactly he was going to show her here (it was admittedly quite unimpressive, apparently even to a faerie). 

Giving her a smile, half to reassure her and half in excitement for the kick she was likely to get out of what he had to show her, he strode over to the little machine that lay in between the couches, pointed it toward Claire, and pressed the “on” button. 

“This is called a space heater,” he announced proudly. 

It was a small, portable one, about a foot tall and with one opening so the heat all went in one direction, but it created a remarkable warmth. 

The moment Claire felt the heat emanating from the machine and blowing onto her legs, her face spread into a wide smile. She eagerly leaned down, hands outstretched toward the machine in fascination. A laugh bubbled from her as she delighted in the feel of the hot air. 

But Jamie noticed that she was reaching even closer, and quickly caught her wrist before her fingers could make contact with the heated grate.

“Dinna touch it, it’s too hot,” he warned, “but ye can be jes’ by it.” 

She gave him a single nod, looked back at the machine, and then suddenly plopped down to the floor. Crossing her legs, she scooted as close to the heater as she could and hovered her hands in front of it, just like one would warm their hands in front of a campfire. 

“It’s so warm!” she squealed, and wiggled her fingers, luxuriating in the flow of hot air. 

Jamie was patting himself on the back for how well he was beginning to know her. As much delight as she was getting from the wee contraption, he was getting just as much— if not more— from seeing the carefree happiness return to her bonny face. The smile that lit up his life was turned up toward him as Claire looked for his response. 

“Aye, I believe I have ye all figured out, Sassenach,” he teased, “the way to yer heart is all things soft and warm.” 

She playfully narrowed her eyes, a glimmer of humor there that reassured Jamie immensely. 

“I think I may still surprise you yet, my lad.” 

Jamie laughed. “Och, I dinna doubt it.” 

As Claire turned her attention back to enjoying the space heater, twisting and turning her body so that the warmth touched every part of it, Jamie thought about what to do next. His mind just barely started to leap to long term implications— Christ, his job! He had to work tomorrow. And she’d need clothes. And—

He had to stop himself before he went mad. What he needed to do was to focus on taking things one step at a time. At some point when Claire was well and truly occupied, maybe when she went to sleep for the night, he’d sit down and try to think through everything. But for the time being, he just wanted to continue to distract her so she didn’t fall back into that horrible despair. 

When his eyes refocused on the scene in front of him, Claire looked like she would have been hugging the machine to herself if she was allowed. She was huddled as close to it as she possibly could be, absorbing every bit of warmth. 

“Do ye want tae see more? I could show ye the rest of the house so ye feel a wee bit more comfortable. Ye could ask me all yer questions…” 

Just as Jamie was finishing making his offer, Claire’s hand shot up, grabbed Jamie's, and tugged him down. Startled as he was, he went with her pull, and plopped down on the floor next to her. 

“Just another minute...” she purred, and he could only laugh in response. 

Since Claire was cuddled so close to the space heater, her body blocked any heat from actually reaching Jamie. He didn’t mind, but settled himself slightly further back so that he was behind Claire and comfortably resting back against the bottom of the couch as he waited for her to finish basking. 

To his surprise, Claire scooted backward, shoving her way in between his splayed legs so she could recline against his chest. Jamie was so taken aback— as he always was when she touched him so brazenly, making his mind spin— that he simply complied when she took both of his arms and wrapped them around her. He found himself hugging her from behind as she let out a contented sigh and rested her temple against his jaw. 

There wasn’t a single thought in his head about what he was doing as he instinctively turned his face just a bit to press his lips to the soft skin of her temple. 

She didn’t seem to mind at all. She didn’t even react. But the second after he did it, a wave of guilt surged over him. It wasn’t his right to kiss her like that; Claire wasn’t his to kiss. Sure, she’d initiated all this contact that made his heart flutter, and sure he was absolutely falling for her, but he’d known her for only two days. Her entire world has just crumbled out from underneath her feet, and he was her only anchor. He couldn’t possibly take advantage of her with his romantic inclinations. Not to mention, she wasn’t even human. Although for some reason that argument didn’t dissuade him as much as the thought that Claire might feel obligated to return his affections in exchange for his help. He couldn’t do that to her. It wasn’t fair. 

He wanted to run away from her, to withdraw himself and put some distance between them so he could finally think clearly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be able to control himself when she nestled up so close to him like this. But the thought of withholding physical comfort which she so clearly desired, even needed… it was intolerable. So he stayed put. 

Claire was completely unaware of the turmoil going on in Jamie’s mind, and she sighed contentedly against him. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as it nudged his with each inhale and exhale. That feeling of closeness did nothing to help the clenching of affection in his heart. 

Damn it, Fraser, pull yourself together. You can be her friend— her guide— her protector— but leave foolish notions of anything more out of it. 

She tilted her head to peer up at him. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, apparently seeing the expression on his face that must have been something close to heartbreak as he agonized over her. 

“Jes’ fine,” he mustered a smile, “have ye had enough warmth now tae get ye through a wee walk about the house?” 

She chuckled at that, and it sent vibrations through her that Jamie could feel reverberate through his own body. 

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this, but I’m ready for what else you have to show me.”

***

Next

[enkelimagnus]

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 11, 2942 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for.

Read on AO3

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

Vex had succeeded in evading Vax’s questions about the bow.

She hadn’t really given him the option to speak at all. After resting for the night, her exhaustion had melted away and left all the space for anger. She’d driven out on her truck, not on the motorcycle, but that was only because the bike wouldn’t go on the snow very well. She’d just wanted to get to one of the temples fast.

They let her walk right into a fucking trap. They hid this from her and she could have died. There is going to be a scar on her shoulder, even with the healing she’s received. She wants to scream at all of them.

What if she’s not the first one to get hit by whatever the fuck the fiend is capable of doing? What if there are bodies literring that castle, bodies of innocent people who walked in on a fiend and died because no one fucking warned them?

Her rage carries her through the whole drive, until she stops in a furious screech of tires not far from the temple and basically runs to it. It carries her as she slams her whole body into the door and it bursts open. She doesn’t care about the bruises she’ll have after this.

She’s lucky, she guesses. They’re all there. Pike, and Grog, both priests and Cassandra. Somehow, the latter’s presence is no surprise. They were acting a little weird about everything, after all.

“What the fuck is up with the thing in the castle and why did none of you bother telling me about it?” Vex roars.

She can feel her hands shaking as she balls them into fists, trying to canalize her anger at least somewhat. She’s a professional, she can’t go and yell the heads off of clergy. Or maybe she can. Maybe she needs to, right now, because they let her walk into an incredibly dangerous situation.

Grog is still holding up his axe. He doesn't look specifically aggressive but she knows he’s ready to defend his friends against her if necessary. She appreciates that, even in this situation.

“You saw him?” Cassandra asks, standing up. “Does he… look alright?”

Vex blinks.

She wasn’t expecting this. Cassandra seems concerned, but more about the thing than about the fact Vex was in close contact with it and could have died.

“He’s a smoking fiend in the shape of a humanoid and I don’t know what kind of shit he packs but it made a hole in my shoulder. A big one!” Vex snaps back. “That doesn’t sound alright to me.”

Cassandra’s face hardens in as neutral of a face as Vex has ever seen. Pike reaches for them, gently putting a hand on their arm, beckoning them to sit back down.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Pike says quietly. “Do you need more healing?”

Vex shakes her head. “No. I have a couple of Healing Spells, and my brother gave me a potion. I’m fine.”

She’s mad that they’re showing concern, when they should have told her this was a threat. Pike and Grog make it all worse. They knew, when they took down the Barbed Devil, that it wasn’t the fiend Vex had sensed. And yet, they let her be fooled, let her believe that she’d done her job correctly.

“Lady Vex’ahlia, I think you should sit down,” Father Reynal says then, with his serene priest façade that Vex wants to smash through right now.

Grog gets up to bring another chair and they all stare at her until she moves and sits down at the table. They all settle back down.

There’s a large file on the table, closed and title-less. Vex raises an eyebrow. Father Reynal takes it and pulls it off of the table, away from her prying eyes and wandering hands. Smart of him. Suspicious too. Vex is on high alert and everything right now is a threat.

“I’m not a lady,” she mutters.

“I know,” Father Reynal nods. “But I’m being polite.”

Vex rolls her eyes. “Cut to the chase. What the fuck is going on here? What is that thing and why didn’t you tell me?”

They all settle back in their seats, all tense, all very unwilling to talk. Vex isn’t budging until she’s given answers though. She’ll camp here and harass them until they crack. She doesn’t give a fuck how long it takes.

“We didn’t tell you,” Keeper Yennen starts. “Because there was no reason for you to know. The fiend cannot walk out of the castle, the trail had been condemned by our work, and the secret tunnel was… well, secret.”

Vex sighs slightly. “Until Keyleth told me about it.”

“Our dear Keyleth is not skilled in the art of deception,” Father Reynal adds then. “We should have expected this would happen. But we couldn’t take you into account when all of this started. Your predecessor, Ranger Regae was not… exactly zealous. He was either oblivious to what was happening or didn’t care enough to stop it. All the contrary to you, my lady.”

“Not a lady,” Vex repeats. “Please stop calling me one.”

They nod as well. “Apologies,” they mutter. “Now. As for your other questions…”

Cassandra bristles. “His name is Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III,” they rattle off without even blinking. “Depending on which succession law you follow, he’s either Lord of Whitestone, or just my brother, in which case I am Lady of Whitestone.”

Vex takes a second to take in all of what she’s just been told. The De Rolos are not all dead. At least two remain. She’s staring at one of them, and the other is the thing in the castle. And they’re all covering it up.

“What happened? Because that’s not a person in there anymore,” Vex points out. Cassandra flinches at that.

Well… The eyes flashing to blue and the humanoid voice could belong to a person. The part that had yelled her to run… that could be a person.

“We don’t know exactly,” Cassandra continues, despite her flinching and obvious uncomfort. “We know that he’s been possessed by a fiend. Which I’m guessing you sensed and came in contact with.”

“Do you know how he came in contact with the fiend? What kind of fiend it is?” Vex crosses her arms.

“He.. came back to Whitestone with the fiend already with him. I haven’t been able to get more details from him.”

Every time Cassandra or anyone else says something, it just adds more questions to Vex’s plate. Where was he before coming back? Why had he left in the first place?

“As for the kind,” Father Reynal interjects. “I haven’t gotten to see it up close since he became possessed by it the way he is now, but from Keyleth’s description, it seems like a demonic creature. Perhaps a shadow demon of some kind.”

Shadow demons are more difficult to take down than barbed devils, but they’re not… impossible. Between Keyleth, Pike, Grog and the others, they should have been able to take it down a long time ago… Though it isn’t just a fiend. It’s also Cassandra’s brother. That changes things, she guesses, for all of them. There’s a person trapped in there, the one that made it so Vex could get away.

That’s the thing with possession. There’s always someone else than the creature involved in it.

Vex sighs heavily, putting her hands over her face. “You haven’t told any sort of authority, I’m guessing?” She asks.

“They’ll just… kill him to take out the creature,” Pike points out. “None of us want that to happen. We want him safe. As safe as possible.”

“Or they’ll fuck up the barrier we put up and he’ll be free to roam and probably kill more,” Keeper Yennen adds. “That’s another one of our concerns, and one of the reasons we didn’t tell you. We’re aware rangers have some spellcasting abilities and we did not want to risk you messing with the barrier.”

Vex huffs. “Well, I can’t promise I didn’t do anything but I don’t think my encounter with it fucked up your spell.”

They all fall quiet then. As she looks around the table at these people, these people of faith, of knowledge, of ability, it suddenly dawns on her the mess she’s gotten into. There’s a nobleman possessed by a fiend, with a weapon from the nine hells that shoots holes into people. They’ve been dealing with it for who knows how long, and they’re not getting anywhere. They seem at a standstill.

It’s all terrible. She should run away now. Grab Vax, pack her bags, and never come back to Whitestone again.

She’s not going to succeed at her job here, not when the fiend in the castle is much stronger than she is, not when there are people who won’t let her deal with it quickly and efficiently because it would mean murdering someone. Not that she would murder someone to do her job, but… it’s just another thing to think about.

She should give up and leave.

But where can she go? She can’t go back to Syngorn. Syldor’s made it incredibly clear in the letter she read yesterday. It was only yesterday but it feels like weeks. The emotional distress and the encounter with the fiend, or Percival de Rolo… It all seems so far away.

So she has to stay, and she has to deal with this somewhat. Because there’s no way she can go back to her life when she knows about the thing in the castle. No way. She’s too… stubborn.

“I have many questions,” Vex starts after a moment. “And I want you to answer them to the best of your abilities. If you want me to help in this matter, you’re going to have to be straightforward with me. Honest. If I catch you in a lie, you’re fucked.”

She doesn’t really think she’ll tell any authority about this, but she is going to use every bit of power she has to get her way and get the answers she’s desperate to have.

“Fine,” Cassandra nods. “I think that works with us.”

Vex doesn’t reply that they don’t have a choice anyway. She’s not that big of a dick.

“My very first question,” she moves forward. “How did you know my last name?” She stares at Father Reynal, with his chestnut eyes.

He sighs heavily and takes out the folder that had been on the table when she came in. He slides it over the table towards her and she takes it, and opens it.

Everything. They have everything. They have her grades and report cards from the schools she attended in Syngorn, from the noble general educations to the specialized ones, to the ones from her training with the TWC. Things on Vax as well. And then the Shademurk. Reports on the fire, a copy of the report she wrote for the TWC about what happened. Pictures of her and Saundor at the official parties he dragged her to, both because she was the ranger attached to the Shademurk, but also because she was his trophy, and he wanted to show her off.

She remembers the specific day this photo was taken on. She remembers the pretty green silk dress with the completely open back, almost the exact color of his skin. He’d insisted she made her hair in a way that uncovered her ears. He’d made a braid of vines that wrapped around her neck in a necklace. He’d called her perfect. She’d been the only non-fey in attendance, and all eyes had been on her, and on him, because he’d brought her.

She’s smiling in the photo in front of her. It was taken when she was already tipsy on sweet and heady fey wines. That was why she was smiling so much. The evening hadn’t been pleasant. Some sort of anniversary of something where she’d obviously been there for people to stare at, for Saundor to have. He had not let her move out of his side all evening, arm wrapped around her waist, hard as stone, unmovable. Possessive. She’d already known better than to try and break his hold on her, it had been months after she’d realized he was much, much stronger than her. When he decided to hold her, there was no getting out.

She slams the folder shut when it gets to more details about the fire.

Her hands are shaking when she looks up at the priest in front of her.

“Why?” She asks. Her voice is weak. It’s shaking, it’s ugly.

“We had to know who you were, who had replaced Regae. If you’d be a threat for us and Percival,” Father Reynal explains. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not. It’s obvious he’s not. Vex gets it, but it doesn’t qualm her anger and betrayal. She grabs the file in her hands. “I’m keeping this.”

None of them deny her that. Good. She would have exploded if they did.

Her mind is swimming. The pictures of those nights in the Feywild, the reports on the fire and her escape, the fiend, the trapped noble, her father’s hatred of her, these people… all of it was too much. She needs a fucking break. But they won’t let her have one.

“I need to go for a moment,” she says. This time her voice is steadier, and she’s so incredibly glad.

“You have some decisions to make,” Keeper Yennen nods.

Vex stands up. She’s not as shaky as she expected she would be. “I’ll be telling my brother all of this. You’ve involved him.” She points at the file. “Non negotiable.”

Cassandra looks a little uncomfortable at that but says nothing. Good. She’s getting Vex to help in saving her brother, Vex is involving hers.

This is too much to deal with alone, anyway. She needs Vax by her side with this. Despite everything, she needs his presence, she needs him. They’re both unsteady and neither of them are the rocks the other needs, really. But they’ve got each other and that’s at least something. It would be horrible if they couldn’t have each other.

She walks out of the temple with barely a word. She can’t do the goodbyes and everything else right now. She can’t pretend her mind isn’t full of questions and fears and anger. She needs to take time with all of this.

It’s hard. A part of her feels for Cassandra, and even the rest of them. She can understand why they did what they did, why they hid it from her, from the world. But she’s still so deeply angry about all of it.

And the file just made it so fucking worse. It’s all there, all the things she wishes to forget, all the things she prayed there were no traces of. She hoped the fire of Shademurk destroyed all evidence of her presence there, of the months spent in Saundor’s thrall.

Just like the memories and the scars she bears, just like the bow under her bed, it’s not going to go away this quickly. She should have expected pictures to be taken of the parties, she should have expected the reports to exist somewhere in the system.

What kind of research power did they even have, to acquire such information from her schools in Syngorn and the TWC?

Fuck. She gets into her truck and punches the leather outside of the wheel, cursing out loud. She puts the file down on the passenger seat and exhales. She needs to calm down. Her hands are shaking and she needs to be calmer to drive home, or she’ll drive herself into a fucking tree.

She would have thought being researched would be the worst part. But the worst part is the memories of Saundor the research brings. She’s fought so hard to put this behind her, she’s spent months bothered by horrible nightmares, every time she fell asleep. She’s better now, but this is a lot to deal with.

She really thought she was going to be safe from him now that she was hundreds of miles from the nearest portal to the Feywild. But the memories will not leave her and the scars are still obviously on her skin.

She can’t be safe. Not when she has her memories intact and his bow under her bed. It hasn’t been long enough. Maybe she’ll be done with him in a few years, or a few decades. Hopefully it will fade away faster than what her father did.

Falling from Syldor to Saundor was to be expected, now that she thinks about it. She was desperate for approval from some sort of authority figure and Saundor was that. And he had her wrapped around his little finger within days of meeting him.

Gods, she loved him. At least somewhere in the middle. Not at first, no. It had been all for comfort and pleasure. And then… at the end, it had been fear and hopelessness. But she had loved him in the middle. She’d worshipped him.

The great powerful Lord Saundor the Forsaken.

Her forehead hits the leather covering the wheel and she sighs heavily. She’s so tired. Her fingers find the key and turn it, sending the engine roaring on. The radio turns on with it as contact is made. It’s still on that pop channel since they went for a groceries run whe Vax arrived.

It feels like it happened weeks ago. The onboard calendar says it’s the 28th of Cuersaar. Vax has been in Whitestone for three days.

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Ahkmemrah prepares for his marriage to Nouke. A week after sending his brother to the cells, the pharaoh’s guilt sees him visiting Kah in search of salvation.  

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 2715

Warnings: just some good ole angst

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: This is one of the shortest chapters of this whole story, maybe the shortest. However, I feel like there’s still a great deal of importance to the scenes, especially the ones between Kah and Ahk. Also, thanks for all the love last chapter! The comments, and tags and like and reblogs are like candy to me! 🍬 ☺️Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible.

Over the course of several days, the pharaoh's daily routine was exceedingly more arduous than the one he was accustomed to. Those long hours were a blur of official greetings and ostentatious dinners meant to welcome the important dignitaries who had traveled from afar to partake in the union of their king and soon to be queen. Merenkahre insisted on a week to properly allow all the guest to make their journeys and get settled; then on the seventh day, all of Waset would honor their new queen.

Truthfully, when his father asked for a week's time to prepare for a grand festival, Ahkmenrah agreed readily, entirely too wrapped up in the notion of marrying Nouke to realize how long seven days would actually be. Those days moved so sluggishly. A week was absolutely too long to be away from her, but duty often eclipsed what his heart desired.

However, duty also lent him distraction from his yearning heart. Families began arriving two days after the pharaoh proclaimed his desire to wed the servant girl Anuksumn. Boats lined the shores of the Nile, crowding the market harbor as families—along with their entourage—made their way to the palace with enough fan fair to rival that of the pharaohs.’ Despite their raw pomposity, Ahkmenrah showered them each with unyielding kindness as he welcomed them to stay in his home—as was expected of a king.

The ruse of playing host grew old after only one evening of official dinners and introductions; proving to be all work and no play. The stories his guests told during their feasts lacked zeal. Mostly, everyone spoke of their own accomplishments and their supposed generosity to the cities they governed. A few guests were genuine—able to steer topics away from themselves. Apart from those cherished few, every man, woman and even child invited to celebrate the impending nuptials held themselves above all others. And while no one dared to speak outwardly with such hubris, Ahk could read each of them as clearly as the hieroglyphs scribed onto the walls.

Somehow, he mustered a smile and played his role perfectly all the while wishing to be miles from the noise of the palace, tangled together with Nouke under the stars.

After the second evening of myriad stories of uninspiring nature during dinner, Ahkmenrah snuck beyond the walls of his royal sanctuary and returned to Nouke’s farm with news he’d promised to bring.

“It is all very official and exhausting,” Ahk tutted with a mild scowl. Just thinking about what awaited him at the palace bled into the serenity of laying with Nouke in his arms, nestled among the cushions, their garments left in a forgotten heap nearby.

“Trust that I cannot wait to bring you home once and for all. However, I am also not ready to share you yet.” He smoothed the hair away from her face as she looked at him from where she laid on his chest. “I want to enjoy having you all to myself a while longer.”

Nouke smirked and kissed him softly.

“Mmm, I’ve never thought of you as a greedy man…” she teased as she traced the outline of his lips with her fingertips.

Ahk grinned and kissed the pad of each rough digit before speaking, “You will find that I am exceptionally greedy when it comes to you. I want you to be only mine, now and forever.”

“Now and forever,” she agreed with a breathy murmur.

Her eyes stayed fixated on his until she drew him into an affirming kiss that built lazily in a slow, sensuous expression of worship before passion swept them away for a second time.

What she gave, he took—her name a low hum tumbling from his lips. What he gave, she took—holding him close enough for their hearts to beat in perfect synchronization. They made love in a symphony of wanton expressions whispered into the night air with breathless praise until they reached that glorious peak together. And when morning came with the harsh break of day—golden light pulling them from the depths of their slumber—it was too soon.

He left his bride to be with a kiss and the promise it would only be a few more days until they could spend their lives together.

It was that night he’d spent tangled with the woman he loved—his best friend—that Ahkmenrah held in his mind the days that followed. He clung to images of Nouke like a valuable life source; granting him the energy to masquerade through every dinner and introduction that remained.

***

“I have made the arrangements for you to collect your bride tomorrow at mid-day,” Merenkahre said from his usual seat at the council table.

Ahkmenrah blinked out of his thoughts, suppressing a yawn, doing his best to fend off his exhaustion a while longer, and grinned.

“After which,” his father continued. “You and your desired bride will be wedded with an audience of your advisors and guests of your choosing. Festivities will then commence before twilight.”

The pharaoh's sudden influx of enthusiasm was difficult to keep from his features when he nodded, not wanting his excitement to mar his kingly composure.

“Perfect,” he said.

Idly, his eyes skirted around the table, mentally noting which of his advisors he wanted in attendance until his sweeping glance stopped on the empty chair reserved for the Consul of Montu. A pang of guilt bit into Ahkmenrah with enough potency to taint both his enthusiasm and his resolve the longer he stared at the barren spot.

The presence of the vacant seat was suddenly crushing with guilt, and a frown fought to twist onto his features. Almost a week had passed since banishing Kahmunrah to the cells with only his name and no titles. And not one of those days went by without Ahkmenrah brooding over the punishment he’d bestowed upon his brother.

Even with ample distractions at hand, his mind could not surrender how they parted. The scene in his memory stirred a sense of betrayal—his betrayal to Kahmunrah. Ahkmenrah never wanted to be a ruler who dealt with his problems by burying them in a cell to be forgotten. Or worse yet, a king who executed and silenced his problems. How Kah would have preferred I run things.

The council meeting finished quickly when the pharaoh could find no other topics to discuss suddenly too laden with grief to proceed effectively. With the men gone, the walls of the council chamber became a meditative space for him to ponder.

The day that would follow was to be one of the happiest of his life, and yet, Ahk felt that joy abruptly strangled; his guilt and the anger he held on to, like beasts he needed to slay.

The fury in his soul for what had been done to Nouke and Setshepsut remained deep and unsated, tormenting Ahkmenrah with unease. Wrath could devour a good man if it was left to fester. Already the infection was spreading. Ahk’s torrid heart wanted Kahmunrah to know punishment for the things he’d done, and still, the pharaoh’s mind screamed and begged for him to let the past be covered in sand—forgotten.

With right and wrong poised so precariously in his head; he wasn’t sure which side of the scale to leap onto.

Minutes passed, the oversaturated colors of sunset vanquished by the black of night when Ahkmenrah finally relinquished a slow, weighted breath. He rubbed his temples hoping the added pressure would deter the ache beginning to swell in his skull as his frenzying thoughts became too much to fathom.

Letting go of his anger and forgiving his brother was the only way to ensure growth could come from all that transpired. Holding onto resentment would only permit stagnation. Ahkmenrah had no choice but to face his brother.

***

Of all the buildings located on the palace grounds, the cellblock was not constructed with intricate detail or grandeur of any kind. The stone structure was far from the central palace, a narrow edifice with almost no windows and lit mostly by mounted torches along the length of the corridor. It had been years since the pharaoh found himself in the dismal confines of the cellblock. He’d visited last with his father during one of his lessons, and Ahkmenrah liked those walls even less now than he did then.

The sting of guilt surfaced again as he took in the bleak accommodation once more. How could I have condemned my brother to live in such squaller?

The man on guard, stationed just outside the doorway, greeted the pharaoh with a shocked expression and hasty bow.

“My king!” The man did his best to chase away his shock, but his confusion was still obvious in the glow of the torch he held. “What business brings his majesty here?”

“My brother,” Ahk stated cooly. “I wish to speak to him.”

The man nodded and directed him to which of the long line of cells housed his brother.

Ahkmenrah counted his steps as he went, focusing on the numbers to distract himself from the dismal interior and the shame it all provoked. In the darkness, his brother was only a silhouette, perched on the back half-wall of his cell, and Ahk could feel the tendrils of Kah’s bitterness reaching vengefully through the bars.

“And so, the mighty pharaoh descends from on high to look upon the lowly and condemned.” Kahmunrah’s voice was cold, dripping with resentment. “What do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Surely my sentencing is not through already.”

The urge to recant a snide comment—to fight fire with fire—swelled on the tip of Ahkmenrah’s tongue, but he swallowed it. He refused to let any word passed his lips without having thoroughly thought it over first.

“Or have you come to gloat?” Kah gibed when Ahk struggled to piece a rational sentence together. “I overheard the guards talking about your impending nuptials to that servant girl I exiled. Congratulations."

A frown worked onto the pharaoh’s face taking note of the unabashed hate in his brother’s tone—a knife in his belly.

“It pains me you think I would come and rub my good fortune in your face. Have you ever known me to be so arrogant?”

Kahmunrah stood and moved into the singular beam of torchlight flickering through the bars of his cell. Without his usual golden raiment and accessories, Ahkmenrah had difficulty recognizing the man before him. His threadbare garments were a stark contrast to gold and gems, and they caused another wave of guilt to beat against Ahk.

“No,” Kahmunrah finally responded, looking as though the truth was akin to poison on his tongue. “You are the golden son—kind and humble.”

Kah spat at his brother’s feet, “Weak. You are weak for a king.”

Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and let out a long meditative exhale to carry away the influx of anger. Venom soaked words would only kindle the flame of hate. Not acting on impulse was an arduous task, but Ahk had come to purge the contempt out of his system as calmly as he could.

“If you are attempting to provoke me, brother; I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Kah’s lips curled into a sneer, “Just as I said, weak.”

Ahk shook his head with disbelief, “Is it not tiring to hold onto all of that anger?”

The pharaoh’s own wrath was exhausting to carry day to day. How Kahmunrah managed to live all of his life in a perpetual state of ire was a feat to be admired, or respected at least.

“My anger is all I have thanks to you.”

Something cold and abject worked through Ahk with a chill. The truth of his brother’s words biting into him with such force, Ahkmenrah’s sure footing faltered and he leaned against the stone wall behind him for aid.

“Yes,” the pharaoh husked out. Even his whisper echoed eerily in the long corridor to haunt him.

It took him a minute or two to find his strength again, incrementally able to hold himself with the sturdy wall to brace against. Ahk’s focus was on his brother, looming threateningly just past the bars of his cage. Ahkmenrah found he could not look into his eyes—his guilt beginning to swallow him completely.

“I did not want this for you, my brother. Do you not know that? I gain no pleasure from seeing you like this. In fact, I have felt nothing but guilt for days.”

“Good.”

Ahkmenrah sighed and swallowed the lump in the back of his throat, and willed himself to meet Kahmunrah’s glower.

“I’m sorry..." Ahk said. “I am sorry you were denied what you thought was rightfully yours. I’m sorry for what I have done to you.”

He paused long enough to blink away the tears beginning to brim his eyes before he continued. “But…you left me with little choice. And for that too, I am sorry.”

Kahmunrah’s black eyes never turned away, nor did his expression of cold hatred ebb. It was staggering to see such emptiness behind living eyes, and their piercing leer did little to allay the lingering guilt. Still, Ahkmenrah continued.

“Do you want to know what else?" he sighed. “I forgive you…I must.”

Slowly, the heavy veil of the pharaoh’s anger started to slip away. The gravity of his words would be lost on Kahmunrah, but the salvation Ahk felt releasing years of tension almost made up for his brother’s apathy.

“I do not want to live my life as you have: harboring grudges and wishing ill upon others. And it is my hope, one day, you could do the same. I want that for you.”

Ahkmenrah half shrugged and his eyes dropped their focus to the shadowed void behind Kah as he considered his brother’s previous observation.

“Maybe that does make me weak…” The pharaoh’s voice faded as the remaining pieces of his anger crumbled and drifted away.

All at once, his mind was overrun with a thousand thoughts that made the ache in his head begin to pulse again. The silence that filled the narrow cell block was sullen and heavy, but Ahk used it to sift through the teeming thoughts in his head quietly.

Kahmunrah sulked back to the shadows of his cell, this time sitting on the ground, his back propped against the wall. Ahk sagged against the wall behind him as well, folding under the weight of his thoughts until he sat, mirroring his brother.

“I want so much for us to be brothers…” Ahk confessed softly.

A single, mirthless chuckle cracked Kah’s silence.

“Well,” he stated in a low voice, devoid of sympathy. “Take a lesson from someone who knows all about disappointment, little brother. And learn that we do not always get what we want.”

A sad smile ghosted over Ahk’s lips as a solitary tear spilled down his cheek. It was foolish to hope his brother would ever change, but Ahkmenrah would never give up.

With a deep breath to build his strength, Ahkmenrah stood feeling, more or less, lighter. All the poison was at last purged from his system, but a hint of disappointment remained as he realized how ruthlessly his brother continued to cling to the bitterness inside.

Sleep beckoned the pharaoh with a yawn, the promise of rest alluring for his frenzied mind. However, one thought dug its hooks too deep in the forefront of his mind to go without seeking an answer. The question alone made Ahk’s stomach churn, but he was much too exhausted to fight his curiosity.

“I dread thinking you may have had a hand in what happened all those years ago regarding the disappearance of my tablet. Framing Nouke’s family to be rid of them—to hurt me.”

He paused, feeling his stomach slosh again, “The assassin even….”

That night flashed so vividly in his mind; the man over him with a knife drawn ready to take his life. Ready to kill a boy of fifteen who’d known no enemies apart from one... Ahkmenrah glanced into the black of Kahmunrah’s cage. No response came from its depths, the deafening stillness causing a chill to prickle over the pharaoh’s skin. And as he left, Ahkmenrah could not decide if Kahmunrah’s silence filled him with more confirmation or fear.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Fifteen: Together Again

[middleinthenight21]

Ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

@ravenfan1242  I don't know what I would do without your help.  I have told you. 

You are incredibly beautiful 💕

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

"So funny." Garfield smiled and Raven grimaced.

The demons smiled when they saw that they had lost, and the angels looked away from the pain.

"Why are you with me? "

The phrase came out hard and cold, as if she were asking a criminal why he decided on that life. She was tired and angry, tired of going through the uncertainty that his voice loved her so much and not meeting her expectations, of wondering what would become of Garfield if Terra hadn't died and wanted to get him out of her veins.

She clearly saw the disinterest; it was tattooed on his soul and he did not realize it.

If he gave her a reason to stay ...

Garfield looked up. "Excuse me?"

It's now or never.

"Maybe you should free me." She leaned against the counter. Her hands dug into the soft fabric of her clothing, like an anchor; She hadn't expected her heart to squeeze, she kept screaming, hitting the walls to stop it, but her mind reminded her that she was the girl who survived hell. Gathering her strength "Why are you with me? " She repeated.

Suddenly she's tired of building walls around the relationship to watch them fall repeatedly. She no longer wants to murmur that they are okay with others when they ignored each other, from having rowdy arguments only to end up coming back, offering flowers and hugs, as if that was enough to convince her, she had wasted whole nights trying to square their differences, watching the heavens and whispering to their gods to end all this.

She had been taught in stories that love should hurt, otherwise it wouldn't be worth it in the end. You get to know him, you fall in love, you suffer until you get your happy ending, cost and prize.

Fuck this love.

If he's playing, just let her know.

He sent her a painful look, put his cell phone aside "Rae…"

No, they would not do this again.

She stepped back.

Garfield stood up, smoothing down his pajamas, and for the first time in months she saw him take on a serious expression. He walked slowly, like stepping on needles and spread his hands trying to join them, but she moved away, shaking her head repeatedly.

"I love you. Rae please. " One of his hands caressed her cheek. He brushed her short hair behind her ear. "I love only you. Nobody else. "

She stepped back, pulling his hands away, and muttered, "You know it's not true."

She didn't realize how much it hurt until the words left her mouth. They became a curse, a truth that turned hearts to dust, but for Raven it is not an unusual sensation, more like hearing the last words of a condemned man.

She crossed her arms ignoring his face "We both know this was going to end like this. "

Garfield shook his head and put their foreheads together, she could no longer fight this. She saw his aura weaving into deep blue, a shade she didn't often see, but it wasn't the same as when a certain person died in his arms, it's not that sadness.

It was not the same.

Her green hair was soft, heshe smelled of shampoo made of plants, like a forest, and his breath of milk, like a cat; his hands cupped her cheeks being tender and soft. She almost melted, a part of her wanted to be left alone to receive his attention and affection, it told her stories of how they could rebuild and evolve, she would eat from the leftovers for a while longer until she realized that she is malnourished and sick.

Her father teased her about being too silly, laughed at Garfield and the situation.

"Come on, Raven. I love you and I want to be with you" he said. One of his hands went down to her jaw to trace her neck and settle on the nape of her neck, wanting them to get even closer. "Don't stop this. Don't do this to us. "

She closed her eyes tight.

Get out of this. It's now or never.

She pulled away, denying with a broken voice and tear-clouded eyes. Perhaps this was a weakness, a vicious cycle, for a long time he was her toxin, a drug that was destroying her every day, but she continued to cling to the pleasurable effects, dependence and habit helped her ignore the adverse factors.

Something that made you feel so good couldn't hurt you, right?

"I will not return to the same. We've been like this a long time, Gar" He looked at her; Her green eyes reflecting pain and she swears she'll miss having him so close. "Think about the future, you would be unhappy by my side; be honest you will never love me. We will be miserable together"

"Why are you doing this? "

Why was he acting like it was her fault? He knew what she was talking about, he saw what was hurting them. She gave the final blow, but that fight already started long ago.

The answer was clear "Because I'm not her. "

He stepped back, opening his mouth and closing it, unable to answer. Garfield was hurt, her words were like daggers and she felt terrible, but it is the truth; Raven is not Terra and is exhausted from pretending that he loves her.

For eight months she was a ghost, a specter threatening in the corners, Raven felt her presence unnoticeable in the eyes of the boy who swore he loved her; He was running after someone who would never belong to him and turned his torment on her, carrying her bound in chains with caresses. The chains wouldn't hurt until they hurt her wrists, his caresses turned into pins, and he would never admit that it was his fault.

Okay, she would accept it.

She didn't directly name Terra, but it's not a taboo in her mouth. After two years, the name of the former Titans member still hurt, it was a wound that would never heal for Garfield, perhaps it would live forever, nailed to his bones and running through his veins.

She hit him hard in a vulnerable spot and it felt wrong, like desecrating a holy temple, but she had no other way to show him the truth. Before they were dating, they were friends and Raven ruined everything.

His friendship, his love and companionship.

She bowed her head.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Dick smiles at the door and his girlfriend frowns, realizing something is wrong, but by then Raven is already gone.

A million thoughts go through her mind, like a whirlpool. When she opens the door to the roof of the tower the sky is a thick gray soup, there are no traces of the sun's rays, but the promise of a rain.

*** 

She always returned to Riva Street every time a memory haunted her.

Gotham has the charm of a Francisco de Goya painting, somewhat dark and twisted, it has Wayne Tower, a standard of progress for the city; Raven remembers her open mouth trying to analyze the immensity of the fortune and the power of the millionaire family of the city of the bat, Metropolis shone like the sun in summer, it was beautiful and wide, guarded by the most powerful hero in the world, but not compared to the magnificence of Wayne Tower, the Daily Planet looked like just one more figure blending in with the city, in her time in Azarath she was surrounded by incredible beauty and temples, Jump City was insignificant compared to the places she saw with her eyes, it was a city with the smell of a port, whose inhabitants depended on the coast and tourism.

Gotham has Wayne Tower, Metropolis tot Daily Planet, and Azarath had its temples, but none have Riva Street.

When Raven joined the Titans, she was a hurt and scared girl, who saw deaths, destruction, and dwelt in hell, loving a being who was unable to feel, value, and deserve love, but she had. That was her mistake.

She felt like a stranger, an invisible entity wandering the streets of a foreign city; She looked like a girl, but inside she felt much older. Starfire had shaken her hand, as if she needed a direction, held it so sweetly that she almost cried because she had been stroked long ago with the same kind of love.

Emotions came to her like the wind, it was a strong current that pushed her back almost releasing the hand of the alien princess, but she just whispered that she shouldn’t be scared. Raven had frowned because she probably thought she was shocked by the number of people roaming the streets and that couldn't be further from the truth.

Dick smiled at the scene. Even meters away, she sensed the warmth, how the hero's heart beat strongly, like a horse's trot and almost fell to the melted ground, she believed that it could not be more clear, it was obvious that he wanted the newly baptized leader of the Titans.

She grimaced, wanting to get away from this situation.

Raven did not want this familiarity, she did not deserve it after her choices. Sooner or later it would go wrong, the prophecy was set in stone, it was impossible to erase, and it was the first time that she seriously considered getting lost in the streets and disappearing forever.

Starfire led her by the hand towards a store, eager to try on an outfit she saw on a mannequin, but the girl's vision was focused on an alley, it did not seem part of the city with its buildings and gray streets. It was a corner with the cobblestone floor, small houses painted in different colors, square like match boxes with beautiful terraces adorned with flowers and plants. The restaurants served pizzas, spaghetti and all kinds of typical dishes, people gathered around tables chatting with their friends and families.

She watched people reading, laughing with their children and couples shaking hands.

The aura was tinged with pink, a color that she had never seen before in a concentration that made the sky seem like a sunset.

"If you want, we can go," Dick interjected.

She nodded, showing no emotion.

Years later, she continued to walk down Riva Street, that hidden alley that did not correspond to the city, just like her. Riva street was her, with its relaxed atmosphere, small family restaurants, ice cream parlors and bookstores, it was her secret, nobody knew how much she liked it.

Raven had started and finished books at this place. She created memories, like a buried capsule that few knew about.

It was too intimate.

She knew that her home was with her friends, the people she considers as family, who would die for her and would protect her with their life. It is not a place, but if she would ever settle it would be on this street.

Raven would lease an apartment on Riva Street, perhaps on the second floor of that bookstore with the unpronounceable name that specializes in classics and mystery novels; She would have a cat or dog as a pet who would walk by her side, read on the benches and it would feel great. She would rebuild her relationship with herself.

It was a nice dream.

She sat in a chair waiting for her coffee.

She took the book out of her bag. The first edition of The Raven glowed with its worn cover, it had become a symbol, a sign that her feelings must be thrown away in the trash, the moment she realized it and ran a hand over the object, stroking the bird image.

She frowned.

Her heart gave a painful beat, but she was not ill. She had been through this situation before; She knew this emotion and she was not going to allow it to continue.

How did it make a difference if she started liking him or it was dumb confusion at a low time?

Not that she had much experience around relationships. Her previous relationship was living proof, since then she had made a calculation, perhaps the outcome was not entirely her fault, but Raven tended to cling to people who would never feel the same way about her, loved and hoped they would return it. Her father, her demonic brothers, Garfield ...

Damian would only be one more number on her list. He was already having a bad time for her to have confusion, he didn't need any more drama in his life, where did she come in? Raven was going to destroy their relationship, she had to end it all.

It hadn't been long since she had ended it with Garfield, this couldn't happen to her now. It was just a passing taste, a flutter, and it would go away, like a butterfly.

Did her heart so quickly forget about Beast Boy? She almost shook her head, her words still got stuck when she saw him and she wished that she would confess the truth to him., Give a better explanation of why she abandoned him, because she left him before he did and left him pained on the sidewalk, but it is different, it is that kind of affection accompanied by bad memories, the one that asks for an apology and demands it.

With Damian it's different, it was stupid of him ...

She couldn't help but feel terrible. She felt like a bad person, wanting a friend was the worst thing that could happen to her. She had seen him for years as her best friend, they helped each other when they collapsed due to some circumstance and boy, they had., They talked about books and movies, they could sit down; share a tea and chat about a period of history. With Damian and she would respond with the same interest.

Random, she was going to ruin everything.

Don't feel, she told himself. Don't start, if you do you will want more. You are not that kind of girl.

He deserved a young daughter from a wealthy family, a Gotham princess, and even a model. If they didn't notice her best friend because of his attractiveness, they would because of what he represents. She heard that such powerful family practice was usual (like a novel), although she couldn't imagine Bruce Wayne agreeing with that.

Raven was but a half-breed, half human and demon; someone who was unaware of many terrestrial customs, an anonymous name that was forged from the depths of hell. An abomination, a protégé, destruction and the girl who became a hero hidden under a hood.

A strange sensation invaded her body, as if someone or something was watching her. The air was a mix of pink and green, which she had seen in few people; It is not a secret that Raven can see the aura, they would normally be tinted red, yellow, blue, purple to gold, but green was difficult to find.

She had only seen this shade of green on one person.

"Blessed chance."

She looked up, suppressing a shiver. Out of sheer inertia the book slid forward, almost ripped it from her fingers, and a chill ran through her entire spine, like a fleeting fire; appeared and left instantly.

What was he doing here?

If it wasn't for the voice, she wouldn't recognize him. Damian Wayne stood next to her with dark glasses over his eyes, a thin white scarf with black patterns, and his usual black t-shirt folded neatly to the elbows.

Titus appeared with his tongue sticking out, apparently tired and when he became aware of her presence, he approached flapping his tail. She smiled at the emotion of the dog and stroked him, he licked her hand up to her arm.

He sat down in a chair in front of her. She was surprised to see him leave the tower, since the drama on social networks he had not wanted to pronounce on anything with any of his identities.

Batman, the Justice League, and the Titans suggested solutions, from official statements to videos giving their reasons, but he dismissed it with one hand and focused on training. He didn't do any more, locked himself in and improved his techniques (in her opinion, he didn't need it), now he was he, in front of her showing most of his face.

Maybe Damian got tired, he was an active person, she was pretty sure that in the time they met  didn't see a single day of laziness, he kept his hands busy; When he was not on patrol, he trained, when he did not train, he devoted himself to research, or he cleaned the room, sharpened his weapons, or contacted Wayne Manor asking for an update on the events there.

"You must keep an eye on your enemies as well as your allies"

"We are talking about your family, Damian" she replied.

"It does not matter"

She raised an eyebrow "I would ask you about the scarf, but I don't want to insult your taste."

"This scarf is made to make me invisible to the cameras."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Damian wouldn't appreciate laughter at his expense but she found it funny.

"Like a superpower?"

He rolled his eyes.

"It was designed by ..." He looked at the table, more specifically at the book interrupting what he was going to say. His eyes traveled from the object to Raven, as if trying to square two different things in a single scene and she never wanted to take it out of her bag. "It's from an online store” he corrected himself. " Now his voice was much more comfortable. "Many celebrities use it to make it impossible for paparazzi to take photos. "

She thought about it.

People had calmed down a bit, basically because Robin disappeared assigning missions in remote places, what surprised her most was that he did not protest. At first she had believed that negativity did not affect him, that he would turn off all opinions and focus on himself, but Damian had acted like a wounded animal, every time a camera pointed at his face he transformed into a more sullen version., He bit with his words when talking about his reputation and he left the Titans to be seen only in short periods of the day.

She had not seen him in a week.

"I didn't know you knew this place."

For a long time, she thought that Riva street was hers. It is not a crowded place, when you compete against luxury shops, festivals and fairs, a cobbled street taken from an old movie is not a great novelty.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Grayson said they wouldn't harass me here."

"Dick?"

Shrugged.

His shoulders had widened, and his muscles were protruding under the thin fabric, she was jealous that the material would embrace him highlighting the perfection of his body. His tanned skin darkened over the years from exposure to unprotected sunlight, he was strong, and he was acquiring new scars.

She looked at his hands, a collection of scars like silver threads running through his fingers, one of them going through his wrists. She wanted to know what had happened, to ask if it was hurting from the cold and if it really led the other way.

It was like a faded flower imprinted on his skin. A scar is a patch of skin that grows on a wound, insensitive to touch, but would he feel anything if she touched it?

Do not start.

"He named this street." Damian didn't seem very impressed, although his expressions are difficult to read. At first she found this frustrating, it reminded her of Batman's aura, a cloud that could not fade to see the true color, but his son was a green color like his eyes, but his exterior had been sculpted based on hard training, emotional manipulation, control and pain. The green is dull now, like dried moss. “He promised me that no one would bother me.”

She looked at the scarf.

"So that's just as a precaution and ... "

She was interrupted by the waiter carrying her coffee, a donut dusted in sugar and the house specialty, some delicious focaccias. She felt the tug of hunger in her stomach as the smell of olive and spices reached her nose.

Damian frowned.

"What? " She took a sip of the coffee; the drink was at its perfect point. The Costa restaurant is small, rustic with that stone façade and the chairs made of hand-carved wood; she felt the urge to defend it. "Yes, it is…"

"I didn't say anything." He grimaced. He would say it "I was just wondering why you were so quiet and serious in the Tower, while here you show more emotion to that donut than to the Titans,” he said.

He put the coffee aside.

He was right.

"You too have been silent."

Damian crossed his arms supporting his back. Titus played around a fountain, drinking the water and letting some children caress him, from here she felt the laughter and affectionate names that were dedicated to him and the animal bathed with love, its owner almost smiled. Almost.

Right now, he looks like he's getting his weapons ready for battle, his expression was determined and wild, and he must ...

"Is it because of Garfield?"

She steps back, and a bucket of cold water falls on her body.

"What? "

Uncertainty passed over her face and hardened her.

Why was he doing this? Raven sees a feeling, believes her powers have touched him, and would go deep, but instantly he blocks it entirely, his emotions and feelings painted under a dark canvas. He left her blind, only believing that her had the confidence to reveal a portion of himself.

She was surprised that he named her former partner, since he did not express interest in their relationship. Damian was non-sentimental; He would probably scoff at the honeyed explanations his older brother so badly wanted to get into his head; Jason would have a dirtier one, full of inordinate sex and add treason to it, just for the drama; Tim would give a talk about the chemical processes that were triggered when someone liked you, but he was not interested, he saw it as a necessity, a small distraction in his eternal crusade.

"Did you finish?"

As if that would explain everything, but what if it did? After the breakup with Garfield, she plunged into meditation, turning off her father's voice, but it followed her everywhere, repeating what she really was.

She became like thorns. If someone got close enough, they would only get a prick, there were no flowers in the first season or leaves in the summer, so she kept herself alone and promised that she would not be touched.

Garfield's face turned into punishment, if only she hadn't hurt him. It was too late, she is alert when he is close and knows why.

She really understood it.

Damian looked her in the eye. "I know it was a difficult breakup."

She looked down.

"It was. "

She did not lie, there was no need. Her affirmation was like a consolation, she just needed to let him go.

"I'm sorry. "

She raised her head. She never heard Gotham's bat son apologize to anyone, those phrases were not in his mouth, his tone was soft, like calm after a storm.

She smiled.

They shared a long look. At first, he looked serious, despite not wearing his Robin mask it felt like an eye mask, hiding the true emotion reflected in his eyes.

Damian smiled.

A dimple left on his cheek, and wrinkles formed around his eyes, making them look smaller, his expression softened, as if he had never been through torment. It was unlike any other smile she had ever seen, it was not arrogant, nor of victory or conceit; This was not the trained assassin destined to turn the world into a dystopia, he was not the angry and vengeful boy struggling to find a place next to his father, emerging as Robin, he was not the son of a famous billionaire, nor the hero that everyone hated, but Damian. It was soft and beautiful.

The first time he saw a genuine Damian Wayne smile was on Riva Street.

So, she knew she made a mistake and would never see Riva Street the same way. This street had represented intimacy, the beginnings and ends of novels, the best coffee she had ever tasted, flavors that she had not tried before, reflections and the smile on someone's lips. He had become entangled in her soul, the memories lost relevance compared to this moment and a feeling of fear of loss settled in her stomach, like a blow.

The story ends. Now.

Raven's smile disappeared from her face.

*** 

Raven had come up the stairs when the sun was barely caressing the mountains, a blanket hanging from her shoulders, a steaming tea floating behind her, and a book under her arm.

The roof of the Tower of the Titans gave a general view of the city. The blowing of the wind was strong, charging from the north, the color-degraded sky and a handful of stars remained in the sky.

Seagulls flew around the construction, squawking as if announcing the start of the day. The air was frozen, like sticking her head into a refrigerator and her nose was kissed by the cold.

Years ago, she read here, with the tranquility and amazement at dawn. Normally, the tower was full of noise, screaming, and disorder, making it impossible to read and struggling to find solitude around seven quirky teens, plus an alien princess with a tendency to incinerate food and her boyfriend with a highly activated parental sense.

It was a strange combination, but it works.

She sat on the floor wrapping the blanket around her shoulders holding back a shiver, sipped a shot of green tea, and watched the sunrise, amazed by the colors.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

The pad of her fingers caressed the illustration, noticing the relief and ink of the illustration of the egg sitting on a wall with little Alice watching.

"Do you think it will disappear if you don't take it?"

Damian sat still in Robin's uniform; his face shows cuts and the purple colors began to manifest in the high point of his left cheek.

"What happened? "

"Patrol. "

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Always so expressive.

She watched him "You look tired. "

He snorts, but doesn't contradict her, and that's a confirmation. Damian had been behind a gang of robbers, and was recently called by Batman while away for two weeks; Photos surfaced in magazines and on social media about the charity event bringing the family together in honor of Martha Wayne, without However, if Bruce Wayne summoned him it would not be solely for that, the vigilante was having to contain the Joker.

Raven knew that it required the whole family.

When Damian arrived, he was angry and spent all his time on patrol, so he was living with his brothers and he needed to get rid of the teasing, arguments and annoyance.

Three days later she has him in front of her with his legs trembling and sweat dripping down his forehead.

"You should sleep," she recommended.

He clicks his tongue and his chest rises and falls. "When I was seven years old, I was awake for four days, just feeding on the vegetation of the place and the river water. This is nothing to me. "

She imagines a child abandoned in the middle of the forest, hungry and starving. It doesn't seem like an achievement.

She grimaces.

"What? "

She chose not to express it. He could take it as a criticism, or get irritated., Damian is not known for his tolerance of others' arguments, especially when it comes to his past, and equally who is she to argue about his story?

"Nothing. "

She reread the book.

All the king's horses

And all the king's men

Couldn't put Humpty

Together again.

"It's one of my favorite rhymes," he declares sleepily.

Raven grimaces.

He is looking at her, his eyes struggle to close, and she can see the struggle to stay seated… If only he wasn't so proud.

An impulse makes its way inside her and she thinks of the teenager who gave her a book. The one who appeared on Riva Street accompanied by his pet, who spoke about poetry and rhymes when tiredness is about to knock him down. She takes off the mask, it is soft and almost feels like a mass in her hands, he protests, but he is are just babbling.

"I'm going to hit Drake and-" "He can't tell enough; his head falls and heshe straightens his brow several times. Raven almost smiled. "Father and… They almost kidnapped Grayson…" He tries to formulate a complete sentence, but the voice simply leaves him. Before he falls to the floor, she gently grabs his arm and helps him lie down on the floor and balls her blanket into a pillow. "I like rhymes. "

Laughter echoes off the roof.

"Are you always so chatty in the morning?"

He growls.

"I must have a poem around here." She opened the book. 

It is right in there

Betwixt and between

The orchard bare

And the orchard green,

When the boughs are right

In a flowery burst

Of pink and white,

That we fear the worst.

She took a breath to read the next paragraph when she was interrupted.

"Peril of Hope. Robert Frost. "

A memory greets her after years. When the world was almost over and her father had been inserted into the glass, she felt his stench emanating from that smallness, his power and evil in her palm, she could not be careless and silly like the last time; the world did not deserve destruction and her friends almost died, she agreed to stay in hell to protect them, but he convinced her as best he could, citing poetry by Robert Frost.

"You are full of surprises."

That permanent frown disappeared, and he buried his face in the blanket, closing his eyes.

She plunged into uncertainty for a few minutes.

She watched him sleep, muttering that she is not that girl and she would not fall so easily.

She drank her tea in one gulp.

He woke up an hour later, muttering and staggering to his room, he didn't go out all day.

Raven devoted herself to meditation, while Starfire and Dick trained together.

She could feel eyes from the other side of the room, even without opening her eyes she knew who it was. From a few meters she identified that aura and presence, the colors of his soul were a deep yellow like sand.

Garfield watched her apprehensively, as if aware of an unknown detail.

Her insides twisted like a worm, wanting to take his eyes off her. She just wants to push him away.

*** 

The next morning Robin appears on the roof, the next and subsequent.

Damian was there, she would have a new book waiting and she would feel that it became her new religion; They were like little children who shook their shoulders and tried to learn something new.

They don't talk much.

Raven drank her tea bathed in the rising rays of the sun behind the mountains, the wind would blow her hair in different directions and she would be covered by her thick blanket. She absorbed the silence when she watched him read Walt Whitman, Charles Dickens and Herman Melville after a night patrol where he hid from the eyes of the people.

No one has seen Damian Wayne in a month.

Robin is a vigilante who takes refuge in smoke and on missions with the Titans, would participate and walk away.

’’ Doesn't it bother you? ’” She asked one day pushed by bravery. Since the cancellation he was reserved, fleeing from the great masses and behaving like an invisible entity.

He didn't look up from his reading. "What are you talking about?"

’’ The hatred of people on the internet ’’

He frowned, processing her words. "The opinions of the despicable sheep are not worth it."

"You should print it on a card."

He smiled ‘’ ’I'm not an influencer, not a celebrity, Raven. I am a vigilante and did not need third party validation… I would just like to have privacy ’’

Raven understood that.

*** 

That morning it felt strange, like when you have a lump in your throat that is about to give way.

Damian had not returned for three days as he was on a mission with his brothers. Therefore, there were no conversations on the roof, books and herbal tea, lunches on Riva street and she realized how much she missed him. They did not spend all day together, she did not think about him for more than an hour, but she settled into her routine with those small and significant moments, they were pieces of her days that won against vacillations.

She was longing for more.

No one had to know.

In front of the Titans, two colleagues behaved as common as ever; there was a tacit agreement of silence between them. She discovered that she liked it that way. That she wanted that privacy, she said nothing, but she knew that for Damian's public life it is complicated that whatever they had was captured by a camera and exposed, stabbing the secret. Raven did not want to meet her face in teen magazines, or that they speculated around who she is, if she valued ​​anything in her civil identity, it gave her a sense of normality.

Raven was terrified; her father's voice followed her every morning as she made her tea in the kitchen before going up to the roof. He brought back memories of her previous relationship, distant and sad green eyes, which made her feel so good she wouldn't have to tear him apart. With each fight she had a reason to leave Garfield and there were many, and she didn't want him anymore.

She knew he would never do anything to hurt her, she knew his heart and his intentions, but love can make you see roses instead of thorns. She only knew love in poems, books and performances, they said that love is a brilliant thing, but it is ardent. She always tried to see herself through the eyes of another person, it made her feel less dirty and that there was this story where after suffering there is a person waiting, with her heart in one hand and a smile painted on her face, like a pink brushstroke.

Maybe it only works on humans.

Now she thought that love was a golden cage, that makes you feel that you live in luxury and have all the comforts of the world, but you cannot go out without a fight, without facing the person who made you forget about yourself.

Her father was no longer using insults to destabilize her, he became crueler bringing memories that she was fighting to bury. It led her to the frustration, heartbreak, and anger she felt after the discussions, her mind formulating justifications and judgments, and her breakup.

Standing in the kitchen praying because she was doing well, not regretting and avoiding remembering this as a big one: what if?

She knew that it was her father taking advantage of her fear, but she could not help thinking that it was much better to look the truth in the eyes and that part of her is happy that Damian is not there.

She hoped that it would take him long enough to forget his smile, burn his presence on Riva Street and go up to the roof watching the sunset reading in silence, without feeling that something is missing. She felt he was getting under her skin, between the cuts of her past with something she has not known and does not know how to fight it; Damian takes what he wants, his defense mechanisms react in time.

She expects him to stay away days, weeks, months, and even years.

I am the only thing you have, ungrateful girl. I'm the only one who stays.

She growled and murmured a quick spell, dulling his voice.

She realized that she doesn't just want to have her father as her company, she still has friends who show her love, and they don't care about her love life just because of her condition. That thought brings her peace.

Raven lit the kettle. It is still night when she creeps into the kitchen in her pajamas, and the thin blanket around her shoulders like a makeshift cloak; she needed a tea to fully wake up, she still felt the tiredness in her body and her eyes closed when she leaned on the table.

She was ready to watch the sunrise alone and considered going back to sleep. With or without Damian it had become a habit, it was her, what did she gain by clinging as if he were an extension? She was sure that Damian would not like someone to consider him that way, she was also finished with that topic. She was better alone.

Someone cleared his throat.

She felt hesitation and fear. She turned, watching Garfield stand at the kitchen door, hesitating instead, as if fighting to run away or stay.

A heart beats.

It is like rereading a book with an unhappy ending, she had seen this a million times. She had already given up, but he came back every time she was healing and would be weak to fall under his love, as if that would fill her, even so, she felt that the end point had already been written.

She filled her cup with hot water "I left you the rest of the water, if you want. "

"Raven," Garfield scratches his hair, unsure. His head was down. "Can we talk? "

She shook your head.

"I woke up at five in the morning with a purpose." His eyes are marked by dark circles and puffy from lack of sleep. She gives in (just a little). "It will be a moment. "

The young woman sat down at the table holding her breath. Her hands traveled to the cup embracing the warmth, and she begged all the gods and spirits of Azarath not to end up in the same place as a month ago.

Aisha, the spinning spirit of Azarath's love and suffering is laughing at her. The monks illustrated her as a lonely old woman who lives in the high mountains, where the sun always shines, pulling the strings of love from mortals and immortals. She is temperamental, if she thought you were good, she could entangle your thread of love with others the easy way, her fingers would do the braid with details, but if she decided that you didn't deserve it, then she would make a tangle between love and suffering, condemning another innocent person; her tutors were afraid of her, they thought they had to atone for any offense against the spirit. She thinks Aisha hates her.

She remained silent, and inert.

The silence is uncomfortable, it keeps and brings conversations, memories and secrets.

"I'm sorry. "

He Frowned.

Raven raised an eyebrow, still surprised by what heshe was saying. On more than one occasion she imagined that at some point he would apologize, but she did not expect his voice to break, to feel the pain reflecting on his face.

She did not know what to say. She was never good at sharing her feelings.

He probably already knew that.

"I was a terrible boyfriend," he said. She is empathetic so she feels his conflicting emotions, but one of them predominates more than the others: Guilt. "You didn't deserve it."

She is about to speak, but he interrupts her with his hands up: "Let me finish, please" He keeps his eyes down. Her hands play with a napkin, folding and spreading the paper. "I wasted what we had. Don't think I didn't love you, in fact I did. I wish I could have loved you better. " He shrugs "I hurt you. "

She grimaced.

Beast Boy pursed his lips "Now you keep your guard high when I'm around you and I know why. I'm sorry for so many things and I understand if you don't want to have anything to do with me" His hands tremble. "Before we were dating, we were friends and I didn't think about you. I just want you to know that I come back to those mornings every day and I feel horrible about how I behaved. You didn't deserve everything I threw at you when you tried, the arguments, I ignored you for days to come back to your door asking for a chance and you forgave me. I really understand yes ... "

Before we were dating, we were friends ...

I'm the only thing you have, ungrateful girl.

She takes his hand, this time there are no artificial lights or contempt "I forgive you. "

Raven really says it. She does not want to live alone having her father as a constant, it would be a sad constant and now he is angry, insulting her and screaming because she is weak, gullible and stupid, yet she smiles.

He opens and closes his mouth, surprised "Really? "

She nods "It's not like I have any other choice, we live in the same place. "

Garfield laughs and exhales a big breath, touches his chest feeling his heart and snorts "God, I thought you were going to hate me. Maybe you would curse me for all eternity. "

She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe I will…"

"Let's be friends again!" He dances around the kitchen, ignoring her words. He turns to yellow and white again. "It's cool, baby. "

Raven stands up, deciding it's too much. She embraced the book and used her powers to make the cup levitate with her footsteps.

"You are so loud."

He is smiling.

She walks to the kitchen door to watch the sunrise, but he knocks on it and she turns around.

"What wrong? "

“You deserve someone who reads Shakespeare or something like that with you and kisses the ground where you step," Garfield smiles. "You may be half demon and your father is a monster, but not everything has to be suffering. Love is not pain, Rae. "

Again, she doesn't know what to say or do, so she nods.

When she leaves the kitchen, she realizes that the lump in her throat that she has been holding since she got up, no longer exists. She feels light, like dropping a load and all the bumps, cuts and infections are healing.

She still has her struggles but abandoning one she did not collapse. Sometimes getting rid of one makes the bag not explode.

She needed that talk.

She needed to let it go completely.

As she climbs the stairs to the roof, she feels the rays of the sun entering from the open door, the light wind on her face and the squawk of seagulls, agitated in the sky that is a beautiful combination of pinks, blues and golds.

Her steps are delicate, like the fall of a feather and she thinks of the crow as more than a bird that predicts tragedies, or its black feathers the consequence of the wrath of a god.

When she opens the door, she holds her breath. Sitting on the floor writing on a pad is Damian, dressed in his civilian clothes and a bruise above his eyebrow, he carries a coffee and frowns every time he sips his drink.

His hands are quick on the sheet of paper.

She didn't know he would be here; thought he’d be away for a couple more days.

"You are late. "

She does not answer.

"Selina had a daughter."

She raises her eyebrows.

"I thought your father had more than one girlfriend." Damian looks up for the first time. He frowns. "You know, Playboy. "

So, it wasn't just a mission with his brothers, the Bat family just got bigger. Honestly, she thought the world couldn't take another Wayne, but she was wrong.

He does not say anything.

Raven sits on the ground next to him, keeping her distance.

"How are you with the arrival of the new member? "

"Good. "

Oh.

"Congratulations. "

They remain silent and she thinks that is all the information that she is going to be able to obtain from Damian. She opens her poetry book right where she leaves the separator, which consists of a withered sheet.

"My father is happy, even if he doesn't say it" He continues writing, only this time it is slower. The pen in his hand runs smoothly, as if reflecting. "I thought Selina would be a strumpet, that she would give him carnal relief and then leave, but my father seems… comfortable. Dick says it makes him less intense. "

Dick.

For Azarath, Dick must be overflowing with joy.

"How is she? "

Damian grimaces.

"Pink. "

She laughs "Yes, I suppose all the babies at the beginning are. "

"Helena is small, like really small, so much so that my father fears that she will break if one of us carries her." When she is not crying, she is sleeping or eating" he pauses. "Selina says the first few months will be like this. "

She Smiled.

"What? " He asks defensively.

"You like her. "

He rolled his eyes.

"To be honest, my chips were on the end of their relationship, but she stayed." He shrugs. Damian makes it look like an unlikely result in an equation. "Drake and Grayson won. I suppose I are well. I can do nothing but endure. "

Raven laughs.

"It's not funny." His tone is not angry, he doesn't turn that red warning tone and she knows that everything is fine.

She looks down at the book and takes a sip of her tea.

She looked at Damian, who continued writing in his notebook; The sun's rays bathed his face, his skin is tan, and his green eyes roam the notebook, concentrating on whatever he wants to capture.

She closes your eyes and feels the taste of herbs in the mouth.

She feels his shoulders collide with her, it's a warm and dangerous pressure. Each of her molecules asks for more, and she shouldn't be allowing this, but she doesn't pull away, nor does she stop her heart from running wild.

No one has heard from Robin in two months and the internet is focused on the following drama.

Damian Wayne allows himself to be photographed, but the paparazzi are not interested in selling photos of a scarf to the big gossip magazines, so they disappear little by little.

Raven left a relationship behind and hesitantly asks: What is it about him here?  

It is at this moment that he realizes that, if she bleeds, he would be the last to know.

[robert-c]

The Abortion “Debate”

The Abortion “Debate”

What has always amazed me about this was the completely untenable position of those opposed to the right to choose; as well as their moral hypocrisy.

Let’s skip over the theological debate over when life begins etc. unless we are going to live in a society where there is an official state religion, that should have no bearing on the issue. Only independent living beings can be supported, protected etc. by a government. Something living only while it is inside of a person, should give that person the primary say about what happens.

But let’s skip past that for a moment too.

Those who support these restrictions on abortion (all of which are intended to be a piece by piece removal of the right to a safe and legal abortion) believe some pretty strange things. For example, I read that a lot of women opposed to abortions believe that today it is being used as a means of birth control. There is not one shred of evidence to suggest that this is widespread let alone a majority of the reasons for abortions – BUT even if it were true…what would preventing such a woman from having an abortion do? Can anyone really be so naïve as to think that a woman who would casually have an abortion as a means of birth control would suddenly become a responsible mother? Or even use birth control? Can you even imagine her being responsible during the pregnancy? More to the point, would any of these people so sure that banning abortions for women like that actually adopt a baby from such a woman? People believe some pretty unrealistic things when it is easy for them to do so, especially when it allows them to have a simple answer to complex issues.

But let’s return to the often cited argument about when “personhood” should be defined to start. It sounds like a legitimate question but it is nothing more than a ploy to enforce a particular religious view point under the guise of a legitimate question. So let’s examine what happens when we try to go down that path. Pick any point you want before birth to claim that the fetus has become a person entitled to equal protection under the law, same as any other citizen. That would mean that every miscarriage, every still birth would have to be investigated as a possible homicide. Since the people who propose these sorts of restrictions don’t actually care about people as much as their simplistic “principles” we can skip over the anguish and emotional turmoil the women involved would be feeling. How does an investigation like that go? Do we examine every detail of the woman’s life? Did she not exercise enough? Or too much? Was she eating properly? (and what does that mean, exactly and who decides?) Did she perhaps have a drink of wine before she knew she was pregnant? And since we can’t always pinpoint the reason for the miscarriage how will we pin this on any one cause? The proposals at the heart of this “movement” are incapable of being enforced with any objectivity, fairness or accuracy. And any attempt to do so is just intrusive, in a way more personal than any of the other aspects right wingers love to complain about.

And what about those situations where health conditions force a choice between the life of the mother or the baby? Who gets the priority? If the “fetus” is accorded all the rights of a fully independent human, how does the law work in a case like that?

Let’s look at a big picture here. The one thing the world isn’t short of is people. We are not on the verge of extinction through lack of procreation. We have plenty of societal problems from people who were raised in dysfunctional families, why would we want to encourage more unfit parents to have children that they don’t want and can’t afford (financially or emotionally) to raise? I think this goes back to the idea of not wanting to be wrong and to have simple answers for all of life’s complicated issues.

I suppose we should give some examination of the religious issue, even though a truly free society cannot have an official religion. Most, if not all, of the anti-choice forces I’ve read about or met, seem to focus on a Christian version of religion for an excuse to ban it. But consider this, abortion has been around for thousands of years. It was certainly known and practiced in the time of Jesus. And yet he doesn’t mention it at all in his teachings about moral behavior.

While Catholics don’t believe in artificial birth control or abortion, it is less them and more the evangelical protestants that want to ban others choices in these matters. I suspect that the strenuous objection to others choice of an abortion is the product of various preachers, and their flock. The same flock who thump a Bible they’ve never fully read or understood, and take their beliefs from a preacher instead of from the book they claim it comes from. In other matters they will point to a passage in Leviticus claiming to condemn homosexuality (which technically only condemns voluntarily taking the role of “bottom” in such an act) but omit mentioning the passages where they would be condemned for their polyester cotton mix clothing; for eating bacon, lobster, shrimp; or for their lack of animal sacrifices at the temple.

In short, the religious objection to abortion is irrelevant in a society without a State religion and inaccurate on its own terms. It is little more than a few influential people swaying a larger group of folks who don’t want to have to think for themselves. The unfounded fear that there are people, “out there somewhere”, not living in the same confining box, seems to be the real issue. It’s a lot easier to be an advocate for living in a 50+ year ago past if you don’t have to live side by side with people who aren’t restricting themselves that way.

Morality and ethics, spiritually or legally, are much more complex than simple absolutes. Admittedly, “thou shalt not kill” has a nice simplicity, a punchy “ad man sound bite” quality, but the better translation is “murder” not “kill”. And even there are we to make no distinction between a premeditated murder, and that conducted in a fit of passion or rage? And what of those who leave someone in a situation which reasonably could be expected to lead to their death? Try as we might to reduce the world and all of its potential behavior into a few simplistic rules, true justice and compassion demand that we look at more.

As a man, it is impossible for me to fully imagine what it would be like to be a woman facing the choice of an abortion. The best I can do is come up with the “rational” side of the argument pro and con, if it were my choice to make for me. But that ignores the emotional and even chemical changes that such an event would have on me. It humbles me to attempt to put myself in that place. At the same time, I can fully appreciate the fact that it is a decision I would have to live with and I wouldn’t want someone else dictating it to me based on such flawed logic and morality as the “pro-lifers”. I know women who support abortion rights and choice, who personally could never choose to have an abortion. And I know Pro Choice women who have had an abortion, who believe it was the right decision at the time, and are still bothered by the fact that they had to make that choice. This is the essence of understanding freedom and personal liberty. It is, in fact, the core issue of what real freedom of belief is all about; making our own choices and living with the outcomes – THAT is real responsibility.

Anti-choice forces have tried to make this about responsibility, about “when life begins” and a host of other quasi-moral and quasi-scientific issues. But the real issue is and has always been about who controls your own life and your own body. It has always been a huge contradiction that the same people who fear government “over reach” and intrusion into the personal lives of people support such personal and intrusive action when it comes to personal ethical beliefs. The only truly uniting principle of their agenda is to dictate their set of personal beliefs on everyone. They often try to portray this as what is happening to them. But look at the facts. No one is forcing them to have an abortion if they don’t want one. They are only being prevented from dictating the choices of others.

Then there is the return of the “Domino Theory”. As a quick refresher; staunch anti-communists of the Cold War era believed we needed to be militarily involved in stopping the spread of Communism, notably in Viet Nam, because if we didn’t stop it in that country, then there would be another and another until it was this country. As unrealistic and idiotic as this idea was its reincarnation in the abortion debate is even … well, crazier. According to this logic, the ability to choose an abortion is the first domino in a chain that leads to “mercy killings” of people with birth defects, mental disabilities and … well, fill in the blank for whatever will get you riled up. That would certainly be awful, but I’m truly at a loss to see how the connection works, they are two very different situations. And just for the record, throughout all of history, those who seek to impose their religious views on others don’t seem to shrink back from killing those who don’t share their beliefs, and that has got to be at least as horrible and much more likely.

Do we need any more evidence that the anti-abortion, anti-choice forces are more about control than morality? Ask how much money have they donated to anti-abortion candidates compared to how much they have donated to providing health care and adoption to women with unwanted pregnancies. If, indeed, you are more interested in preventing abortions and providing for the consequences of unwanted pregnancies, where is the financial support for women to carry a baby to term and put it up for adoption? Can anyone provide data that shows that at least as much money is donated by anti-abortion supporters to this, than to candidates who simply want to make it illegal?

As a final note, you may not be aware of this salient fact. Many years ago when abortion was illegal, pregnant women needing to find doctors who would safely terminate a pregnancy were often helped by ministers and others of faith. They knew the dangers of unsafe abortions and they knew of the heartbreaking challenges of the women. Some trying to provide for another child when they couldn’t completely provide for the ones they had, some fearing violence merely for being pregnant, etc. These were men and women of faith who actually were aware of the pain in all aspects of the choices these people faced and who were there to provide comfort and help where they could.

If this is still a religious and ethical issue to you, then please try to answer honestly for yourself: if Jesus were here today, do you see him as someone providing comfort to a woman in such a situation, or one leading the crowd to throw stones? And if, in fact, this is some sort of sin that God will punish, well He will have His shot at all of us eventually, He doesn’t need a political hack interfering with our free will.

[lettersofwrittencollective]

The Pull (13/?)

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was given to the line. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective​ 

Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

Word Count: 2988

Warnings: I don’t believe there are any.

A/N: As always, please let me know what you thought. Any comments, questions, or concerns

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One by one, Derek picked up his mother's claws and placed them in the wooden cylinder. He was waiting for Peter to react in some way.

“You know, there’s always an element of danger to rituals, like this. I’m not particularly fond of them. Unless- they somehow benefit me,” and there it was. Looking up at his Uncle, Derek discovered the price for Peters's help.

Scoffing he shook his head, “Isn’t it enough to help LIttle Wolf?”

Thankfully, Peter had the decency to look ashamed for just a moment before he schooled his features and shot back “You know, Talia was your mother but she was also my sister. Am I not allowed a little sentiment?”

Putting the box with his mother's claws on the table in front of his Uncle, Derek didn’t say a single word. Peter would have to either help without the price or - Well Derek wasn’t sure what. He was pretty sure that because it was to help Natasha he wasn’t going to have to find a different recourse.

It took a few minutes and Peter was silent, looking back and forth between the cylinder and a spot near the front door. As the silence seemed to drag on, Derek began to second guess his assuredness that Peter would actually help just for the sake of their cousin.

“For Little Wolf then.” Peter’s voice was hard and his eyes were on the same spot by the door that they had been flicking to earlier. Derek was surprised when Peter reached out and picked up the cylinder and connected his fingers to the claws inside. There was a small, pain-filled groan the older man let out.

It took them just a few minutes to get things situated. Derek straddled a chair, his chest to the back of the chair and sat as straight as he could with his head held high to allow Peter as easy as possible access to his neck.

Closing his eyes at the stinging pain, Derek has to remember to breathe through the pressure. Breathing in, he focuses on the feeling of air filling his lungs and counts to 7 before breathing out and opening his eyes.

The world around him is suddenly extremely vibrant, colors and light are bouncing off the snow that blankets everything. It takes him a moment to focus on what’s in front of him but when he does, it surprises him.

There’s an old bearded man, dressed in tattered robes with a spear in hand, sitting with some men, women, wolves and pups, it’s obvious that the men and women are werewolves. Amongst the pups are a pair of ravens that seem to be playing.

“All-Father, thank you for the gift to my family, we shall never forget it.” A man says as he kneels before Odin. Odin merely smiles at the man who is kneeling before taking the staff in his hand and using it to force the man to raise his prone body.

“Your family has walked with me and my ravens for generations. I have seen the cruelty of the human men and women who do not accept you. So I have ensured that your mate will be equal to you. You will still have to prove that you are worthy of Valhalla or Folkvang. Remember my son, your mate is a gift. Should you not cherish them as the gift that they are, my Valkyries will not allow you entrance into Valhalla no matter how honorable your deaths may be. I shall speak with Freya to ensure the same of her realm.”

“All-Father,” one of the women called out, asking for Odin’s attention. When she received it, the old god smiled at her and she continued, “How will we know when we have met them?”

A twinkle shone in his eyes, “The further away from you are stronger the pain little one. Your entire body will burn if you are too far. As you get closer to them, the pain will subside, though the ache will be there. Should they get hurt, you will feel the pain in the same area.  A way to protect them and help them. Because of this the gift will only present once you are adults, able to protect your mates.”

The group around the old god looked confused, and Odin gave a hearty laugh, the ravens letting out their own warbling chuckles “My little one, you want me to tell you that you will see them and know? That, I cannot know.. I will not burden you with the same type of mate that other pantheons have given their children.  Each mate will be different and as unique as each of you are. Your wolf will be the one to know when it is time to find them. You will be pulled to your mate but you must know them before you know you are for each other. A person's life cannot be held behind to await the arrival of one person.”

The man standing in front of the All-Father, crossed his right hand over his chest, a fist over his heart and bowed his head. As he raised his head a flock of ravens appeared out of nowhere and flew towards Derek, surrounding him.

Reading himself for a fight, Derek was surprised when the birds circle around him creating a cylindrical wall and then suddenly disappeared. He finds himself standing in the middle of a large hall with pillars on each side of him and a full moon shining through. He sees Odin with a woman in a blue cloth dress, there is a bronze sword at her hip and across her eyes a cloth that doubles as a blindfold.

The woman pulls the bronze sword from her hip and places it at Odin's neck. The old god narrowed his eyes at the woman and she sneered at him,

“One of your mongrels has mated with one of my priestesses.”

Odin brought his hand up and moved the sword at his throat. “I don’t see how that’s a problem. She will have a strong protector, a worthy mate. She will never want for anything.”

“But she will leave my temple, will she not?”

“Why should she stay? You gave her the ability to see the truth behind an action. She’s not human anymore. Should she not go amongst other supernatural creatures?”

“So, she has no choice?”

Odin remained silent for a moment. “Themis…”

“No! Odin, she was mine and you have stolen her. You have ruined her! She had no choice! This is an affront to me. This is an affront to the rights of my children.” A golden mist began to roll through the room and suddenly Themis’ voice became booming, “I call upon the fates. From here forward, should one of the favorites of Odin ever find a mate, the mate will have the right to choose their own destiny and deny the bond that Odin demand be thrusted upon them.”

Odin's eyes flashed and his hand shook with the rage that he felt. “You would tear them from their mates?! Do you know what would happen to them?! A mate is for life! Not a passing fancy to just be thrown away as so many of your humans do!” Venom dripped from the All-Father's voice and he stepped towards the goddess, his voice dropping to a steady, deadly note. “Should they be denied, you have condemned them to a fate far worse than death.”

“You gave them this gift of yours, I have ensured that the gift not be abused ever again,’” she snarled at him as she faded away from the room.

A growl escaped Odin as he watched the woman run from what was in front of her. “My people are not cowards! They- “

The scene once again changed and in front of him Derek saw flashes of the wolves and there were blissful scenes of people that looked much like the men and women from that first scene he saw. There were weddings with blissful couples and dancing children.  Moments in which a wolf would protect their family and moments of wolves playing with pups. Almost everything that he saw was made up of wolves connected to other wolves.

There was one picture, though, that stood out to him.

A group of wolves was on a wooden ship, all of them had bags under their eyes and looked as they had not eaten in months. They had landed on shores of white sand and clear waters. As he watched the scene in front of him, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks began to play in his ears. As if the moment in front of him was playing out in a speeded up version, he watched as the wolves met the native people. The groups were tense and the communication between them was stilted. Suddenly, a young child ran forwards and as he did, he transformed into his pup form.

The native people chittered amongst themselves for a moment before many of the men and women also transformed into wolves. Upon seeing this, the adults of the group that had washed ashore all changed into their wolf forms.

It was discovered that they could communicate in this form and again and Derek watched as suddenly the scene jumped to one of men and women communicating. The group that had washed ashore spoke the language of the native peoples and a blend of both customs seemed to in place, not that Derek recognized it.

Odin once again appeared before the group but this time there was also a man with him. This man had the head of a wolf and spiral twisted ornaments on his ears. Where his eyes should have been were only empty sockets. The two groups fell in to their knees in front of the men.

“My children,” the dog headed man began and the group of people whose families had lived in this strange land from the beginning of time looked at the man with reverence.  “I see that you have met the Odinsons, you have welcomed them into your homes and within your territories. We have come to you grateful for the friendship and the community you have built. Let us have a feast!”

The groups shouted out in joy and many went to prepare for the coming feast. Odin stood next to the dog headed man and his children greeted him with happiness.

“I am glad to see that you are well. After being chased from your homes, you have remained faithful. I would like for you to meet, Xolotl. He is the father to these wolves. He is also the father of death in these lands.”

Odinsons all bowed their heads in respect to the god in front of them.

“Young ones,” the god, Xolotl, began, “I have seen how you have worked alongside my children. How some of you have been pulled to them and they have welcomed you into their hearts and their beds. I will offer you the same gifts and protections I give my own.”

The world around him cut to black. Derek looked around him and allowed the darkness to envelope him. Slowly the world came back into focus. He was back in his loft but the color was muted. Turning around, he noticed that Peter was not in the room and suddenly the stump of the cut down Nemeton was in his loft.

The light clacking of claws on the floor catches his attention and he turns to see his mother, in her evolved wolf form entering the room.

“Mom…”

She comes to sit on top of the Nemeton for just a moment before transforming into her human. As she transforms, a mist covers him and when it fades, she is covered in a white dress. Opening her arms she calls his name.

It takes him a moment to get past his shock but when he does, he is rushing into his mother's arms.  A sob escapes him and with tears, he apologizes to her. Apologizes for not being there when the fire razed their family. For not keeping Laura safe and letting Peter murder her. He apologizes for not keeping Cora out of Deucalion’s hands. Finally, he apologizes for not being an Alpha worthy enough to be related to his mother.

Through all of this mother merely holds him and rubs soothing circles into his back. She doesn’t say anything and allows him to air his grievances and his pain. She knows how much he needs to say these things.

When he is done, she pulls back and cups his face in both her hands, wiping the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. “Oh Derek… my son… You have nothing to apologize for. Those things weren’t your fault. You had no idea that the fire would be set and if you had  been there, you would have died with everyone else. Do you think I would want that? You’re sisters are both strong. Laura followed her suspicions and you know as well as I do that she would have never let you go with her.” She kissed his forehead and pulled him to sit on the couch that had just appeared, “I know you feel bad about Cora - but Derek, did you know she hadn’t died in the fire?”

“I should have known.”

“And how were you to know? Cora suffered, yes, but that was not your fault. She was taken by Deucalion and his pack. Believe me, I have already dealt with Ennis and Kali. And when Deucalion arrives, I will deal with him. You have made me so proud my son. You may have made some misguided choices but you did what you could to protect your pack and when it came to keeping your Alpha powers or saving your sister, you did not hesitate to give up power.”

He leaned his head on his mother’s shoulder, feeling very much like a small child once again and the two of them sat that way allowing the silence to envelope them as he took strength from his mother's presence.  

The two of them then spent time talking. He discovered that, apparently, one of the gifts that Xolotl had given the Ragnulf family was that those that were mated were still able to communicate with their mates once they died. This apparently allowed the remaining mate to stay sane and raise any pups. The pups were also able to access the deceased parent though it did not come without its own sacrifices to be able to do so.

When he asked his mother how she could know how the world had played out, he discovered that this spirit world allowed the dead to watch the world around them. Sometimes, they were allowed to intervene but mostly they were only allowed to observe.

Derek learned that the Hale’s had long been the protectors of Beacon Hills and when he asks about his cousin he can see his mother stiffen.

“Mom?”

“Sweetheart, you have to understand, there is only so much that I can say. A lot of it is conjecture and the scales have to remain balanced.”

“Mom- she’s still in pain. She doesn’t react very often but I have seen her flinch at the pain or rub her arms or leg as if she’s trying to get the ache out. From what I just saw that’s going to be normal until she finds this person but - she has to scream herself awake at night. I’ve had conversations with her where we are talking and she’s suddenly a million miles away. Those weren’t things that Odin talked about.”

Sighing, Talia stands from the couch and begins to pace back and forth. “Did you see the second god, Xolotl?” at her sons nod, she continues “One of the gifts that he had given his ‘children’ was the ability to take on the pain of their mates. Whatever pain she’s feeling, she’s got the pain from the pull and her mate it seems.”

“Does she know who it is? And why would it start so soon?”

“No- I don’t think she does. But - Derek, whoever her mate is. We think that they’re going to be in terrible danger. We’re not sure what or how but it’s the only thing that we think may have the ability to trigger the Pull so early.”

“But how would she know that? Especially if she doesn’t know who it is?”

“She may not know but the fates would know. It may be a gift from Odin or Xolotl or even Themis herself to give her a chance to save them.”

“But, what if she can’t save them?”

“Then someone else must... Derek, all of this is conjecture on our end. We think this is why but we don’t know for sure. Do you know why she calls this a curse?”

“All she’s ever said was that she wants to be able to choose. And if whoever her mate is can choose someone else, well i don’t blame her.”

Chuckling Talia shakes her head “It sounds like her.” When Derek opens his mouth to retort, his mother holds up a hand, signaling for him to remain silent. “Derek, her family line is the only one we know of that experiences this type of soulmate. Once she finds them, it is completely up to them to accept or reject the bond. Acceptance is wonderful for everyone involved. If she’s rejected though - eventually someone will have to put her down.”

Talia refuses to speak further on the situation. Bidding her son goodbye, Derek finds himself back in the loft itself.

Peter wastes no time before asking “Did you see her? What did you ask her? Did she say anything about Little Wolf? Did she say anything about me?”-

-

-

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Posted 30 March 2019

[ninzied]

for @heidiamalia and @ltfrankcastle. because i’ve thought a lot about trish’s guilt, and the ‘justice’ of her serving life in the raft. she’s grieving and she’s lost her way, but where’s the room to find it again when everyone else was so quick to condemn her? i just. i have some feelings about it. she’s operating on principles that are no fundamentally different from frank’s – unless i’m missing something and someone wants to enlighten me. which also got me thinking.

but what if, though. what if erik had met frank castle?

maybe in some seedy hell’s kitchen bar, where the drinks taste vaguely of battery acid, and things run around on too many legs in the shadows. but the people here aren’t giving erik any particularly dark vibes; a touch of grey here, a spot of something murkier there. still, nothing that gives him more than a three-out-of-ten headache.

it’s kind of nice.

once he's stopped a few bad guys the right way, maybe he can even get it down to a two. erik’s not here to see costa this time, but he might be looking forward to it, this strange little partnership they’ve agreed to start up.

it’s jessica, actually. jessica is back in town – not that he knows where she went, or had any idea she was going, but she’s asked to meet him here, and stalks through the door with two large bags in tow. he doesn’t ask, because he honestly hadn’t expected to see her again (at least not anytime soon), and jessica jones does not like to be questioned.

he’d rather not give her a reason to skip out on him again.

for all he knows, she could even be on her way to being gone – except that she thumps down onto the stool next to him and says, “where’s the goddamn bourbon? it’s been a hell of a day.”

erik slides his glass down and orders a second. not that he plans on drinking that either.

“i think there’s something in it,” he says, “like, some kind of film,” and watches her peer down her nose at the glass, give a shrug, and then toss it back whole.

she grimaces only a little, swiping the her hand across her mouth before setting the glass emphatically down.

“hey josie,” she says. “just – give me the freaking bottle.”

“i’d say this sets a new low, even by your standards.” erik shudders to think about what kind of burgers they’d serve in this place.

the woman behind the bar gives him the stink eye before grabbing up a dirty rag to wipe unconvincingly over the edge of the bar counter.

“yeah, well, my standards are, got bourbon?” jessica swipes his second glass, knocking it back with a straight face this time. “makes it easier to avoid disappointment. besides, i’m here to meet a friend.”

erik smiles. “have we officially made it to friend status now?”

she half-smirks, half-rolls her eyes at him. “who said i was talking about you?”

the bell over the door gives a jingle, and erik feels – he’s not sure what he feels, at first.

it’s not darkness, not exactly, not even the customary static or pain. it’s a low hum, strange and sad and entirely unsettling. the closer it gets, the more erik’s eyes feel like they’re burning, and he has to blink several times to clear away any moisture.

“you made it,” says jessica.

erik turns.

it’s a woman, blue-eyed with long blonde hair past her shoulders, who puts out her hand to him and says, “hi. karen page.” she turns to face jessica. “sorry i’m late.”

“you’re not alone, i take it,” jessica says. she jerks her chin past erik’s shoulder.

he turns again.

there’s someone sitting with his face half in shadow, glowing an eerie-deep red under the bar corner’s dark lighting. it’s the guy who’d given erik the grey vibes earlier, but as he stands erik starts to realize there’s something else familiar about him. something he can’t quite put a finger on.

his hair is closely shaved at the sides, eyes glinting almost black. mouth set in a firm line as he strides over to them, and erik hears that same humming sound, though maybe a half-octave lower, filling him from either side now.

“what do you feel?” mutters jessica under her breath at him.

“i…honestly don’t know.” erik frowns in thought, watching as the man approaches. and then he says, even though it makes absolutely no sense, “kind of like my heart is breaking.”

jessica doesn’t have time to do more than look at him strangely, because suddenly the guy is standing right here, and then, as he moves a hand to karen’s back, the humming—

just—

stops.

karen leans into him for a moment, the guy turning around to brush a kiss – maybe more – to her ear. she looks more at ease with him there, and he looks – well – intimidatingly expressionless as ever. but erik feels nothing but silence from them, still and calm and peaceful, and it’s…unlike any aspirin he’s ever taken.

he’s so caught off guard that he almost fails to register more introductions are now being made.

“this is pete,” says karen, at the same time that the guy’s muttering a very gruff “frank,” and jessica, point-blank, is stating to him, “you’re the punisher, aren’t you.”

it’s not even remotely a question.

“oh. shit. that…explains it,” says erik, rubbing his temple. “i think.”

“you ever heard of the raft?” jessica asks abruptly.

karen page swallows, and says, “yeah. yeah, i have. i'm…really sorry to hear about your sister.”

“i’m not,” jessica tells her, voice like cold steel.

“hey,” says erik, going for comforting, but she doesn’t seem to have heard him.

jessica looks at karen and says, “i’m getting her out.”

“you’re what?” says erik, looking to the others for backup, but karen’s not paying attention to him either, and pete – frank – fuck, the fucking punisher – only gives him a semi-irritated glance before looking away.

“and i’m either going to need to help, or i’m going to need a damn good lawyer.”

“both, more than likely,” erik says, disbelieving.

jessica ignores him again. “either way—”

“luckily, i work with two of the best,” karen tells her without missing a beat. “and i may or may not be dating someone who’s had experience breaking out of prison before.”

“pure speculation,” says the punisher, utterly deadpan, and erik nearly chokes on his water.

karen says, “i can’t make any promises on their behalf, but—”

“look, if anyone knows…” jessica pauses. “if anyone knows what it’s like to—” and jessica jones of all people is not one to beg for anything, but there’s a hint of imploring in her tone, a tinge of i’ve-had-it exhaustion.

“i know,” is all karen says, as she takes the punisher’s hand.

“this is absolutely insane,” erik interrupts. “you know it’s insane, right?”

“maybe,” says jessica. “are you in?”

eriks thinks of an ice pick piercing his skull, the warm gush of blood from his eyes. he looks at jessica, grim but with her mind made up, and the thought of everything that she’s lost cuts through him even more.

“all the way.”

the punisher speaks up again, sounding like he has a throat full of gravel. “she capable of being saved, or whatever you want to call it to help yourself sleep better at night?”

“frank,” murmurs karen, and he heaves a deep sigh, looking at her with an expression only she seems to know how to read.

“maybe not.” jessica glares him dead in the eye like a challenge. “it’s either going to be me, or i’m going to die trying. and i can’t not try.”

the punisher’s silent for a second longer, and it’s heavy with a kind of dreadful anticipation, like staring down the barrel of a gun.

he turns to karen. “murdock’s going to take some convincing.”

jessica pours herself another round, flagging down josie for two more glasses. “great. then how about we get started?”

[catleha]

Teeth are grinding together, palms clasping over her ears in a pained manner. "It's... So bright..." she whispered quietly, knees colliding with the ground below. "How do you do it? I... I can't-...!"

     ‹  WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WISH TO DO; ‘twas a question oft asked / internally, whilst remaining hidden in the coves of the Greatwood, as if idle thoughts & racing ideas could deliver the very answer one oftentimes sought. Aye, to seek some wicked kind of redemption [for what, I wonder], despite being considered too rough,always too reckless, too socially inapt, they say. Oh, what had happened eons ago became dire reality whenever SHE was around. All the words never said / promises never kept & affection never shown to people that perhaps cared too deeply. –  remember, remember: Minfilia residing inside their study, seated in front of a naive LOUD MOUTHED fool, trying her utmost to talk some sense into this stubborn teen. Blunt, because she had never learned respect / harsh, because she had never learned softness; marked by the very woman that had failed so tremendously at raising her. By all means callous, such an avid lover of TOUGH LOVE. Aye, the kind a mother PATRON never ought to possess. 

     Cue a sigh, single hand set against young other’s very temple / ‘twas a routine the witch once wished to avoid which had, however, become a daily occurrence. This was a child burdened by something she had never learned to control. A higher force, a purpose given to her without consent [she never asked for it / ah, neither did I]: the cost had been high. && in one’s recognition, this gnarly sentiment of guilt & bitter ache so eager to twist her stomach into knots, the sage had begun to focus upon STABILIZATION rather than suppressing what even her advanced magic could hardly quench. – indeed, the aether coursing through this Minfilia’s veins was raw & untamed; unbearably similar to her very own, this throbbing mess of seething white carefully contained within own dark clad frame – aye, recall your arguments back in a realm so far gone. You but a ruthless thing / freshly cut off master’s very hand; pushed into this blinding world, suddenly independent, suddenly an archon supposed to listen to this GIRL & do their bidding.

       ‘ if I had but known where out paths will lead, I would have been more gentle / more understanding / helpful / kind.

     ‹  ❛ one day, you will. ❜ spoken words left her lips in a tone so much more coarse than desired; her voice twisted in some form of suppressed grief. The fiery kind, coated in this typically calm & collected shell. Ah, chiding, more like. Perhaps a form of tough love that the old matron had been oh so fond of.Fitting, now that the witch bore foster mother’s name. -- ‘Would that I could tell you how’. Alas, own training had been dolorous & hardly planned. The kind  that had given birth to many scars earned in one’s quest to PROTECT & ignore own health’s merry descent. Pray, do you even know how to control the ebb & flow of this earth’s strange memories, the very twitch in every once gentle [now unbearable] gush of wind? The clamor of a thousand drifting souls trapped between the life stream & the First? Oh, in Eorzea, one had never been exposed to THAT much. Mayhaps it had made the process more bearable / learning how to see again / how to cope / to trade color & shapes for angst & obscurity. There, lips curl ever so slightly, stern mien ironically mellowing under the weight of own, dire thoughts. – you mustn’t falter; she ought to say. To encourage, to ensure. To merely BE SOFT / aye, Minfilia deserves such warmth, does she not? Twelve know you have been cold for far too long, brittle, oh so eager to repel those that had wanted naught more than KINSHIP [why I am a creature of mistrust / of solitude / of own volition]. 

    ❛ 'tis grim but true. Moreso requires time, aye, and personal sacrifice no less. ❜ Minfilia’s aether stung; 'twas unyielding & unique enough to coerce own heart to hammer like a kettledrum [steady, steady. ‘tis but another cure, another medica, another benediction cast]. To stabilize poor other meant to burn the skin & singe own fur / an additional strain which she selflessly shouldered. Nobody saw the turmoil within, after all, & it was best kept that way. There, upon standing up, she drew the other to her feet. – watch the witch gesture to her chair [a faint glimmer in own aetherical sight], prompted fatigue too much to be borne standing. 

    ❛ I learned through rather onerous means. I would prefer to spare you of such. -- Have courage, and you shall see i through. ❜ She sits down, briskly blinking as if a single flutter could calm dwelling ache. – cue the spark of a withheld memory, condemned tears shed & blighting anger kept locked behind bared teeth. Remember, remember: the Minfilia you buried, mourning in solitude whilst the rest of the scions stood together. Be reminiscent of the pang in your chest, the feeling of emptiness spreading, only to fester. To herald the beginning of something deemed naught but horrid: to know that, in the end, she had felt a connection / why oh why, you failed them all. 

     Silence etched on, seconds passing whilst one merely pondered; what to do, how to progress – jaw set, softened expressions hardening ever so slightly. She required to further plan, to find a way to protect this girl [not her, not the woman you faced in the studies each day] as promised / as sworn. Aye, an enormous task / a riddle best solved when surrounded by shadows. – there, a click of the tongue, a wave of the hand; deny the dullness of senses sinking in. Deny the sentiment of self-loathe nestling in your chest. Nay, you need time, the time this girl might not have. Lo, blind eyes do not try to find her; nay, she glares, gaze fixated upon rows of books & parchment.  ❛ ‘twould be wise to rest. Mayhaps read. – go. Pray bother Urianger while you at it.  ❜

     why, you are but a creature of solitude, indeed.

[justalittlelitnerd]

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

You deserve to be here. You deserve to exist. You deserve to take up space in this world of men

Also:  Felicity Montague, you are a cactus.

This book is the feminist anthem you didn’t know you needed. Actually, no, scratch that it’s the human rights (and sometime even animal rights) anthem you didn’t know you needed. It tackles race, religion, sexuality, gender, and probably any other slightly controversial topic under the sun. 

It is unabashed and recognizes flaws within arguments and defenses and it doesn’t try to say one way of life or being is better than another but they all simply deserve to exist.

If that isn’t enough to compel you maybe the fact that it is set in England (actually all over Europe really) back in the olden days (honest to God can’t remember what time period but the aforementioned petticoats probably gives you a clue) with pirates and sea dragons (it’s not as mystical as it sounds but still slightly magical) will be enough to compel you to pick up this book. Because you should. Like right now. 

It’s hard to be raised in a world where you’re taught to always believe what men say without doubting yourself at every step.

So I loved the first book in this series (The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue) and was super excited when I heard there would be one focusing on Felicity because I wanted more from her character. However, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t apprehensive because all too often the sequel is not as good as the original.

I’m pleased to report that, in my opinion, is not the case here. The Lady’s Guide is every bit as funny and poignant and socially relevant as The Gentleman’s Guide, in fact, it felt even more relevant to me as a woman who could identify strongly with Felicity’s character. But don’t worry there’s still plenty of Monty and Percy present in the story. 

I have learned that men respond best to nonthreatening women whose presence and space in the world does not somehow imperil their manhood, and so, as much as it pains me, I put on a smile so big it hurts my face and try to think like Monty, which is infuriating.

My favorite part of this novel is that Lee resists the urge to submit Felicity to the standard YA Romance storyline. That may have been what gave me the most apprehensive since the first novel implied that she was asexual, or at the very least more interested in her career than a marriage, and I was worried that having a story strictly about her would make Lee feel pressured to give her a romance. I will admit at times it felt like it was going to fall into that trap, but then it would turn around to show how it was just Felicity feeling the pressures of society.

When stripped of the illegalities and the Biblical condemnation, their [Monty and Percy’s] attraction is no stranger to me than anyone’s attraction to anyone.

The Lady’s Guide picks up about a year after the end of The Gentleman’s Guide with Felicity in Edinburgh working at a bakery trying to appeal to various hospitals and school to allow her entrance to no avail.

A year of men telling me I am incapable of this work only gives my pride a more savage edge, and I feel, for the first time in so many long, cold, discouraging months, that I am as clever and capable and fit for the medical profession as any of the men who have denied me a place in it.

The tipping point is when the man at the bakery who has helped her for the last year decides it is time to propose. This sends Felicity into a sort of tailspin because she’s not willing to give up on her dream yet but everyone around her is telling her she should settle down and be married and she’s starting to wonder if they are right. 

Which gave him the idea that men often get in their heads when a woman pays some kind of attention to them: that it was a sign I want him to smash his mouth -- and possibly other body parts -- against mine. Which I do not.

She makes the impulsive decision to travel to London to see Monty and Percy and appeal to medical boards there to grant her admission. However, once again she is denied and practically laughed out of the room for her ideas of becoming a doctor.

“You’re so determined to become a lady doctor then,” he says. “No, sir,” I reply, “I’m determined to become a doctor. The matter of my sex I would prefer to be incidental rather than an amendment.”

Their exclusionary policies rest entirely on the fragility of their own masculinity, but it doesn’t matter because they’re men and I’m a woman so it’s not even going to be a fight and it was never going to be a fight.

But this time one of the doctors recommends she reach out to Doctor Alexander Platt for mentorship which through a series of events leads her to befriending a Black Muslim Hijabi pirate named Sim and going off on a new adventure. Along the way, she encounters an old friend which brings to the forefront the intricacies of feminism. Because really that is what this book is all about in the end. Three women all fighting for their place in this world of men who try to tell them their only place is in the household.   

He has me apologizing for asking for the minimum that is granted to most men.

It turns out that Platt is set to wed Felicity’s childhood friend, Johanna, which she decides to use to get a meeting with him. However, it’s revealed that Felicity and Johanna had a falling out over their differing views on femininity and what it means to be a strong woman. 

You stopped taking me seriously when I stopped being the kind of woman you thought I had to be to be considered intelligent and strong. All those things you say make men take women less seriously -- I don’t think it’s men; it’s you. You’re not better than any other woman because you like philosophy better than parties and don’t give a fig about the company of gentlemen, or because you wear boots instead of heels and don’t set your hair in curls.

Johanna is still strong and intelligent and independent and she likes wearing dresses and makeup and heels and flirting with boys and those things are not incompatible, but a lot of times it’s a sticking point in feminism. Somewhere along the way there became this belief (which Felicity believes) that to be a feminist, to be strong woman standing up to men, you couldn’t also be traditionally feminine. It takes almost the whole novel for Felicity to realize that Johanna is not any less strong and intelligent because she subscribes to traditional gender roles/beauty standards and it takes her even longer to be willing to admit she is wrong.

I have spent so long building up my fortress and learning to tend it alone, because if I didn’t feel I needed anyone, then I wouldn’t miss them if they weren’t there. I couldn’t be neglected if I  was everything to myself. But now, those fortifications suddenly feel like prison walls, high and barbed and impossible to cross.

To be honest the relationships formed between and the battles waged by Sim, Felicity, and Johanna are more than enough reason to read this novel. But Lee decides to make it even better by throwing in scientific discoveries, men stealing women’s credit, danger, and a fight on the open seas reminiscent of any pirate movie. 

It’s not hopelessness, it’s just pure stubbornness. Not even so much a will to live as a refusal to die. Not yet, not now, not here, not when we have so much left to do. There isn’t a goddamned chance I’m dying on this rig.

It turns out that before she died, Johanna’s mom discovered a new species with Platt that honestly sound like sea monsters, something half dragon half snake like? And that the scales of these sea dragons can be used as drugs (both medicinally and recreationally). Platt wants to exploit the dragons while Sim’s family has sworn to protect them at all costs. The women band together to plot against both Platt’s exploitations and Sim’s father’s stubbornness against progression.

Everyone has heard stories of women like us -- cautionary tales, morality plays, warnings of what will befall you if you are a girl too wild for the world, a girl who asks too many questions or wants too much. If you set off into the world alone. Everyone has heard stories of women like us, and now we will make more of them.

Of course, they succeed in both tasks and along the way decide maybe they should get their own ship and go on their own research voyages including exploring more about the sea dragons. 

I am filled suddenly by that wanting, to know things, to understand the world, to feel myself in it.

In the company of women like this -- sharp-edged as raw diamonds but with soft hands and hearts, not strong in spite of anything but powerful because of everything -- I feel invincible. Every chink and rut and battering wind has made us tough and brave and impossible to strike down. We are mountains -- or perhaps temples, with foundations that could outlast time itself.

I know this was a long review filled with an overabundance of quotes, but I hope that just shows how good this book is. I read it a month ago and am just now writing this and still find myself remembering it vividly despite the fact that I’ve read maybe 5 books since then. So do me, and yourself, a favor and go out to read this book (I’m even okay if you skip the first one though I promise you’ll regret it if you do). 

You are Felicity Montague, I tell myself, and the darkness, and my heartbeat, in an attempt to rein it in. You have climbed through catacombs darker than this, you escaped from a second-story window with only your bedsheets, and you should not be frightened of the darkness, but instead be sure that the most frightening thing in it is you.

Bonus:

- The chairman tosses his cloak over his shoulders and gives me a smile that he likely thinks is kind, but is, in fact the smirk of a man about to explain something to a woman that she already knows.

- Humans have instincts specifically for situations like this. Everything in me is saying there is danger lurking in this forest, eyes bright and hungry through the dark.

-  Below is an unhelpful drop to the street -- no footholds, ledges, or loose bricks promised by every fiction book I have ever read. Not even a convenient hedge to drop into.

-  Charming is not a word I’d use -- or ever want used -- to describe me, but the way she says it prickles me. It’s the sort of thing I feel entitled to say disparagingly about myself, but from someone else, it feels blunt and unkind.

- Zounds, does this fool actually think he’s saving me? Another storybook hero to swoop in and rescue a girl from a dragon or a monster or herself -- they’re all the same. A woman must be protected, must be sheltered, must be kept from the winds that would batter her into the earth.

- I can do more than memorize maps of vessels and arteries and bones; I can solve the puzzle of what to do when those pieces come apart. I can write my own treaties. I am a girl of steady hands, stout heart, and every book I have ever read.

[thequeenofcreole]

|《 A Dream of Fire: Chapter 3 - Ghost 》|

Darkness surrounds me in more ways than one. I can feel the depth of my solitude in my soul as I look around, desperate to see something - anything that can tell me where I am and where my children are. I reach my hands out, hoping to touch something solid to bear the weight I feel. But I feel nothing. Less than nothing. I don’t even feel my feet touching the ground. It’s almost like an empty solitude.

I have no purpose here. I could run until my feet bleed, but I don’t know which direction will get me out of here. I can scream in hopes of being saved or even summoning somebody - anybody that can explain where I am and if this is hell. But it would be futile. No one is here but me. Maybe this is hell.

I remember their faces. A baby boy and a baby girl. Beautiful and precious. Full of life. It’s something I would have died a thousand times for and the same thing I would die a thousand times to see again. With the thoughts of their beauty in my mind, I feel my chest becoming heavier. Tighter. Like it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. With a slew of different emotions running through my mind, I feel the heavy urge to fall to my knees. I can’t focus on them right now. They’re gone. They’ll get to live and grow up. They’ll get to meet their sister. They’ll get to live. So I do my best to bury them deep until I’m equip to deal with them again. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready to fathom the thought of my children being lost to me forever.

How do I accept the fact that I will more than likely never see my newborn children? That I will never get to ease their sleepless nights or hug them close when all they need is their mother’s tenderness I will never get to see Kai ride her bike or play in our backyard. How can I accept that I’ve left so much on Lex’s shoulders? That I’ve, in a way, betrayed him. How do I survive this?

“Hello?”

My voice is involuntarily shaky, my body fighting against every urge I have to break into a sprint and run until I can find some remnants of reality. Whether it be the one I want or not. The longer I don’t see anyone, the angrier I get. I made a deal. I gave my soul which means someone should come collect.

Just as soon as the thought comes, a bright light shines and lights up the whole room. My hands instinctively move to cover my eyes as the light burns my eyes at how sudden it appears. When I’m able to gain control and push the pain aside, I open my eyes to see that the dark room I was once standing in is now a white room. What the hell is going on? Am I dead?

“No, dear.”

The deep, African accent surrounds me. I can’t see him but I already know who it is. Papa Legba. I look around warily, almost desperate for him to do with me what he wants. To rid myself of the pain of not knowing. Of never seeing Blue again. Of never loving @LeRoiDuVooDoo again. My eyes burn, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not this time.

“I made ya deal. I’m yours. What ya want from me?” My voice is almost petulant and I know I have to be careful. I’m not dealing with an average spirit. Papa Legba is a loa that isn’t one to be fucked with in the least. So, as angry and sad and frustrated as I am, I have to tread carefully.

I hear his low laugh just at my ear and my body tenses, a slow shiver slowly creeping up my spine as black smoke surrounds me and I feel him softly push my curly hair off my shoulder. His breath tickles my ear as he leans in and I feel my jaw clench. I don’t know what I feel more. Anger or fear. He’s trying to tease me, but I won’t allow him to effect me on the outside. On the inside, though…. I’m screaming.

“Don’t be afraid, child.” He says, obviously sensing my fear. Then that means he feels my anger as well. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

I turn my head slightly as he slowly walks away from his position behind me, my jaw staying clenched as I see him for the first time in what feels like a year.

“I’m sorry our deal had to turn out that way. But she was right ‘bout you.”

My brows furrow and I know I look confused as hell as I try to piece together the puzzle he’s trying to put in front of me.

“Who is ‘she’?” Even I can tell that I sound testy as I ask. I’m not one to draw out bad endings. Especially when they concern me never seeing my family again. My chest tightens at the thought.

“Ya know, you should read contracts that you sign before you sign them, Miss Deréon.”

His proper French pronunciation of my name makes me catch my breath as I take in every word he says. I’m genuinely taken aback. My heart begins to pound in my chest as the anger I felt now dissolved into sheer fear. Panic, even. Have I done something wrong? Have I condemned my family? What the hell is going on? He holds up his hand and a cloud of black smoke brings the contract I signed with my blood from what seems like ions ago.

I look up at him to read his expression. He’s grinning and his eyes are locked on mine, but he won’t give away in his face whether it’s just me that’s condemned or if I’ve fucked all this up. I take it the contract with his nonverbal permission and read furiously over the script.

“Talia, first of her name, hereby declares 100 souls for the loa of the crossroads, Papa Legba. In exchange, Deréon Gisele Devereaux of the new blood Devereaux coven of the year two thousand and twenty will be delivered to one Talia Delphine LaBlanc. With both Talia and Deréon’s blood, this contract is sealed until Deréon’s purpose is fulfilled.”

What the fuck? I open my mouth to ask who Talia is and what purpose I have to fulfill. This doesn’t make even the slightest sense to me. He must sense my confusion because he starts laughing. Loudly. The kind of laugh that would send chills through someone who wasn’t as experienced with this Loa as I am. And being familiar with him isn’t a good thing.

“You shall see, Miss Deréon. You’ve got quite a road ahead of you.”

His laugh seems to echo through the space around us and with the clap of his hands, he’s gone. He’s gone and I’m…. still stuck here. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I suddenly feel the space beneath me cave in and I begin to fall. My heart drops and I scream loudly, my arms reaching out for anything to hold onto. Then I hit the ground. Hard.

The ground is hard and cold beneath me and I groan loudly at a sharp pain I feel at my knee. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’m afraid that if I try to stand up, I will do more hard than good. My eyes immediately move quickly to survey my surroundings. I’m in what looks like an abandoned alley but I have no idea where I am. Not that I’m even surprised at this point. I try to find something familiar like a street sign or familiar sounds of jazz music that’s always playing in the quarter. But, instead, I hear muffled laughs from the street and the sound of a perpetual hum like there’s a bulb about to burst somewhere nearby. But that could also be a concussion talking.

I slowly move to stand up, careful not to put too much weight on my knee as I make my way toward the street. Just as I almost make it, I feel a sharp pain in my head and I immediately move my free hand that’s not pressed against the brick building next to me to my temple. Accompanying the pain is a loud, screeching sound that feels so loud that my eardrums threaten to rupture. It feels like someone is trying to crush my scull. Slowly and painfully.

I can barely take the pain as I fall to my knees, the pain I feel in my head far outweighing the pain I feel in my knee. Pressing both my palms to my head now, I try to scream, but I can’t. No sound leaves my lips as I strain to call for help to the street. My head is spinning and I can feel my body slowly start to give way to the pain as I slowly start to lose consciousness.

“She’s finally here.”

I hear a female voice say in almost a whisper. I can feel that whatever is trying to break my consciousness is magic. The tingling sensation I feel through my body gives that away even through the pain. I don’t know where I am or why I’m here, but I’m not giving up without a fight. I inhale deeply and clench my hands into fists, feeling the low hum of my power from deep inside of me gradually become a vibrating force with every second that I push back against the magic trying to thwart me. Whatever magic it is, it’s strong. The spell is weak but the power behind it is enough to begin to overcome me. This is not VooDoo. It’s earth magic.

I can feel the slow slither of the power of the spell creep along my spine in an attempt to combat my own defenses as I softly chant to myself.  My power is growing and the pain in my head becomes more and more of a dull pulsation than piercing pain. The spell cast upon me manifests itself as a snake and wraps itself around me in an attempt to subdue me further, but my defenses are just as strong, even in my weakened state, as the strongest witch chanting in the background. And I can hear about five or six of them chanting as they move to circle me.

“She’s too strong, Syn”

I can feel heat coming through my palms and radiating over my skin, my eyes glowing an orange and red tint in response to my power. I feel the buildup in my chest. The same power I felt before, but amplified, and I know these witches have no idea just how powerful anger and desperation can make a woman like me. Just as I prepare to exert the force of what feels like built up fire in my chest, something hits me from behind and I feel myself fall to the ground. My head is spinning now and just before I fall back into darkness, I hear a soft voice whisper:

“Oh She’s definitely the one.”

[carrionkat]

Response for kateofthecanals

Here ya go, @kateofthecanals

I don’t really use Tumblr all that much so I apologize for any formatting hiccups or errors in courtesy.

Well, since I agree with literally all of your positive points (especially how Rey and Kylo’s visions could be the same, just viewed from a different perspective), and this is already getting too long I’m just going to address your negatives!

- The turning point for me, going from “YES YES YES!” to “oh…” was immediately after the team-up in the throne room, when I quickly realized that Kylo didn’t kill Snoke because he suddenly “woke up”, and he didn’t do it for Rey… he did it so that HE could be the HBIC.

I actually read the scene differently. Conflict is the central theme of Kylo’s character, so I saw him as undecided up until he realizes that he will never be out from under Snoke’s boot. He wants to be free to decide who he is and the path his destiny will take (as seen in his “let the past die” speech) and he can’t do that while Snoke lives. I think it’s less about taking charge of the First Order, and more about killing the monster who has been pulling his strings since he was an infant. And I think Snoke demanding he kill Rey is what wakes him up, in that it makes him realize that he will never be allowed to make a meaningful choice while Snoke lives. He doesn’t want to kill Rey (in fact he wants her to be a part of the future he creates). He achieves avoiding this by killing the person making her death a possibility.

- I was really bummed when Snoke “revealed” that he was the one who facilitated the Force-bond between Kylo and Rey, but I was relieved to see this wasn’t the case after all at the end when Kylo and Rey had that one last Force-encounter. But again, what was this actually worth in the end? She closed the door on him. It was established in this film, via Luke, that a Force user can close themselves off to the Force. Who’s to say Rey won’t do the same to Kylo? That she will find a way to cut him off completely? There’s literally nothing stopping her, because she has clearly given up on him…

 This is going to be a steep hill to get over, but I think a grand enough gesture from Kylo could get through to Rey. Once she knew what happened to him as a child with Luke, she forgave him for a whole lotta bad. If he were to, say, sabotage the First Order or release a prisoner or something that showed he was still conflicted, I think that could change her mind.

 - … as has everyone else. And with good reason, tbh. The moment Kylo threw Rey under the bus for Snoke’s death, declared himself new Supreme Leader, and went fucking buckwild on Luke, I knew all hope for redemption was gone. Even Leia was like, “nope, I was wrong, he’s lost for good.” Basically what I got out of this movie was, Rey and Kylo “flirt” with the other sides of the Force for a hot second but then just ultimately decide that they belong where they were in the first place. Gee wow what awesome character development…

 I think there was actually development here. Kylo has gone from puppet to free being. His personality beyond that is still malleable. The Dark is what he knows and it’s what he’s been trying to be since childhood, so it’s the path he follows, for now. I’m not sold that it will be the one he continues to follow, however. I also think the hopelessness of the situation is supposed to parallel Empire Strikes Back. We’re supposed to feel grim. This is our heroes’ lowest point; we’re only going up from here.

Also, he despises Luke for good reason. Him going buckwild on Luke isn’t really a condemnation of his entire character. His uncle, who he trusted and loved, tried to kill him. That’s gonna leave some damage. His rage isn’t born out of a hatred for Luke’s ideologies or of hatred of the Light, it’s born out of having his trust broken in the most cruel way possible. Maybe even resentment that Luke’s actions drove him into Snoke’s less-than-kind tutelage, but that’s probably reaching.

 - The revelation of Rey’s parents was just so… banal. I felt like this was thrown in there just to put the question to rest, without any additional thought or exploration, even though that was made such a HUGE deal of in TFA. But, nah, they were “nobodies”, end of story, case closed, that’s all she wrote. It was never even explained how Kylo knew about Rey’s parents!!

 The way I thought Kylo knew is because Rey knew, the whole time, and was just in denial about it. He sees it through their connection. She sees herself in the Dark part of the temple because she already knows the answer. (Also her saying she was “unafraid” while stuck in the Dark says something, but we’ll see if it gets followed up on).

 - I’ve seen people claim that this movie “shuts down” anti arguments for good and that is simply not the case. There is still plenty of ammo from this movie they can use, chief among them Kylo’s cringeworthy statement to Rey that “You’re nobody. But not to me.”

 Oof, yeah, I actively cringed when he said that. Someone’s been reading PUA shit. But if you want to dig for excuses you can bring up that Kylo has literally zero positive interactions with anyone except Rey, and is thusly a social moron who has forgotten what kindness is. What he’s saying is what Rey feels (that she’s nobody), followed up by what he feels (that she’s somebody) and with no pretty trimmings about it. It’s still a really shitty thing to say and I wish that line wasn’t there.

 - I’m glad everyone’s happy that Kylo didn’t actually KILL Leia (which I knew he wouldn’t) but I dunno how many brownie points he gets considering he still let those other fighters take her out…

 He does seem a little shocked when the other fighter’s shots connect, so maybe he was so focused on making a choice that he didn’t realize the fighter’s were taking the shot? Still, I agree with you.

 - And he barely even flinched when Snoke was torturing Rey. You’d think that, I don’t know, since they have a Force-bond and everything, that he would have been able to feel her pain or something???

 Yeah, some kind of reaction would have been nice. I thought I saw him trembling, but I can’t remember it very clearly so I would have to rewatch.

 - During Kylo’s attack on Crait, at a certain point (around the time Luke shows up), Rey just, like, disappears, completely, and doesn’t show up again until the very end to do her rock-lifting trick. Firstly, where the hell was she that whole time, but more importantly, wouldn’t it have been kind of awesome if, like, she could sense what was happening between Kylo and Luke and using their Force-bond try to talk him out of it? And see him actually STRUGGLE with it because he’s still torn between wanting to be with her and wanting to be the Big Bad? Buuuut no, because at that point, both their minds were made up, and Rey had given up on him anyway.

 Rey’s part (or lack thereof) in that battle seemed really messy narratively. There’s no reason for them to be flying over the mountains in the Falcon; they have no reason to believe that the rest of the Resistance is trying to flee the base. Why aren’t they back there in the action? Why don’t they try to blow the cannon up? Or take out the Walkers? The bond that Rey has with Kylo AND the student/teacher one she has with Luke are both just left dangling there. The Kylo/Luke confrontation is incredibly tense and I loved so many things about it, but it does feel like substance was cut for style there.

 - On a more technical level, I was really disappointed by how the Force-bond sequences were filmed. I expected way more from Rian Johnson; this was something any first-year film student could have come up with. Now, I’m not claiming to be “better than Rian Johnson”, but in my headcanons of Rey and Kylo’s Force-conversations, there was a noticeable atmospheric shift – some sort of visual cue that something “different” was going on… Instead of just this basic cutting back and forth between them in their respective locales. Meh.

 There was a bit of an audio cue (the sound warped) but a bit of blur around the edges or color shift or something would have been a nice visual cue.

 - I didn’t find Rose that memorable, sorry. And her whole mission with Finn, much like the Kylo/Rey storyline, ended up being completely pointless, thanks to Admiral Holdo needlessly keeping vital info about her plans from Poe. WHY??? All of it was just an elaborate excuse to send Finn off on another adventure where he would end up back with the First Order so he could finish off Phasma, period. Like, yeah, there was that little hint at the very end that those kids who took care of the fathiers would, like, have something to do with the Resistance in the next movie, but honestly that could have just been a little meta commentary about how kids have been inspired by the Star Wars franchise over these past 40 years. Which is nice and all, but Finn and Rose’s mission was still pointless.

 Agreed; it felt like the weakest part of the movie to me. I wanted to like Rose and Finn, but I kinda ended up resenting that their (ultimately) pointless story was taking so much time away from what I thought were more interesting plot lines.

 I think the last bit was meta commentary, as well as showing that Luke’s words are true; he isn’t the last of the lightside. It’s not just Rey who will succeed him, it’s every child who has heard his story and strives to be good because of it.

 - Same with Holdo. So here’s this lady who just shows up out of nowhere, keeps vital information from Poe for no good goddamn reason, thereby forcing him to come up with his own plan and send Finn & Rose on a wild goose chase, and then suddenly we’re supposed to buy this close, intimate relationship she has with Leia so that we’ll feel all wistful when she decides to go on a suicide mission to protect the Resistance?? That should have been Leia, tbh… and not just for cheap emotional impact. At that point, Leia believed both the cause and her son to be lost and really had nothing else to lose at that point, and it would have been well within her personality to take out as many motherfuckers as she could to go down with her. Holdo should have been set up as Leia’s heir apparent going forward, and Leia going all kamikaze on the First Order would have been an interesting parallel to Luke also sacrificing himself to protect the ones he loved. AND it would have solved the whole issue of how to move forward in the story after Carrie’s death. I mean, we know that Leia was supposed to play a big part in Episode 9, but we’ll never know what that was supposed to be anyway…

I feel Holdo’s story was weakened by that last interaction with Leia and where she says she liked Poe. If she stuck to the opinion she voiced earlier about him being a liability, maybe cautioned Leia about his recklessness, it makes her character more consistent. She’s presented as being kind of “by the rules” as opposed to Poe’s casual improvisation. If they kept her mindset as “he’s an idiot who can’t take orders and that’s an issue; the chain of command exists for a reason; we can’t have everyone second guessing every decision I make and that’s why I didn’t tell him” it wouldn’t feel as wishy-washy. Maybe it could have even worked as a lesson for Poe.

I like that Leia didn’t die here. It helps keep that idea of hope alive. While the reasons you point out for her doing Holdo’s maneuver make sense on a personal level, Leia being alive gives the Resistance hope, and it gives the audience hope.

For some of my personal thoughts on where Kylo and Rey could end up going from here...

Where we leave Kylo he's still in strife. He's gotten everything he's wanted: eliminating his 'weakness,' eclipsing Vader in power (after all, Vader didn’t survive the Sith ideal of killing his master) but it will not bring him any sort of joy. He's lonely and lost, not power-mad, and becoming Supreme Leader is only going to isolate him more. His force bond with Rey is still intact, despite her metaphorically closing the door on him. Their interactions haven’t been intentional, yet they still happen, because they’re both lonely and long for understanding. That’s not going to change for Kylo, even if it does for Rey. That could be a piece of what causes him to change.

Kylo Ren doesn’t give a shit about the First Order, not really. He isn’t making rousing speeches about the necessity of the cause like Hux; his actions are all concerned with Snoke’s orders and his own internal strife. He doesn’t want to lead the First Order because he believes in it, he’s leading to use it as a tool. He wants to destroy his past so he can finally shape his own destiny and decide for himself who he wants to be. He’s been shaped by others all his life; now he’s free of that. Snoke, the biggest influence in his life, is gone. He couldn’t kill Leia when he had the chance. He is pulled to Rey over and over. He seems to feel regret at the end when he finds Han’s dice. The question is, who will be created by this situation? Will it be enough to pull him, maybe not entirely to the light, but into the grey?

Snoke made a comment that I think/hope will come to be very relevant. Something to the effect of “darkness rises, and light to meet it.” The Force strives to create balance. The more dark there is, the more light there must be. But trying to balance two extremes causes tension and strife. They try to eliminate one another, and the pendulum swings wildly between the two. The true way to create balance, is to move towards the middle. I think that’s what the point of Luke’s arc was. Luke’s fear of the Dark helped create Kylo Ren from Ben. His adherence to an order that gave rise to Sidious and pushed his own father into Dark caused it to happen again. This makes it clear that the Jedi order of old doesn’t work anymore.

The Jedi were a defunct order. They swung the pendulum to far to the “Light” and demanded impossible things: emotionless, passionless, unquestioning devotion. Does any of that sound like Rey? Emotion drives everything she does! To eliminate her emotions, to make her a Jedi, it would destroy her entire character. If they do that they’re throwing out all the themes and messages they built up over Last Jedi. Same thing if Kylo stays entirely Dark. I think (hope) that they both come to realize that neither of them actually wants the destruction of the other. Maybe Rey reads those texts that made it onto the Falcon and realizes that she can’t follow the Jedi ideals. Maybe those old texts contain the idea of grey Jedi instead of the Light/Dark dichotomy; after all, there was a shrine to the Dark on the island, so the founders of the temple couldn’t have rejected it entirely.

They’ve set up plenty of signs that point to the emergence of grey Jedi instead of the Sith and the Light. They could end up pulling the rug out from under us and just make IX flat “good” vs evil with no nuance, but that would be ignoring all the work done in Last Jedi, and it would be messy story telling to not follow the cues that they already laid.

And honestly is Kylo goes grey there’s no reason why he and Rey wouldn’t end up together. Force bonds are powerful things, and their awareness of one another is almost painful. Rey would have to shut herself off from the Force to cut off her awareness of him, and is she really going to do that? Maybe she will for a time, but that’s not a long-term solution.

So while there are no steadfast assurances that we will get what we want from IX, I would say that the necessary groundwork for what we want has already been laid.

Oh! Another thought. Kylo’s “rule the galaxy at my side” is the SAME EXACT THING Vader offered Luke (but, like, without the romantic undertones). Like Luke, Rey rejected his offer. But Vader was still redeemed in the end. If Kylo’s story continues his mirroring of Vader, we will get a redemption. The real question is, will we get it without Kylo dying?

[dfroza]

the Ark of the Covenant is seen

through an open door in Heaven in Today’s reading of John’s book of Revelation that continues with God’s ultimate Judgment upon the whole world for its corrupt behavior and rejection of Love:

[Revelation 11]

Then a measuring rod, like a staff, was given to me and I was told:

Rise and measure God’s temple and the altar and count those who worship in it. But exclude the courtyard outside the temple, for it has been given over to the nations, and for forty-two months they will trample on the holy city. And I will authorize my two witnesses to prophesy, wearing sackcloth for one thousand two hundred and sixty days.

[The Two Witnesses]

These two witnesses are the two olive trees and the two lampstands that stand before the Lord God of the whole earth. If anyone attempts to harm them, fire will flow out of their mouths and consume their foes. All who seek to harm them will die in this way. They have authority to shut the heavens so that no rain will fall during the days of their prophesying. They have authority over the waters to turn them into blood and to strike the earth with every plague imaginable, as often as they desire.

When their testimony is completed, the beast that comes up from the sea will wage war against them and conquer them and kill them. Their dead bodies will lie on the street of the great city that is symbolically called Sodom and Egypt, where their Lord was also crucified. For three and a half days people from every ethnicity, tribe, nation, and language will see their corpses, because no one is permitted to bury them. The entire world will gloat over them and celebrate and exchange gifts, because these two prophets had condemned those who dwell on the earth.

After three and a half days God’s breath of life entered them and they stood to their feet, terrifying all who saw them. Then they heard a loud shout from heaven saying to them:

Come up here!

The two prophets climbed up into heaven in a cloud while their enemies watched. At that very moment there was a powerful earthquake and a tenth of the city collapsed, killing seven thousand people. The rest were terrified and gave glory to the God of heaven.

Now the second woe has passed and the third is coming swiftly.

[The Seventh Trumpet]

Then the seventh angel sounded his trumpet, and a loud voice broke forth in heaven, saying:

“The kingdom of the world

has become the kingdom of our God

and of his Anointed One!

He will reign supreme for an eternity of eternities!”

Then the twenty-four elders who sit on their thrones before God fell facedown before him and worshiped him, saying:

“We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty,

who is, and who was,

because you have established

your great and limitless power and begun to reign!

The nations were furious, and you became furious,

and the time for judging the dead has come.

The time has come to reward your servants, the prophets

and the holy ones and all who reverence your name,

both small and great.

And the time has come to destroy those

who corrupt the earth!”

Then God’s temple was opened in heaven and the ark of his covenant was clearly visible inside his temple. And there were blinding flashes of lightning, voices roaring, startling thunderclaps, a massive earthquake, and a great hailstorm!

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 11 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments with Revelation 11 is Numbers 12 where Miriam and Aaron acted irreverently toward Moses:

[Numbers 12]

Miriam and Aaron talked against Moses behind his back because of his Cushite wife (he had married a Cushite woman). They said, “Is it only through Moses that God speaks? Doesn’t he also speak through us?”

God overheard their talk.

Now the man Moses was a quietly humble man, more so than anyone living on Earth. God broke in suddenly on Moses and Aaron and Miriam saying, “Come out, you three, to the Tent of Meeting.” The three went out. God descended in a Pillar of Cloud and stood at the entrance to the Tent. He called Aaron and Miriam to him. When they stepped out, he said,

Listen carefully to what I’m telling you.

If there is a prophet of God among you,

I make myself known to him in visions,

I speak to him in dreams.

But I don’t do it that way with my servant Moses;

he has the run of my entire house;

I speak to him intimately, in person,

in plain talk without riddles:

He ponders the very form of God.

So why did you show no reverence or respect

in speaking against my servant, against Moses?

The anger of God blazed out against them. And then he left.

When the Cloud moved off from the Tent, oh! Miriam had turned leprous, her skin like snow. Aaron took one look at Miriam—a leper!

He said to Moses, “Please, my master, please don’t come down so hard on us for this foolish and thoughtless sin. Please don’t make her like a stillborn baby coming out of its mother’s womb with half its body decomposed.”

And Moses prayed to God:

Please, God, heal her,

please heal her.

God answered Moses, “If her father had spat in her face, wouldn’t she be ostracized for seven days? Quarantine her outside the camp for seven days. Then she can be readmitted to the camp.” So Miriam was in quarantine outside the camp for seven days. The people didn’t march on until she was readmitted. Only then did the people march from Hazeroth and set up camp in the Wilderness of Paran.

The Book of Numbers, Chapter 12 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, june 4 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

Today’s reading of the Bible accompanied by the following quotes from the beginning pages of the first chapter of the book The Risen Life by Jessie Penn-Lewis (1861-1927) from Wales who was married to William Penn-Lewis:

In the Wisdom of God the Cross of Christ is the pivot, or central truth, which keeps all other truth in its due proportion both in doctrine and in practice.

The message of the Cross is full of paradoxes on its experiential side, and these paradoxes can only be understood as we progress in experience.

The Holy Spirit of God, we may reverently say, must be watching with tender care over the sacred message of the death of the God-man, for the cross is not a favorite theme with the wise of this world, even in the Christian Church. The very words the cross seem to be a stumbling block to the intellect of the natural man, even as was the case in the days of Paul. The Holy Spirit is also watching over the message as it goes forth among the people of God, for upon its reception and assimilation by the believer depends the fulfillment of the ascended Lord's desires for His church. If this is true—and we know it is—that all life-power radiates from the cross of Calvary to the church of Christ, how much depends upon our increasing knowledge of what the Holy Ghost has to teach us about it.

Jessie Penn-Lewis

Born in 1861 in South Wales, this daughter of a mining engineer was nurtured in the "lap of Calvinistic Methodism," as she put it. Surrounded by love and a large library, she ventured into a life of learning and activity which always seemed far beyond the capability of her persistently frail body. Strong-willed and independent, she walked at the age of nine months, and by the age of four could read the Bible freely, without having been taught to read.

She married at the age of eighteen, was converted to Christ eighteen months later, and set about to learn to follow God.

At the age of thirty-one she was baptized with the Spirit, and her simple motto became, ''Keep free to follow the will of God." God gave her remarkable insight into the Scriptures, and it became obvious that He had fashioned her to be a teacher.

Her ministry took her to Sweden, Russia, Finland, India, Canada and the United States. Her life became linked to the spiritual giants of her generation- F. B. Meyer, Andrew Murray, D. L. Moody .

She founded The Overcomer, a serious journal on the pursuit of the deeper Christian life. For many years she addressed great audiences at vast conventions of Christians. Finally, after one such series of talks she arrived home obviously ill. Her strength waned rapidly and she slipped into the presence of Christ in 1927 at the age of sixty-six.

Few women in modern times have left so profound an impression on their generation, and few have so boldly and biblically stated the value of their gender. Jessie Penn-Lewis was the embodiment of Women's Liberation in its best and noblest sense.

[bldgrelationshipwgod]

Elijah, the Prayer Warrior

The book of Kings has shown us a long list of terrible kings in the Northern kingdom of Israel. On to the scene as Israel endures its 7th & most idolatrous king bursts Elijah the prophet. I am sure that if you aren’t an avid Bible reader, his name is the only one familiar to you thus far in the book which speaks to a powerful truth underlying this narrative’s message: It is not the powerful kings that move Israel along, it is those prophets who speak for God without fear, who challenge power & let God take care of the rest. But before he was ever a prophet, Elijah was a prayer warrior.

1 Kings 17:1 | Now Elijah the Tishbite, who was among the settlers of Gilead, said to Ahab, “As surely as the LORD, the God of Israel, lives, I stand before Him, & in these years there will be neither dew nor rain except at my word!”   

What we are asked to see immediately is where Elijah is from rather than WHO Elijah is from. All the kings of Israel were identified by their father, even the wicked Ahab. Elijah is from Tishbe in Gilead. These facts are important.

Because Elijah is from nowhere. Gilead was farm country on the East of the Jordan & Tishbe is little heard of throughout Scripture & ancient world.

Elijah does not come from an important family or an important place.

So what gave Elijah the guts to confront a severely pagan king like this? James gives us a clue [James 5:17]:

James 5:17 | Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, & it did not rain on the land for 3.5 years.

Elijah was a man of prayer. But notice how the references in Kings & James work together. Elijah told Ahab there would be no rain for years but James tells us he prayed for 3.5 years. That means Elijah spent months praying privately before addressing Ahab publicly.

Let us also note that shutting up the rain was judgment upon the sin of the nation. This truth comes straight from the scriptures [Deuteronomy 11:16-17]:

Deuteronomy 11:16-17 | But be careful that you are not enticed to turn aside to worship & bow down to other gods, or the anger of the LORD will be kindled against you. He will shut the heavens so there will be no rain, nor will the land yield its produce, & you will soon perish from the good land that the LORD is giving you.  

God said He would shut up the rain to judge His people in order to get their attention & turn them back to Himself.

But it only happened when Elijah prayed.

So here’s what we can deduce from these scriptures working together.

Elijah knew the nation was lost. And instead of praying that God would keep them from harm or disaster he prays right in line with the difficult passages of woe spoken over the people through the Word.

AND, the answer doesn’t come right away just because it was God’s Word. No, Elijah has to press through for months to see God come through on His Word.

Now, this brings up important spiritual truths for us. We need to follow Elijah’s lead here.

First, we should pray in accordance with God’s Word & not our ideas.

Second, when sin abounds, we should ask God to do what He said He would do in its regard.

In the Old Testament that meant physical forms of national judgment.

In our day, sin in the lives of God’s people will be punished for the sake of discipline or confessed for the sake of cleansing & healing.

Why do we pray for those stuck in sin to be “protected” from harm?

Perhaps they need some Fatherly measured harm to wake them up!

Finally, just because we pray in accordance with God’s Word does not mean it will be instantly granted us. But we must continue praying!

What do you think happened to Elijah during that month prayer time?

He learned to know the presence of God so that the presence of Ahab would be of no account to his spirit.

He had spent time in the presence of the Heavenly King, therefore an Earthly king carried no fear.

Prayer is not just about getting our needs met.

It’s about getting our hearts rooted in the presence of God so that we can stand in the presence of anyone else!

             ________________________________________________________

Charles John Ellicott, English Christian Theologian (1819–1905) | James 5:17

In our Epistle we read that Elias “prayed earnestly”–literally, prayed in his prayer, a Hebraistic form of emphasis. He asked for drought, & it lasted 3.5 years, so that “there was a sore famine in Samaria.”

Yet Elijah was no demi-god; we even learn how he shrank from his prophet's yoke, & longed to die. No one therefore may despair in their petitions but rather let your "requests be made known unto God;" for "we ought always to pray, and not to faint" (Luke 18:1).

Luke 18:1-5 | Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray at all times & not lose heart: “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor respected men. And there was a widow in that town who kept appealing to him, ‘Give me justice against my adversary.’ For a while he refused, but later he said to himself, ‘Even though I do not fear God or respect men, yet because this widow keeps pestering me, I will give her justice. Then she will stop wearing me out with her perpetual requests.’”

             ________________________________________________________

Pulpit Commentary by Donald Spence Jones (1836-1917) | James 5:17

He prayed earnestly. Προσευχῇ προσηύξατο: a Hebraism, not infrequent in the New Testament [Luke 22:45; Matthew 17:21; Matthew 21:13], in imitation of the Hebrew dissolute infinitive.

He prayed earnestly, προσευχῇ (proseuchē) Strong's Greek 4335: From proseuchomai; prayer; by implication, an oratory.

Luke 22:45 | When Jesus rose from prayer & returned to the disciples, He found them asleep, exhausted from sorrow.       Prolonged sorrow has, at last, a numbing & narcotising effect.    [See Note on "believing not for joy," Luke 24:41.]

Matthew 17:21 | ..this kind does not go out, except by prayer & fasting. The words are noticeable as testifying to the real ground & motive for "fasting," & gain obtained when accompanied by true prayer, by this act of conquest over the lower nature. Paul himself admitted to "fasting often" [2 Corinthians 11:27-28 | in labor & toil & often without sleep, in hunger & thirst & often without food, in cold & exposure. Apart from these external trials, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.]

Some demons might yield before human will, & power of the divine Name, & the prayers even of a weak faith.

Some, like that which comes before us here, required a greater intensity of the spiritual life, gained by "prayer & fasting."

It’s probable that our Lord Himself had to fulfill both conditions. The disciples, we know, did not as yet fast (Matthew 9:14-15), & the facts imply they had been weak & remiss in prayer.

Matthew 21:13 | And He declared to them, “It is written: ‘My house will be called a house of prayer.’ But you are making it ‘a den of robbers.’” The words which our Lord quotes are a free combination of two prophetic utterances: one from Isaiah's vision of the future glory of the Temple, as visited both by Jew & Gentile (Isaiah 56:7); one from Jeremiah's condemnation of evils which our Lord protested (Jeremiah 7:11).

The wranglings of outlaws over the booty they had carried off were reproduced in the Temple, & mingled with the Hallelujahs of the Levites & the Hosannas of the crowds [Ellicott].

These base traffickers had turned the hallowed courts into a cavern where robbers stored their ill-gotten plunder. It may also be said that to make the place of prayer for all the nations a market for boasts was a robbery of the rights of the Gentiles [Lange].

And Christ here vindicated the sanctity of the house of God: the Lord, according to the prophecy of Malachi (Malachi 3:1-3), had suddenly come to his temple to refine and purify, to show that none can profane what is dedicated to the service of God without most certain loss and punishment [Jones]. Malachi 3:1-3 | “Behold, I will send My messenger, who will prepare the way before Me. Then the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to His temple—the Messenger of the covenant, in whom you delight—see, He is coming,” says the LORD of Hosts. But who can endure the day of His coming? And who can stand when He appears? For He will be like a refiner’s fire, like a launderer’s soap. And He will sit as a refiner & purifier of silver; He will purify the sons of Levi & refine them like gold & silver. Then they will present offerings to the LORD in righteousness.

the very same time is mentioned by our Lord in His allusion to the same incident [Luke 4:25], "the heaven was shut up 3 years & 6 months."

Luke 4:25 | But I tell you truthfully that there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the sky was shut for three & a half years & great famine swept over all the land.

And as the same period is said to be given in the Yalkut Shimeoni on 1 Kings 16, it was probably the time handed down by tradition, being taken by the Jews as a symbol of times of tribulation [Daniel 7:25; Daniel 12:7; Revelation 11:2].

Daniel 7:25 | He will speak out against the Most High & oppress the saints of the Most High, intending to change the appointed times & laws; & the saints will be given into his hand for a time, & times, & half a time.

Daniel 12:7 | And the man dressed in linen, who was above the waters of the river, raised his right hand & his left hand toward heaven, & I heard him swear by Him who lives forever, saying, “It will be for a time, & times, & half a time. When the power of the holy ppl has finally been shattered, all these things will be completed.”

Revelation 11:2 | But exclude the courtyard outside the temple. Do not measure it, because it has been given over to the nations, & they will trample the holy city for 42 months.

[focusontheeasternlightning-blog]

3 Aspects of Truth You Should Know

By Zhuanxin

Dear brothers and sisters, peace be upon to you! Today, I want to share my story with you.

I’m a Taiwanese aborigine, and I was born in a tribe. There are mountains, water and a beautiful landscape. Besides, there is a presbyterian church, where I successively attended the Sunday school for child, joined the youth fellowship and the adult fellowship. I was willing to spend my time in doing any work in the church because the church was like my home to me, and also an indispensable part of my life.

Perplexity in My Heart

As I grew up, I thought the main purpose in going to church was understanding the truth in the Bible. I only knew God loves us and that the Lord Jesus was nailed to the cross to take on our sins. Besides these, I seldom understood God’s will. So I joined spiritual meetings in the church. However, every time when we carried out spiritual devotions and read the Bible, I didn’t understand many scriptures, and the way of the Lord coming puzzled me most. The pastors often preached Revelation 1:7 in the Bible: “Behold, he comes with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him: and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him. Even so, Amen.” They told us in the last days the Lord would descend with clouds to take us to the kingdom of heaven. We should accept the Lord’s salvation, otherwise we would never get the opportunity to gain the eternal life when God appeared in public. However, I saw it was said in Revelation 16:15: “Behold, I come as a thief.” I thought: The Lord said He would come as a thief, so how does He have people know it? If He appears in public when He returns just as the pastors have said, won’t everyone know it? Then I consulted a pastor. He explained that “as a thief” meant that we didn’t know the day of the Lord’s coming. Yet I was not absolutely convinced of his explanation. Afterward, the pastor suggested me to pray to God and beg Him to give me wisdom when I couldn’t understand the scriptures. Therefore, I repeatedly prayed to God, but I didn’t get an answer from the Bible yet.

Looking for the Living Water of Life

Gradually, I found people who attended gatherings in the church were getting less and less. Brothers and sisters were not of one heart and one mind any more, but argued with each other. Although I served in the church all the time, I often lived in sin. On the surface, I got along with brothers and sisters, but I had many prejudices against them in my heart, even frequently defining people by appearances. I asked pastors: “How can I change my condition?” Pastors told me: “The Lord is merciful and loving, so our sins will be forgiven as long as we confess our sins through prayer.” I didn’t approve of their opinions because I myself was still living in the condition of confessing sins and committing them no matter how I admitted my sin to the Lord and repented. It was clear that such fellowship couldn’t solve my problem. Since I didn’t get an exact response every time I asked pastors, then I ignored the scriptures that I didn’t understand. Gradually, I read the Bible without enlightenment, even dozing off sometimes. Every time this happened, I would feel sorry to the Lord. Later, all my family went out to visit several other churches, but the situation of each church was exactly the same.

After a month, I became acquainted, through Facebook, with a sister. When I knew she was from The Church of Almighty God, I hesitated a bit and recalled three days ago Taiwan Christian Tribune proclaimed and condemned The Church of Almighty God with great fanfare, saying they stole the good sheep from various churches. I was afraid of being stolen by them, so I no longer got in touch with her. Afterward, I inspected the friends on Facebook carefully in order to protect myself from meeting people from The Church of Almighty God.

About one month later, I knew a sister from Japan. From my interactions with her, I felt she was very sincere and the words she sent to me every time were helpful and beneficial to me. Thus, afterward, I agreed with joy when she invited me to carry out spiritual devotions together.

Referring to the Way of the Lord’s Arrival

In October of 2017, I attended gatherings with the sister from Japan and other brothers and sisters on the Internet. At a gathering, Brother Wu fellowshiped the reason why there is widespread desolation in all the churches nowadays was because the work of the Holy Spirit has been transferred and God has come to do His new work. Just as in the end of the Age of Law, the temple, once so full of Jehovah God’s glory, became a place of trade, a den of thieves. That was because God’s work had moved—God incarnate did His work of redeeming mankind in the Age of Grace. All those who accepted the Lord Jesus’ work of redemption would obtain the supply of the living water of life. Unconsciously, we talked about the way of the Lord’s return. Brother Wu read several passages of Scripture to me: “For as the lightning, that lightens out of the one part under heaven, shines to the other part under heaven; so shall also the Son of man be in his day. But first must he suffer many things, and be rejected of this generation” (Luke 17:24-25). “Therefore be you also ready: for in such an hour as you think not the Son of man comes” (Matthew 24:44). “Behold, I come as a thief” (Revelation 16:15). Then he asked me: “How do you interpret these lines of Scripture?” I said: “I think the Lord coming as a thief means that the Lord will come secretly, and no one knows it. Yet this seems to conflict with the Lord appearing publicly. As regards the reason between them, I can’t explain. And this is the question that has been confusing me.”

Brother Wu said: “These verses of the scriptures both mentioned ‘the Son of man,’ which means that the Lord not only openly comes with clouds but comes hidden as ‘the Son of man.’ Since He is called the Son of man, He is a person born of a human being, and flesh with normal humanity. For example, Jehovah God is the Spirit, so He can’t be called the Son of man; the reason the Lord Jesus incarnate is called the Son of man and Christ is because He is the incarnate flesh of the Spirit of God, becomes an ordinary and normal person, and lives among people. What’s more, the scriptures mentioned ‘and be rejected of this generation.’ If the Lord Jesus openly comes with clouds in a resurrected spiritual body, it will be incredibly powerful and shock the world, and then all people will bow down and worship Him. Nobody dares to resist or reject Him, so will the Lord suffer many things or be rejected of this generation when He returns?” I asked tentatively: “Will God come in the flesh this time?” Brother Wu smiled and said: “In fact, the Lord predicted that His return shall be “the coming of the Son of man” and “as a thief.” That is to say, God incarnate descends in secret as the Son of man.”

Then, Brother Wu fellowshiped the truth of the incarnation with us. Later on, we went offline because something happened. After the gathering, I kept thinking about Brother Wu’s fellowship. Not only were his sermons, I thought, novel and practical, but they solved my perplexity. Therefore, I was looking forward to listening to his another fellowship.

In the days that followed, many things suddenly happened—something about the church, something about my husband’s work and something about my child’s study. Thus I felt upset during those days. The sister from Japan contacted me and asked how I was doing, but I was so troubled that I didn’t want to reply. Afterward, matters were getting more and more. I couldn’t stop myself from scolding my child. I knew what I did was not in line with the Lord’s intention. Hence, I prayed to the Lord to apologize. The sister still kept sending messages to me. I felt uncomfortable, so I decided to fellowship with her and other brothers and sisters on the Internet.

Finding the Path to Cast off Sins

When I told them my situation on the Internet, Brother Wu sent me a passage of God’s words: “The sins of man were forgiven because of the work of God’s crucifixion, but man continued to live in the old, corrupt satanic disposition. As such, man must be completely saved from the corrupt satanic disposition so that the sinful nature of man is completely cast away and never again develops, thus allowing the disposition of man to be changed. This requires man to understand the path of growth in life, the way of life, and the way to change his disposition. It also needs man to act in accordance with this path so that the disposition of man can gradually be changed and he can live under the shining of the light, and that he can do all things in accord with the will of God, cast away the corrupt satanic disposition, and break free from Satan’s influence of darkness, thereby emerging fully from sin. Only then will man receive complete salvation. … Therefore, after that stage was complete, there is still the work of judgment and chastisement. This stage makes man pure through the word so as to give man a path to follow.”

He fellowshiped: “Our sins are forgiven after we are redeemed by the Lord Jesus, but we still can’t help but commit sins. What’s more, we frequently expose our corrupt disposition of arrogance, always looking down on others. When God’s work doesn’t conform to our conceptions, we deny and resist Him. We believe in God in name, but we worship and follow people. It can be seen that even though our sins have been forgiven, if our satanic dispositions are not resolved, we still involuntarily commit sins, resist God and finally fail to enter into the kingdom of heaven. If we want to thoroughly solve the problem of sin, we need the Lord to do work of eliminating sin and purification.” “The work of eliminating sin? Have you said that God does His work in the flesh is for eliminating our sins?” I asked in amazement.

Brother Wu said: “Yes. While He does His work secretly in the flesh, God expresses His words to judge, purify and perfect people. During this period, we are unable to see the scene of the Lord appearing with clouds in public. It’s not until after a group of overcomers are made complete by God that He will finish His work of descending secretly in the flesh. Those who after hearing God’s voice accept His work to be the first ripe fruits will obtain His salvation; on the contrary, those who after hearing God’s voice refuse, condemn and resist Him will completely lose the chance for salvation. Those who pierce Him, that’s to say, who resist and condemn Christ of the last days will beat upon their breast, weep and gnash their teeth for seeing whom they have resisted and condemned is indeed the returned Lord Jesus. This just fulfills the Scripture: ‘Behold, he comes with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him: and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him. Even so, Amen’ (Revelation 1:7). God becomes flesh to do His work in secret in order to perfect man, to purify man, and to make us man thoroughly break free of the bondage of sin. Meanwhile, God does His work of discerning the wheat from the tares and the goats from the sheep, that is to say, the work of separating all according to their kind. When God appears publicly, it’s time to reward the good and punish the evil.”

Through Brother Wu’s fellowship, I got much knowledge of the ways of God’s arrival and God saving mankind. God incarnate does His work in secret is for revealing man and perfecting man. Then after He completes His work, God will appear in public to do the work of rewarding good and punishing evil. How wise and righteous God is! The question that had been confusing me was solved in the end. Then during a period of time, the sister from Japan and Brother Wu often sent me God’s words, which were beneficial to me. Some words made me moved and some made me reflect on my situation. What’s more, these words solved many difficulties and problems in my life and pointed out to me the path to practice.

Rumors Fell down Under the Facts

Because these words were helpful to me, I really wanted to know where they were extracted from. Later on, I found there were several words “The Word Appears in the Flesh” at the end of each passage of words. Then I copied them and searched on the Internet. To my surprise, finally what I searched was “The Church of Almighty God.” Seeing these words, I stared blankly and was in a quandary: Why did I meet people from The Church of Almighty God again? Then I knelt down and prayed to the Lord: “O Lord, why do You time and time again bring me to The Church of Almighty God? What’s Your intention? What should I do? Please guide me and lead me.” When I was praying, what Brother Wu had sent to me continuously floated up into my mind. Then I prayed to the Lord again: “O Lord, is it the church I have been looking for? Can I find the answers to my questions in the church? If this is the way You provide out for me, I will seek and investigate it even though the church is condemned by the religious world and the CCP government. Please give me a heart of sanctifying myself from them. I pray in the Lord Jesus’ holy name. Amen!”

After praying, I thought back to the time when I had kept in touch with the brothers and sisters from The Church of Almighty God, they not only had patience and love but also fellowshiped the truth with great light. My doubt and difficulties were solved one by one through their fellowship. Thus I felt the words that Almighty God expresses are the truth. Thinking that, I ignored the negative reports and searched for The Church of Almighty God on the Internet. Then I visited its official website. Not only did I watch MVs and movies from The Church of Almighty God, but I downloaded its App for mobile phone. When I opened the App, a movie called “The Winter Plum Blossom” attracted me. When I saw the sister still relied on God and stood witness for God according to His words under the cruel torment of the CCP, my heart felt stirred. And I watched it with tears. Who could surpass such a test without God’s power? Under the persecution of the CCP government and the religious world, brothers and sisters of The Church of Almighty God could still persevere in spreading the gospel and completing the mission entrusted by God. This was true confidence. At the same time, I saw the CCP was truly so dark and evil that it could persecute Christians inhumanly. Besides, after hearing God’s voice, the religious world not only refused to seek and investigate God’s work but also conspired with the CCP government to persecute The Church of Almighty God. They were similar to the Pharisees in the past who resisted God to maintain their own standing, fortune and status. At that time, I let go of the misconceptions of The Church of Almighty God and decided to continue investigating it.

Welcoming the Appearance of the Lord

After about a week, we attended a gathering on the Internet once again. From the voice of the brothers and sisters, I felt they were excited and nervous. Then Brother Wu said: “We have fellowshipped God, as the Son of man, will become flesh to do His work in secret in the last days. How should we judge that He is just the incarnation of God? At first, we should measure by His words and work, and not by His appearance. Because God is the truth, the way and the life, and only God can express the truth, His disposition, and what He has and is, and do His own work. Just as when the Lord Jesus came to do His work, He preached the gospel of the kingdom of heaven, taught us people to love others as we love ourselves and love the Lord our God with all our heart; moreover, He performed many miracles such as feeding five-thousand people with five loaves and two fish, making the blind see, and resurrecting the dead. From God’s words and work, we can believe that the Lord Jesus is God Himself.” I thought: It’s correct. Christ possesses God’s wisdom and power. Even though He has a normal and ordinary appearance, His essence is God Himself. He can express the truth and do His work.

Brother Wu sent us another passage of God’s words: “He who is God’s incarnation shall hold the substance of God, and He who is God’s incarnation shall hold the expression of God. Since God becomes flesh, He shall bring forth the work He must do, and since God becomes flesh, He shall express what He is, and shall be able to bring the truth to man, bestow life upon man, and show man the way. Flesh that does not contain the substance of God is surely not the incarnate God; of this there is no doubt. To investigate whether it is God’s incarnate flesh, man must determine this from the disposition He expresses and the words He speaks. Which is to say, whether or not it is God’s incarnate flesh, and whether or not it is the true way, must be judged from His substance. And so, in determining[a] whether it is the flesh of God incarnate, the key is to pay attention to His substance (His work, His words, His disposition, and many more), rather than external appearance.”

He fellowshiped: “In fact, God has come back in the flesh and lives among us. Every passage of words we read is God’s words, because only God can reveal the mystery of His six-thousand-year management plan, express His disposition, and His possessions and being, and bear witness to every step of His work and His painstaking efforts and the price He has paid.”

Everyone was silent for a moment after Brother Wu’s words, looking at me. I said slowly: “As a matter of fact, I have known The Church of Almighty God on the Internet. I also have known it is Eastern Lightning. Nevertheless, this can’t affect me; on the contrary, I feel there’s truth to be sought in this way. Eastern Lightning is the true way. Don’t worry, you can continue to fellowship. I’m able to accept all of them.”

When I finished these words, the brothers and sisters attending the gathering on the Internet choked with sobs. Some of them muted their video calls. This action of theirs made me have come to a understanding that how arduous it was for the brothers and sisters of The Church of Almighty God to cooperate with God to bring us before God from the religious world. At the same time, I hated the anti-preaching propaganda from the religious world. They prevented so many souls from coming before God and accepting His salvation of the last days. So we could see they were demons who ate people’s souls.

Brother Wu said: “Almighty God incarnate has an ordinary and common appearance, engaging in the same activities as any other normal human, but His essence is the Spirit of God. He can do God’s work and express God’s words. Through reading Almighty God’s words, we’ve understood the mystery of God’s six-thousand-year management plan, the inside story and significance of God’s work in the Age of Law, in the Age of Grace and in the Age of kingdom. Moreover, we’ve known how God expresses His words to do His work of judging and purifying mankind. By accepting the judgment and chastisement of Almighty God’s words, I’ve seen we corrupt mankind is arrogant, selfish and despicable. Only by experiencing God’s work have I had some changes in my life disposition. Just as I enthusiastically served when I believed in the Lord in the past. At that time, I thought I had many responsibilities, and was a person who considered the Lord’s will and loved God most. When my co-worker who was annoyed with family affairs couldn’t serve the Lord absorbedly, I looked down on him; when brothers and sisters were weak and negative, I drew the conclusion that they had no intention to seek the truth but I didn’t help or support them with love or patience. After accepting Almighty God’s work in the last days, under the revelation of God’s words, I realized I was deeply corrupted by Satan. I was arrogant and self-righteous. I always looked down on other people and put myself above others. Even when I interacted with my family, I still asked them to obey me. I was everywhere revealing satanic disposition, without a truly human form. In the meanwhile, under the judgment of God’s words, I saw God is too holy and righteous and that His disposition must not be offended. So I was unwilling to live by my corrupt disposition, and then I began to practice the truth and pursue the truth. After experiencing many things, I have realized some truth, had some true knowledge of God and had some changes in my life disposition. Not only can I humble myself to accept others’ advice, but I can help and treat people with a loving heart. I finally have lived out a bit of the likeness of a genuine human being. Thus, only God incarnate can express His words to judge us, purify us and save us from sin. Almighty God’s words and work prove His own identity and position; at the same time, they prove the fact that Almighty God is the Lord of creation. From Almighty God’s words, we have recognized God’s voice, seen His appearance and believed that He is the return of the Lord Jesus and our Redeemer.”

I was deeply stirred by the fellowship of Brother Wu. I thanked Almighty God for bringing me before Him. I was also grateful that God’s wondrous arrangement made me know the brothers and sisters from The Church of Almighty God, hear His voice and welcome the appearance of the Lord.

Epilog

Afterward I read many Almighty God’s words, which include His exhortations and reassurances for man and severe judgments. Through His words, I felt I was close to God and saw He observes people’s hearts. He understands each difficulty of mine and He is fully aware of my corruption. His words judge and reveal my various corrupt dispositions. In addition, His words point out to me the way. No matter what difficulties I face, I can find the answer and the path to practice from God’s words.

I can accept God’s work in the last days and go back to His house. These are all results that can be obtained through God’s words. Not only do God’s words reveal the mystery of the Bible, but they also lead me to understand many truths that I previously didn’t in my faith in the Lord. In addition, God’s words have solved the problems that puzzled me all the time, and at the same time, God expresses His disposition and what He has and is through His words. I have seen God’s appearance through His words, so I firmly believe that Almighty God is the appearance of the Lord Jesus. I’m grateful to God for taking pity on me and bringing me back to God’s house through the brothers and sisters repeatedly preaching to me. This is God’s love for me. All the glory be to Almighty God!