#//Made a deal with a death god to save her brother& considering her heritage; it might mean eternal torment to counteract stealing a soul

[dutybcrne]

Me making a HSR verse for my oc: Hmmm so the plan on this one could maybe be a bad end for her tendency to fuck around and find out—

My brain: So anyways, make her whole deal a fucken horror story-

[mygodyouredivine]

The Hell In Your Eyes - 3

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

Word Count: 4836

Previous Chapter

Loki is annoyed.  

Loki has sat through thousands of years of political dinners, exchanging thinly veiled insults under a layer of diplomacy, all while smiling through his teeth. Loki has spewed sensical nonsense, charming naive, innocent maids and sweeping young stable boys off their feet. Loki has endured Odin’s wrath — in all its horrible glory — countless times, and never once had he shed a tear, nor had a single cry escaped his lips.  

The whole of Asgard had coined him the Dark Prince — and who was Loki to disappoint? 

He had long since learned people saw what they expected to see. 

And so as the entire realm rejoiced in his demise, as Laufey left him to die, as Odin condemned him for eternity, as Thor abandoned him, as Frigga had sided with her husband again and again and again, Loki maintained his carefully constructed front.  

Yet one encounter with a mortal, and he had unraveled at her feet.  

If physically kneeling before the wretched creature wasn’t enough, he knew she had seen past his mask. By the time he had regained his composure, he was sure she had seen him.  

It won’t happen again.  

Loki is a god, and gods do not crack. Gods maintain their image, regardless of circumstance. Gods do not show weakness, do not show vulnerability.  

This is a lesson Loki knows well, a lesson etched into his skin countless times by Odin’s hand.  

And yet for each time Odin reinforced this lesson, the very same lesson was burned away by Thanos a thousand more. 

Loki tried, he truly did. Loki maintained his godly facade for an impressive amount of time, resisting as his body was taken apart over and over and over again. Perhaps it wasn’t as long as he thought. Loki feels as if his entire life was spent doused in agony, spent with his flesh melting off and his bones withering away. 

Ultimately, a god is no match for a Titan.  

But a mortal is no match for a god.  

And yet, Loki has found himself at her feet — at her mercy — twice. 

Even after, Loki couldn’t bring himself to summon his cruel exterior. Perhaps it had to do with the way she had waltzed into his space, all soft and defenseless, carrying that deplorable drink as if it was the elixir of eternal life (unfortunately, it tasted just as divine). Perhaps it was his body, still sated and full for the first time in months, reminding him of the food — the debt — he owes. Perhaps it was the way she held out her arm towards him, even though he could see it shaking.  

Whether it was any of these things or none at all, Loki’s cool mask of indifference was rendered utterly useless at her delicate, mortal hands.  

Loki hates her.  

His hatred fills every fiber of his being. It’s a scalding, fiery hatred, much unlike the frozen excuse of Loki’s heart. His frost giant heritage seems to reject her very being.  

Loki hates her voice, hates her hands, hates her. He hates how she makes him falter when there is no place for mistakes.  

Loki’s thoughts are interrupted by Thor, who enters Loki’s quarters without an ounce of hesitation — ever the righteous, confident, arrogant bastard. 

Ah, but Loki almost forgot. Thor is not the bastard — Loki is. How despicable; for really, Loki can not even call himself a bastard. Yet, ‘the Bastard Son of Odin’ has a certain charm to it. Perhaps another false title for his collection.  

“Loki!” Thor booms, “Here are your clothes that Lady Angel washed. You should be grateful brother, for she offered of her own volition — ” 

Is it so surprising someone would offer to help Loki without external influence?  

“ — to see and visit you! You are doing well. I am happy to see you are finally making an effort to get to know all of our friends — ” 

Thor is happy? For Loki, or for himself? Why must Loki, even now, strive to prove himself to Thor? Why is Loki’s worth solely dependent on Thor’s judgement?  

“ — and Lady Angel is absolutely wonderful. I am delighted to see you two getting along so well! I can’t believe you finally made a friend— ” 

At this, Loki’s composure cracks for the second time that day.  

“What am I? A pathetic child wandering aimlessly through a school corridor? A helpless hatchling at the mercy of others — groveling for the bare minimum? Who are you to congratulate me for ‘making a friend?’ She is not a friend ,” Loki spits out. He can feel his teeth grinding against each other, his fingernails once again digging into his palms. “She is nothing more than another worthless mortal, unworthy of even breathing the same air as I, and yet you suggest I be grateful?” 

Thor advances on Loki, his eyes hardening. The atmosphere is tense; unlike the typical bickering between the brothers, Loki identifies something distinctly different in the way the air vibrates. The space between the two gods crackles. “Watch yourself brother —” 

Brother. The word grates upon Loki’s nerves. How can Thor so carelessly throw the word around, even knowing of its false implications — implications and lies Loki foolishly believed.  

Sometimes Loki wonders if Thor does it on purpose.  

“Do you hear yourself Thor? Bending yourself over backwards to defend this wasted excuse of consciousness — you are the King of Asgard. What is she? She is nothing.” 

And now Loki is no longer staring at his brother, but the ceiling of his prison. His back is slammed against Stark’s hardwood floors and there is sharp ringing in his ears, likely the result of the crack in the floor right behind where his head is currently embedded.  

Loki almost laughs. 

Truly, it is comical — comical that even now, Thor’s first instinct is to physically threaten Loki. As if Loki doesn’t almost enjoy it. 

But Loki’s laugh catches in his throat, prevented from escaping by the large hand tightening around his airway.  

Thor’s hand is around Loki’s neck — a mirror of His. 

A thousand years Loki has known Thor. A thousand years of childish brawls, foolhardy battles, pointless arguments. How many times has Loki betrayed Thor? Thor betrayed Loki? And yet, Loki believed he knew his brother’s character.  

A thousand years Loki has known Thor, but never once has he thought Thor to be cruel.  

Oh how wrong he is.  

Thor’s hands are gripping Loki’s neck and for the life of him Loki can’t breathe. He tries to draw air into his lungs — lungs that are screaming with a familiar ache — and fails. Phantom pains flicker across his entire body and somehow, in the second before his vision goes black, Loki manages to croak out a strangled wheeze of a laugh.  

Loki is once again strapped upon a bed of coals, once again stabbed with blades of flame, once again torched with fire so hot he freezes. Loki remembers the only other time he begged — begged and pleaded for the sweet mercy of death, all while knowing death was a pleasure he was never to be granted.  

Loki is once again kneeling — boneless — at the feet of a Titan, looking up into a face promising endless pain, a face painted with the patience of a thousand moons and splattered with the ruined blood of a Frost Giant. 

Loki did not know that a Frost Giant’s blood could boil. 

Ah, but the Mad Titan knew, and he ensured Loki would never forget.  

Loki recalls the moment he let go — an eerie echo of his fall from grace, his fall from the Bifrost. And he remembers the horribly invasive power of the scepter, along with the blessed relief and utter disregard for self preservation that followed. 

And it is this — the relief — that plagues Loki. He does not fool himself; Loki may be the God of Lies, but he has no reason to lie to himself . It is not the destruction of New York nor the deaths at his hand that weigh upon his shattered mind. No, it is the fact that Loki found solace in his actions.  

Make no mistake — Loki does not rejoice in his crime, but nor could he say he regrets it. 

For if Loki were given the choice, he could not — would not — choose to spare Midgard at the cost of his own sanity. 

(But Loki was never given a choice.) 

Alas, Loki is already insane. 

The Mad Titan has taken so much from Loki.  

Physically, Loki has long since disregarded his own body. He remembers the beginning of his torture, when he still held the title of 'Prince of Asgard,' when he spoke with arrogance and oozed of indignantion. Oh how naive he had been. When the first whips had landed across his skin, Loki's thoughts could never have anticipated what the coming months would entail. Loki did not once stop to consider how he would escape the clutches of his captor — oh the confidence he held! — but instead lamented the scars he would surely have to bear. Dimly, Loki recalls worrying over his marred skin, irritated at the blemishes he would surely have to cover when taking future lovers.  

Loki scoffs.  

Loki does not recognize the man who spent time thinking of lovers. Or of his physical appearance. Or of his interests. Or of any other insignificant pleasure that ultimately contributes to the annihilation of a soul. 

(Even now, Loki carries with him an irrational fear of physical touch — a seed planted by the Mad Titan that Loki cannot gouge out, not even if he tore open his very being.) 

In fact, Loki wondered if his corporeal form had even existed anymore. But most of all, more than the ruination of his physical form, Loki mourns the damnation of his mind. 

Ultimately, the Mad Titan did triumph over Loki. For no matter how many times Loki escapes, fakes his death, runs away, he can never evade the visions that haunt his mind, the voices that infect his thoughts, the termites eating away at what remains of Loki’s sanity. 

(If Loki were given a choice, he would have chosen death again and again and again.) 

Alas, Loki was not — is not — given a choice, for suddenly he is not lying on a bed of coals, but on his apartment floor again. Thor has since removed his hand from Loki’s neck and Loki half wishes Thor just kept it there. Just kept on squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until Loki died on that bed of coals.  

Loki wonders, if he were to die at Thor’s hand, would his brother feel remorse? Or perhaps, more realistically, relief?  

Unfortunately, Loki is not dead, and Thor is gazing at him, concern evident in his gaze. As if Thor wasn’t the one who put Loki in this condition — wasn’t the one who greedily snatched all of Odin’s affection, wasn’t the one who pushed Loki out of favor, wasn’t the one who led his brainless minions in a brash suicide mission, as if Thor wasn’t the one who stared Loki in the eye as Loki let go into the abyss.  

As if Thor wasn’t the first domino in a long ripple effect that eventually drowned Loki in his sins.  

Thor was the smooth pebble that young children skipped over lakes, just barely skimming the surface of a tempting downfall — nevertheless gracefully leaping unscathed across the reflective waters. Yet Loki was the jagged, unskippable rock, destined to fall through the air and fall through the water with no hesitation. Loki has long since come to terms with this simple fact.  

No longer does Loki resent his brother, for he understands: light can only shine in the presence of darkness. And if Loki is condemned to darkness — so be it.  

Loki does not resent his brother, but oftentimes Loki despises his lightness . What some might say is endearing — the inability for Thor to give up — is just a burden. Even now, Thor still thinks he can change Loki, can fix him. Thor still thinks that by vouching for Loki and providing Loki a place to live and surrounding Loki with Thor’s friends that he can mend Loki’s broken soul and bring back the brother he once had. Thor is still in denial — he refuses to grasp the very simple concept that Thor’s brother — the Second Prince of Asgard, God of Lighthearted Mischief — is long dead. And so Thor continues to try. But light yelling into the darkness does not change it.  

And even now, with Thor looming above Loki, Loki does not resent his brother.  

But Loki resents Thor’s very being — the core of who Thor is. Thor is a duality; one of naivety and compassion, yet tainted — or perhaps embellished — with a smidge of cruelty and arrogance.  

And as Thor is speaking to Loki, mouth forming words Loki is too tired to hear, Loki simply lies on the floor, limbs relaxed around him, throat sore, and does the only thing he can do when feeling so utterly empty.  

Loki laughs.  

______________________________

Midgard is rather charming in some regards.  

Loki will eventually have to investigate the laundry process, for he has just now made the curious discovery that freshly dried clothes are warm . He suspects they were warmer right after they were dried, but he can still feel the presence of the heat, lingering within the very fabric of his garments. He wonders just how much they were heated up to — would it have burnt his frozen hands at the peak of its fiery glory? 

No, Loki’s hands are too well accustomed to fire now. 

But he doubts that her hands are. He envisions Angel pulling his clothes out of the dryer, her hands touching the same clothes that he has worn, that he will wear, that he is currently touching.  

Yet is it entirely possible Loki is standing around, imagining a scene that never played out, for it was not Angel who brought Loki’s laundry back to him, but his dearest brother. Looking at his pile of clothes again, Loki takes in the telltale signs of Thor. The messily folded shirts stare back at Loki, mocking him.  

He wonders if she ever even did any part of his laundry. Perhaps she only offered it as a way to ease the uncomfortable tension that had arisen earlier. Or rather, (and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought) she lugged his laundry basket downstairs and dumped it straight into Thor’s arms. 

Why else would she refuse his help to accompany her?  

A twinge of something rises up within Loki as he realizes she accepted Thor’s offer to bring his clothes back. Or, much more likely, she had pushed the task onto Thor in a desperate attempt to avoid encountering him again.  

Not that Loki could blame her. 

And yet the uncomfortable sensation within Loki only grows, and he realizes that he feels something akin to disappointment. Loki cannot allow himself to feel disappointment. He had long since learned not to expect anything from anyone — or perhaps, much more cynically, to only depend on — to trust — himself.  

Trust, Loki knows, is a fickle concept the naive embrace. Trust itself is ill fated, the certainty of an inevitable betrayal the same as the certainty that one day everyone living on this cursed realm will perish.  

Loki hates Angel. He hates how she pretends to care for him, hates how she imitates Thor, hates how she always finds a way to break him, and Loki hates how Angel makes him feel.  

Loki's silent anger boils inside of him — like the steady countdown of a ticking bomb — manifesting itself out of him as the laundry basket is violently launched across the room. 

He hates how he feels absolutely no satisfaction at the way the freshly clean clothes scatter across the floor, hates how he lost control, and hates how the damned mortal forces him to feel emotions he does not want to feel . 

Sometimes all Loki can do is hate. 

______________________________

The heat from the clothes have long since seeped into the floor. 

The sun is just now setting, dousing Loki’s room in a fiery glow. Warm light spills across Loki’s bookshelves, his impeccably made bed, the clothes strewn around his floor. Loki sits on the ground, bare of his illusions, allowing himself to just be .  

Staring across the room, he notices tendrils of light carefully curling around the air, miniscule particles of dust dancing in the golden glow. This is a gold Loki enjoys. Unlike the brash, loud character of Thor’s gold — of Asgard’s gold, this is a much softer, gentle color. The comforting hue reminds Loki of his mother, and against his will, he feels a wall of despair beginning to build within his chest.  

For a second, Loki loses himself as the wall crashes over him. He drops his head, allowing his hair to dangle in front of his face, obscuring his view of the floating particles. He feels like a child — wants nothing more in this moment than to run to Frigga, for her floral scent to fill his senses as she envelopes him in her arms. What Loki wouldn’t give to have Frigga’s delicate fingers comb through his hair just once more, for her soft lips against his forehead, murmuring words of comfort.  

But he can’t have that. Instead, here he is, sitting on the floor of a glorified prison in the midst of a community of people who hate him, with nothing but Thor to act as his buffer. 

Looking up, Loki gazes at the honeyed light as it glides over a particular heap of clothing. He watches, mesmerized, as the light gently moves, unhurriedly bathing each corner of the fabric in its rich glow.  

If he were still on Asgard, Loki would most likely have been reading, thoroughly immersed in some story or another. The sun would have showered his pages in its quiet glow, lighting the words aflame. He would have taken a stroll in his mother’s gardens, breathing in the sweet scent of her flowers as he sat in his favorite hidden alcove. He would have taken out his book and continued to read, read until the golden hue of the sun was replaced by the tender shine of the moon. Only then would Loki return, serenely walking back to his chambers, stopping only to retrieve a cup of tea, and resume his reading on his balcony.  

Loki wants that. 

Loki wants an afternoon to himself, with no worries plaguing his mind. 

Loki wants to be able to read, and to do so in an environment which permits him to let his guard down. 

Loki wants to sit outside, surrounded by flowers, and watch as the sun transitions into the moon. 

Loki wants to indulge in a hot cup of tea as he watches the moonlight spills across the pages of his book. 

Loki wants so many things — and he can’t have any of them. 

Standing up, Loki decides he has spent enough time reminiscing over what he cannot have today. He feels sticky and hot and cold and hungry and all he wants right now , is a long shower.  

And so Loki walks over to the same pile of clothes, now dull and abandoned by the sun, gazing disapprovingly downwards. Thor is truly an imbecile, for he has not even managed to separate their clothes correctly. Loki is currently staring at a dark green sweatshirt, one he knows for a fact he has never seen before. Tiredly, he tosses it upon his bed and scoops up a clean change of clothes, then turns around and trodds slowly into the bathroom.  

______________________________

Water droplets rain all around Loki, swiftly sliding down his body. 

He doesn’t particularly enjoy showering — it reminds him too much of another substance: denser, stickier, and much more red, trickling down his skin. Loki much prefers baths. Baths, however, render their subject very much vulnerable, and Loki does not fancy risking any more vulnerability than strictly necessary.  

So Loki is standing in the shower, unabashedly soaking up the shallow warmth the water provides. Surely if Thor could see him, his brother would lecture Loki on wasting Midgard’s precious resources. But, Loki reasons, if Stark truly possesses the excess of wealth he boasts of, Loki’s water usage will not be of much concern to the man. And so this is a luxury Loki will grant himself.  

The shower is one place where Loki feels the safest, where he allows his thoughts to wander and drift into otherwise forbidden territories. Today especially has been challenging, and even his muscles seem to ache, the fibers pulling away from each other, trying to rip Loki apart from the inside out. His mind is exhausted, filled with swirling thoughts of Frigga and Angel and Thor, with the occasional Odin and Titan intruding whenever a particular body part cries out.  

And as Loki gazes down at his body, the disfigured canvas of scars stare back at him and he attempts to soothe away the countless aches. No matter how much time has passed and how much magic Loki pours into himself, the pains never seem to retreat. Rationally, Loki knows it doesn’t make sense. He knows his magic is fully capable of healing himself, knows that by all accounts he is healed.  

But Loki also knows he does not imagine the sharp pains coursing through his veins.  

He is fighting himself — the part of himself that does not want the pain to stop. Because all Loki knows is pain, and he fears the absence of pain almost as much as he dreads its glorious presence.  

Loki raises his head, allowing for the stream of water to bruise his face. And if Loki’s closed eyes leak the occasional tear, no one would know.  

______________________________

Loki’s self destructive spiraling is abruptly cut short by three succinct knocks from his bedroom door. Still soaking in the shower, Loki debates whether or not to answer; after all, he truly has no desire to see his brother again today. Or preferably, ever again. Unfortunately, Loki is all too aware that if he does not answer the door to let Thor in, Thor will simply let himself in. And if there’s anything worse than seeing Thor, it will be seeing a displeased Thor while Loki stands nude and wet.  

Reluctantly, Loki turns off his shower, changes into his freshly washed ‘sweatpants’, and leisurely walks towards the door. He is honestly surprised Thor hasn’t invited himself in yet. He is more surprised when he finally opens the door and is promptly met with — not Thor’s brutish face, but the goddamned mortal.  

She stands there, in front of his door, barely out of arm's reach. Loki can’t help but drink her in. He notices her hair, laying loosely around her face, framing her profile. She’s sporting a sweater, much too warm for the present weather. Its collar is stretched out over years of use, teasing his eyes with a fraction of her collarbones peaking through. Her legs are barely covered by absurdly short shorts, and Loki feels the back of his ears heating up. Hurriedly, he averts his eyes, falling down to her feet, once again hugged by soft looking socks — mismatched.  

His scrutinization is interrupted by her voice; so soft.  

“Hey! Sorry if I interrupted you. I heard you were in the shower but I was going around taking everyone’s dinner orders. We’re getting Chinese.” She tilts her head to the side, lifting her chin ever-so-slightly, distractedly exposing the tantalizing skin of her neck. She swallows, and Loki’s eyes discreetly follow the bob of her throat. “I was just wondering if you wanted anything?” 

It takes a moment for Loki to register her question and another for him to process it. She is going to order dinner? For him? And she is asking him for his preference? Loki has not had the privilege of preferring anything in a long, long time. Damn this mortal. 

“I am not familiar with this particular cuisine, nor Midgard’s in particular.” 

She meets his eyes then, and only after does it occur to him that her eyes had been previously glued to his abdomen. His abdomen, he realizes which has been bare this entire interaction. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

He forces himself to roll his eyes, running a hand through his still dripping hair to hide the scarlet his ears have surely become. “I am saying that I do not have a preference, woman.” 

She lifts her shoulders briefly in a gesture Loki has come to associate with Midgard’s daftness and promptly moves closer to him. Instinctively, Loki takes a step back, then curses himself for doing so. He truly must be losing it, backing away from a defenseless mortal. But she doesn’t push further, instead tilting her head at that angle again, asking him another question.  

“Can I come in?” 

Loki hesitates. He doesn’t understand her motives, doesn’t know if this is a trick the Avengers have set up or perhaps a test designed by his brother. All he knows is that Angel is staring at him with her eyes wide and innocent and completely devoid of deceit.  

Angel must carry magic or Loki must be possessed by the Mind Stone again, for against his will, Loki steps to the side, allowing her to brush past him. The sleeve of her sweater comes into contact with Loki’s stomach, and he jerks away.  

Awkwardly, Loki closes his door and turns to face the mortal, noting how hilariously out of place she looks, standing in the midst of Loki’s domain. With a wave of his hand, the previously scattered articles of clothing fly onto his bed, meticulously folding themselves. Angel’s surprised, quiet gasp does not escape his notice. She walks towards his bed, small hand landing on Thor’s sweatshirt.  

“Take that when you leave.” Loki internally bristles at his own tone, noticing how Angel’s shoulders locked up when he spoke and did not relax when he stopped. “Please,” he adds. 

To his surprise (again), Angel approaches him, sweater in hand. “Why?” 

At this, Loki is caught off guard. Without warning, he is overwhelmed by distaste. His patience has been tested over and over again, and he does not have even a drop more to deal with this mortal’s incompetence. His hatred for her rushes back, multiplied a thousandfold. Who does she think she is and why will she not leave Loki alone? Why must she cut short his relaxation, intrude upon his personal space, inquire after him when he knows — he knows — she does so unwillingly? Why is she holding up Thor’s goddamned sweater, pretending not to know why Loki hates it so? As if she doesn’t know it belongs to Thor. 

In fact, Loki is positive she is intimately aware of whom it belongs to, undoubtedly so. He hates Angel, hates her for reluctantly offering her help, hates her for her smoothies, hates her for asking him about his preferences. Briefly, he envisions snapping her neck. Effortlessly. But the image makes him recoil, bringing about not satisfaction, but horror.  

His fists clench, his broken fingernails once again digging into bruised skin. It costs Loki an immeasurable amount of self control not to simply throw her out, hurl her from his quarters. Instead, he snaps at her. 

“Girl, do not test my patience. I am warning you, it has been a very long day and if you do not exit extremely promptly, it will not end well for one of us.” 

Loki hates the way her shoulders tense up again, hates the way she physically flinches away at his dismissal.  

Loki hates how though he can sense her increasing heartbeat, her nervousness, Angel still looks him in the eye and informs him, in a terrified voice coated with forced calm, “I’m sorry to hear that Loki. I added this sweater into your laundry after it was done, but I should have known it would not have been welcome.” 

Loki hates how she then drops her eyes, staring intently at her mismatched socks.  

“I’ll just leave your dinner outside.” 

Loki hates how she leaves, her hands gripping Thor’s — his — sweatshirt tightly, footsteps moving at a much brisker pace.  

Loki hates how Angel closed off, how he closed her off.  

Loki hates how Angel clearly did do his laundry. 

Loki hates how Angel thought of him, giving him an extra sweatshirt, offering him a choice for dinner. 

Loki hates Angel more than he hates Thor, more than he hates Odin. 

Loki hates Angel more than he hates the Mad Titan.  

The only person Loki hates more than Angel is himself. 

Fuck. 

______________________________��

We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.  

- Charles Bukowski 

______________________________

Previous Chapter

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Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 37

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!gifted!reader Content: A bit of angst and resentment. Probably spelling/grammar/etc errors. A/N: I love my job – thank goodness, I quit my old one and got this instead <3 Ask or re-blog for tag.

37. Tainted Love

...   Loki   ...

Questions, blame, even hatred has been festering deep inside Loki since he first learned of his heritage. It has brought him to an understanding of why Odin, the man he had presumed was truly his father, had favoured the older son. The only son. But the pain caused by the negligence of a simultaneously doting mother has cut...maybe not deeper, but inflicted a wound that has festered slowly.

“Why?” Loki interrupts the queen in the middle of bringing him up to speed on her actions to ensure [Y/N]’s safety. “Why did you never -...you knew.” There’s sadness in her eyes and yet he finds he can’t stop. “Did you never question his decisions or did you truly approve of the meaningless game he was playing? For what purpose, mother?” The last word is a mockery at the relationship he misses so dearly.

“There’s always a purpose to everything your father does.” She repeats the past but this time follows up with a sigh, “but even the best intentions can crumble to the weight of reality. Time passed and he didn’t see the same as I when looking at you.”

“A monste-”

Perhaps due to his natural coldness, Frigga’s glare seems filled with fire. “No, not a monster. To me, you were kin in heart and soul. Contemplative. But Odin was influenced by your appearance and in his eyes your colours of black and green were tied to a memory of cunning, blood thirst, and insatiable power.”

He can feel it, like an undercurrent in the sea something seems to pull Loki’s attention to what isn’t said. “What are you hiding?”

“More than is relevant at present,” the queen attempts to skirt his query, “it was never a lie, when we raised you as a prince. You truly were meant to sit upon a throne and, the All-Father hoped, become the one to bring peace to Jotunheim and bridge the divide between our realms.”

Loki can see it now, how the rightful heir of Laufey could be the one to turn the minds of the jötun from the desire to wage war. Kept alive in the Asgardian court, he had been both a hostage and an investment to guarantee a truce (or at least a cease-fire) until a deeper cooperation could be established through diplomacy. Silvertongue. It would have taken more than rhetoric to repair the damage wrought over centuries. Instead, Loki had been the one to deal the final blow to a realm already brought to the brink of extermination.

“I always tried to please him.”

Frigga nods sadly. “The doubt and fear growing within your father was not of your doing.”

“Still...I managed to prove it right to him,” the former prince groans. There is more to this, but for now he has to settle for less than he wants. “Either way...the past cannot be undone.”

... Reader   ...

Between spending your time worrying about your situation, you try to create magic on purpose.

That is to say, other than healing, every snippet of song that has helped you before have simply plopped into your head at the moment you needed it and slipped out between your lips without alerting you of the effects it would have. The fog you conjured when you first escaped your prison onboard the spaceship? Pure luck.

Maybe...maybe you’re getting close to something as a staccato melody with schwung fills the room together with the dancing light of a flickering candle – the flame growing and jumping along with the song, it seems. The words don’t all make sense yet but the ones that do are deliberate choices you’ve made along the theme of fire and light, dancing and moving.

On the other hand, when you’re interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock, the illumination still moves erratically.

As unlikely as it would be, you hope for Loki to be the one passing through the door to your confines and you can’t disguise the disappointment when it’s his brother instead. Adoptive brother. How could you ever have thought they were related?

The man entering and sitting down on the only available chair is blond like his parents; his features rough, and build muscular, but most of all powered by something bright and warm that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Summer, you muse at the heat of his persona. You can only imagine the kind of summer storm he’d resemble in battle: towering, boisterous, scorching.

Loki, on the other hand...

“The All-Father is in an uproar,” Thor begins without any pleasantries first, “the idea of you and Loki working together...a lesser man would have had you executed on the spot.”

In other words: Odin has considered it. “I suppose, I should be grateful that he wants evidence before passing judgment.”

You don’t dare to consider the consequences if you’re found out. Since Loki entered your life, the threat of death has lingered like a shadow – at times closer than your own – haunting your steps as one danger was replaced by another greater one.

The God of Thunder shakes his head with a sigh. “Your sarcasm will not save you, little mortal.” He ponders your face momentarily. “However, the repeated references to Thanos does help your case -” he stops your question before a sound escapes your lips -”yes...even your would-be accuser speaks of the Titan.”

Arox has never been talkative, so what you know of him and his background is limited. “He...his home...”

“Aye, Thanos attacked and laid waste to the planet. The desire to get revenge is what drove Arox to side with my brother...or so he claims.”

“Why should he lie?”

Darkness rests on Thor’s face as he looks away briefly. “Silvertongue...God of Chaos, of Mischief...of Lies...”

“He was raised under false pretenses and yet you people call him a liar?!” Too late, your hands slap over your mouth as if to force back the words and anger. I should not have said that.

But the blond man just nods, his gaze falling to his hands as the fingers twist awkwardly. “That did come as a...as a shock.”

Of course, Loki would not have been the only one living with the wrong understanding, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for Thor who clearly suffers under the absence of his brother, probably longing for things to return to how they were before everything went wrong.

“What did you want, anyways?”

Your question seems to startle him back to reality. “How did you come to be here? On Asgard, I mean.”

Uuuuuhm...shit. It hardly seems like a good idea to explain how Loki threw his spaceship low across a desert of blackish sand and stone one second and then suddenly appearing inside a cave with a view of the golden city by the rainbow bridge.

“I don’t...it doesn’t make sense,” you try to buy time, fidgeting with the sleeve as if attempting to understand, “one moment it was one place and then it’s like the air squeezed me and then poof it was somewhere else completely!” Technically, you’re not lying.

Maybe the crown prince is aware that you are trying to answer; it’s hard to tell, but he doesn’t push the subject further, merely nods before telling you that he will continue what he can to uncover the truth about Thanos. Then he leaves.

[dog-day-morning]

YOU OWE THEM NOTHING

People can be self-righteous when it comes to what they think God is supposed to do if, and when they call on Him. God is not a genie in a bottle that you rub, and a jinn pops out granting you 3 or 300 wishes. The saying faith without works is dead can be applied here. Have you ever heard of or read the book Daniel Webster and the devil? This tall tale or folklore legend was about a man who made a deal with old Slew Foot, and when it was time to pay up he had 2nd thoughts. Satan never plays fair. He's forever putting us in positions where we find ourselves desperate for a quick solution to a temporary problem that only leads to a difficult end. The Latin term for buyer beware is caveat emptor, and Satan knows how to spell. The power of a wicken comes from their basic weapon of spelling or casting spells by word of mouth. Even the Bible tells us that “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” Tell that to a Nicolaitan. Those who make deals with the most unclean should expect to suffer in the end. Never trust the father of lies who deals in treachery, and deceit. I look back at my mother's life and wonder if God had ever intervened for her, and fought her battles that surely He and only He would be able to deliver her from, and He has. Life is hard, for many it’s a nightmare that’s ongoing. Satan comes to you when you're at your weakest or most vulnerable in the hopes of snaring your soul into eternal suffering. Jesus comes to deliver us from death, sin, and temptations that confuse us in our trek towards His truth. If you have any aspirations of entertaining people with your gifted voice or your talent for playing lead guitar, don’t sign a contract that promises you the world only to find out you owe them your sweet ass which a man of honor wouldn't consider let alone make you cosign your body for their horn dog appeasement.

Revelation 2:9

9 I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.

You're abundantly rich in spirit Yacob. Now’s the time to claim your position. These bastards have taken everything from you leaving your ancestors nothing but dust. If they could remove us off the face of the Earth they would. They're plotting to do so as you and I breathe, that's why the Father never sleeps. They are demon spawns who say they worship, and believe in God, but whose god, and what righteous god tells you to destroy a people with his blessing knowing what the children of Japheth have done to them historically? The spawns of Satan want your penuche, mouth, titties, and a-hole for their pleasure along with your talent that Justin Timberlake does not have. The new faces of R&B do not look like the people I grew up listening to or the race of people whose songs left an everlasting impression on my bleeding heart that helped me through my ill-fated, miserable existence. Robin Thicke, Christina Aguilera, K-Pop, the BackStreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block. Some of these groups are defunct, but they’re cranking out as many as they possibly can like Justin Bieber, and Demi Lovato. I just saw on YouTube where people were considering if Elvis Presley was Black, WTF?!! He was the biggest culture thief that Dr. Frankenstein, AKA Colonel Parker ever created. Man is cruel; Satan is a whole other type of bastard you shouldn’t entertain. I'm retarded. Some call me an idiot savant. YO MOMMA!!! People are blessed by the Father who has blessed many of us with gifts. There are many of you whom God has endowed with multiple talents that people would sell their soul in order to possess just one. If you're anointed by God to sing like Aretha Franklin may He lead you to sign with a label like Brother Carl Crawford's who won't make the same mistake he did with a very popular artist at this moment. More than likely you'll sign a contract entrusting your talent, blessing, and soul to the most unclean ones. Ain’t a reason in hell you should bow down or bend over for a leach like Mr. Friedman so he can butt bone your a-hole while enriching himself off your God given talents. God blesses those who seek him out, and those that don’t. I don’t know if Eddie Murphy went to Church, and sowed an offering every Sunday to God praying that the Father would make him the highest paid comedic actor in his prime. Richard Pryor was anointed in the womb to be the most blessed comedic talent, and influential comedian to ever walk this Earth bar none yet he and Mr. Murphy pursued their dreams in different ways with both of them becoming world renown. I'm inclined to ask, was it worth it?

Mark 8:36

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

The synagogue of Satan isn’t a trending pop culture manifestation that’s to be esteemed, cherished, or envied. These cults are trying to maintain a stranglehold on a world that’s not meant for them or their sort. People who play with Ouija boards or childhood games like Bloody Mary, and light as a feather are ushering dark spirits into their homes leaving their loved ones exposed to something sinister. Get the hell away from me and mine unless you're my sister, AKA Ms. Skunk Funk, who needs to get the crust burnt off her musty, dusty drawers. The whore of Don Juan has a death wish. Explain to me how running with the devil beats walking with God?

Isaiah 59:7

7 Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed innocent blood: their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; wasting and destruction are in their paths.

This Nation was built on our ancestor’s blood, sweat, and relentless faith. Believe me when I say there's strength in every tear. I pray to God that I don’t shed anymore of them. Their wealth is not. It's a stolen Promise that the Father shall reward His children with. Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. The most glaring, and frustrating example that is also bitter and disheartening I can give you is our Promised Inheritance called Yisrael that the gentiles are squatting on. When a person or in this case a tribe or race of people believe in their own lies they've become reprobate; they're lost.

Revelation 3:9

9 Behold, I will make them of the synagogue of Satan, which say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, I will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that I have loved thee.

This is what all of Esau's children fear. It's why the bland, colored people of the world are flipping over the Earth's axis, and killing us without any probable cause. They are a lawless people who've displayed their lack of empathy, and humanity for anyone save their own breed, they behave like blood hounds. I've become content with this planet being void of water (Holy Spirit.) Black people suffer from a social disorder called the crab bucket mentality. We hate to see anyone rise up, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep them down or discourage them. That person may possess something that can benefit the collective, who cares. He who possesses that blessing needs to haul tail ASAP before the winter comes knowing the Father will bless him, and a downtrodden people beyond their wildest dreams. This is why Yeshua, and His Father call us children. It's why I pray, and bemoan to the Father daily that He slays me, putting the fear of the Lord in the heathen and His Son Christ Jesus uses us for His purpose. God doesn't need us, we need Him. He's given us so much power, and authority. When you acquire it, use it for something other than satisfying your sinful, carnal, flesh minded desires. Men, don't behave like horn dogs, and women do not behave as Aholah, and Aholibah, 2 whores.

Numbers 32:24

24 Build you cities for your little ones, and folds for your sheep; and do that which hath proceeded out of your mouth.

Out of thine own mouth you have power to tread over snakes and scorpions. You can exorcise demons and devils out of your present life braking generational curses which is what I' want for a family that's disowned me. To God be the glory. God is telling us to declare a thing, and claim it. What a mighty, just God we serve. Your tongue will become a weapon to use against the lawless ones who use theirs recklessly in their attempts to get us arrested or murdered by local, and federal authorities. You can call it giving them a taste of their own medicine, it isn't. You're reclaiming what they've taken, stolen, including those of us they've murdered.

Isaiah 54:17

17 No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.

The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. Speak positive prayers out loud if you can. If you live with your family or have a roommate pray in the closet. You'll have favor with God that many people won't. They rebuked the Lord, and their anger did tear perpetually, and they kept their wrath forever. When they use their privilege, which is what we call it more often than they, comprehending they’re fully aware knowing they use it with a Demonic, driven hatred. They persecute Black men, women, and children for reasons that are not godly, and the Father does not condone. They, and all the Earth will have to answer for our individual sins against the Father in the end.

Luke 10:19

19 Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.

We don’t worship the same god as they do. They're praying to a god to erase us off the face of the Earth. Why hasn't he?.

Exodus 1:12

12 But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew. And they were grieved because of the children of Israel.

Their birth rate is dropping steadily. For the first time in the history of the census they decreased in population globally while indigenous, and other races of people stayed steady or in our case increased. This is the reasoning behind these draconian abortion laws. They're trying to preserve themselves while God is eliminating the Earth of their bloody dominion. God is sending the wicked a message before the storm comes, but no one's listening. Their violence towards us is documented, and more often it's unprovoked. They continue with the guilty until proven worthy of their mercy dogmatic mantra which is racist BS. The Earth will be lulled back to sleep. When they're confident that their world isn't in danger of being challenged by anyone, especially us. That's when God will do things that will scare them right back to the caucasus mountains bringing destruction to those who've touched, bruised, and abused the Apple of His eye. Speak life into your angel spirit, don’t entertain the demon seed that's trying to kill you, and the rest of Earth's indigenous people. You have much authority, use it. Elohim. 9/23/2021

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: A legacy

           I really tried to make this angst but the story had a mind of it’s own by the end. It’s about 6,000 words so... Buckle in.

 Broken; that was what Marinette was. Broken was what the gods had deemed her. She was born wrong. She shouldn’t exist. She shouldn’t be alive. She shouldn’t be anything. But she did exist and she was very much alive… technically.

           How much could anyone like her ever really be considered alive? She had been born to death. Somehow death had created a life.

 It had done it once before with another girl; but that girl had been born right. From the moment she had come crying into the world, it was clear the girl had favored her grandmother’s heritage, and, in time, her mother’s as well. The girl was named Hope.

           Marinette favored her father’s; skin a little too pale, heart beat a little too slow, beauty a little too otherworldly. However, when it was clear that her small body craved blood to survive, only then did they fear the worst.

           By they, she meant her birthmother. A werewolf who had want power and powerful bloodline; a Hope of her own. Suffice to say, she didn’t get what she wanted. Instead of Mother Nature and moon in one being; they got blood and darkness, the moon would come later.

           They feared she’d become her father. A monster in human flesh. A boogieman that all other boogiemen feared. They couldn’t let that happen. They refused to let that happen. So they sent Marinette away. Sent her away before her father could find out; before his family could find out. She was given to a couple with magical knowledge; a man with a wolf’s heritage and a woman who had grown up with vampires; Tom and Sabine.

           Her birthmother died not long after.

           Marinette’s father had been locked away at the time of her birth. She never met him. Most days, she just wondered if he knew she existed. Last she heard him and his brother Elijah had nearly died defeating some great evil. They were alive and well, still ruling New Orleans. Only reason she knew about him was that she had saved a witch’s life, and in return, and a bit of blood, Marinette knew who her birth parents were; the lines she came from. The sister she had.

           Unfortunately the price was stiff. Marinette ten at the time when she came across a vicious looking man attacking a seemingly helpless woman. The man had been a werewolf. To save a life, Marinette accidently ended his in the process; awakening the curse of her mother’s bloodline.

           No longer just a child of death and blood but now of the moon as well.

           For a long time, Marinette had done everything she could to be normal despite her adopted parents assuring her that Normal was overrated. Never seeking out her own kind(s) out of fear. Fear of rejection as she was neither and yet both; alive and dead; werewolf and vampire. Fear that her father’s countless enemies would find her.

But while she could walk in the sunlight, she could also kill a man in the blink of an eye. While she did her absolute best not to hurt anyone, animals still avoided her. They sensed the predator inside her, lurking just beneath the surface. While Marinette loved designing and all things fashion and normal teen girl things, she still drank blood, howled at the moon, and had murdered someone.

           Meeting Tikki when she was twelve had been a blessing and a curse. Tikki help Marinette realize that she could be something; that she didn’t have to be a force of destruction, that she could create, protect. The curse; Tikki told her that her she’d stop aging soon; death would take hold of her. She gave Marinette a four or five year timeframe. At max five years before her ability age would slow decreasing until it stopped altogether. And who knows when exactly that would be.

           Maybe feared that she’d wake up at 30 and realized she still looked like nineteen-year-old.

           And what would that mean for her biologically? Could she still have kids? A life? Would she have to spend the rest of eternity alone?

           Now almost fourteen Marinette, outcasted by her friends over a liar, made guardian now that Fu had sadly passed away, she spent most of her nights with the Kwami. She had just been about to put the box away when… it happened.

           Suddenly, wind started to swirl around her room. She felt a slight tugging at her arms; then it was like her entire body was being sucked throw a tube. Finally a tornado like cloud appeared on ceiling and the next thing Marinette knew was she was being pulled into it.

           Marinette screamed and clutched the kwami box tightly to her chest. Wind and lightning swirled around her. She closed her eyes, and wondered just what type of kwami Hawkmoth had unleased on Paris now.

           Then with a hard thud, she landed on a hard surface. She peaked and saw sunlight peeking through a window; and a forest of trees behind it.

Well, she thought, this is definitely not my room.

“Are you alright?”

           Marinette looked up and saw a group of people; mostly teenagers and one adult looking down at her. The girl who had spoken had big brown eyes and dark, almost black, hair.

“I’m fine,” Marinette said hesitantly. “What’s going on? I was just in my room and now I’m here.”

“Great!” A blond girl snapped. “The ritual was supposed to summon one of your psycho family members. How’d you manage to blow that, Hope?”

“I didn’t!” A girl with long Auburn hair and light blue eyes. “I can’t have. It’s a simple ritual. It was supposed to summon my closest relative.”

           Marinette blinked. Because Crap. “Did you say Hope?” She asked. “As in Hope Mikaelson?” Her sister. Her actual sister. She had always wanted to meet her.

“My name is Alaric,” The adult, a man, said as he stepped forward a curious look on his face. “How do you know Hope?”

           Marinette decided to give them man her best scary vampire face, “I don’t. Not really,” She hissed, fangs bared. The she went wolf mode; not a full transformation. Her clothes ripped a little though. “I was born a vampire.” She answered. “And went werewolf later.”

“You’re hybrid,” Hope gasped. “A natural hybrid.”

“Yes,” Marinette nodded. “Now by closest relative; she did you mean proximity or by blood. Because…” She looked around. “Seeing as I am no longer in Paris. I’m guessing by blood.”

           There was stunned faces as understanding slowly crept in.

“The ritual worked,” The brunette who spoke first said. “Surprisingly well.”

           Marinette smiled, “I’m Marinette,” She introduced herself. “Your sister.”

“Another one!” The blond yelled. She tossed her hands up in the air. “Great. Just great!”  And with that she stomped off.

           Alaric pinched his nose, “Klaus is not going to be happy about this.”

“Oh he’s gonna lose his shit,” Said Kaleb; he’d met the original once and decided that was enough.

“No one is going to happy about this,” Hope yelled. She knew that none of her family knew about Marinette. They couldn’t have. Her father barely let her come to school. He wouldn’t have let her live in another freaking country. “How? Just how?”

Marinette took a quick step back; a dismayed feeling overtook her.

“Hey,” The brunette said softly, giving the younger girl a kind smile, “That’s not what they mean. They’re just a little shocked right now. I’m Josie; a witch. How about I show you around campus while everyone calms down a bit.” She held out her hand to Marinette.

           Marinette clutched the kwami box but nodded and let Josie lead her out of the room.

“We need a plan,” Mg suggested.

“Plan?” Kaleb scoffed. “Bro, we need the Avengers. And Batman. Hell the U.S army and the xmen too. Klaus is going to tear this bitch apart.”

           Alaric took a deep breath, “No, he won’t.” He looked to Hope. “Call Rebecca, Freyja, here. Don’t tell them why. They’re the sane ones. They won’t overreact. Then we deal with Elijah, once he’s handled. We go for the big fish.”

“Shark,” Kaleb corrected. “Great white sharks! Except more bloodthirsty.”

           Hope nodded, “I’ll call them now, and then,” She winced. “Talk to my sister. Kidnapping and freaking out on her probably wasn’t the best first impression.”

“Nah,” Mj shook his head. “You tanked that.”

                       Convincing her aunts to visit her, under the guise of girl talk and girls day was easier than she expected. Talking to her little sister, while not harder, was considerably more awkward. She found the girl drinking a smoothie with Josie, giggling about something.

“Hey,” Hope smiled. “Found you!”

“Kidnapped me!” Marinette corrected.

           Hope winced, “Yeah. I should apologize, right?” Marinette gave her a look. “I’m really sorry. But hey, I got to find out I have a little sister. That’s awesome.”

“I’m going to leave you two alone,” Jose said and gave them a thumbs up.

           After that Hope and Marinette told each other about their lives. Marinette lived in Paris all her life and loved fashion; about the bakery and her parents. She didn’t find out about her birth family until she was ten. Hope told her what their family was like and what it been like growing up in New Orleans; and the best Beignets in the world.

“You’ll dad,” Hope grinned. “He’s artists like you, like me. Uncle Kol’s a bit wild. Uncle Elijah a bit too gentlemanly. Aunt Rebecca and Aunt Freyja are amazing. They’ll be here tomorrow. They will love you. They all will,” she assured.

           Marinette called her parents not long after and assured them she was fine. It was a little magical accident. She was with her sister. And asked if she could please, please stay for a bit of the summer break. Reluctantly, after a long conversation with Headmaster Alaric, they agreed, on the condition that Marinette calls them once a day. They send her stuff as soon as they could.

           The next morning, Hope greeted her Aunts with the biggest, most charming smile that she could. The each pulled her into a hug.

           When Rebecca pulled away, she smirked. “Now what did you do?” Before Hope could protest, her aunt added, “That’s the smile Klaus’ uses whenever he did something wrong.”

“Me?” Hope denied. “No, I didn’t do anything. I merely found out something. Something I should be rewarded for; I should get a raise in my allowance.”

           Freyja crossed her arms, “uh huh, so it’s something good?”

“It’s great,” Hope smiled. “But I’m going to need you to stop Dad from murdering everyone here and… in Paris.”

“Paris?” The blonds chimed together.

“Paris.”

           Explaining that she accidently summoned her sister, a child no one ever knew about, had been complicated. Rebecca didn’t believe it at first. Neither did Freyja Until Freyja had Hope repeat the ritual and a little darkhaired girl fell from the ceiling.

“Hope, we talked about this,” Marinette complained. She wore some borrowed clothes; a red top and light blue skinny jeans. “You just can’t summon people. I could’ve been in the shower.”

“Sorry,” Hope quickly helped her sister up. “Aunt Freyja made me.”

“Wow,” Said blond tutted. “Sold me out pretty quick there, kiddo.”

           Marinette eyed the two beautiful blond women. Her aunts. “Hi,” She squeaked, her face red, and leaned closer to Hope.

“You’re adorable!” Rebecca squealed. Then she turned to Freyja, “Klaus is going to lose it.”

           After some insight into Marinette’s life, a shopping trip, some fro-yo, Rebecca sighed when they returned back to the school. “We have to call Elijah.”

           Elijah had been curious about why his sisters summoned him to Hope’s school with the clear request of: Do not tell Klaus. He knew it must be serious, and something Klaus would not like.

           His sisters and niece greeted him in entry way of the school, and promptly led him back outside to the courtyard.

“What is the meaning of this,” He asked. “What purpose did I need to rush here a moment’s notice?”    

           His sisters looked at Hope who glared back. It was Freyja who broke first, “Klaus has another child; a girl. Her name’s Marinette, and she’s thirteen-years-old. And before you say; she is most definitely Klaus’ daughter. We checked. Six times. Two times a blood inheritance spell.”

“Yeah,” Hope drawled. “We have got to stop randomly summoning Marinette. She’s getting testy.”

           He looked at the three women. Rage soared through him. “Excuse me,” Elijah said before promptly walking into the forest and ripping apart a tree. Multiple trees, in fact. When he returned, he straighten out his tie, and gave them a nod, “Where is she? Where’s Marinette? And while we locate her, you will explain to me how this occurred.”

           They found Marinette, sitting on a window seal, sketching; lost in her newest design, as a means to stop her worrying.

“She’s look like him,” Elijah murmured. “The eyes, the nose, the concentration when creating new artwork.” This was his brother’s daughter, of that there was no doubt.

           Marinette suddenly looked up at them, her blues eyes examining her newfound family. She chuckled, “At least you didn’t summon me this time.”

“I am your Uncle Elijah,” He prompted introduced himself with a small bow.

           Marinette stood up and gave a small curtesy, “Marinette.” She said quietly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

           Elijah fought urge to coo. His sisters did not. Hope laughed, went to Marinette, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into a hug causing Mariette to laugh as well.

The resemblance was there for all to see. The blue eyes, the devilish smiles, the same noses, cheekbones; clearly sisters. Clearly Klaus’ daughters; his little girls.

Marinette turned out to be wonderful; a shy thing with impeccable manners and a softness to her that no one else in the family had.

“I can prevent half from being killed,” Elijah told his sisters when they brought up Klaus. “But this place will still be a blood bath.”

           Marinette looked confused, “But why. I just got here. Harming anyone wouldn’t be rational.”

“Rational,” Rebecca laughed. “Yes because that’s the first thing that comes to mind when people talk about Niklaus; that he’s rational.”

“Rebecca!” Elijah hissed. He shook his head, “We need Kol.”

“Oh fuck no!” Kol yelled upon meeting Marinette, thus confirming his siblings were pulling some sort of prank. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be. You shouldn’t be here!” He yelled at his older siblings. “Klaus should’ve been the first one told.” He looked at Marinette. “I’m sure your great, love. I’ll love you in no time. However, right we have to prevent Klaus from committing mass murder… again.”

The plan was supposed to be really simple. They’d all go to New Orleans, where less of Alaric’s students could be harmed. Davina and Marcellus would distract Klaus long enough to lead him into a trap; a room where chains would wrap around the hybrid’s arms securing in place; only then would they tell him the truth.

           When the Originals, Hope and Marinette arrived to the house they found Marcellus and Davina waiting.

“What the hell is about,” Marcellus asked. “Klaus is going to rip my head off, you know that right.”

“This had better be good,” Davina nodded. “He’s already threatening to wipe out my entire blood line.”

“Trying to prevent the massacre of Paris,” Freyja nodded, “You two girls,” She looked at her nieces. “Stay here. Davina wait with them please.” She looked at the vampires. “Elijah take lead. Let’s do this.”

           Marinette watched in wonder as her aunts and uncles went inside. They didn’t smell afraid. They smelled concerned; like her mom did when she thought she left the iron on when she left the house.

Davina asked the smaller girl with Hope. “Can I ask…?”

           Hope quickly shook her head. ‘Not now’, she mouthed and pointed inside.

           Davina nodded.

           Elijah kept his calm façade as he approached his furious brother.

“Brothers; sisters, my family,” Klaus drawled, fury in his eyes. “I thought we’ve grown past this. May I ask what I could’ve possible done to deserve? And what Paris have to do with anything?”

“You’ve done nothing,” Elijah assured.

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” Kol smirked. “It took two to tangle after all.”

“Release me!” Klaus demanded. “Now!”

           Rebecca took a breath, “You need to calm. We have to tell you something; something important. And we need you to listen because we are telling you truth.”

“I’m in chains!” Klaus growled. “And you expect me to listen to you?”

“It is a precaution should you overreact,” Elijah stated. “We are your family. We need you to trust us.”

“Honestly, just don’t go batshit crazy,” Kol shrugged. “And kill half of New Orleans.”

           Klaus bared his teeth, “I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I will not go back to that.”

           Freyja steeled herself, “It’s about your daughter.”

           Klaus’ entire body stiffened, “What?” Fear and anger coursed through him. Was Hope alright? Did someone harm her? Where was she?

“Klaus, you have another child,” Elijah said bluntly. “A girl named Marinette. She’s thirteen and a born vampire; a hybrid since the age of ten. She is yours.”  

           Klaus froze in shook. His mind processing his brother’s words. He had another child; another daughter.

“Hope called us,” Rebecca said. “All of us to her school. She informed us of Marinette then, brother. And we needed to secure you because we were worried about your reaction when you found out.�� Marcellus scoffed. She turned to look at him, “Did we do the right thing?”

           The black man shook his head, “No.”

“What did we do wrong?” Rebecca glanced at him and then back at Klaus.

“Well, you used chains,” Marcellus explained.

“What should we have used?”

           Marcellus crossed his arms, “Ahh, it wouldn’t matter.”

           Klaus roared and with all his strength he ripped the chains from the ground, destroying the hardwood in the process. He calmly removed them from his wrists and walked past his siblings. He could hear Hope’s heartbeat, and Davina’s as well. But there was another with them.

           The siblings followed after.

           Once Klaus was outside, his eyes went automatically to his beloved Daughter, “Hope,” He greeted slowly. Hope gave him a weary smile. Then to Davina. And then finally to a girl younger than Hope but had the same blue eyes, nose, and cheek bones. All which both girls got from him.

“Marinette,” Klaus whispered.

           The girl gave him a shy smile.

           Marinette couldn’t believe she was finally meeting her birthfather.  It would definitely.

           The girl, his daughter, was smaller than he expected; smaller than Hope had been at that age. Her presence wasn’t as confident either. There was a look in her eyes that she tried to hide but he knew well; fear. She didn’t smell afraid, just worried and a little sad. She was afraid of rejection.

“I have been blessed with two beautiful daughters,” Klaus said soothingly. “You live in France, yes. I will started my revenge there.”       And there went the good mood.

           Everything was chaos after that.

           Klaus insisted that his daughter was stolen. Marinette insisted she had been adopted. Her mother had given her up.

“And the father has no rights?” Klaus asked. He tried his best to remain maintain his false calmness. He never liked to get angry in front of his children.

“Well, in her defense, technically you are dead, brother,” Kol smirked when Klaus hissed at him. “It would be rather complicated to prove otherwise.”

“My parents,” Marinette said. Klaus growled. She continued on. “My parents are wonderful. They’re bakers with a successful shop. They love me very much.”

“Bakers!” Klaus grumbled. “My daughter was raised by bakers!”

           Marinette was rather surprised just how long it took to convince her father that mass murder wasn’t a suitable response for missing out on his daughter’s formative years. Then again, he was Klaus Mikaelson.

           After her father did calm down, it was pleasant. She was formally introduced to Marcellus, Rebecca’s husband, and Davina, Kol’s wife. She learned more about her family’s story and became content. Marinette was given a room next to Hope, and they laughed as they immediately left to decorate; chaperoned by Klaus, who was more than happy to pay for his girls’ shopping spree.

           Marinette was able to get paints for her new room, different cloths for makings clothes, more sketchbooks, paintings, and posters. Klaus bought her whatever she wanted, it was a wonder Hope wasn’t spoiled.

           First week living with her family she cooked with Freyja, played Poker with Kol, painted with her father (which led to a paint war where Hope and Marinette ganged up on him). Elijah taught her to waltz and told her all the things history forgot. She designed dressed for Rebecca, and tended to follow her free spirited Aunt around whenever she could. The only difficult part was sneaking away whenever there was an Akuma alert. But luckily Freyja magic’d her room to be soundproof so Marinette could privacy. Trixx had no problem pretended to be her, should anyone knock.

           Everything was good. Everyone was happy. Except for two times. The first came when Hope mentioned during dinner about returning to school.

“Oh, I’ll go with you,” Marinette said brightly to her sister who sat next to her, not noticing how her words caused the room’s occupants to stiffened. “I can give Lizzie the dress I made her. She’ll love it.”

“I still don’t get why she likes you and not me,” Hope asked incredulously.

           Marinette stuck her tongue out, “Josie likes you well enough. And Raphael. And Landon. And…”

“Oh shut up,” Hope blushed.

           Klaus sat his cup down slowly, “You will not being anywhere. You will remain here where you are safe.

           Hope and Marinette shared a look. Marinette had learned quickly that Klaus was overprotected. Marinette wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without an escort; usually a member of the family. Hope raised an eyebrow ask to ask if Marinette wanted her to handle. Marinette tilted her head the side, with both eyebrows raised; a team up, maybe. Hope smirked; that was a yes.

“No,” Klaus chastised. “No silent conversation at the dinner table. Or at all.” As much as he loved that his daughters got along so well, they tended to unite against him to get what they wanted.

           Hope smiled sweetly, “We won’t gone long. School’s letting out. We’ll be gone A day or two at most.”

“I really like Hope’s school,” Marinette said earnestly. “I’ve never met so many kids like me before.”

Elijah decided to aid his brother. “A school full of barely trained vampires, witches, and werewolves. It is dangerous.”

“Oh come on,” Hope crossed hers. “I’m there most of the year.”

“That’s different,” Freyja said. “You’re older; more mature.”

“Well that’s hardly fair,” Kol narrowed his eyes. He used to get told the same thing when he was a child and still human. “Marinette is plenty mature. Age shouldn’t be a factor.”

           Klaus glared at his brother, “And yet it is. You will remain here with me. Hope will give Lizzie the dress you designed.”

           Hope and Marinette shared another look and then turned to their father with their ultimate weapon in full force; puppy-dog eyes sat to ultimate cuteness. “Please!” They chimed together.

           Klaus’ mouth dropped slightly. The adorableness of his daughter was nearly crippling. “No,” he said again. “I will not budge on my decision.”

           The girls frowned, and increased their puppy eyes to death level. Their lips wobbled, their eyes glistened with presence of potential tears.

“Stay strong, brother,” Elijah told him.

“Say the man who is doing his best to avoid looking directly at them,” Rebecca giggled.

           Klaus’ face softened. No, he told himself, we will not give in. “Never!”

“Pretty, pretty please,” The teenage girls pleaded.

“…Fine.”

           The next not so good time came a month later; when Marinette got an Akuma alert late at night. She had been getting a midnight snack when her phone beeped. Marinette had no choice but to rush upstairs, transform, and leave. Unfortunately for her, she hadn’t shut the door all the way, meaning that the silencing spell didn’t go into effect.

           It had been multiple Akumas; terrible ones that led to Marinette calling in Kagami, Chloe, and Luka to help her and Chat. It had taken a long time, a lot more than Marinette realized. When Marinette finally asked someone the time, she realized half the day had passed. She hoped Trixx had been able to keep up the illusion.

           Marinette portaled back to her room feeling more tired than she ever had before. Only to find Freyja waiting on her bed with the kwami box on her lap.

“Do you have any idea how much your trouble you’re in?” Her aunt asked.

           Turned out, her father had come to check on her after he returned home for the night only to find the room empty. However, it was only when his family confirmed they had no idea where his youngest daughter was, that he got angry. They all got angry; fear that someone had taken Marinette. They broke out in different search parties; trying to locate a scent to follow.

           Freyja, however, went to Marinette’s room, and to her surprise as soon as she touched the door, Marinette’s voice said she was busy. The blond woman opened the door to find a little fox creature looking frightened.

           The kwami had decided to explain a few things about themselves before the angry looking blond decided to try to smite them.

“Oops?” Marinette offered.

           Freyja raised an eyebrow, “Oops?” She shook her head. She handed Marinette the box. “Come on, guardian. You have some explaining to do.” Freyja opened the door for Marinette.

           Marinette, with the box in her hand, reluctantly followed her aunt to the living room where her family waited.

“Marinette!” Her father yelled, and before she knew it she was in a hug. “Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried I was? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” She promised, and pulled away. “I’m fine,” She said again to her worried looking family.

“What happened?” Hope asked; beyond emotionally exhausted and physically, from the nights events. “You just disappeared.”

           Freyja nodded, “It’s turned out our darling little Marinette is more magical than she led us to believe.”

           Marinette nodded and opened the box. The kwami flew out of it; setting everyone on guard. The kwami flew around the room introducing themselves. “So… Did I ever tell you I was a superhero?”

“No,” Marcellus chuckled, reaching out slowly for the floating Ox type creature.  “No. You didn’t. I’d remember that conversation.”

“Yeah… well it’s like this…”

           The Ladybug, magical guardian of little gods, and fighting a supernatural terrorist didn’t go over well. To close out her story, and to prove it, Marinette transformed into Ladybug, and transformed back.

           The room was silent.

“You are a child,” Elijah finally said, rage slowly growing inside him. “Children do not go to war. They are not sent to war!”

           Marinette winced, “It’s not really a war. More like a Batman versus the Joker.”

“But people have died,” Rebecca said, petting Pollen. “Sure, they’re brought back but they still died; you’re partner, Chat Noir died a few times.”

“What happens if you die, kiddo,” Davina asked. She played with Ziggy in her lap. “Only Ladybug can reverse what the akuma’s done. What happens if Ladybug dies before that happens? Who brings you back?”

           Marinette looked down, and remained silent because they all knew the answer to that. No one. If ladybug died, she died.

“So this dude’s possessing school children,” Marcellus said. “And everyone else is so much as feel a lick negative emotion. The only people trying to stop the psychopath is a thirteen-year-old who can do a magical girl transformation leading a bunch of other teenagers who can do the same trick? Really.”

“We’ve been hunting him,” Marinette sighed. “Hawkmoth is possible to find.”

“I’ll help!” Hope said.  Roaar was on her shoulder. “You have other Kwami. I can use Roaar. I’ll fight with you.” Her sister was a superhero. It was the coolest thing ever. Everyone knew who Ladybug was. Her posters covered a lot of her fellow students’ walls.

“No!” Half the room shouted.

           Klaus glared, “No more fighting. This ends.” Someone had been trying to kill his little girl since she first adorned her hero name. “I’ll find Hawkmoth. And I’ll rip him to pieces.”

“No, brother,” Kol stated. “We’ll rip him to pieces.”

           There were nods.

“How? I can’t find him,” Marinette asked. “I can’t even scent him.”

“Fear not, little one,” Elijah had a dark smile on his face. “No one can hide from The Originals.”

           Ziggy flew up and whispered in Davina’s ear. A dark look appeared on her lovely face, the room crackled with her power, “What’s this about you being bullied?”

“Bullied?” Hope shouted. “Who’s bullying you? I swear.”

           Klaus closed his eyes. On top of everything Marinette was going through, she was being bullied as well. “Explain.”

           And so Marinette did. She told about her Lila came to class; lied, turned everyone against her, and pretty much left her friendless in class apart from Adrien and Chloe. How her things were ripped up, the mean texts she got, all the dirty looks. She missed Alya, or rather she missed the Alya that had been her bestie. She missed hanging out with Kim and Alix. But she knew, even if the truth came out, they’d never be friends again. By the end of her story, Marinette had shed a few tears and looked very much like the thirteen-year-old she was.

“So Lila’s dead, right?” Kol said. “No objections? Good. I get dips.”

“You can’t kill her.” Marinette stated.

“Pretty sure I can,” Kol drawled.

           Hope narrowed her eyes, “Not kill her. We’re going to do something worse.” She promised. No one messed with her family and got away with it. “We’re going to make her tell the truth.”

“Compel her,” Rebecca nodded. “Make the little shrew learn a lesson or two.”

“Why haven’t you compelled her?” Freyja asked. “I would’ve had the little bitch take a long walk off a short ledge by now.”

“It’s not nice,” Marinette shrugged.

           Kol pinched his nose, “Oh we have so much to teach you.” He smirked. “Mikaelsons’ are not nice.”

“We’re not mean,” Hope added. “But we’re not nice.”

“And most importantly,” Klaus broke in. “If you mess with one us, you mess with all of us. We are family.”

“Always and forever,” Hope said.

           Marinette nodded. “Always and forever.”

           For the next few days, her family watched her like a hawk. Marinette didn’t know if Hawkmoth had been drained from the multiple akumas or what, but it took a week before another alert appeared.

           Luckily for her, Hope was on guard duty while the rest of the family either in town taking care of business or was in the woods, close by, perfecting their hunting skills. Marinette had been sketching with Hope in the living room when her phone chimed. She glanced at it and saw the Akuma Alert.

           She glanced at the stairs. Could she do it, she wondered. Could she make it up the stairs to her room and portal out before anyone caught her.

“Don’t even think about,” Hope said putting down her paint brush. She held up her own phone, and gave Marinette a look. “You’re not the only one who gets notified now. If you’re going, I’m going.”

           Marinette sighed, “Fine but if you’re going to fight; you’re suiting up.”

“Just one thing…” Hope trailed off. “It’s another multi-akuma alert. I think we’re going to need more help.”

“What are you thinking?”

           Hope grinned.

           Lizzie, Josie, Raphael, Landon, and MJ stood in front of Marinette and Hope looking stunned. After a few vows of secrecy, Marinette had transformed into Ladybug in front of them.

“You’re Ladybug,” Lizzie grinned. “And you want me, us, to do a superhero team up. I knew I liked you.”

“And you don’t like me,” Hope added. “What the hell?”

“That’s what’s up,” Kaleb said and gave MJ a low-five. “Free trip to Paris and I get to be superman for the day.  Let’s do this.”

“This is incredible,” Josie looked like her mind was processing a thousand thoughts a second, “I’ve heard of the Kwami and the guardian. But I just thought they were legends. Or that they’d died out. Dad’s going to flip.

           Landon looked concerned, “it’s safe, right. The transformation. Not fighting an evil terrorists. Because that’s obviously not safe.”

           Hope looked at Marinette who nodded. The older girl grinned, “Roaar, strips on!” And just like that, Hope was transformed into a tiger-themed hero; her hair was intricately braid back, she had ear and a tail; her custom was mostly black with orange stripes. She had long claws, and staff. “Easy as pie.”

“Oh I’m in,” Raphael said. “Try and stop me. Wait do who I get?”

           That started the request and arguments.

           In the end, Lizzie got Trixx. Kaleb got Stompp. Josie got Fluff. MJ got Barrk. Raphael got Wayzz. And Landon received Mullo.

           Marinette briefly briefed them about their powers and what to expect. She opened a portal.

           Hope ran to the window, “Hey, we’re going to fight an evil megalomaniac in Paris be home soon.” And then the kids were gone.

           Elijah and Kol who had been in the woods when they heard Hope yell raced back. However, by the time they arrived, the kids were gone.

“Ok, Marinette is just not making this easy on us,” Kol huffed. “She’s not even pretending to.”

           Hawkmoth didn’t see the new team of heroes coming. The akumas were quickly dismantled. The older teenagers had the time of their lives running around Paris, using superpowers in public, something they always had to avoid before; and just being their full awesome selves.

           When the battle was over, and the kids had transformed and retuned all phone call they’d missed. Alaric wasn’t happy about their spontaneous superhero trip. Klaus wasn’t happy they left without informing him, or taking him with them. He also wasn’t happy about Caroline calling just to yell at him for her daughters running off to Paris to become an Avenger.

           The kids promised they’d be home soon; said the kwami to transport had to recharge. Technically that was true. However, the kids took their sweet time roaming around Paris. Marinette introduced Hope to her parents, who easily took a shine to their daughter’s sister.

           Lizzie spent most of the time; spamming the online student website with pictures of herself in Paris.

           When the kids ran into Lila and Alya on the way out of a boutique. The girls had been nasty as soon as they saw Marinette, causing the older teens to glare. They had heard from Hope about Marinette’s bullying situation, and they were ready to raise hell. However before Marinette or even Hope could get involved, Lizzie Saltzman. She knew a bully when she saw one.

“You bad hair and awful clothes,” Lizzie pointed at Lila. “What’s your name?”

“Lila Rossi,” Alya snapped. Lila pretended to cry. “The Lila Rossi. The Nicest girl on the planet.

“Yeah whatever,” Lizzie pulled out her phone. She showed her phone screen. “Look at the type Lila Rossi in google, and nothing. Google doesn’t care. Don’t see why I should.”

           Alya blinked, “That’s not right,” She murmured and pulled out her phone. And sure enough, “Nothing. Just what I put on the Ladyblog.”

“You mean the blog Ladybug herself discredited?” Josie asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Because of lies. Maybe Lila’s why stopped trusting you.”

           Mj stepped forward and looked Lila in the eyes, “You are going to tell everyone in your class just how much a liar you really are,” He compelled her. “And for the next month, you are only going to tell the truth. You will not bother Marinette again.” He looked at Alya. “Both of you leave. Now.”

           With blank stares the girls departed.

           By the time Marinette got back to New Orleans and to her family, her phone had been flooded messages of apologies. She didn’t respond to a single one. Instead, she helped her family prepare for their trip to Paris.

           Hawkmoth wouldn’t know what hit him.

[robiness]

Qrow was meant to be a punching bag (theory, V7CH12 spoilers)

tw: depression, one brief mention of suicide at the very end

Many are upset about the literal and narrative butchering of two beloved characters in RWBY V7E12. The initial and probably most popular argument against what happened is that it doesn’t make sense, why would these characters do what they did. And honestly, that reasonable reaction to the injustice was mine, too.

But now that I’ve “calmed down”, meaning I’m finally not in a whirlwind of blind rage, indignation, and devastation, I started thinking about “Why did they do that?” with some level of depth. 

The answer I found is still unjust and disgusting, but at least it fell in line with something resembling logic.

Qrow enthusiasts have been complaining about his endless heartbreak. Why can’t be be happy for once? What’s the whole point in his recovery arc this volume if they’ll just scrap it? It’s like they put random tragedies on a dart board and the writers just started throwing.

Hear me out - they meant all of this. Every instance Qrow suffered is intended. They didn’t throw away his recovery arc because he was never meant to recover. 

I think that they’re going to make him an antagonist at worst, or a man driven to the ultimate tragedy at best. 

At this point, you’re probably like. What. Lol no. You’re as silly as the writers are.

But again, let me explain. I used to have that mindset of Qrow always being best but sad boy. A hero who just needs a chance. 

There was NO way this man will ever go dark:

he probably thinks he lost summer to salem

his nieces are actively hunted by salem and her forces, and RWBY for sure ain’t changing sides 

he’s always believed in the principles he has, and he’s always applied them. he’s a good Huntsman who cares, and knows his path 

he believes in ruby’s determination and ability to probs save the world

But that’s the thing.

He’s ALWAYS stuck by the principles he learned from Ozpin. Betrayal after betrayal, he was crushed but managed to somehow bounce back. 

This volume, he was on a good track. A good mind space. His kids are great, but then he met an equal - someone with literal plot armor against his Semblance. Misfortune is the reason why he stays away from the people he loves, why he blames himself for a lot of things, why he feels like baggage. 

A person his age who could be a friend, or more. Huntsman of equal ability and maturity.

Queerbaiting aside (I’m sorry I ever used that phrase, I hate them too), Clover was a possibility. Here was a potential team partner, friend, lover, whatever, but the point is he was finally free to explore what a developing relationship is like because here’s a guy who kinda got him, and probably won’t be harmed by staying close for an extended period of time. 

I think the chemistry in their fights solidified this too. Clover was someone who didn’t get in trouble by being at his side (except the first time in the mines, and Clover took it in stride and still succeeded).

Even better, Clover actually vocalizes that hey, it’s okay.

He doesn’t dismiss Qrow’s semblance, but he encourages Qrow to let go of the guilt a bit, that he’s worth more than his bad luck, and can continue to work around it. 

Qrow was nowhere near full recovery, but he was definitely on the way with a bit of Clover’s help. Later, my precious man finally smiles for real... not his smirk or sad smiles to Ruby. He’s smiling for the enjoyment of the moment and things are looking up!

(slightly sorry for the gif below)

(V7CH12 gifs would be appropriate from here on, but I am NOT doing that to myself)

So what’s the point, Robiness? We all know how THAT story goes. Qrow gets trauma because it’s shown to him, yet again, that his Semblance fucks up the good things, that even someone with the most potential to be safe ISN’T. Not around him. 

The whole crash was OOC, rushed and bad writing, whatever. But why did it happen? 

Qrow is basically the poster boy for mental health in this show. He’s depressed, and to him AND to the outside world, he’s right in thinking he’s only going to hurt people. He’s been proven right, many times, that he is bad luck.

What’s different this time?

He didn’t have hope, the other times he was let down. He had hope for humanity, yes, and that he can somehow contribute to saving it.

But he’s never had hope for himself, that he could be more than his Semblance. Clover’s character gave that to him. He was already trying to quit drinking, but that was for Ruby and the other kids, and by extension their mission, but not for himself.

When CRWBY killed that hope, it killed anything inside of Qrow that could’ve thought that he could be a hero. Or even simply better than he was before.

He’s crushed, his mind is clouded. As Clover died, he wanted to kill Tyrian, then he wanted James to fall. The legal type of justice wouldn’t be enough to assuage his need for vengeance. 

And he’s alone. Perhaps about to be arrested, I don’t know. But every other time he’s been crushed, he had the kids around to divert the attention even a little bit. But this time, there’s no one to help him process and move past this. No positivity from Ruby, no scolding from Yang to keep it together. No one.

If you’ve ever had mental illnesses, you could probably imagine being alone in that fragile state of mind. 

And you know who’s the most likely to know where the heck he is and that he’s going through something? His sister, Raven, because of her Semblance. 

Details have been important in how RWBY is told to the audience (though they retract when convenient lol). Sometimes, this includes release dates. February is the last month of winter, slowly turning into spring. Yes, I mean the Spring maiden. 

Let’s talk about Raven. 

She’s angry at her brother, also for feelings of betrayal. He betrayed their tribe, their values, everything they stood for. He left her, his sister. He chose Ozpin’s mission over her, even though their original plan was to just infiltrate Beacon to learn how to kill Huntsmen better. 

This means she remembers a boy that had the same ideas and supported her and their family. I don’t think she can accept that this Qrow, the one we know, is her actual brother, how he should be. When it comes to Qrow, I think what matters to her the most is proving that she was right all along, that they should’ve just stuck together and kept to their practices. 

And Qrow, regardless of the spring bit, if he encounters her as he is now... could easily believe that she was right. After all, the facts to him are:

He can’t escape his Semblance, ever.

He needs vengeance for Clover, because his death was his fucking fault. His attempt to deescalate the fight (leaving Harbinger in the snow) didn’t matter, because his bad luck won in the end. 

A plausible 3. Doing things “the good way” “the right way” is never going to cut it for him because he is walking misfortune. Something will always go wrong.

So why not drop all fucks and go ahead full-force?

His mind isn’t in its best state right now, and all his decisions will of course be emotional. 

We’ve known Qrow from point A depression to point B somewhat recovery to point C the last fucking straw. I think it’s something to consider that we’ve never heard anything about his youth, except that he used to believe in the brutality of their tribe. He never mentions it, and we don’t know anything about the circumstances that made him change, beyond “Ozpin gave him a place”. 

He gave up his heritage just to be proven that brutality would have protected his loved ones better. 

So yes, the punching bag theme, the endless misery, Clover’s death - all these are most likely building up to that shift in his character. We thought the eventual character shift would just be his recovery, but since that was scrapped, the only other way that makes sense is that he’s going to regress into someone that cannot be saved.

He’s not going to switch sides. He’s not going to stop loving his kids. He’s probably never going to join Salem. 

But his methods will be more ruthless now, driven by heartbreak and rage and self-hatred. God knows how he’ll deal with anyone in his way. He’s not going to fucking listen. He listened to Clover, and where did that get him? 

This way, the violent, straightforward way he used to know, this would protect his kids more efficiently, even if they don’t want him to go down that path. He’d probably leave them to protect them, and to be unhindered in his corner of the war.  

He’ll think that this - to be a rage-filled killing machine - would be the best case scenario for him and the rest of the world. Kind of like how he followed RNJR from a distance, killing all the Grimm that could get in their way.

We thought he was a broken man before, but this has been escalating. It’s been probably planned out since before.

If you’re not convinced yet, remember:

RWBY loves literature parallels. 

Leo Lionheart changed, and gave in to fear. The Cowardly Lion.

James Ironwood, the Tin Man, has proven that he’s thrown away his heart. 

Qrow Branwen, the Scarecrow, was always fucking destined to lose his mind.

I don’t know what will happen after, what kind of sick tragic death he’ll end up with. Since they’re romanticizing his suffering so much, he’ll probably end up killing himself after his work’s done. 

I have no idea how the details will go, but I’m pretty sure this is the path the writers will take. There is just no other reason I can fathom as to why they keep hurting my man. I want to be wrong, but I can’t think of anything else, unless some deus ex machina shit happens in the finale, but hell if I’m ever trusting CRWBY again. 

And yeah, as a depressed person who relates to and loves Qrow, the idea of the message of “it’s never going to get better” fucking sucks. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT AU), pt. 9*

09: Double trouble

Summary: Y/N finally learns the truth.

Warnings: angst, death, violence, SMUT (unprotected sex, always use condoms kids!!), swearing??

Word count: 7100

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Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST    

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Y/N wasted no time, running forward and into the open arms of her mother as the twins tried to pick up their jaws of the floor. They watched their love embrace her dead mother, both women crying, inconsolable.

"What just happened?" Apollo's voice cracked, his shock evidently on display as he too fought to remain sane with the image before him playing games with his head. It felt like his brain stuttered, unable to contemplate the sight.

"Hecate." Hermes' jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing and his eyebrows furrowing. His forehead wrinkled, a single line foiling his smooth skin across the middle, another forming between his eyebrows - anger, frustration, and the slightest bit of fear taking over him.

"This is a cruel trick. One I have no doubt she created to break Y/N. Once broken, she'll have free reign." His lips set in a thin line, feeling his brother's hand brush his own.

"She feeds off her emotions. Whenever the emotion is too great, Hecate takes over." Apollo realizes, eyes widening when his girl detaches from her mother and turns to face them.

She's completely flushed in the face, her eyes brimming with overflowing tears, red as well. She crinkles her nose, brushing the back of her hand under it to gather the tears that stained her face, her lips parted enough for her front teeth to be seen.

"Guys, this is my mum." She giggles, still attached to her mother's hip and ecstatic like a child. Almost like she doesn't realize the insanity of the situation.

"As in your late mother?" Apollo says carefully, trying to be considerate, but he can't let her be oblivious to what is happening. A part of him is screaming to take her in his arms and whisk her away because the dead never return as they were - there is always a catch. And considering Hecate is the one who made it happen, he's sure the catch is much more dangerous than it usually is. The other part of him wants to tell her all of that, admit to his heritage, his love, the entire truth and just hope she'll still have him.

But how can he?

How can he dim the light in her eyes, despite the tears that cloud them? How can he take away what may very well be her last chance to say goodbye? How can he be the one to break her heart?

"I, uh..." The smile on her face falls, her eyes flickering to her mother who looks at her in confusion, like she had no clue what they're talking about.

"Can I talk to you?" Hermes pipes in, hoping she'll want to speak to him, even if it's just to scream at him.

"Alone, please?" He adds, looking at the way her mother's lips twitched between a smile and a sneer once he asked, feeling something is wrong in the pit of his stomach.

"I'll be right back." She excuses herself, kindly smiling up at her mother and back at Grayson before following Ethan out of the room. The very moment those doors close behind them is the moment his mouth moves.

"Babe, I want this to be all that you think it is, but I can't let you believe this is real." Ethan spoke in rushed, slightly hushed voices, his eyes flickering to the closed door as she dropped her gaze to the floor.

"You see her too, right? I'm not entirely mad, am I?" She whispers, her chest trembling with a heavy, shaky sigh.

Unable to watch her crumble, Ethan quickly pushed her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her frame, overlapping in the middle of her back. He pushed her into him so suddenly that her breath left her, so strongly that she swore her ribs cracked, so lovingly her heart skipped a beat. His chin atop her head as he stared up at the ceiling, thinking how lost he's felt his entire life, and how he finally found himself in her embrace. He always thought he was past saving, long lost in the eternal damnation his life became, but she gave him a chance...she saw him as Ethan, a good guy who she safely tucked herself in and refused to let go. He had to reassure her.

"I do. I see her. But we both know she isn't really here. Not to stay. Not for the right reasons. It's Hecate." Ethan takes a whiff of her hair, slowly unwrapping himself from her.

"You believe Hecate is real too?" She breathes out, happy she's no longer alone in this mess. She has Ethan and possibly even Grayson, both of whom she finds have taken root in her heart.

"I always did." He smiles slightly, watching her press her lips together.

"I'm still pissed about the fire, but I forgive you for it." She taps her hand on his chest lightly, but their moment is cut short once Grayson screams for help.

"GUYS?!"

Y/N was the first one inside, opening the door wide with her eyes darting toward a struggling Grayson and...

"MUM?" Y/N screamed, horrified at the sight. She laid atop of Grayson who was pinned to the floor, inhuman sounds filling the room, mixing with Grayson's grunts. However, the simple call of her daughter reeled the woman back in, her aggressiveness and jaw snapping stopping for a moment, long enough for her to turn to Y/N with her cold, dirty yellow eyes staring at her, so empty and void of life. Her mother's skin was like old crinkled paper and her lips the color of rusted iron. Her jaw, which was open too wide, displayed a set of rotting yellow teeth. The veins were about to burst from her forehead and blood was splattered like red paint all over her face and hands. And her hands, once so soft and loving, were like sticks with their flesh almost falling off.

"Oh, God." Y/N stumbled backwards as Ethan stepped before her, his arms open wide, pushing her behind his body as he glanced at his brother who kept the zombified woman at arms length.

"Grayson, I suggest you go for the head." Ethan said calmly, but his heart felt like it would burst with the speed it took on. While he wasn't frightened of the sight, he was sure as hell afraid his brother and Y/N would never recover from it. He's seen far worse in the Underworld, but they haven't. And this... this was personal.

In moments, Grayson grabbed onto her head and rolled over her, slamming her skull into the floor until her brain splattered on the boards and the body mystically disappeared.

Y/N could hear the cracks, the grunts and the sound of blood and tissue splashing around, crying openly and without reserve. Brick by brick, her walls came tumbling down. The screaming had stopped so very suddenly. One minute her mother was right in her embrace, more alive than Y/N ever thought she could ever be, and the next she was meat on the floor.

Ethan wrapped his arms around her instantly, pulling her up into his chest and into the bed where she could rest. Stealing a glance, she found there was no body on the floor after all. She didn't see any blood, any indication of what happened in the room nor on Grayson, only messing with her head further.

Thanks to Ethan and Grayson...and the magical disappearance of evidence.

Hecate at least granted them that courtesy.

Grayson appeared by her side out of thin air, pushing back her hair to see her face properly. She's got red patches of skin, tears running in every direction, her nose joining in. Her mouth is open and her wails echo the room and his heart, breaking him to pieces.

They held her until she could no longer weep, tucked in between them like a precious pearl within a clam, protected and loved...loved beyond belief.

And she fell asleep, the warm bodies around her serving as comfort for her to get through it all.

However, the moment she slipped away into dreamland, she woke with her mother before her. And it wasn't the zombie version of her mother that Grayson had to kill, but the woman who wore a gentle smile and always had something wise to say.

"I am sorry you had to see that." Her mother said, tilting her head ever so slightly, her lips curling into a small smile.

"What is dead cannot remain undead for long. Your friend did the right thing." The woman's smile spread, her hand reaching out for Y/N's. "Thank him for me."

"I don't understand." Y/N shakes her head lightly, eyebrows furrowing as she clasps her mothers hand tighter.

"I have been given a rare chance to let my daughter know how much I love her. But to let her know she has to move on from this pain. Stop holding onto it and let love in." Placing her palm on Y/N's cheek, she continues.

"You have two men falling at your feet. And they might not be what you think, but they have good intentions in mind." And that's when Y/N understood. Her mother wanted her to let them in. But how could she? How could she ever choose one and not hurt the other?

"I can't. If I let one in, the other will suffer and I can't do that. I can't bear it."

"Why choose? Just feel. If they care for you, they will learn to respect that."

While Y/N said goodbye to her mother, the brother's had other things on mind.

"We have to tell her." Grayson whispers, his eyes falling to his brother who seemed to be lost in thought. He knew it would be a hard sell, but he needed to try and convince Ethan to cooperate. Whether he agrees or not, he had every intention on telling her everything. Keeping the truth from her only put her in danger.

"I know. Just as much as I have to deal with Hecate." Ethan sighs, running his knuckle down her cheek gently, so softly she could barely feel it. But he felt it, needed it - the touch, the softness, all of it.

"When?" Grayson bit his lower lip, taking in a shuddered breath as she shuffled in her sleep and moved closer to him. Her fingers wrapped around his shirt, pulling it slightly toward her.

"Now. You tell her and I'll go tell Hecate to fuck off already." Ethan stood, the bed instantly colder for Y/N, but while she does frown in her sleep, she doesn't wake.

"We always told them together in the past." Grayson hissed, trying not to move too much in order to not wake her. It didn't feel right to leave him out of such an important conversation.

"And when did that ever work in our favor? Time to change things up, brother." And Apollo knew that before him stood Hermes, not Ethan. He wasn't just a man, but a god in love...and a god in love will do whatever he has to in order to secure safety for the one he cares for. His love knows no bounds, and Apollo knows that. Because he feels the same way.

Nodding, he bites his lip once more as Hermes leaves, leaning down so the tip of his nose brushed her cheek.

"Y/N, love." Grayson swallows, realizing he can no longer hold off on being honest with her. He has to let her know the truth before she goes mad. He has to give her all the information and let her choose what to do with it.

But instead of speaking, the moment her eyes open, her lips close in on his. It felt like she had been made anew.

His arms locked around her; unyielding, they tightened, impressing   her soft flesh with the male hardness of his. A pleasant sensation streaked through  her; her skin tingled. Still she held him firmly, so closely to her - almost desperate for his touch.

He tilted his head, his lips moved on hers, a powerful, elemental call to her senses. It woke her up, enough to pause their kiss for a single moment, her labored breathing matching his. She pressed herself into him, until she could feel his hardness pressing back.

"What are you doing?" Grayson asks, pained and needy, frustrated and completely confused.

"A girl is offering herself to you and you're blind to it? I don't buy it." She smiled against his lips, her tone unusually cheerful, far too calm for a girl who just lost her mother for the second time. Pulling back, Grayson cups her face, observing her carefully for signs of Hecate. He could tell who it is just by looking into her eyes, however, he is surprised when he finds it's Y/N who is gazing back at him.

"You should know who I am before giving yourself to me." Grayson leans in, his forehead resting atop hers, his lips brushing hers just for a moment before he utters the truth finally.

"Ethan and I aren't human." He closed his eyes, unable to look at her at all. He didn't want to see her when she rejects him, enjoying the last moments he can have her all to himself. He felt her body stiffen, her lips quiver as they brushed his once more, her forehead wrinkling despite the weight of his head on it.

"Okay." She whispers, swallowing thickly as his eyes snap open, confused and a little happy she's not running for the hills. But she wanted to honor what her mother told her. Be open and listen...feel, don't think.

"I'm sure there's more to the story." She continues, her right hand hovering above his right cheek before she sets her palm on it, her thumb tracing half circles on his skin.

"My name is Apollo and he is Hermes. We've been cursed to walk the Earth to atone for our sins against mankind. Doomed to do so until a descendant of the old gods falls in love with one of us, allowing the chosen one to return home while dooming the other one." Apollo tried to pull back, the silence and the stare too intimate, too heavy for him to take, but she doesn't let him. Instead, she hooks her leg around his waist, her other hand joining the task of cupping his face.

"And Hecate is my bloodline?" She asks, but it's obvious she knows the truth. Taking in a shaky breath, she tracks her right hand to his jaw and further back until it settles on his neck, slowly sliding to his shoulder.

"What happens when the descendant loves you both equally? So much so she feels her heart is comprised of two pieces and each piece has your names written on them." Y/N lifts her head up, chin first until their foreheads part and she tastes his lips languidly. Only to break the kiss a moment after.

"But do you love me?" She adds, kissing the left corner of his lips as her entire body trembles in need. In pure need of his body on hers.

"With all my heart." And that is all the confirmation she needs.

His lips parted, she slid her tongue between to tangle challengingly with his. He tasted powerful, so wonderfully, a  mind-whirling sensation gripping her. He hadn't moved, instinctively she  deepens the caress, angling her lips against his.

Passion. It burst upon her mind, heart, upon her senses like a hurricane. It rose from within him, from between them, pouring through her, deep, swirling emotion, a soul-stealing compulsion.

On one heartbeat, she was the leader, on the next, he resumed command; his lips hard, his body a steel cage surrounding her. A cage she never wished to escape. She surrendered, gladly yielding; ravenous, he stole her very breath. Breasts aching, heart thundering, Y/N stole it back.

A part of her wondered about Ethan, no, Hermes, and where he may be for she remembered him being on her other side, but she couldn't stop. Another part of her, one she never knew existed, wished for him to be there, right by her and his arms on her. She was never a dirty mind kind of a girl, nor would she ever think she'd be one to wish for a threesome with twins...brothers, gods, inhuman beings...but she did. It was more than physical, her need stemming from deep within.

She does love them both, choosing in this moment is impossible. But only one of them told her he loves her back. Only one of them remained by her side. Only one of them pressed himself against her when she felt she would die if she remains untouched.  His lids slowly rose; she met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Are you sure, love?"

"With all my heart." She mimicked his words from earlier, her fingers sliding into his thick hair.

Apollo nodded, smiling as he pulled back much to her dismay. He slid further down, freeing her of her shoes, socks and then pants - slowly, almost painfully. Like he didn't care if Hermes came back and stumbled upon them. Like he had all of eternity to make love to her. To make love with a mortal, no reason but the way she makes him feel as if he is someone worthy of her heart. Not just for the fun, nor hope of ruin...just love he feels.

He let his hands fall,  tracing her sleek thighs before closing one hand above each knee.  Slowly, he slid his fingers upward, his thumbs drawing lazy circles along her inner thighs. Higher and  higher, inch by inch, he raised his hands - the muscles of her  thighs tensed, then locked, then quivered.

He stopped with his thumbs just below her panties, placing his fingers on the soft cotton. While he let his hands roam her body, his lips savored the taste of hers. Drawing back from their kiss, he watched her and waited for her lids to rise. When they did, he trapped her gaze with his and drew two more circles. She shivered.

One hand slid around to spread across her bottom; her skin turned   feverish at his touch. He caressed her in slow circles, her  senses followed, distracted by the cotton shifting between hand and naked   skin.

Then his fingers fanned, cupping her bottom and in the same instant, she felt his other hand slide between her parted thighs. His head angled over hers; his kiss became more demanding. He stroked her through the cotton panties, stroked and caressed and teased until the cotton clung, a second skin, muting his touch, tantalizing her senses. Y/N tensed, fingertips sinking into the muscles of his back, pulling his shirt up and breaking the kiss just to pull it over his head. She felt his hand shift; one long finger sliding into her, probing gently, then more deliberately. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She pulled back with a gasp and he let her go, his hands leaving her. He tore his clothes off, watching her through hooded lids while she did the same, revealing her beautifully curvaceous body.  She was far from perfect, a million reasons why she could never be a model obvious to anyone, but Apollo didn't care. Grasping her waist, he toppled over her entirely and they sank into the bed.

With a valiantly smothered shriek, she rolled into him, into his arms,  unable to gain any ground on the slippery sheets. He lifted her over  him, her legs tangling with his, her hair fanning over his naked chest.

He expected her to be shocked, expected her to hesitate, believing she had never touched a naked man. The shock was certainly there, he saw it in her stunned expression; hesitation followed but it lasted a split second. In the next, their lips met and there was no longer any distinction between him kissing her and her kissing him. He felt her hands on his chest, greedily exploring; he ravaged her mouth and felt her fingers sink deep. He spread his hands over her back and held her against him, easing the throbbing ache of his erection against her soft belly. She writhed, heated and eager. Some women were catlike, elusively seductive but she was demanding, aggressive, intent on not just fraying his reins, but shredding them. Deliberately invoking his desire, all the possessiveness in his soul. Which, given she was a virgin from what he could tell, qualified as abject madness. Breathing raggedly, he pulled back from their kiss.

"For Zeus' sake, slow down!"

Engrossed in caressing his chest, Y/N didn't even look up.

"I'm nineteen. I've wasted enough time." She wriggled while Apollo gritted his teeth. Out of all the things he expected when he finally came clean, for her to throw herself at him was the last one. He even felt guilty for stealing this moment from Hermes, because touching her felt better than anything Mount Olympus had to offer. But another part of his was struggling to keep himself in check, realizing he didn't want to destroy her the first time she gets a taste of what sex feels like. And she's made that job incredibly difficult.

"You're nineteen and you should  know better. You should at least have some measure of  self-preservation." Intent on rushing toward her fate, she seemed  to have no concept of how much he could hurt her, of how much his  strength overshadowed hers, of how much harder than her he was.  She was intent on learning, her hands reached lower, exploring the ridges  of his lower chest.

Apollo felt his desire rise, full-blown, ravenous, too  strong for her to handle. Releasing her buttocks, he grasped her upper  arms. Just as she grasped him. The shock that rushed through him nearly shattered his control.

He froze. So did Y/N.

She looked into his face, his eyes were shut, his expression graven.  Carefully, she curled her fingers again, utterly fascinated by her  discovery.

How could something so hard, so rigid, so ridged, so  blatantly male, be so silky smooth, so soft?

Again, she  touched the smoothly rounded head, akin to stroking hot steel   through the finest silk. Apollo groaned; he reached down and  closed his hand over hers, not to pull it away but to curl her fingers  more tightly. Eagerly, she followed his unspoken instructions, obviously   much more to her taste than slowing down. He let her caress him  until he thought his jaw would break - he had to pull her hand away.

She  fought him, squirming all over him, soft, hot flesh  writhing over his by-now-painful erection. With a curse under his breath, he   caught her hands, one in each of his, and rolled, trapping her beneath   him. He anchored her hands to the bed and kissed her, deeply and more deeply, letting his weight sink fully onto her until she had no  breath left to fight him, no strength to defy him.

They both  stilled; in that instant, she was open to him, heated, her thighs  spread, soft and welcoming, her hips baiting him to move.  All he needed to do was reach down then sink his throbbing erection into her softness and claim her.

Simple.

Gritting his teeth, Apollo let go of her hands and lifted away. He moved  back. Knees spread, he sat back on his ankles in the middle of the bed.  Locking his eyes on hers, he beckoned with both hands.

"Come here."

Her eyes widened; they searched his, then fell - jaw locked, he suffered her scrutiny, saw the age-old question form in her eyes. Giddy, not only from breathlessness, Y/N slowly blinked, then  raised her eyes to his face. He looked exactly like a god, seated in                                                         the remains of sunlight coming through his window, his maleness so flagrantly displayed. The  soft light gilded the muscles of his arms, his chest—and the rest of  him. She drew in a deep breath; her heartbeat thundered in her ears.  Slowly, she rose on one elbow and came up on her knees, facing him. He took her  hands in his and drew her closer, then closed his hands about her waist  and lifted her. As he set her down astride his thighs, Y/N frowned  into his eyes.

"If you tell me we have to wait, I'll scream." The planes of his face looked harder than granite.

"You'll scream anyway." She frowned harder and saw his lips twitch. "With pleasure."

The idea was new to her. She was still thinking as Apollo...well, Grayson still in her mind, drew her  closer. High on her knees as she was, her hips grazed his lower chest.

"Kiss me." He didn't need to ask twice; willingly, she twined her arms about his neck and set her lips to his. One hand at her back holding her upright, he deepened the kiss,  skimming his other hand upward, over her abdomen, before closing it  about her breast. The already heated flesh swelled and firmed, hearing her moan as he tweaked her nipple. He drew back from the kiss; she let her head  fall back, the exposed curve of her throat an offering he didn't  refuse. He trailed hot kisses down the pulsing vein; she inched closer,  pressing her breast to his palm. Bending her back, he lowered his  head. She stilled, her breathing quickened. One long lick dampened one nipple. She gasped as his lips touched the peak, sucking lightly as he felt her melt in his arms.

He couldn't even  remember the last time he'd bedded a virgin, even then, whoever she was,  she hadn't been someone he loved. He harboured no illusions over how difficult the  next half hour would be; for the first time in his lengthy career, he  prayed he'd be strong enough to manage her and the passion she  unleashed in him.

Head bent, he tortured one tightly budded nipple, then  turned his attention to its mate. Sinking her fingers into his  upper arms, Y/N gasped and swayed. With her bones transmuted to warm chocolate, her weak grip, his hand at her back and the tantalizing tug of  his lips were all that was keeping her upright. Hot and wet, his lips,  his mouth, moved over her breasts, teasing first one aching bud, then  the other until both were swollen tight. She ached to touch him, to send  her hands searching, but didn't dare let go. His lips left her; a  second later, his teeth grazed one crinkled nipple. She gave a muted cry.

His lips returned, soothing her flesh, then he  suckled hard. With a long-drawn moan, she swayed forward, into his kiss. It caught her, anchored her, as his hands roved her body, heated palms burning. Every curve she possessed, he traced; every square inch of her skin tingled, then ached for more. Her back, her sides, the curve of her stomach, the long muscles of her thighs, her arms, her bottom - none escaped his attention. The shiver that racked her came from deep within, a final farewell to the virgin she was but would be no more.

His hands rose and he released her lips. Splaying her fingers, she sank the tips into his chest and felt his muscles lock. She kissed him with a fervour to match his own, revelling in the urgency building between them. Excitement whirled as their lips melded, each breath the other's, tongues entwined. His hands roamed, as urgently demanding as his lips, hard palms sculpting, fingers flexing, possessing.

Still on her knees, her thighs locked on either side of his, her hips pressed to his abdomen, she felt his hands curve and cup her bottom. One remained, holding her high, the other slid lower, long fingers questing. They found her heat and slid further, pressing between her thighs, probing the hot, slick folds, caressing, then pressing deeper and deeper as she ached and burned. His only response was to deepen their kiss, holding her captive and to his mercy.

His fingers stroked slowly, deliberately. Abruptly, Apollo drew back from their kiss. His fingers left her; he cupped her bottom with both hands.

"Slide down." Y/N couldn't believe the strength of the compulsion that gripped her, but she knew she needed him inside her more than she needed to breathe. Even so, just looking at his hardened length, she shook her head.

"You're never going to fit."

His hands firmed about her hips. "Just slide."

She did, sinking lower, his hands guiding her. She felt the first touch of his cock, hot and hard, and stopped. He slipped his fingers between her thighs and opened her; she felt the first intimate intrusion of his body into hers. Catching her breath on a strangled gasp, she sank lower, and felt his head slip inside.

He felt large, much larger than she'd expected. She sucked in a breath; under the weight of his hands, she sank still lower. Hard as forged iron, hot as unquenched steel, he pressed into her.

She shook her head again. "This is not going to work."

"It will." She felt his words within her; he was, if anything, even tenser than she, rock-hard muscles flickering.

"You'll stretch to take me. Every inch. It's the way your body is built." He was the expert. Through the storm of emotions inside her; uncertainty, desire, and giddy need, laced with distant remnants of shyness, all gave into the most desperate longing she'd ever known.

Stubborn as always and determined to be brave, she sank down. And stopped. Immediately, Grayson lifted her, not quite losing her clinging heat.

"Sink down again." She did, until her hymen again impeded their progress. Under his hands, she repeated the maneuver again and again. She was hot, slick and very tight; once she was moving freely, he brushed his lips against her temple.

"Kiss me." She lifted her head immediately, swollen lips parted, eager for more. He took her mouth vigorously, struggling to harness the wild passion that drove him, battling to remain in control long enough to avoid unnecessarily hurting her. He was going to hurt her enough as it was.            

One, powerful upward thrust, timed to meet  her downward slide, enforced by the pressure of his hands on her hips,  and it was done. He breached her in that single movement, forging deep  into her body, filling her, stretching her.

She screamed, the sound smothered by their kiss. Her body tensed; so did his. Focusing completely on her, waiting for her softening, the first sign of acceptance that he knew would come, Grayson grimly denied the primal urge to lose himself in her heat, to pound into her mindlessly like he would if it was any other girl.

Their lips had parted; they were both breathing raggedly. From under his lashes, he watched as she moistened her lips with her tongue.

"Was that the scream you were talking about?"

"No." He touched his lips to the corner of hers.

"There'll be no more pain from now on, you'll only scream with pleasure." Y/N could only hope. The memory of the sharp agony that had seared into her was so intense she could still feel it. Yet with every breath, with every heartbeat, the heat of him eased the ache. She tried to shift; his hands firmed, holding her still.

"Wait." She had to obey. Until that moment, she hadn't appreciated how completely in his control she was. The hard, throbbing reality that had invaded her, intimately filling her, impinged fully on her mind. Vulnerability swept her, rippling through her.

She heard Grayson groan. Blinking, she looked up; his eyes were shut, his features like stone. Under her hands, the muscles of his shoulders were locked in some phantom battle. Inside her, the steady throb of him radiated heat and a sense of barely reined urgency. Her pain had gone. On the thought, the last of her tension ebbed; the last vestiges of resistance fell away. Tentatively, her gaze on his face, she eased from his hold, and rose slowly on her knees.

"Please." The single word was heavy with encouragement. He stopped her at the precise point beyond which their contact would break. She sensed his eagerness, the same compelling urgency that welled within her; she needed no direction to sink slowly down, enthralled by the feel of his steely hardness sliding, slick and hot, deep into her. She did it again, and again, head falling back as she slid down, opening her senses completely, savoring every drawn-out second. Their guidance no longer required, his hands roved, reclaiming her breasts, the full curves of her bottom, the sensitive backs of her thighs.

Lifting her head, Y/N draped her arms around his neck and sought his lips with hers. The glide of their bodies, uniting in a rhythm as old as the moon, felt exquisitely right. She gave him her mouth; as he claimed it, she tightened her arms, pressing herself to him, drawn to the promise contained within his powerful body, demanding more.

He drew back from the kiss; under his lashes, she saw his eyes gleam.

"Are you all right?" His hands traced mesmerizing circles on her lower back. At the peak of her rise, she held his gaze and slowly, concentrating on the rigid hardness invading her, sank down. She felt his rippling shudder and saw his jaw firm. His eyes flashed. Greatly daring, she licked the vein pulsing at the base of his throat.

"Actually, I find this quite..." She was so far past breathless her words shook.

"Surprising?" His voice was a rumble almost too low to be heard. Catching a desperate breath, Y/N closed her eyes and offered a different word.

"Unearthly." His laugh was so deep she felt it in her marrow.

"Trust me." His lips traced the curve of her ear. "There's a great deal more pleasure to come."

"Ah, yes," Y/N murmured, trying desperately to cling to sanity. "I believe you to be a past master at this exercise." Dragging in a tight breath, she rose upon him.

"Does that make me your maiden, worshiper?"

"No." Apollo held his breath as she sank, excruciatingly slowly, down.

"That makes you the love of my life. My pupil. My world." It would make her his consort had he any power over her, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

On her next downward slide, she pressed lower; he nudged deeper. Her breath hitched; instinctively, she tightened about him. Grayson set his teeth against a groan. Eyes wide, she looked up at him, her breathing shallow and fast.

Breasts rising and falling, brushing his chest, she moistened her lips. "I really didn't think you'd fit."            

Apollo clenched his jaw along with every other muscle he possessed. After a  moment of fraught silence, he managed to say: "I'll fit—eventually."

"Eventually?" Her eyes grew round, but he didn't wait for more. He caught her lips in a ravishing kiss and, anchoring her hips against him, tumbled her back onto the pillows. He'd chosen their earlier position to break her hymen, placing a limit on how deep he could go, helpful given the force of his instincts. But the time for limits had passed; his swift rearrangement landed her on her back among the pillows, his hips between her thighs, his cock still buried deep within her.

She tensed as his weight trapped her; instantly, he lifted his chest and shoulders from her, straightening his arms, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side. Their kiss broken, her eyes flew open. He trapped her gaze in his. Slowly, deliberately, he withdrew from her, then, fluidly flexing his spine, he entered her.

Inch by inch, he claimed her; heated and slick, her body welcomed him, stretching to take him in. He watched her eyes widen, his hazel eyes with golden specks now a deep brow, almost black as he surged deeper. He sheathed himself in her softness, sinking into her to the hilt, coming to a rest as his forehead leaned on hers. Gazes locked, they both held still.

Y/N couldn't breathe, he filled her so completely; she could feel the steady beat of him at the base of her throat. Staring up at his face, she saw the hard planes shift, sharp-edged with reined passion. A conqueror looked down on her, eyes dark, ringed with green, a god she'd given herself to. A sense of possession swamped her; her heart swelled, then soared.

He was waiting, but for what? Some sign of surrender?

She smiled—slowly, fully. Her hands had come to rest on his forearms; lifting them, she reached up and drew his lips to hers. She heard him groan in the instant their lips met. He came down on his elbows, his hands flicking her hair aside, then framing her face. He deepened their kiss and her senses went spinning; his body moved on her, within her, and pleasure grew.

She caught the rhythm and matched him, letting her body welcome him, holding him tight for a heartbeat before reluctantly releasing him. Again and again they formed that intimate embrace; each time, each devastatingly thorough thrust pushed her higher, further, toward something she couldn't even imagine. Her mind and senses merged, then soared, driving her to the brink of madness.

Fed by their striving bodies, by each panting breath, by each soft moan, each guttural groan, the pleasure intensified, growing larger until it exploded between them and Y/N lost herself in the glorious, heart-stopping sensation. Blind, she couldn't see; deaf, she couldn't hear. All she could do was feel him under her hands and know he was with her, feel the warmth that filled her and know she was his, feel the emotion that held them, forged strong in the fire and know nothing on earth could ever change it.

Neither of them gave a second though to the god who ventured into the basement and drew a pentagram in the concrete.

Setting a candle at each peak of the star, he set them aflame and swallowed thickly. A golden chalice in his hand, Hermes brought a knife to his palm and drew blood, filling the chalice.

Adding saffron, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was time to finish this.

''Hecate, ισχυρή θεά της διασταύρωσης, το σκοτάδι, ο θάνατος, η σοφία, και το φεγγάρι, παρακαλώ έρχονται σε μένα. Παρακαλώ εκδιώξτε, προστατέψτε με και βοηθήστε μου όταν είμαι σε κίνδυνο. Φροντίστε με το δικό σας και δώστε μου όλα όσα χρειάζεστε. Εκατέ, περιπλανηθείτε στο σκοτάδι σας για να μπορώ να φέρω το φως μου " (''Hecate, mighty Goddess of crossroads, darkness, death, wisdom, and the moon, please come to me. Please Hecate, protect me and help me when I am in danger. Treat me as one of your own and give me all that is needed. Hecate, surround me in your darkness so that I can bring forth my light.") The moment he opens his eyes, he find his consort before him in the pentagram. "Isn't this a surprise? My husband coming to me after all these centuries passed." Hecate stepped forward, looking down on the tightly drawn-on pentagram meant to keep her in. "I need you to leave Y/N alone. Whatever you want in return..."Hermes pauses, knowing he is making a deal with someone much worse than the devil. "Whatever you want in return is yours." He repeats, finishing his original statement as she tilted her head, studying him with her unforgiving gaze. "Had you come to me all those centuries ago, I'd have turned every reality there is to bring you and your brother home. But you failed me - as a friend, as a lover, as a consort. I will never help you for I live to destroy your happiness. And she is a part of that, is she not?" A viciously poisonous smile crept up her lips as she giggled to herself, only for her smile to disappear in moments like it never happened and her face takes on an innocent look. Hermes knew she wanted to hurt him. "But does she want you? That is the question only I can answer for you...because I am her. Inside her mind, inside her heart." She spoke languidly, baiting him to come closer and make her stop talking for his clenched jaw nearly shattered his teeth and his eyes turned into fire as he glared at her.

"Maybe you can ask your brother? After all, he is currently buried inside her to the hilt. Tasting her warmth, every inch of her skin as she unravels in his arms, moaning his name." She chuckled, enjoying the hurt flashing on his face and in his eyes more even she expected.

"So how does it feel when the one you love decides to fuck someone else?" She raises her right eyebrow, her voice displaying just how happy she is, enthusiastic even.

"Do you really hate me that much?" Hermes sighed, watching Hecate tilt her head ever so slightly, enough to glare at him with those emerald daggers she calls eyes.

"More than you'll ever know." She responds, her voice oddly calm but filled with emotion. He can tell she is still very much hurt, but her anger toward him outweighs her love.

"Even so, I am not lying about your brother fucking her senseless as we speak. I'm sure you could hear them if you just walked up a couple of stairs." She pointed to the stairs, looking above her at the ceiling with her amused madness returning.

Enraged, Hermes stumbled forward, the knife he used to bleed now pointed at Hecate, the tip pressing just under her ribs, enough to kill her if he likes.

"Should I be scared?" She smirked. "Oh, if only the blade wasn't human." She licked her lips, leaning in for a kiss. But before she can connect their lips, Hermes drives the knife into her rib cage and through her heart, sneering at her with amusement taking over his eyes now. She gasped, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as her eyes widened in shock of the pain he caused. Digging her nails into his skin, she drew blood but to no avail, her croaks now coming out with ragged breaths.

"It isn't." He smirks.

And with that, Hermes pulled the blade out to make sure she bleeds out, tossing her onto the ground before walking out. He believed her to disappear as mombie dearest did, seeing her fade as he glanced at her while he cleaned the knife.

Despite wanting to watch the life fade out her eyes and her body return to Underworld, Hermes' rage simmered and grew.

Satisfied with a job well done, Hermes set his sights on a different task now.

Trying not to kill his brother.

      ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart  @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch   @fallinginlove-16  @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid  @dinnerwiththedolans  @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck  @godlydolans @flowery-dolan @dominatedolans @buckysjuicyplums @ethanhes @dolandolll @dolanstwintuesday

If I forgot someone, let me know!

[maydaymadier]

Fannar Playlist Breakdown

idk, I’m procrastinating so I’m gonna explain all the songs on the Fannar playlist

Immigrant Song, Led Zeppelin  basically my inspirations are showing here, Fannar’s original concept was ‘Well the MCU writers can do whatever the fuck they want with Loki so so can I’ so I pulled this one from the Thor: Ragnarok soundtrack, on a lesser note  “We come from the land of the ice and snow/From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow/The hammer of the gods/W'ell drive our ships to new lands/To fight the horde, and sing and cry/Valhalla, I am coming!” and he’s literally from a place called The Frozen North

Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen The only family member whose opinion matters to Fannar anymore is his mom.  There’s also just the general level of dramatic thinking that happens when grievously injured and believing you’re about to die. “Mama, ooh,/Didn't mean to make you cry,/If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,” is probably about what he was thinking when he was

Bleeding Out, Imagine Dragons bleeding out at the bottom of an abyss, back mangled and painfully aware that he was about to die, a Fannar backstory jam, this one lines up with when Fannar made his warlock pact with Auril 

Monster, Lady Gaga He just vibes with this one, I think Fannar would fucking love this song

Judas, Lady Gaga Once again, I just think he vibes with this one, he just vibes with it

Fox on the Run, Sweet OH MAN,  this works on multiple counts.  Fannar starts off the campaign as a ‘fox on the run’ bc he’s like, a trickster running away, avoiding home, ALSO “I - don't wanna know your name/'Cause you don't look the same/The way you did before/Okay - you think you got a pretty face/But the rest of you is out of place/You looked alright before” works super well bc Fannar literally grew up with a different face, and he lost it bc of backstory so this would be a random person from The Frozen North talking about him.

Surrender, Cheap Trick I don’t know, I think I just got Fannar vibes from it?  A family with a really weird, vaguely dysfunctional dynamic?  The parents have weird pasts and that’s reflected in the kids?  Yeah, that checks out.

Dead and Gone, The Black Keys Early in his pact Fannar, still presumed dead by anyone who’d previously known him, and at his patron’s beck and call  “So long/Why you waiting so long?/After every single word is said/I'm feeling dead and gone”

Sinister Kid, The Black Keys Fannar, especially early on, was wildly, blatantly self-destructive, not even trying to hide it.  “A sinister kid is a kid who/Runs to meet his maker/A drop dead sprint from the day he's born/Straight into his maker's arms/And that's me, that's me/The boy with the broken halo/That's me, that's me/The devil won't let me be”

The Kids From Yesterday, My Chemical Romance idk, I don’t remember why I originally added this one.  But it’s probably just some Fannar-reflecting-on-his-past from time to time

Sleep, My Chemical Romance Admittedly, Fannar’s done some pretty shitty things, but he’s a lot harder on himself than anyone else is, “Undeserving of your sympathy 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did” so it’s easier to just own it and revel in the idea that he’s a bad person who isn’t sorry than admit to anything.

Once Upon a December, Liz Callaway (Anastasia) BACKSTORY JAM!!!!!!  This is like,,,,baby Fannar, his present self is so detached from who he was as a small child that that whole part of his life doesn’t really feel real.  He knows it happened, but it’s such a 180 he can’t properly wrap his head around it.

One Way Or Another, Blondie Early on in the campaign he was being tracked down by someone, who later turned out to be his Nana Frostyears (his childhood governess, i guess i’ll call her a governess), tracking him down to bring him home to save the kingdom

Unknown Brother, The Black Keys This is more from his brother Orvar’s perspective, Orvar trying to wrap his head around what happened to his baby brother Fannar as an outsider looking in.  “Though I never met you/And we spoke not a word/I'll never forget you/Through stories that I have heard/For you unknown brother/My baby's mother's pained/Because your soul is in heaven/But your memory remains”

Death By Glamour, Toby Fox The ranger (Isorropia) and the druid/DM1 (Thrain) were talking about Fannar amongst themselves and decided that it fit him and I was inclined to agree.

Don’t Stop Me Now, Queen Fannar, a few years post-backstory, come into himself, still an impulsive bastard but he’s having fun now.

Dinner & Diatribes, Hozier Look, I’m sorry but a lot of songs are gonna be on here bc they’re horny and this is one of them.  This could be Fannar’s pov, it could be an attractive stranger interested in Fannar’s pov, it could go either way.   “Honey, this club here is stuck up/Dinner and diatribes/I knew it from the first look of/The look of mischief in your eyes”

Movement, Hozier yet another Horny Song, but this time a little more, awed by the other person bc when Fannar decides he wants to sleep with someone he goes big or goes home and sets his sights on impressive people......like a dragon  “I still watch you when you're groovin'/As if through water from the bottom of a pool/You're movin' without movin'/And when you move, I'm moved”

Blame It On The Girls, MIKA OH BOY this pretty aptly sums up Fannar’s attitude and attitudes abt various family members, this song is just, a perfect summary of Fannar, though I guess it’s more someone describing him as opposed to Fannar saying it himself  “Blame it on the girls who know what to do/Blame it on the boys who keep hitting on you/Blame it on your mother for the things she said/Blame it on your father but you know he's dead”

Burning Pile, Mother Mother sometimes Fannar’s bullshit, baggage, and mistakes catch up with him and the easiest thing to do is to torch it.  why would he ever actually deal with it fully?   “All my troubles on a burning pile/All lit up and I start to smile/If I, catch fire then I change my aim/Throw my troubles at the world again”

cherubim, serpentwithfeet ANOTHER horny song but this is specifically abt someone!  There’s a character that I have Fannar paired off with in my canon-compliant writing, Renault, the War King of Ragnas.  Who, well, Fannar started off as a consort but then it turned out that he really liked him, and he felt the same way and it’s probably the best romantic relationship of Fannar’s life so he feels a certain level of devotion to Renault.  “Boy, every time I worship you/My mouth is filled with honey/Boy, as I build your throne/I feel myself growing”

Savior, St. Vincent [lord farquaad pointing meme] horny, Fannar is more than willing to fill sexual roles for people, fulfill what other people think of him because that’s easier than having his own concrete identity, though he knows it has its limits “You dress me up in a nurse's outfit/It rides and sticks to my thighs and my hips...... Honey, I can't be your savior/Love you to the grave and farther/Honey, I am not your martyr”

Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue), Hozier [lord farquaad pointing meme but deep fried] HORNY Look, Fannar knows what he’s about, and also maybe sometimes he can be horny in an emotional way that makes him a little bit sappy abt the present events  “Be thankful some know it lovingly/There the reason comes in the common tongue of your loving me”

Low Lays the Devil, The Veils okay, I originally put this on here bc I think it was a recommended song on a different playlist and i wanted to save it and so i saved it to Fannar’s playlist bc it fit that one best.  Overall, just a general allusion to Fannar’s fiendish heritage as a tiefling I suppose and also how he generally likes to hype people up to by proxy hype himself up   “High as the heavenly sea/Low lays the devil in me...Come lay your head on my lap/And let your hair fall back/You've got to live with yourself”

Save A Horse (Ride a Cowboy), Big & Rich Okay, I added this jokingly bc I managed to convince myself that Fannar would fucking love this song, absolutely jam out to it while he’s fucking wasted.  Also, maybe his type is ‘Cowboy’ and that’s hella valid of him.

Horns, Bryce Fox He’s a tiefling!  A tiefling with very prominent horns!  He’s gotta learn to take pride in that shit and learn how to think of them as attractive

It’s Hard to Be Humble, Mac Davis Look, Fannar knows how to hype himself up and strut and preen like the peacock he is, being humble is not a part of his persona

Little Lion Man, Mumford & Sons hahahahaha, scratch through Fannar’s exterior deep enough and you’ll easily find someone who was put through a fucking meat grinder and had his identity crumbled into a million jagged bits.  He maybe could have been a great wizard, and insightful advisor to his brother when he became king, but instead he was broken and choked on the poison poured into his mind   “Tremble for yourself, my man,/You know that you have seen this all before/Tremble little lion man,/You'll never settle any of your scores/Your grace is wasted in your face,/Your boldness stands alone among the wreck/Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck”

You’re My Best Friend, Queen I needed a song for Fannar and Isorropia.  Isorropia is his best friend (and tbh he considers her to be like a sister, though he doesn’t really expect her to feel the same way) and he feels very strongly about her.  He would kill a man for Rope.

Everybody Wants To Rule the World, Tears For Fears A pretty central even in Fannar’s backstory was his trying to take the throne of his home kingdom and he generally cares about being in control of himself and his situation, having no control over what’s happening to him is not a good time

I Don’t Know What We’re Talking About, Ninja Sex Party Okay, there’s a running thing where whenever we’re in a bathhouse or something I’ll just shout out “Fannar disassociates in the bath” which started off as a joke but then I realized Fannar doesn’t like being alone with his thoughts or his body.  He didn’t grow up with this tiefling body and as much as he can claim to be comfortable with himself, he can’t always manage to put his money where his mouth is.  There was one notable time where Fannar was completely checked out in the baths in this inn in Vulcanica and the party managed to chase a guy down into an alley and fight him, all while Fannar stayed sat in the bath.  (See also, this is why Fannar is such a promiscuous character, he’s trying to assert confidence in his body by being overtly sexual)

Catch Me Now I’m Falling, The Kinks Ya boi fell.  He notably fell into a massive fucking abyss and it would have killed him had he not made his pact with Auril

Emperor’s New Clothes, Panic! at the Disco Big Fannar vibes, he’s big and dramatic and as someone who grew up among nobility and hated it he knows how to clock fake people who clothe themselves in pretension and importance.  Also lowkey speaks to his ambitions to become an archfey himself someday  “Sycophants on velvet sofas/Lavish mansions, vintage wine/I am so much more than royal/Snatch your chain and mace your eyes/If it feels good, tastes good/It must be mine/Heroes always get remembered/But you know legends never die”

Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time, Panic! at the Disco What can I say besides Fannar is a party animal

Somebody To Love, Queen HE’S JUST A BIG DUMB GAY WHO MASKS HIS EMOTIONS BUT DEEP DOWN WOULD REALLY LIKE TO JUST GENUINELY BE LOVED, HE’S GOT PLATONIC LOVE IN THE FORM OF HIS INTER-PARTY FRIENDSHIPS BUT HEY HE’D LIKE SOME ROMANCE TOO PLEASE AND THANKS (SHOUTOUT TO RENAULT)

Viva La Vida, Coldplay More backstory allusion stuff, he was a big dumbass who wanted to rule but his reputation crumbled around him and all of those ambitions became untenable.

[charlottedabookworm]

hamelin-born said:                                                                                                                            Nyx: *ruminates* I was actually pretty surprised when Bahumut didn’t recognize me and kill me when I entered the Kingsglaive.                                                                                                                                                   Nyx: Dad’s line of Lucis Caelum’s diverged from yours about two thousand years ago, and Bahumut fucking /hates/ Dad.                                                                                                                                                       And oh yes, Nyx’s explanation to Regis et al would be a thing of /beauty/. And hilarity, and he tries to EXPLAIN.                                                                                                                                                  …I am relatively sure that Nyx would wake up in the hospital one evening to find his father standing over him, /glaring/.                                                                                                                                            Ardyn would be proud of his son’s deviousness if he wasn’t SO PISSED OFF at the sheer stupidity of Nyx /weaponizing/ Bahumut’s MURDER. 

@hamelin-born

This is your fault. I got all rambly over this again, so have a response. That got sorta long so it’s under a cut

Nyx falls. He’s injured and he’s tired and he’s out of magic. This time, when Bahamut swings a blade, Nyx doesn’t move. Everyone expects to have to watch him die – they cannot stand against an Astral, let alone the Draconian – after he has just saved all of their lives, has just saved the entirety of Lucis and dealt Niflheim a vital blow at his own cost. But, at the last second, with the blade literally centimetres from Nyx’s skin – Ramuh interferes and catches the blade, while protecting Nyx from any further blows. They do not come – because even Bahamut would not directly oppose Ramuh – but the Fulgurian does not leave.

Not until Libertus – one of the few present who knows the entirety of Nyx’s heritage and is used to Nyx doing stupid shit, and so does not need as much time to recover as everyone else – moves to pick up Nyx, giving Ramuh a nod of respect and deference. (All the Galahdians bow their heads to the Stormlord but no more – the Lucians throw a fit over their ‘lack’ of respect but the Galahdians don’t care. They respect their patron differently. The bowed head is more for saving one of their own).

Lib promptly starts towards the nearest hospital – mostly because of the magic exhaustion that Nyx has, but he also has a bunch of other wounds.

He gets about 100m before everyone else snaps out of it. They rush Nyx to the hospital in the Citadel and try to grill Libertus for what he knows but he refuses to say anything – just that it’s Nyx’s story to tell.

So they wait. Everyone goes back to work – especially the glaive and the Crownsguard – but the Galahdians, especially the glaives, set up a rotating watch on Nyx so someone is always there and Regis and Clarus and Cor visit regularly.

It takes Nyx two days to wake up. Most of that is the magic exhaustion – the cuts he had were mostly superficial, only a few requiring stitches, and while he was bruised af his worse injuries where the muscle strain from over-warping. Lib and Crowe are there, and they send for the King and a doctor before spending the next half hour berating him on his stupidity and telling him that Selena is on her way. The doctor tells him that he’s mostly fine and then he’s left alone with Regis et al.

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

“So. I assume you have questions.” Because Regis, Clarus, and Cor are standing in his hospital room and looking at him as though he’s a mystery they can’t wait to solve. And Nyx, well. Nyx is as sore as fuck, and he is tired in a way that he hasn’t been since he was just starting to learn to use magic, but he’s alive. He hadn’t expected to wake up – had known when he’d made the choice that it would lead to his death. Ramuh saving him? What not something that he’d considered. He’s grateful. He is. Despite what everyone seems to think, he doesn’t actually want to die – he likes living. But he’s really not looking forward to this. Especially since he had never expected to have to deal with this – had always expected to die when it came out that he was his father’s son. But he has no choice. Not when it’s his king and his friend that it asking, someone that he doesn’t want to lie to. To his surprise, it’s Clarus who speaks first. “Yes. You knew that that would happen when you spoke your fathers name.” It’s a statement more than a question, if a fair one – considering his actions before he warped into the battle. “Yeah. I-“ Fuck. How to say this? “Bahamut has hated my father for a very long time – every since he refused to die for a prophecy Bahamut made and tried to find another way instead. The Fulgurian cursed him for it, and my father knew when I was born that he would try to kill me if it was known, just because of what my father is. I used that – because we were losing, and it was the only way I could think of that we might have won.” He knows that he’s not explaining this well but, he doesn’t really want to get into the entire story – not with Ardyn’s permission – and it’s not an easy thing to make sense of without all of the information. “What do you mean by what he is? And you called him a Lucis Caelum during the battle?” Cor said. Nyx sort of wanted to hit him – probably would if it didn’t hurt so much to just breathe – because he was really hoping that they hadn’t noticed that. And now Regis was starting to look like he was happy that he had more family out there and, fuck. “He’s… not technically a Lucis Caelum.” How he wished he could just leave it there and pretend his dad was someone’s bastard child. “If only because he’s older than the name. The reason the relation didn’t show up on my blood tests is because dad is a little over 2000 years old – so technically we’re about as genetically related to you as we are to everyone else on Eos, but we still have the magic so it’s a weird sorta grey area. And Bahamut really hates dad, and dad really hates him back because he’s the reason that dad is still alive nearly two thousand years later. And dad isn’t that fond of the Lucis Caelum line either because his brother was the founder and it’s the same brother who tried to kill him and stole his throne because dad was older and-“ Nyx cut himself off because he was rambling and everyone was looking very confused. “I’m really not explaining this well, am I?” Regis gave him a deadpan look that would have better suited Cor. “Right. Look. Two thousand years ago two sons were born to the line that would become the Lucis Caelum line – the Sage and the Mystic. The older one, the Sage, was given a prophecy by Bahamut that said he would be the one to rid the world of the Scourge – but that he would die for it. But the Sage didn’t want to die and he was a healer so he tried to find another way – but he was cursed with immortality by Bahamut, and rejected by his brother and his people for it. Dad continued to live and avoid Solheim and later Lucis, your line was born from the younger brother who became King, and Bahamut continued to hate dad. Then, 32 years ago, I was born. And both my parents knew that if my father was known, I would be killed – so it was hidden. Which is why when I revealed my fathers name Bahamut tried to kill me – the curse he gave my father, well dad isn’t really human anymore. And gods tend to tar us all with the same brush so…” Nyx shrugged. “In all honestly, I’m more surprised that it took so long for this to happen – especially since I caused it. I fully expected Bahamut to recognise me the first time he saw me – Ramuh certainly did. Especially since he can sense things through the crystal, and my magic feels pretty similar to dads so. I’ve been expecting this to happen for years.” Well. Fuck. He didn’t really mean to say that. He peered at the IV in his hand. What sort of drugs did they have him on? Regis stiffened. “What do you mean that you expected this to happen earlier?” -------------------------- And it goes on. Nyx keeps digging, making everything sound worse and worse. Mostly because he’s on the good drugs at the minute. Regis et al are very pissed that Nyx basically came to Lucis to die for his peoples protection. They sort of put the whole, my dad is 2000yrs old, thing to the back of their minds but then research the fuck out of the Sage when they get back. Everything they can find – and there isn’t much, most of it destroyed by Somnus all those years ago – supports what Nyx told them

(They find a painting. One that always seemed more fantastical then the halls full of formal portraits, located in a corridor just off of the throne room. They find a painting that shows a man with purple hair being dragged to his execution. On the back, the Sage is labelled.

Regis feels a bit sick when he realises. Because how many times has Nyx stood guard by this painting? How many times has Nyx been forced to stand there and ignore the painting of his father being killed for not wanting to die? And to see that displayed as art. Well, he’s sick and he’s angry because how could they have done this?)

Selena shows up the next day. She spends a full two hours yelling at him and then another hour hugging him, before leaving with Crowe (because those two are totally together). And then, two days after the talk with Regis et al, Ardyn shows up.

Nyx wakes up in the middle of the night and his father is standing in a shadowed corner, his eyes glowing yellow against the darkness of the room. Because he had terrified his father – because he had almost died and he was Adryn’s one of the few things that tie him to his humanity.

(The only reason it took Ardyn so long is because he stopped to destroy every one of Bahamut’s shrines that he could find on the trip back while also stopping to thank Ramuh for saving his sons life)

After the terror wears off Ardyn is both angry and proud. Angry because Nyx had basically sacrificed himself – and Ardyn is his father, no amount of lives are worth Nyx’s – and he had revealed who he was to Bahamut and it was a really stupid plan and he is going to shove Nyx through so much more training in response for this – because this may have basically been the best case scenario but things could always get worse. But also proud because using Bahamut to save everyone by making him dramatically miss constantly is exactly the thing that he would expect from his son.

He sticks around. And is still there when Regis et al come back the next day.

Which is about when they realise that Ardyn Lucis Caelum is actually Ardyn Izunia and he happens to be the Chancellor of Niflheim. Nyx probably should have mentioned that. Oops.

[em-exceeds-change-zearu]

how do you think golden dad au ash would reveal his forms to his friends in each region? how would they react??

so this got really really really long and it’s going under a cut but let’s assume he ends up having to spill the beans during the times they’re travelling together ok also disclaimer that these are my own personal thoughts and they may or may not happen in the au proper (if there even is an au proper, it’s really just a collection of thoughts nicholle and scribbles and i tend to spew tbh)

okay so i have varying ideas on this but generally it happens during a movie since that brings up so many near world-ending crises for him to get involved in. granted, his strength comes more from the fact that he’s able to usually facilitate resolving these issues without tapping into the his latent ho-oh powers, proving himself as a human that can connect to all sorts of pokemon and basically serving as a conduit for such events, just like in canon. but maybe he’ll pull out his powers to resolve things more smoothly or help prevent a death that could have been prevented or something.

the one exception might be the OS saga, though, because they actually visit Ecruteak City, which is where Berthold’s old Burned Tower is and it’s his human persona’s “hometown,” so to speak. In that town, Berthold masquerades as one of a strange line of eccentric, single, childless philanthropists that own the land where nearly every single cultural landmark resides on and so collects the money of all the donations and rents and such that goes into those heritage sites. It’s a very strange line where some distant uncle or cousin or other ends up taking the titles when the current head “passes on,” but really its just Bert coming in with a slightly different identity every time and the only ones in on it are Morty and the Kimono Girls since they’re the ones in charge of these lands and are descendants of the priests/priestesses that used to wait on him in the olden days, etc. So in Golden Dad AU, Ash is well known as the young master of that town who comes to visit with his mother every year or so before he went on his journey and is effectively from “old money” thanks to Bert’s human persona there. (the hilarity that ensues when Misty finds out he’s technically rich as hell and could have paid her back for her bike at any time is pretty great, honestly.) Returning there is pretty much asking Misty and Brock to end up finding out about his heritage and identity, especially now that they’ve grown so close.

Tracey might end up finding out from Professor Oak, though, if you remember that one ask where I pointed out to Nicholle that if Ash used his abilities during the fourth movie’s events, Oak would have known about Ash being a Ho-oh hybrid as soon as the boy was born thanks to his memories. Perhaps there’s something rather incriminating in that old sketchbook he finds, hm?

May and Max may have found out in possibly the Lucario movie or the Manaphy movie events, I haven’t decided which, if any. Oooooorrrrr the events in the Battle Pyramid and the King of Pokelantis could have revealed it to them instead, because it’ll go down slightly differently due to us deciding that the King (or Antinaco/Ravindra, as we’ve dubbed him) was also one of Bert’s hybrid children from years ago, and him trying to seize Ho-oh’s power was the boy turning against his father who had barely (if ever) raised him. While canon/Golden Boy seizes it out of arrogance/eagerness, Golden Dad knows about what happened with the enraged king’s spirit and actually wants to reach out to him because the man is technically his half-brother in that AU. I doubt Berthold would have told Ash about it directly, but I wouldn’t put it past the child to overhear things that Bert discusses with Delia (about how she’d convinced him to stay and raise Ash and how strangely wonderful it turned out, and whether if he had done the same for his other son, would Pokelantis had turned out differently?) and question this himself. Heck, if Bert showed up just like he had in canon, Golden Dad Ash would absolutely confront him about it (especially after being possessed by the King’s rage and jealousy and-)

Nicholle mentioned once that Golden Dad Ash might have spilled the beans to Dawn well long after their journey together, but assuming she finds out during their travels, I’m inclined to say during the Zoroark movie events. If only because Dawn could totally go like “oh man, but Zoroark totally pulled out the stops on that illusion oh my god. Ash turning into a Ho-oh, that’s rich!” and then Ash turns to her like “but that wasn’t an illusion, though.” Alternatively, saving your great-great-great grandfather and lord and creator Arceus probably nets you a few steps towards being a favorite grandchild and a place in the pantheon once you gain your title or something, although funnily enough Arceus probably wouldn’t realize that Bert’s son saved him until after the timeskip and shit. 

Iris and Cilan probably find out during the Meloetta shenanigans that TR starts doing because of that one joke we made about Ash busting out of Giovanni’s cage ages ago. But I like to imagine there’s a small moment of “??? ??? ? ?!!??!” during the Keldeo movie where after Keldeo has found his place as one of the Muskedeers and the whole struggle the little guy had to figure out his role as a Legendary Pokemon which is something that Golden Dad Ash really identifies with considering his own journey to be a Pokemon Master and what that means for both his human and Legendary selves. so after they have their triumphant moment of “and three becomes four!” and etc, Ash gives Keldeo a feather to wear alongside the other colorful feathers he has on his little mane as a thanks and a bit of encouragement to follow his path. naturally Keldeo and Iris and Cilan are all just very ?????  ????? ? ?  ? at it - while those three might not know what type of feather it is or how he even got it, the Muskedeer seniors do recognize the Rainbow Wing and it’s significance and they all look amongst each other like “dohohohohoho” et al. 

XY&Z, we’ve mentioned of it not happening during the Hoopa movie like in Golden Boy because of Golden Dad Ash being savvy enough to transform out of sight. Instead it happens post-Flare Finale, where there’s a lot of deaths for Ash to deal with even after Squishy gets rid of all the vines, and you might remember me mentioning a potential way for the reveal to go down while I was going on a spiel about titles and their significance. (Thankfully, Golden Dad Ash is savvy enough to wait for TR to put down/turn off their camera first, honestly, or he might even wait until the group have all wandered off into the city so he’s only transforming in front of his friends and not in front of all the resident champions, gym leaders, et al.)

SM saga…I dunno yet, since there’s very little to go on right now. It might be safe to say that Kukui knows, though, since he’s basically a stand in uncle for Ash at this point in time and Delia had to give the guy a lowdown on what to expect (better than Ash contracting a fever one day and Kukui asking all sorts of questions like why the hell is this child burning a hole through my sofa with how hot he is). It might happen during whatever confrontation there is with Aether and/or Team Skull and/or the Ultra Beasts, though? 

anyways HOOO BOY THAT WAS A LONG ANSWER i hope you enjoyed that

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings February 24, 2019 at 11:00PM

Psalm 106

Psalm 106

A Confession of Israel’s Sins

1 Praise the Lord! O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever. 2 Who can utter the mighty doings of the Lord, or declare all his praise? 3 Happy are those who observe justice, who do righteousness at all times.

4 Remember me, O Lord, when you show favor to your people; help me when you deliver them; 5 that I may see the prosperity of your chosen ones, that I may rejoice in the gladness of your nation, that I may glory in your heritage.

6 Both we and our ancestors have sinned; we have committed iniquity, have done wickedly. 7 Our ancestors, when they were in Egypt, did not consider your wonderful works; they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love, but rebelled against the Most High[a] at the Red Sea.[b] 8 Yet he saved them for his name’s sake, so that he might make known his mighty power. 9 He rebuked the Red Sea,[c] and it became dry; he led them through the deep as through a desert. 10 So he saved them from the hand of the foe, and delivered them from the hand of the enemy. 11 The waters covered their adversaries; not one of them was left. 12 Then they believed his words; they sang his praise.

13 But they soon forgot his works; they did not wait for his counsel. 14 But they had a wanton craving in the wilderness, and put God to the test in the desert; 15 he gave them what they asked, but sent a wasting disease among them.

16 They were jealous of Moses in the camp, and of Aaron, the holy one of the Lord. 17 The earth opened and swallowed up Dathan, and covered the faction of Abiram. 18 Fire also broke out in their company; the flame burned up the wicked.

19 They made a calf at Horeb and worshiped a cast image. 20 They exchanged the glory of God[d] for the image of an ox that eats grass. 21 They forgot God, their Savior, who had done great things in Egypt, 22 wondrous works in the land of Ham, and awesome deeds by the Red Sea.[e] 23 Therefore he said he would destroy them— had not Moses, his chosen one, stood in the breach before him, to turn away his wrath from destroying them.

24 Then they despised the pleasant land, having no faith in his promise. 25 They grumbled in their tents, and did not obey the voice of the Lord. 26 Therefore he raised his hand and swore to them that he would make them fall in the wilderness, 27 and would disperse[f] their descendants among the nations, scattering them over the lands.

28 Then they attached themselves to the Baal of Peor, and ate sacrifices offered to the dead; 29 they provoked the Lord to anger with their deeds, and a plague broke out among them. 30 Then Phinehas stood up and interceded, and the plague was stopped. 31 And that has been reckoned to him as righteousness from generation to generation forever.

32 They angered the Lord[g] at the waters of Meribah, and it went ill with Moses on their account; 33 for they made his spirit bitter, and he spoke words that were rash.

34 They did not destroy the peoples, as the Lord commanded them, 35 but they mingled with the nations and learned to do as they did. 36 They served their idols, which became a snare to them. 37 They sacrificed their sons and their daughters to the demons; 38 they poured out innocent blood, the blood of their sons and daughters, whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan; and the land was polluted with blood. 39 Thus they became unclean by their acts, and prostituted themselves in their doings.

40 Then the anger of the Lord was kindled against his people, and he abhorred his heritage; 41 he gave them into the hand of the nations, so that those who hated them ruled over them. 42 Their enemies oppressed them, and they were brought into subjection under their power. 43 Many times he delivered them, but they were rebellious in their purposes, and were brought low through their iniquity. 44 Nevertheless he regarded their distress when he heard their cry. 45 For their sake he remembered his covenant, and showed compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love. 46 He caused them to be pitied by all who held them captive.

47 Save us, O Lord our God, and gather us from among the nations, that we may give thanks to your holy name and glory in your praise.

48 Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. And let all the people say, “Amen.” Praise the Lord!

Footnotes:

Psalm 106:7 Cn Compare 78.17, 56: Heb rebelled at the sea

Psalm 106:7 Or Sea of Reeds

Psalm 106:9 Or Sea of Reeds

Psalm 106:20 Compare Gk Mss: Heb exchanged their glory

Psalm 106:22 Or Sea of Reeds

Psalm 106:27 Syr Compare Ezek 20.23: Heb cause to fall

Psalm 106:32 Heb him

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Ruth 1:1-14

Elimelech’s Family Goes to Moab

1 In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to live in the country of Moab, he and his wife and two sons. 2 The name of the man was Elimelech and the name of his wife Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Chilion; they were Ephrathites from Bethlehem in Judah. They went into the country of Moab and remained there. 3 But Elimelech, the husband of Naomi, died, and she was left with her two sons. 4 These took Moabite wives; the name of the one was Orpah and the name of the other Ruth. When they had lived there about ten years, 5 both Mahlon and Chilion also died, so that the woman was left without her two sons and her husband.

Naomi and Her Moabite Daughters-in-Law

6 Then she started to return with her daughters-in-law from the country of Moab, for she had heard in the country of Moab that the Lord had considered his people and given them food. 7 So she set out from the place where she had been living, she and her two daughters-in-law, and they went on their way to go back to the land of Judah. 8 But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back each of you to your mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me. 9 The Lord grant that you may find security, each of you in the house of your husband.” Then she kissed them, and they wept aloud. 10 They said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.” 11 But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters, why will you go with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? 12 Turn back, my daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. Even if I thought there was hope for me, even if I should have a husband tonight and bear sons, 13 would you then wait until they were grown? Would you then refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, it has been far more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of the Lord has turned against me.” 14 Then they wept aloud again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

2 Corinthians 1:1-11

Salutation

1 Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and Timothy our brother,

To the church of God that is in Corinth, including all the saints throughout Achaia:

2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Paul’s Thanksgiving after Affliction

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, 4 who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God. 5 For just as the sufferings of Christ are abundant for us, so also our consolation is abundant through Christ. 6 If we are being afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation; if we are being consoled, it is for your consolation, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we are also suffering. 7 Our hope for you is unshaken; for we know that as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our consolation.

8 We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters,[a] of the affliction we experienced in Asia; for we were so utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death so that we would rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. 10 He who rescued us from so deadly a peril will continue to rescue us; on him we have set our hope that he will rescue us again, 11 as you also join in helping us by your prayers, so that many will give thanks on our[b] behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.

Footnotes:

2 Corinthians 1:8 Gk brothers

2 Corinthians 1:11 Other ancient authorities read your

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Matthew 5:1-12

The Beatitudes

5 When Jesus[a] saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2 Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

5 “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

7 “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

8 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely[b] on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Footnotes:

Matthew 5:1 Gk he

Matthew 5:11 Other ancient authorities lack falsely

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[miduhadi]

Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett

Like the two previous books in this series, this one was hilarious! Pratchett continues to amaze me by dealing with huge issues like gender discrimination in his own unique way:

“I can see you’ve been getting ideas below your station,” said Granny coldly.

As always, the humor was exquisite. Consider the following quote:

However, it is primarily a story about a world. Here it comes now. Watch closely, the special effects are quite expensive.

And this one:

“You’re wizards!” she screamed. “Bloody well wizz!”

I mean who even thinks of what a character would think if they were turned into an old palace. Pratchett, that’s who:

For the first time in her life, she knew what it was like to have balconies.

And then there was this one:

The light was misty and actinic, the sort of light to make Steven Spielberg reach for his copyright lawyer.

I also learned a new delicious word:

Oh, and the writing was beautiful and witty, which is also characteristic Pratchett:

There should be a word for words that sound like things would sound like if they made a noise, he thought. The word ‘glisten’ does indeed gleam oilily, and if there was ever a word that sounded exactly the way sparks look as they creep across burned paper, or the way lights of cities would creep across the world if the whole of human civilization was crammed into one night, then you couldn’t do better than “coruscate.”

Granny was my favorite character. She dealt with sexist snobbish wizards with such aplomb and scolded sense into anyone who dared act crazy! More Pratchett love here.

  Undead and Unfinished by MaryJanice Davidson

Okay, okay. So it took Betsy almost ten books to realize how selfish she was. But at least, she owned up to it and then did something about it.

The book was funny:

And I was self-aware enough to realize that if I thought someone was being immature, it was time for them to reexamine their life.

It also had dark foreshadowing, which will form the plot of the future books. I am confident though if Betsy can survive her evil step-mom, dying, becoming a vampire, ruling over the bloodsuckers, marrying a selfish power hungry vampire and get him to fall in love with her, be sisters with the Devil’s daughter, adopt her own step-brother, prevent an all-out war with the shifters, and take down a villain or two, then she can handle whatever’s coming her way. Right?

  Time Travelers Strictly Cash by Spider Robinson

The good things about this compilation first. It had nuggets like this one:

One of the major agonies of reviewing is that you cannot recall an opinion which later reflection reveals to be fatheaded. There isn’t enough time for anything but snap judgments, and often you end up regretting them, and there’s no practical way to retract them.

I’m pretty sure seldom has a reviewer been this honest about their job and its drawbacks. Anyone who goes back and reads their reviews from before will agree with this point of view.

Then there were the stories with such beautiful one-liners, which is why I love the Time Travelers series:

And-and funny men are nicer lovers. They know about pain.

Not to forget brutal truths thrown in for good measures, like this one:

Of course one of the first concerns of a colonizing country is to properly condition the colonists. To ensure their loyalty. Because a colonist is supposed to give you the things you want to have in exchange for the things you want him to have, and for this golden opportunity he is supposed to be properly grateful. It wouldn’t do for him to get any treasonous ideas about his own destiny, his own goals.

Now for the bad part. This book doesn’t just contain the Callahan stories. It includes some reviews written by Robinson, a defense of Robert Heinlein, and other short stories not from the Callahan series. The so-called defense is long and drawn out and full of sexist, homophobic, and other negative comments. I skipped most of it.

The Callahan stories included:

Fivesight

The title is a play on the word foresight and is a sad but uplifting story about a character whose husband can see a few hours ahead into the future.

Dog Day Evening

This is the story of a German Shepherd, Ralph von Wau Wau, and it is exactly Callahan-tastic!

Have You Heard The One…?

This story is about a new character who comes to visit the saloon, Al Phee, and reveals the true nature of one of the regulars, Josie Bauer. Another fun one!

Mirror / rorriM Off The Wall

This story describes the events that befall Robert Trebor and how Callahan and the narrator, Jake, help him out.

The non-Callahan stories were:

God is an Iron

It is a story about how a thief and a drug addict save each other.

Soul Search

A woman tries to reawaken her mate to life from a cryogenic sleep. Things don’t go so well. The story’s focus is on what could make reincarnation possible,

Local Champ

This represents Robinson’s rare attempts at writing a fantasy story. It is about a warlock who becomes all-powerful and immortal and how he meets his demise.

Serpents’ Teeth

Kid emancipation and parenting are the focus of this story. It was a miss for me.

  Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

Exhaustingly descriptive and maybe dated to some extent. I think if the pages spent by the author describing Manderley were removed, the result would be a fast-paced thriller. I didn’t mind that the author took her time unraveling the secrets surrounding the first wife’s death. It made the story exciting but I did mind when she spent pages and pages telling me about the garden and the rooms of the mansion. How awkwardly the second Mrs. De Winter tries to fill Rebecca’s shoes and her trials were described very well. It made you feel for her while remaining in awestruck by the glamorous creature Rebecca had been. How Rebecca’s nurse mentally tortured the girl and the rambling man by the beach only deepened my enjoyment of the mystery. But when De Winter finally confessed, I wanted to smack him hard. It took him this long to say that? Why did he make his wife suffer so much? The idiot! And when Manderley finally burned now, I was like good riddance!

  Nightlight by The Harvard Lampoon

A parody of the Twilight series. It had its laugh out loud moments, not because they were funny. They made me laugh because they accurately described how nonsensical certain things were in the original series. Bella looking after her parents instead of it being the other way around. Her thinking that all the guys were falling for her. I could go on and on, but I won’t…

  Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

If I was to name one pompous, pretentious book that glorified one era and was elitist as shit, I’d probably name this one! The protag is a geek, which made him better than everyone who met him. He is also a Mary Sue. He was singlemindedly solving the riddle when he suddenly just had to fall in love. The girl he fell for was introduced as an independent woman but by the end of the book, she had been successfully Hollywood-ized. There were dei ex machina of all kinds and the last one was obviously the worst. The villain’s character was cardboard thin and just in it for the money. He worked for an organization that was supposedly the worst, right? Then how come he kept failing and they never replaced him? What pissed me off, even more, was the fact that the book was marketed as YA. None of the targeted audience would have even existed in the eighties. Why add all those obscure references? Just to show off how knowledgeable the author is? Then why not write a non-fic about the subject? A quick read if you can ignore the glaring faults with this one!

  Megalodon & Prehistoric Sharks by Various Authors

Fun, informative book that made me thank my stars that I wasn’t born back then! Some of these bloodthirsty giants even counted the land amongst their hunting grounds. Yeesh! Check out some of the hair-raising illustrations below:

  Once Upon a Time Machine: Greek Gods and Legends

Icarus

A father-son team on a space voyage; guess which one doesn’t survive the trip?

Theseus and Metrotaurus

Theseus needs to board a train to meet his beloved. The metrotaurus isn’t having none of it!

Pandora

The Slaying of the Pseudors (Odysseus)

Odysseus returns home to find aliens have taken over and turned his family into pterodactyl-like creatures. The rest, as they say, is history!

Footsteps (Hermes)

The divine messenger cannot survive going digital. Or can he?

Arachne

Persephone

An alien heroine tries to convince her mother she loves Hades. A sad ending!

Hyperion

Flying Horse Style (Pegasus)

Why even a chimera isn’t a match for Pegasus!

Aphrodite

Daphne

Even a modern-day Zeus doesn’t know when to give up!

Minotaur

Hades

Andromeda

Andromeda isn’t going home and Perseus can go hang himself.

Eurydice

He tries to bring Eurydice back with a software.

The Muses

Game Changers (Athena and Poseidon)

Game developers try to bring back their creation to order.

Away Mission (Actaeon)

A friendship that survives several alien transformations until it doesn’t!

The Twelve Labors of Mech-Detective Heracles

She doesn’t know how to give up!

Pygmalion

The classic tale, except this time, Galatea returns the favor!

A Heavy Stone for all the Peoples (Sisyphus)

A tale as old as time, but with a twist!

Eros

Jason and the Argonauts

Gang wars break out over the golden fleece err jacket.

Metal Illiad

Achille’s exploits at the Battle of Troy turned into a comic strip.

Cerberus

Cosmogony (Uranus)

The dominant species always ends up wrecking the world!

Ares

The Long Bow (Telemachus)

Is it set in Ancient Greece or the modern times, who can tell? But Ulysses comes through for his son!

Zeus at Large

A comic strip about Zeus’ sexcapades.

Riddle of the Sphinx

I loved all the illustrations and most of the stories in this comic compilation.

  Caramelo by Sandra Cisneros

I read this book for the Hispanic Heritage category in Book Bingo. It started off beautifully. The descriptions of how subtly — and not so subtly — different life was on both sides of the border were juicy and well written. I loved reading about the different generations of a family and how circumstances shaped their lives and nature. When the book began, the narrator calls her grandma, the Awful Grandmother. By the end of the book, she drops the awful, and you can see why. What turned me off was how the book dragged on needlessly when it could have been wrapped up at least 100 pages earlier. I realized early that there wouldn’t be a twist and I was right. Still, the story left me wanting.

  The Color Purple by Alice Walker

I have always wanted to read this book but haven’t been able to woman up for this task. Once I had bought a physical copy, I even picked it up. Got as far as the first page, which sets the tone of the book, and explains that it is going to be epistolary. The book found its way back on my bookshelf and languished there, it did. Until Book Bingo because I am friends with this kooky group of girls. We all have different reading tastes so any attempts at starting a book clubs have met with a failure of the bitchy sort. What we flock towards is Bingo because it allows us to read whatever the heck we want – provided it matches the description of a Bingo square. After several months or so, one of us – usually, this person of ill-repute – wails about Bingo. The rest of us say aye and so it begins like it began this time.

I read The Color Purple for my Banned Book square. A perfect choice because it has been banned many times and for various reasons. It is a book that breaks your heart but also reaffirms your faith in familial love. After all, it was the sisters’ love for each other that helped them survive the cruelties of fate. You’d start reading thinking that this book recounts a tale that isn’t unique in any way. You’d be right too if the author hadn’t used clever devices like broken grammar and failed to establish Celie’s voice. Besides the writing, I also liked that Celie didn’t get back with her husband. They remained friends but she had outgrown him, so it seemed right that she didn’t go back.

Another thing I liked was that this book showed women behaving like women usually do: being generous and compassionate, raising other women’s kids as their own, leaving home to fulfill their dreams, being stronger than the men, and refusing to give in when it mattered.

A few quotes from the book:

If he (God) ever listened to poor colored women the world would be a different place.

Shug: Why any woman give a shit what people think is a nystrey to me. Grady:  A woman can’t git a man if peoples talk. Shug look at me and us giggle. Then us laugh sure nuff.

I finished the book in a few hours. It was the perfect length!

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon

Two pages into the book and Christopher’s autistic nature made me fall in love with him. We might find his life complicated by certain behavioral quirks. But to him, life was quite straightforward. A particular number of red cars meant a Good Day and yellow ones meant a bad one. He had plans in place for a bad day and he followed them to the letter. What did throw him off were how people said one thing but meant another. Since he couldn’t lie or bluff, he found it difficult to interpret others’ behavior when they did that. It took a lot of work for him to match a person’s expression with past experiences stored in his mental database. An animal’s life held as much value for him as a human’s, which is why he decided to work out who murdered the neighbor’s dog. His parents loved him as best as they could but they were human and lost their temper at times. This book made me realize the importance of patience. The next time I run into someone who isn’t like everybody else, I hope I have the presence of mind and the compassion to exercise some patience and accept them for who they are!

Some Christopher wisdom for us all:

I think prime numbers are like life. They are very logical but you could never work out the rules, even if you speny all your time thinking about them.

If only we were all this smart, all the time!

So, that was my September in a nutshell. How was yours?

  September 2018 — A Wrap-Up Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett Like the two previous books in this series, this one was hilarious!

[oldtestamentfollower-blog]

Old Testament Lesson 13: Bondage, Passover, and Exodus

Introduction: The character of Moses

(Joseph dies at 110, Genesis 50:26)  (400 years Israelites resided in Egypt. Acts 7:6 {In Acts chapter 7 Stephen recounts the history of Israel and Moses})

The Lord’s concern for His chosen people can be seen in the call of Moses. So great was Moses that forever after the Lord and His people have used him as a standard, or model, of a prophet. All of our scriptures testify of the greatness of Moses. Even Jesus Christ was called a prophet like unto Moses.  

**READ Acts 3:22; For Moses truly said unto the fathers, A prophet shall the Lord your God raise up unto you of your brethren, like unto me; him shall ye hear in all things whatsoever he shall say unto you.    

Indeed, Moses was a similitude or living symbol of Jesus Christ.  

READ: Moses 1:6  And I have a work for thee, Moses, my son; and thou art in the similitude of mine Only Begotten; and mine Only Begotten is and shall be the Savior, for he is full of grace and truth; but there is no God beside me, and all things are present with me, for I know them all.

.

Moses was a man who, like us, possessed both weaknesses and strengths. The key to Moses’ character is his meekness, the capacity to be molded by the Lord and His Spirit. 

**READ (Numbers 12:3. “Now the man Moses was very meek, above all the men which were upon the face of the earth”

“Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth.”

**Elder Bednar’s Conference Talk, “Meek and Lowly of Heart” “ A similar pattern (of meekness) is evident in a revelation received by the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1829. The Lord declared, “Learn of me, and listen to my words; walk in the meekness of my Spirit, and you shall have peace in me.”D&C 19:23 

“Meekness is a defining attribute of the Redeemer and is distinguished by righteous responsiveness, willing submissiveness, and strong self-restraint.” (Elder Bednar, April 2018 Conference Talk)

READ:1 Nephi 4:2  Therefore let us go up; let us be strong like unto Moses; for he truly spake unto the waters of the Red Sea and they divided hither and thither, and our fathers came through, out of captivity, on dry ground, and the armies of Pharaoh did follow and were drowned in the waters of the Red Sea.

Like Nephi, we should

 be led to say “let us be strong like unto Moses”  We should try to emulate the character of Moses.  At the time of his call he was reluctant to do all the Lord asked of him and seemed timid and afraid, not just of Pharaoh but also of his own people the Israelites, and yet because he kept the commandments of God and did all that was asked of him he became a mighty man, able to prophecy to Pharaoh, command the elements and lead a great people, and he authored the Book of Moses in the Pearl of Great Price.  We should review the first chapter of Moses to help us remember his greatness.

Last week Brother Gull talked about the integrity of Joseph.

While the evidence is not conclusive, at least it can be said that there may be extra-biblical evidence of Joseph’s existence.

Many scholars speculate that Joseph came to power in Egypt while the Egypt was under the domination of the Hyksos people. The ancient historian Manetho called the Hyksos the shepherd-kings and told how their conquest and dominion were bitterly hated by the Egyptians. The Hyksos were Semitic peoples from the lands north and east of Egypt.  (This is why Joseph could marry within the covenant, a Semitic wife from Egypt, since Jacob and his family were  also Semitic) It is easy to understand how Joseph would be viewed with favor by the Hyksos and also how, when the Hyksos were finally overthrown and driven out of Egypt, the Israelites would suddenly fall from favor with the native Egyptians.

Many people have wondered how Joseph could be vice-regent for so many years without having his name in any of the records or monuments of Egypt. If the theory of Hyksos domination is correct, then Joseph’s name would have been purged from records and monuments along with those of the other Hyksos rulers. Nevertheless, one scholar claimed that he found the Egyptian name Yufni, which would be the equivalent in Egyptian of the Hebrew Yosef (see Donovan Courville, “My Search for Joseph,” Signs of the Times, Oct. 1977, pp. 5–8).

(BYU) New dynasties and kingdoms over a long period of time.  Now under the Hebrews, there was a different political environment from what was there (the Hyksos are driven out as foreign conquerers)  Egyptians reassert themselves and are not in favor of the Israelites.  Instead of being favored guests they become slaves.  Geographically they are in the delta area, the same place they were in. (Goshen)

(Joseph dies at 110)

**READ:  Exodus 1:8. A Pharaoh Who Knew Not Joseph

The Lord Calls Moses to Deliver Israel from Bondage

Purpose 1:  Trust the Lord to fulfill his promises, 

(scripture of 400 years in bondage Acts 7:6.)

Go to Exodus chapter 1:

Why was Pharaoh killing little boys? At least one of the reasons is that he felt threatened by the numbers of Israelites. In a military action, the Israelite males might join with an enemy (see Exodus 1:10) and become a great danger to the security of Egypt. Therefore Pharaoh issued a command. The record suggests that the first effort to control the Israelites was affliction:

READ:  Exodus 1:11–14 “They did set over them taskmasters to afflict them with their burdens. And they built for Pharaoh treasure cities, Pithom and Raamses. And [the Egyptians] were grieved because of the children of Israel. And the Egyptians made the children of Israel to serve with rigour: And they made their lives bitter with hard bondage, in morter, and in brick, and in all manner of service in the field: all their service, wherein they made them serve, was with rigour”.

***Show slide of slaves making bricks.

This effort was not terribly successful. (Exodus 1:12,) “But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew” . 

So Pharaoh issued a command to the midwives,

READ: Exodus 1:15-16 “of which the name of the one was Shiphrah, and the name of the other Puah: “And he said, When ye do the office of a midwife to the Hebrew women, and see them upon the stools; if it be a son, then ye shall kill him: but if it be a daughter, then she shall live” 

The midwives must have feared the wrath and power of Pharaoh but they feared God more, and refused to do this heinous thing. They “saved the men children alive.” (Exodus 1:17) Finally Pharaoh commanded all the people, not just the midwives, to kill the male babies. (Exodus 1:22)

What Is the Genealogy of Moses?

Moses was a descendant of Levi through both his father, Amram (see Exodus 6:16–20), and his mother, Jochebed (see Exodus 2:1; 6:20).

It was into this environment that Moses was born, sentenced to death before he had drawn his first breath. But in the way we are all familiar with, his mother saved his life and he made his home at the palace.

**READ Exodus 2:3 And when she could not longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein; and she laid it in the flags by the river’s brink. 

(Only other place the words ark and pitch are used in the OT is when Noah was building the ark)

In spite of the presentations in The Ten Commandments and the cartoon, Prince of Egypt. Moses did not learn of his heritage when he was a young man. He always knew he was of Israel.

The Egyptians knew who and what he was but the Hyksos were sympathetic to the Hebrews.

see Exodus 2:6, “This was one of the Hebrew’s children”.   He was nursed until weaned by his own mother, a Hebrew (Exodus 2:7–9). And he was named Moses.  

The JST contains a prophecy written by Joseph that tells us about the significance of the name Moses. (which means to draw out and is significant for the Egyptians and the Hebrews)

**READ”  JST  Genesis 50:29,).

QUOTE #1

“And I will make him great in mine eyes, for he shall do my work; and he shall be great like unto him whom I have said I would raise up unto you, to deliver my people, O house of Israel, out of the land of Egypt; for a seer will I raise up to deliver my people out of the land of Egypt; and he shall be called Moses. And by this name he shall know that he is of thy house; for he shall be nursed by the king's daughter, and shall be called her son” 

His name told him that he was Israelite. It was apparently not until he was forty however, that he went to visit his brethren. But when he went, he knew they were his people.

{*(9-7) Exodus 2:10. What Training Did Moses Receive as a Youth in Egypt?

In the New Testament Stephen made a lengthy speech about the dealings of the Lord with the house of Israel. Concerning Moses’ youth, 

Stephen related, in Acts 7:22,  “And Moses was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and was mighty in words and in deeds” (Acts 7:22).

Josephus said that Moses was a very handsome and educated prince and a mighty warrior in the cause of the Egyptians (see Antiquities, bk. 2, chap. 9, par. 7; chap. 10, pars. 1–2).

As a prince, Moses may have had access to the royal libraries of the Egyptians as well as the scriptural record of the Israelites as taught by his mother. Quite possibly he read the prophecies of Joseph and was led by the Spirit to understand his divine appointment to deliver his brethren the Israelites.}

More information about Moses continues in the New Testament: (

READ Acts 7:23–25“And when he was full forty years old, it came into his heart to visit his brethren the children of Israel. And seeing one of them suffer wrong, he defended him, and avenged him that was oppressed, and smote the Egyptian: For he supposed his brethren would have understood how that God by his hand would deliver them: but they understood not”.

This passage (JST 50) even suggests that he knew by the age of forty that he might have some role in delivering his people.

To pursue this thought a bit more, consider why Moses fled from Egypt. The passage quoted above from Acts 7 tells us that he “smote the Egyptian.” Verse 28 tells us that he killed the man. From Exodus we learn that this act had serious repercussions.

{*(9-8) Exodus 2:11–15. Why Did Moses Slay an Egyptian?

“‘Smote’ and ‘slew’ in King James English are both translated from Hebrew nakhah, meaning ‘to beat down’; it is the word used in describing the action taken by soldiers in combat against each other. It would be correct to say that Moses slew a man who was slaying another, or took a life in saving a life. His looking ‘this way and that’ before doing so, simply indicates that he was aware that the Egyptians would not condone his defense of a slave.” (Rasmussen, Introduction to the Old Testament, 1:74.)

“However, the historian Eusebius says that the slaying was the result of a court intrigue in which certain men plotted to assassinate Moses. In the encounter it is said that Moses successfully warded off the attacker and killed him. (Eusebius IX:27.){Learned Christian Bishop in 317 AD)

“In the Midrash Rabbah, the traditional Jewish commentary on the Old Testament, it is asserted that Moses, with his bare fists, killed an Egyptian taskmaster who was in the act of seducing a Hebrew woman. This is confirmed in the Koran.

“Certainly there must have been good reason for Moses’ act, and most assuredly the Lord would not have called a murderer to the high office of prophet and liberator for his people Israel.” (Mark E. Petersen, Moses, p. 42.)}

READ (Exodus 2:15). “Now when Pharaoh heard this thing, he sought to slay Moses. But Moses fled from the face of Pharaoh, and dwelt in the land of Midian: and he sat down by a well”

It would be incorrect to assume that Moses fled only out of fear of Pharaoh. Paul suggests another reason:

**READ:  Hebrews 11:24–26.“By faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; Choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; Esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt: for he had respect unto the recompence of the reward. By faith he forsook Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king: for he endured, as seeing him who is invisible” 

In Midian, Moses met Jethro, the priest of Midian. The identification of Jethro as a priest is significant. The Doctrine and Covenants tells us in

D&C 84:6 -13 

 6 And the sons of Moses, according to the Holy Priesthood which he received under the hand of his father-in-law, Jethro;

7 And Jethro received it under the hand of Caleb;

8 And Caleb received it under the hand of Elihu;

9 And Elihu under the hand of Jeremy;

10 And Jeremy under the hand of Gad;

11 And Gad under the hand of Esaias;

12 And Esaias received it under the hand of God.

13 Esaias also lived in the days of Abraham, and was blessed of him—.

Jethro was the priesthood leader of a group of righteous people whose story is not recounted in the scriptures. He links Abraham and Moses.  Moses married a daughter (one of seven)  of Jethro and settled down in Midian for 40 more years.

Then the call came. We will discuss the reaction of Moses to that call in a moment, but first consider what Moses learned about the character of God.

***SHOW SLIDE OF MT SINAI

**READ: Genesis 3:1-5

1 Now Moses kept the flock of Jethro his father in law, the priest of Midian: and he led the flock to the backside of the desert, and came to the mountain of God, even to Horeb.

2 And the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed.

3 And Moses said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt.

4 And when the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called unto him out of the midst of the bush, and said, Moses, Moses. And he said, Here am I.

5 And he said, Draw not nigh hither: put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.

How would people who have never seen twinkle lights on a Christmas tree on Temple Square describe a lighted white bush? 

 The Burning Bush

(Roundtable) Came to the Mountain in Sinai:  angel of the Lord is actually the Lord himself.  

the bush isn’t burning so why called the burning bush? 

bright light the only term they related to was fire. They lived in a time where all light came from a fire, no electricity

Lehi:  white fruit to exceed all the whiteness that I had ever seen.

1 Nephi 1:6  …there came a pillar of fire and dwelt upon a rock (Lehi) Like JS saw “a pillar exactly over my head above the brightness of the sun.”

 Lehi and also used the same metaphor.  An ancient person would never have seen a light like what we see.  Brilliant light.

The Lord said to Moses:

Exodus 3:7–8 “And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows; And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey.”

These people had been living lives made bitter with hard bondage. I imagine they often felt abandoned by the God who had made covenants with their fathers. But he had not abandoned them. He had seen and had heard and knew, and would deliver them and lead them into a land of milk and honey.

It is important that we trust him to do things in the best way and at the best time. The call of Moses was God’s declaration that the time for the deliverance of Israel had come. The promises he had made to Israel through Joseph about a deliverer named Moses (see JST App. Genesis 50:29) were now to be fulfilled.

The Lord knows our afflictions and answers our prayers in time:

What did the Lord tell Moses while calling him? 

See Exodus 3:7-8.7 ¶ And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows;

8 And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey; unto the place of the Canaanites, and the Hittites, and the Amorites, and the Perizzites, and the Hivites, and the Jebusites.) 

What can we learn about the Lord from his calling of Moses? (Answers could include that the Lord knows his people, is merciful to them, wants to bless them, and keeps his promises to them.)

God does not forget us in our adversity, as he showed by calling Moses and eventually delivering Israel. But usually he does not deliver us from trials immediately. No matter how long the trial, we should continue to pray to him, trusting that he loves us and will have all things work together for our good if we obey him. 

See D&C 90:24  Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good, if ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted one with another.

Mosiah 24:14-15  And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord..

But Moses was not thrilled with the call. There seem to be five objections he raises in his interview with the Lord. Here they are:

*(Exodus 3:11) “Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of bondage?” Who, me? He seems to be saying. Surely there are more qualified people out there, Let me work in the nursery and find someone else to teach Gospel Doctrine.

*(Exodus 3:13) Who are you? We do not know how clear a concept of God the Israelites had retained after 400 years in Egypt, but Moses seems concerned that they will expect him to identify this God for them.

“And Moses said unto God, Behold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, The God of your fathers hath sent me unto you; and they shall say to me, What is his name? what shall I say unto them?” (Exodus 3:13).

Institute:(9-22) Exodus 6:12, 30

*(Exodus 4:1) They will not believe me.

“And Moses answered and said, But, behold, they will not believe me, nor hearken unto my voice: for they will say, The Lord hath not appeared unto thee.”

The Lord provided Moses with some fairly dramatic evidences to give his people so that they would understand that Moses was moved by the power of God.

*(Exodus 4:10) “I am not eloquent” and I never have been. “I am slow of speech and of a slow tongue.” This is the language Enoch used thousands of years earlier.(see Moses 6:31). Moses’ difficulty seems to be very real.

“And Moses spake before the Lord, saying, Behold, the children of Israel have not hearkened unto me; how then shall Pharaoh hear me, who am of uncircumcised lips?”

Look in your scriptures at Exodus 6:12.The King James Version states that Moses had “uncircumcised lips” (Exodus 6:30). The Joseph Smith Translation clarifies this statement by saying that Moses had “stammering lips” and was “slow of speech” (JST, Exodus 6:29). Exodus 4:10 in the New English Bible reports that Moses was “slow and hesitant in speech.” This characteristic may explain Moses’ original hesitation to be God’s spokesman (see Exodus 4:10; see also Reading 9-14).

*(Exodus 4:13) Please send someone else!

(Exodus 4:14–16“And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses, and he said, Is not Aaron the Levite thy brother? I know that he can speak well. And also, behold, he cometh forth to meet thee: and when he seeth thee, he will be glad in his heart. And thou shalt speak unto him, and put words in his mouth: and I will be with thy mouth, and with his mouth, and will teach you what ye shall do. And he shall be thy spokesman unto the people: and he shall be, even he shall be to thee instead of a mouth, and thou shalt be to him instead of God”.

Take thy shoes from off thy feet.  Moses was afraid to look upon God.  Ex 3:13:  Moses asks God a question…..   I AM THAT I AM….. in Hebrew is a cognate of the Hebrew word “to be”meaning I am the One  YHWH the name of Jehovah is the 3rd person masculine of this same verb. (Cognate is a word with a common origin: Dish:Tisch.)

Jesus uses the phrase: as Abraham was , I Am.  D&C section 29:11 “Listen to the voice of Jesus Christ, your Redeemer, the Great I Am,” whose arm of mercy hath atoned for your sins;

Ex 4 and 5:  Moses is given tokens and signs that can prove his calling

image of the serpent is a symbol of diety and kingship.  His rod turned to a serpent, hand turned leprocy, water turned blood)

Then by Exodus 5 Moses has transformed to a powerful prophet.  The Lordtakes Moses up to a high mountain and gives him knowledge (see ch 1 for clues to the transformation.)  He becomes confident in the Lord.

Another lesson worth learning is here: Whom God calls, he qualifies. We have seen this truth manifested many times in the scriptural accounts of the calling of God’s servants, such as Gideon, Nephi, Saul, Enoch, etc. 

There is one more lesson from the experience of Moses on Mt. Sinai that deserves a paragraph or two here.

This reluctance of Moses disappeared before the Israelites left Egypt. The probable cause of Moses’ dramatic change in commitment is the experience recorded in Moses 1 in the Pearl of Great Price

Remember Meekness: “Meekness is a defining attribute of the Redeemer and is distinguished by righteous responsiveness, willing submissiveness,” The great vision Moses received, as recorded in Moses 1, took place after Moses’ original call on Mount Horeb and before his arrival in Egypt. Moses 1:17 refers to the burning bush experience in retrospect. Moses 1:24–25 speaks of the delivery of Israel from bondage as a future event.

Moses is sent into Egypt and is told to tell Pharaoh let the people go.  It’s actually God who will get him to let the people go it isn’t Moses.  But Pharaoh is actually helping the Israelites to see how hard it is for God to get them away.  God is trying to make it as hard as possible so the people will remember and even today this is repeated at Passover. 

  God didn’t harden his heart. (JST)  This is a judgement on Pharaohs arrogance.  Pharaoh makes concession after concession.  Israel later wants to go back to Egypt but because of all these things that happened, it doesn’t seem to be possible.  

2. The Lord Sends Plagues Upon Egypt

READ: Acts 7:6 And God spake on this wise, That his seed should sojourn in a strange land; and that they should bring them into bondage, and entreat them evil four hundred years.

Moses and Aaron went to visit the Children of Israel. They delivered God’s message and showed God’s signs.

“And the people believed: and when they heard that the Lord had visited the children of Israel, and that he had looked upon their affliction, then they bowed their heads and worshiped” (Exodus 4:31).

We might suppose that they immediately began packing for the Exodus. God was going to deliver them! No more slime pits! No more scavenging for straw! No more tally of bricks to deliver! The language of Pharaoh suggests that they may have quit working or reduced their effort in anticipation of their freedom (see Exodus 5:4–5, 17). 

But once again, we discover that the timing of God’s people and the timing of God are not necessarily the same. Things did not immediately get better for Israel. In fact, as they were obliged to find their own straw for the required supply of bricks, things got worse. The Israelites came to Moses and Aaron:

“And they said unto them, The Lord look upon you, and judge; because ye have made our savour to be abhorred in the eyes of Pharaoh, and in the eyes of his servants, to put a sword in their hand to slay us” (Exodus 5:21).

Moses took the matter to the Lord:

“Lord, wherefore hast thou so evil entreated this people? why is it that thou hast sent me? For since I came to Pharaoh to speak in thy name, he hath done evil to this people; neither hast thou delivered thy people at all” (Moses 5:22–23).

God sent a return message to Israel.

“I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will rid you out of their bondage, and I will redeem you with a stretched out arm, and with great judgments: And I will take you to me for a people, and I will be to you a God: and ye shall know that I am the Lord your God, which bringeth you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians. And I will bring you in unto the land, concerning the which I did swear to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob; and I will give it you for an heritage: I am the Lord” (Exodus 6:6–8).

**Show Slide of Ramesees II and III

We will pass by the first 9 plagues in stunned silence except to note that the Lord offered the Egyptians a number of opportunities and reasons to repent, all of which were rejected by Pharaoh and, apparently, by many of his people.

BYU:ch 5-10 recount Moses interaction with Pharaoh, who is arrogant: “Who is God?”

 One plague after another.   water to blood, fish die,  locust. lice, frogs, (these happen to all the rest happen to only the Egyptians) 3 days darkness, boils, crops and livestock die and finally the

death of the firstborn sons.

(If the israelites  obey the commandments, they will be saved.  Moses is told ahead about how Pharaoh will react to him.)

3. The Lord Instructs Moses in the Preparation of the Passover

Purpose (2) increase their appreciation for the Savior’s atoning sacrifice, and                                                

(3) make the sacrament more meaningful in their lives.

In preparation for the 10th plague, the Lord gave special instructions: the Israelites were to select a perfect male lamb and prepare themselves so that the angel of destruction would pass over them. Their protection would come as they applied the blood of the lamb to the door posts and lintels of their dwellings. There are levels of lessons here.k  (Exodus 11-12)

The children of Israel were to use a firstborn male lamb without blemish in the Passover (Exodus 12:5). The Savior is the firstborn Son of God, the Lamb of God without spot or blemish (1 Peter 1:19). Bones were not to be broken.

The children of Israel were to sprinkle the blood of the lamb on their doorposts to save their firstborn from death (Exodus 12:7, 22–23). The Savior’s blood, which he shed in Gethsemane and on the cross, cleanses the faithful and saves them from spiritual death (Mosiah 4:2).

The children of Israel were to eat unleavened bread (Exodus 12:8, 15–20). “Leaven, or yeast, was seen anciently as a symbol of corruption because it so easily spoiled and turned moldy. … For the Israelites, eating the unleavened bread symbolized that they were partaking of the bread which had no corruption or impurity, namely, the Bread of Life, who is Jesus Christ (see John 6:35)” (Old Testament Student Manual: Genesis–2 Samuel [1981], 119). The removal of leaven also suggested repentance, or the removal of sin from a person’s life.

The children of Israel were to eat the Passover meal in haste, roast the lamb and eat whole with shoes on ready to flee.(Exodus 12:11). Like the Israelites, we need to respond eagerly and immediately to the deliverance that the Savior offers us.

Elder Holland quoted Joseph Fielding Smith, “As the Apostle Paul wrote, we were ‘bought with a price’ (1 Corinthians 6:20). What an expensive price and what a merciful purchase!

“That is why every ordinance of the gospel focuses in one way or another on the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, and surely that is why this particular ordinance with all its symbolism and imagery comes to us more readily and more repeatedly than any other in our life…’” (Joseph Fielding Smith, Doctrines of Salvation, comp. Bruce R. McConkie, 3 vols., Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1954–56, 2:340).

“Perhaps we do not always attach that kind of meaning to our weekly sacramental service. How “sacred” and how “holy” is it? Do we see it as our Passover, remembrance of our safety and deliverance and redemption?

“With so very much at stake, this ordinance commemorating our escape from the angel of darkness should be taken more seriously than it sometimes is. It should be a powerful, reverent, reflective moment. It should encourage spiritual feelings and impressions. As such it should not be rushed. It is not something to “get over” so that the real purpose of a sacrament meeting can be pursued. This is the real purpose of the meeting. And everything that is said or sung or prayed in those services should be consistent with the grandeur of this sacred ordinance” (Jeffrey R. Holland, “This Do in Remembrance of Me,” Ensign, Nov. 1995, 67–68).  

***Show Elder Holland Talk  (3:22)

4. The Children of Israel Cross the Red 

Sea

*See Archeological Evidence for the Exodus*

“And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Speak unto the children of Israel, that they turn and encamp before Pihahiroth, between Migdol and the sea, over against Baalzephon: before it shall ye encamp by the sea” (Exodus 14:1–2).

The Lord placed Israel in the predicament from which their appeared to be no escape. When the Israelites found themselves trapped between the sea and the Egyptians, they panicked.

READ:  Exodus 14:10–12.

“And when Pharaoh drew nigh, the children of Israel lifted up their eyes, and, behold, the Egyptians marched after them; and they were sore afraid:

Moses tried to reassure them.

**READ Exodus 14:13-14:

13 ¶ And Moses said unto the people, Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will shew to you to day: for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again no more for ever.

14 The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.

Conclusion

The Israelites had been in bondage for approximately 400 years. During that time, they were influenced by idol worship and beliefs about Egyptian gods. The Israelites responded negatively to Moses because they did not know the Lord and had been in bondage and suffering for a long time. It was one thing to take the Israelites out of Egypt but quite another to get Egypt out of the Israelites. (Seminary manual)

Teaching our Children

In his instructions about the Passover, the Lord emphasized the need for parents to teach their children its significance (

Exodus 12:26–27

26 And it shall come to pass, when your children shall say unto you, What mean ye by this service?

27 That ye shall say, It is the sacrifice of the Lord’s passover, who passed over the houses of the children of Israel in Egypt, when he smote the Egyptians, and delivered our houses. And the people bowed the head and worshipped.

28 And the children of Israel went away, and did as the Lord had commanded Moses and Aaron, so did they.; 13:8, 14). Why was it important that Israelite parents do this? How might this apply to our day? (Like ancient Israel, we should teach our children the significance of the sacrament and other ordinances that remind us of the Lord’s hand in delivering us from sin and death.)

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings February 20, 2017

Psalm 106

Psalm 106

A Confession of Israel’s Sins

1 Praise the Lord! O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever. 2 Who can utter the mighty doings of the Lord, or declare all his praise? 3 Happy are those who observe justice, who do righteousness at all times.

4 Remember me, O Lord, when you show favor to your people; help me when you deliver them; 5 that I may see the prosperity of your chosen ones, that I may rejoice in the gladness of your nation, that I may glory in your heritage.

6 Both we and our ancestors have sinned; we have committed iniquity, have done wickedly. 7 Our ancestors, when they were in Egypt, did not consider your wonderful works; they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love, but rebelled against the Most High[a] at the Red Sea.[b] 8 Yet he saved them for his name’s sake, so that he might make known his mighty power. 9 He rebuked the Red Sea,[c] and it became dry; he led them through the deep as through a desert. 10 So he saved them from the hand of the foe, and delivered them from the hand of the enemy. 11 The waters covered their adversaries; not one of them was left. 12 Then they believed his words; they sang his praise.

13 But they soon forgot his works; they did not wait for his counsel. 14 But they had a wanton craving in the wilderness, and put God to the test in the desert; 15 he gave them what they asked, but sent a wasting disease among them.

16 They were jealous of Moses in the camp, and of Aaron, the holy one of the Lord. 17 The earth opened and swallowed up Dathan, and covered the faction of Abiram. 18 Fire also broke out in their company; the flame burned up the wicked.

19 They made a calf at Horeb and worshiped a cast image. 20 They exchanged the glory of God[d] for the image of an ox that eats grass. 21 They forgot God, their Savior, who had done great things in Egypt, 22 wondrous works in the land of Ham, and awesome deeds by the Red Sea.[e] 23 Therefore he said he would destroy them— had not Moses, his chosen one, stood in the breach before him, to turn away his wrath from destroying them.

24 Then they despised the pleasant land, having no faith in his promise. 25 They grumbled in their tents, and did not obey the voice of the Lord. 26 Therefore he raised his hand and swore to them that he would make them fall in the wilderness, 27 and would disperse[f] their descendants among the nations, scattering them over the lands.

28 Then they attached themselves to the Baal of Peor, and ate sacrifices offered to the dead; 29 they provoked the Lord to anger with their deeds, and a plague broke out among them. 30 Then Phinehas stood up and interceded, and the plague was stopped. 31 And that has been reckoned to him as righteousness from generation to generation forever.

32 They angered the Lord[g] at the waters of Meribah, and it went ill with Moses on their account; 33 for they made his spirit bitter, and he spoke words that were rash.

34 They did not destroy the peoples, as the Lord commanded them, 35 but they mingled with the nations and learned to do as they did. 36 They served their idols, which became a snare to them. 37 They sacrificed their sons and their daughters to the demons; 38 they poured out innocent blood, the blood of their sons and daughters, whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan; and the land was polluted with blood. 39 Thus they became unclean by their acts, and prostituted themselves in their doings.

40 Then the anger of the Lord was kindled against his people, and he abhorred his heritage; 41 he gave them into the hand of the nations, so that those who hated them ruled over them. 42 Their enemies oppressed them, and they were brought into subjection under their power. 43 Many times he delivered them, but they were rebellious in their purposes, and were brought low through their iniquity. 44 Nevertheless he regarded their distress when he heard their cry. 45 For their sake he remembered his covenant, and showed compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love. 46 He caused them to be pitied by all who held them captive.

47 Save us, O Lord our God, and gather us from among the nations, that we may give thanks to your holy name and glory in your praise.

48 Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. And let all the people say, “Amen.” Praise the Lord!

Footnotes:

Psalm 106:7 Cn Compare 78.17, 56: Heb rebelled at the sea

Psalm 106:7 Or Sea of Reeds

Psalm 106:9 Or Sea of Reeds

Psalm 106:20 Compare Gk Mss: Heb exchanged their glory

Psalm 106:22 Or Sea of Reeds

Psalm 106:27 Syr Compare Ezek 20.23: Heb cause to fall

Psalm 106:32 Heb him

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Ruth 1:1-14

Elimelech’s Family Goes to Moab

1 In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to live in the country of Moab, he and his wife and two sons. 2 The name of the man was Elimelech and the name of his wife Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Chilion; they were Ephrathites from Bethlehem in Judah. They went into the country of Moab and remained there. 3 But Elimelech, the husband of Naomi, died, and she was left with her two sons. 4 These took Moabite wives; the name of the one was Orpah and the name of the other Ruth. When they had lived there about ten years, 5 both Mahlon and Chilion also died, so that the woman was left without her two sons and her husband.

Naomi and Her Moabite Daughters-in-Law

6 Then she started to return with her daughters-in-law from the country of Moab, for she had heard in the country of Moab that the Lord had considered his people and given them food. 7 So she set out from the place where she had been living, she and her two daughters-in-law, and they went on their way to go back to the land of Judah. 8 But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back each of you to your mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me. 9 The Lord grant that you may find security, each of you in the house of your husband.” Then she kissed them, and they wept aloud. 10 They said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.” 11 But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters, why will you go with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? 12 Turn back, my daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. Even if I thought there was hope for me, even if I should have a husband tonight and bear sons, 13 would you then wait until they were grown? Would you then refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, it has been far more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of the Lord has turned against me.” 14 Then they wept aloud again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

2 Corinthians 1:1-11

Salutation

1 Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and Timothy our brother,

To the church of God that is in Corinth, including all the saints throughout Achaia:

2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Paul’s Thanksgiving after Affliction

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, 4 who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God. 5 For just as the sufferings of Christ are abundant for us, so also our consolation is abundant through Christ. 6 If we are being afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation; if we are being consoled, it is for your consolation, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we are also suffering. 7 Our hope for you is unshaken; for we know that as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our consolation.

8 We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters,[a] of the affliction we experienced in Asia; for we were so utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death so that we would rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. 10 He who rescued us from so deadly a peril will continue to rescue us; on him we have set our hope that he will rescue us again, 11 as you also join in helping us by your prayers, so that many will give thanks on our[b] behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.

Footnotes:

2 Corinthians 1:8 Gk brothers

2 Corinthians 1:11 Other ancient authorities read your

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Matthew 5:1-12

The Beatitudes

5 When Jesus[a] saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2 Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

5 “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

7 “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

8 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely[b] on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Footnotes:

Matthew 5:1 Gk he

Matthew 5:11 Other ancient authorities lack falsely

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.