#He spends several chapters on a priest's whole life story only for him to have a couple brief scenes with the main character

[bees-in-the-machine]

[id: a screenshot of text in a word document. The text says: "What time is it?" enquired Enjolras. Finding himself ignorant of the answer, Grantaire reached into a pocket of his jeans and withdrew his phone- an apple iphone, so called in the manner of the bulky computers which were its predecessors, and which were forced over time to become ever smaller and more compact, driven by human ingenuity according to some parties and capitalist greed according to others. Some, typically those with more wealth in their pockets than their minds, would cry hypocrisy at a revolutionary carrying that symbol of the very structure he claims to oppose, that tainted apple, that original sin. Certainly it seemed as such; but even when one is wholly morally opposed to the society in which he lives, it is an unfortunate truth that he still must live in it. "Half past two," he replied. End id]

Just rediscovered potentially the funniest thing I’ve written in recent memory

[ckjbun]

What kind of ability would Higuchi have and its potential name?

Hi to whoever is reading this! This is my first self-written post so I’m still figuring out how all this works and I’m sorry, if it gets a bit chaotic. Anyways, recently, I came across a question regarding Higuchi from Bungou Stray Dogs. It was about what Higuchi’s ability would be called and what type it would be. So I won’t go into details whether she has an ability or not. I believe she has since she is named after an author (and Asagiri himself kinda confirmed it via Twitter). Thus, I just want to write my thoughts on the potential names and kind of ability. 

Since abilities in the BSD world are always named after rather well-known works of the authors, I compared some of the famous works of Higuchi Ichiyo. Now mind you, I haven’t read her works myself. I mostly relied on comparing summaries and analyses of them. Since there are not a lot of summaries, I read two lesser-known stories myself. I will add the links of the summaries/analyses of the works down below. However, while comparing I found two works that would fit Higuchi. Now, first what do I mean by “fit”? Well, it might be best to start explaining what I think about the type of Higuchi’s ability.  

I believe Higuchi has not an offensive type of ability. Nothing like Atsushi’s, Akutagawa’s, Kyouka’s etc. If she had, I’m sure she would have used it already, since she’s fighting a lot with her guns, why wouldn’t she use her ability as an addition, why would she hide it? There are two possibilities why we haven’t seen her ability yet. First possibility would be that her ability is not visible like Odasaku’s or Ango’s, maybe it’s even an ability that she hasn’t even discovered, just like Fukuzawa hasn’t realized he has one before the ADA. Second would be that she can use her ability only under stringent conditions. And I believe it’s the latter, hear me out. 

Remember this scene from Chapter 14? Higuchi reaches out to hold Akutagawa’s hand but then pulls back because she remembered him saying that he doesn’t need her help. Now, you could argue that holding the hands of injured loved ones is a gesture of closeness, a way to show them your support, a way to tell them that you’re staying by their side. And Aku doesn’t want this support, so that’s why she retracted her hand. But something bothers me here. In this scene it looks like Aku slapped Higuchi’s hand away, doesn’t it? And then he says, he doesn’t need her help, instead of support. I know, you could say support and help are almost the same. But to me, help is something that you do more “actively”, while support can be something passive. What if Higuchi’s hand represents this “active” help? And what would actively help Akutagawa in this very moment? A healing ability for example. Coincidentally, in the panel before, Hirotsu asks Higuchi what power she posses to make them [the black lizard] obey. Is this a hint that there is a hint about Higuchi’s ability in the next panel? Maybe. But let’s look at the next panel. It’s the title page of this chapter. 

As you can see, Higuchi has a bandage wrapped around her leg and they seem connected to Akutagawa. In this chapter, it is revealed that Higuchi contemplated about leaving the Port Mafia but her reason for staying is implied to be Akutagawa. This is perfectly symbolized by the bandages in this title page. The bandages coming from Akutagawa are holding her leg back, stopping her from walking away from the PM. But maybe there is a second interpretation? If you’re looking at Akutagawa’s left hand, the bandages are starting to come off. What if this means Akutagawa is healing and doesn’t need the bandages anymore? Instead it wraps around Higuchi’s leg, restricting her movement. What if Higuchi’s ability allows her to help someone else (doesn’t have to be necessarily a healing ability) but in exchange she needs to sacrifice something? Anyways, I think she has an ability which allows her to help other people in a non-combat way. With this in mind, I was looking through several works of Higuchi Ichiyo, searching for something that “fits”. Meaning that I was looking for parallels and themes in irl Higuchi’s stories that could be “converted” into an ability. Just like the coat that the protagonist of Rashomon stole in order to now die of hunger was used as Akutagawa’s ability which seems to be able to eat everything, or like the wish that one’s brother does not die in war in Thou Shalt Not Die became Yosano’s ability and serving as a basis of her background story. Anyways, I’d like to present the works that could be used for Higuchi’s ability and draw some parallels. 

1. The Thirteen’s Night

The story revolves around a poor woman, called Oseki. Thanks to her marriage to a rich man, her family was able to live a better life and her brother found a job. But on the thirteenth night of the ninth month of the lunar calendar (one of two special nights for moon viewing), Oseki visited her parents with the intention on asking her parents for approval for divorcing her husband. Before entering, she overhears her parents talking about how lucky they are that they have such good children who don’t cause trouble and that they are very thankful for this marriage. Hesitating at first, she finally goes in and admits that she wants to divorce her husband because he abuses her mentally. He insults her constantly and tells her that she's worthless, stupid, and uneducated. Her mother is outraged. But her father, even though he acknowledges her suffering, reminds her what her husband has done for this family and that she would lose her son since women couldn’t get custody of their children after a divorce at that time. Agreeing with her father, Oseki decides to go back to her husband: 

“It was selfish of me to think of a divorce. You're right. If I couldn't see Tarō, there'd be no point in living. I might flee my present sorrows, but what kind of future would I have? If I could think of myself as already dead, that would solve everything… Then Tarō would have both his parents with him. It was a foolish idea I had, and I've troubled you with the whole unpleasant business. From tonight I will consider myself dead — a spirit who watches over Tarō. That way I can bear Isamu's cruelty for a hundred years to come.” 

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

Just like BSD Higuchi contemplates leaving the PM, the protagonist here wants to leave her husband. The PM is like the husband. It allows her to support herself and probably her family (at least we saw that she has a sister). But there is constant abuse. Akutagawa is clearly the biggest source of abuse that we can see. But it’s not only him. In Chapter 14, Mori asks her if she is really suited for this job. Telling her indirectly that she is useless or that she is too weak for the PM. Later, you can see the Black Lizard doubting her capabilities, even threatening her. But just like Oseki she stays because of a loved one. What really concerns me is Oseki saying that she will consider herself as a dead spirit watching over Tarō. What if Higuchi, in order to use her ability, has to sacrifice part of her lifespan? Or maybe she loses a feeling? Like e.g. she loses the ability to feel happiness, making her a bit more dead inside? If you draw this parallel, you could also say that when ‘consider myself dead’ is the condition of the ability, then ‘watching over Tarō’ is a hint to Higuchi’s ability. An ability that allows her to watch over and protect her loved ones? This theme fits Higuchi perfectly, since a big topic in Higuchi’s story line is how she wants to help and protect Akutagawa. So it makes sense that her ability might be something that would help him (**intensely squinting at the recent events in the manga, especially chapter 88**). Moving on to the second possibility before the pain starts to set in. 

2. Takekurabe (literally: "Comparing heights", "Child's Play" in the Robert Lyons Danly translation, "Growing Up" in the Edward Seidensticker translation)

Now this is considered as Higuchi Ichiyo’s masterpiece. So the chances are high that the ability is based on this story. The story accompanies a group of children who live next to the Yoshiwara quarter. There are two rival gangs: the main street gang (’omote-machi’), lead by Shōtarō, a cultivated young boy who is the grandson of the owner of a pawnshop, and the back street gang (’yoko-chō’), lead by Chōkichi, the impulsive firefighter’s son. (Maybe a parallel to the ADA with (cultivated) Fukuzawa and the PM with Mori who’s a doctor which belongs into the same category of occupation as firefighters?). Among the main street gang, there was Midori, popular and pretty, who lives in the brothel where her sister works. Shōtarō probably has a crush on her. But Midori probably has feelings for the other main character, Nobu, the son of a Buddhist priest. Even though he returns her feelings, he distances himself from her out of his self-consciousness. Later he joins the rival gang after repeated request by Chōkichi. Anyways, they spend their days very care-free, attending school, playing with each other after school. One day, some conflict arises between the gangs and Midori, while protecting someone else, gets slapped by Chōkichi with a sandal. He then proceeds to tell her that their gang is backed by no other than Nobu. Midori feels humiliated and stops going to school. Soon she also stops playing with the other children. After some time passed, Midori is seen with her hair all done up. She has become a distant, lady-like young woman. This probably means that she got her first period and is old enough to become a prostitute or that she just had her first client as a courtesan. Little by little, the children grow up. Nobu is sent off to be trained as a priest and Shōtarō has come to accept the responsibilities of his family’s shop. 

There are several themes in this story that I’d like to point out, namely unrequited love, Midori’s transformation and underlying unchangeable fates. The first one is obviously a big theme in Higuchi’s story. Midori and Nobu are unable to express their love for each other because of their positions in life. Just like Higuchi is unable to express her feelings for Akutagawa. If you want some hope, AkuHigu shippers, maybe Aku has also feelings for Higuchi but is still very confused and self-conscious about it just like Nobu. Anyways, because of their positions in the PM, it would make everything very complicated if Higuchi confessed. Additionally, Midori feels like she was humiliated by her love when she got slapped by that sandal. I’m sure that Higuchi gets humiliated by Akutagawa a lot. The next theme is Midori’s transformation from a tomboyish to a lady-like, distant woman. We all know Higuchi looks really badass in her suits. But again, look at the title page of chapter 14. Higuchi is dressed up all prettily and lady-like in a dress, and her hair is done all up. Just like Midori after her transformation. Midori’s transformation stands for Midori accepting her occupation as a prostitute even though she doesn’t want to. In this chapter, we see that Higuchi has accepted her job in the PM, even though she doesn’t want to do this job. At the end Shōtarō sings the following: 

"Growing up,

she plays among the butterflies

and flowers.

But she turns sixteen,

and all she knows

is work and sorrow."

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

I don’t know about you guys, but to me that necklace that Higuchi is wearing in that title page looks like a butterfly to me. This is really farfetched but maybe this could be a hint about when Higuchi joined the Port Mafia? However, the biggest theme in Takekurabe is the underlying unchangeable fate of the children. Shōtarō was destined to become the next owner of the pawnshop, Nabu was destined to become a Buddhist monk and Midori would become a prostitute. Maybe this gives us some insight into why Higuchi joined the PM? Maybe one of her parents was a PM member? I also like to think that since Aku is in the PM, since she wants to be with him, she can’t but stay in the PM, and this is her fate. Nevertheless, fate is a central theme in Takekurabe. This is the reason why I think, if the ability is based on this story, Higuchi’s ability would be something like changing fates. Changing fate of someone else but in return she must sacrifice something. 

Okay, so this post has become quite long. But I still wanted to mention two other stories Yamizakura (Flowers at Dusk) and The Sound of the Koto where I saw a lot of parallels. I just want to briefly tell you the story of The Sound of the Koto. In this story a woman abandons her son in order to leave her husband who has a bad reputation. The husband then turns into an alcoholic and dies later at a party because of alcohol intoxication. The boy becomes hardened to the world, despises his mother for leaving them, and even contemplates suicide. The story shifts then to a woman playing the koto.  I want to give you an excerpt for the end of this story: 

“On this night the sound of the woman’s playing helped another to be reborn. Through fourteen springs and fourteen autumns, the boy had been buffeted by the rains. His heart had gradually toughened until it had become as hard as stone. No arrow could penetrate it. He seemed destined to follow the example of his father, to die among the fields or in the mountains, where his remains would be bleached by the elements. Some were convinced the boy’s life would end in prison chains, while his bad name spread to every roadside. 

But now, at once, the tenderness buried in his heart was freed by the midnight strains of the koto. For the first time in many years, he felt tears come to his eyes. Or were they jewelled drops of dew? He would not exchange them for anything. 

He, who had known neither love nor compassion, and who had no idea what the player of these refrains could even look like, felt a moment of happiness as the music drifted over the garden wall. […]

[…] How could a stormy wind blow now? The clouds in his heart had disappeared. Once more the woman began to play. The sound of the koto would be his friend for a hundred years, the seed for a hundred years of yearning. He had entered a world where a hundred different flowers wer in bloom. 

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

This boy somehow just reminds me so much of Akutagawa. Just like this boy, without any parents and home, wandering around in this world, Akutagawa has become hardened to the world. I’d like to think that Higuchi’s ability could free Akutagawa from his pain, just like the sound of koto does for this boy. 

So, now I said everything I wanted to say, I guess. If there is really anyone reading this and reading this until here, thank you so much! I appreciate it very much that you kept reading even though my thoughts are probably quite chaotic. I’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or weird sentence structures or anything like this. English is not my first language. I’m very happy, if you could point out any mistakes or have any suggestion for improvement. Lastly, I just want to remind you that these are my thoughts, I love discussing so feel free to comment your thoughts but I’d like you to keep in mind that there is not necessarily a wrong or right, theories are theories, interpretations are interpretations. Everyone has another interpretation. They can only be proven wrong by Asagiri sensei himself. Until then just keep the discussions friendly and tolerant towards other people’s thoughts and opinions. 

Sources:

All manga panels used in this post are from easygoingscans

Higuchi Ichiyo (樋口 一葉)

Higuchi Ichiyo: "In the Shade of Spring Leaves"

In The Shade Of Spring Leaves: The Life Of Higuchi Ichiyo, With Nine Of Her Best Stories, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

In the Shade of Spring Leaves – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 1

“Flowers at Dusk” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 2

“Encounters on a Dark Night” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 3

“Child’s Play” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 4

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ: BADASS WOMEN IN JAPANESE HISTORY

The Thirteenth Night (Wikipedia)

Female Subject, Interrupted in Higuchi Ichiyō's "The Thirteenth Night"

GAME OF TRADITIONS: TRADITION IN THE THIRTEENTH NIGHT AND DIARY OF A MAD MAN

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ IN MODERN JAPANESE AND EUROPEAN DRESS: Modern Japanese versions (gendaigoyaku) of Higuchi Ichiyō’s Takekurabe and their Relationship with English, Castilian Spanish and Catalan Translations

Separate Ways Summary

Literary Analysis of “Separate Ways”

Flowers at Dusk

Nigorie (Wikipedia)

From the Margins of Meiji Society: Space and Gender in Higuchi Ichiyō's "Troubled Waters"

[quantumlocked310]

Order Up! Part 1 of 2

Extra Hot Hvitserk Macchiato for @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom on the bar!

Summary: You finally run into the cute barista from your favorite coffee shop when he’s not working. Will he be charming enough to lure you into bed? Or are you confident enough to invite him in yourself?

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut will be in Chapter 2

Note: This is technically a sequel, but can be read without reading Pour Overs and Pastries. (but that one is really cute, so you absolutely should if you haven’t)

Crossposted on AO3

+++++

The new job was going swimmingly. Your coworkers loved you, and you were crushing problems left and right. You’d even saved the company several thousand Krone by finding a smoother, more efficient way to execute some accounting procedures. The company was so happy they’d taken the chance on you, even though they had to go through all the trouble of coordinating the visa and moving you from New York to Denmark.

You’d fallen in love with the city, and your new life. Each workday you begin with coffee from Lothbrothers. The office has a little kiosk in the foyer, but the coffee from the little shop with the cute barista is worth the extra expense.

For three months your morning routine is peppered with pleasant conversation from Sigurd, local gossip with Ivar, and a whole bunch of covert staring at the muscles in Hvitserk’s back as he putters around the bar.

Two weeks into your daily trips to the shop, Ivar had turned to you while waiting for your drink and demanded your name saying, “Du er kommet her i to uger…” before seeing the look of immense confusion on your face and switching to English while rolling his eyes. “You’ve been coming here for two weeks now. Guess you’re a regular. Why are you in Denmark?”

You’re a little taken aback at his abrupt tone, but seeing as he has spent the last two weeks staring holes into his computer it is possible he’s just a little intense. You turn to him and say “A new job. I moved from New York,” but almost can’t spit it out, because as soon as you turn to answer him his icy blue eyes capture you in their magnetic pull.

You blink and he’s no longer looking you in the eye. “New York is a long way. Why Denmark?”

Shrugging you rest a hip on the counter and check your watch quickly. “It was the first overseas company I found willing to hire an American in the position I wanted. I’m very lucky, and very good at my job. Not to mention the perk of viking men.” You wink at this handsome stranger, and he looks away, a little flustered. Perhaps if you can’t catch the barista’s eye, you’ll have fun with this Dane instead.

“Latte for Y/N.” A voice growls from your side, and you turn around to grab your drink.

“Thank you, Hvits…” He is gone before you can finish his name, without so much as a “Thank you for coming,” like usual.

You frown, but suppose it must be busier than usual and turn back to the stranger you’d been conversing with. “Excuse me, I have to run to work, but it was very nice to meet you.”

“And you as well.” The stranger waves you off, and you scurry away, mind a flurry with thoughts of what you could’ve possibly done to piss off the cute barista. Was he just busy? Did you say something to the stranger that made him angry? You realize you never got the stranger’s name, but the rest of the anxious thoughts flow away with the calming walk to your office building.

+++++

The next day you learn the stranger’s name is Ivar, and you strike up an interesting friendship. Each morning you greet each other and while you wait for coffee he tells you all about the other patrons. You learn the large man on the bench from your first day is Bjorn, Ivar’s half brother. “But that’s a story for over drinks, not coffee.” You laugh together, but you have to go before he can ask you out for those drinks.

Ivar says the man at the window is the leader of a local church. Not a priest, and not a cult leader, but almost. Ivar is unashamed about his belief in their higher power, but makes it clear he doesn’t have a large commitment to Loki’s teaching specifically. The way he speaks of the older man, it seems like something had happened between the two, but Ivar is stubborn and refuses to speak anymore on the subject.

After six weeks of talking, Ivar tells you he’s an editor for a major Danish publisher. His sharp and ruthless mind makes sure no mistake is unaddressed and you get to sample some of the works he reads as he complains about plot holes or token characters.

Ivar seems to know everyone in the cafe, or can at least point someone out as new and predict if they will come back or not. Hvitserk will sometimes chime in with a comment about a patron. That they like this or that drink. That they don’t like raisins. That he thinks yellow isn’t their color. Or he bets they work for this lawyer or that restaurant.

Over the weeks you find out more little things about the two men, and you stop flirting with Ivar. You’ve noticed it gets him flustered and he seems to actually get uncomfortable, but he refuses to talk about it and changes the subject whenever you try. So you move on, and continue the friendly banter and non-sexual subjects. You’ve learned Hvitserk will stand up for the other employees. When someone is rude to Sigurd he will take over with a menacing glare and put in their order without a smile. If he hears harassing comments from people in line he will kick them out without thought, and Ivar supports him every time.

Your affection for Lothbrothers grows with every week you spend going to the coffeeshop, and your friendship with Ivar, and your crush on Hvitserk soar with it too.

+++++

Bright and early Saturday morning finds you browsing the local market for fresh finds. On the weekends you indulge your Farmer’s Market Aesthetic side and cook anything you can find. You’ve even started to befriend one of the local boulangers after he realized you love to hear about his process for choosing bread flavors for the day.

While talking to Pierre about his sourdough starter, you notice out of the corner of your eye a tall man approach the market stall. Pierre pauses in your conversation and you turn to get a better look at who is buying.

“Hvitserk?” His name slips out of your mouth in shock. You’d never run into anyone you know, who wasn’t a vendor, at this market before.

His head whips around, eyes impossibly wide as he stares at you, clearly thinking something similar.

“It’s Y/N. From the coffeeshop. Good Morning!”

“Yes, Y/N. Ivar’s new friend. Good morning.” He seems to pause, perhaps thinking about if it’s socially acceptable to turn tail and run. But then he simply asks “How are you?”

“I am well thank you. All the better for Pierre’s delicacies.” You smile toward the seller then ask, “How are you?”

“Well also, thanks. Do you come to this market often?”

“Only every Saturday for the past, oh, five weeks? Do you come here often, as well?”

“I have not been back in a long time.” He seems to think inwardly for a moment before coming back to the present. You wonder what makes him look like that. Who ruined this peaceful market for this gorgeous man?

“Well then you won’t have met Sara yet!” You grab his free hand and start pulling him toward one of the newer market stalls. On the way over you seem to realize what you’ve done, and try to pull your hand away out of propriety, but Hvitserk tightens his hold just a little and you can feel your face heat as you continue to hold hands.

There are a few people in line when you arrive, so you continue to make small talk, asking “So what made you decide to come to the market today?”

“I like to see what’s new or in season to add to the menu for the shop. Unfortunately the schedule doesn’t always allow me to scope things out as often as I like. Yourself?”

“I try to cook locally on the weekends, since I don’t have time during the week. There is amazing produce here, wait ‘till you try…” You’re interrupted by Sara proclaiming “My favorite customer!”

You laugh and hug your friend awkwardly over the counter. “Good morning, Sara. I want you to meet Hvitserk. He’s the barista at that amazing cafe by my apartment.”

“Co-Owner and barista, actually. It’s nice to meet you.” He reaches out his hand to greet Sara.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't realize. How cool!” In all your talks, Ivar had never mentioned. You panic for a quick second before continuing. “Sara is the best beekeeper in all of the North. She also works part time with me in the office.”

“Welcome to ‘Sweet as Honey’! What can I get for you?” Sara chimes in with a big smile.

“He wants the small tasting jars. Lavender, Jalapeno, and Chai.” You turn to Hvisterk “Her flavors are ingenious and she comes up with new ones all the time. She brings in samples to work, so I'm both spoiled and biased.”

“I can’t wait.” He smiles softly. You go to pull out your wallet, but Hvitserk is already handing Sara some Krone. “You’ve bought enough coffee from me. I think I should return the favor.” He winks and inside you swoon a little. His flirty smile is a welcome change from the cool professionalism you get from him at Lothbrothers’.

“Thank you for stopping by! It was nice to meet you Hvitserk. I’ll see you on Monday, Y/N?”

“Bye, Sara! See you then.” As Hvisterk turns to walk away, Sara looks at you and points at him, then fans herself and pretends to faint. You give her a quelling look and shake your head no. She gives you an incredulous look in return, as if to say “Why not?” You shrug briefly thinking “I don’t know where this is going.”

You turn around to find Hvitserk has claimed a small bench by a tree a few feet away from Sweet as Honey. He pulls out the first of the jars, a small bag with six little cubes of bread inside, and a tiny wooden stirring stick. The heat of his body is scalding where you can feel it next to you, the bench only large enough to allow a sliver of air between you.

His large hands open the top on the Chai infused honey, and you watch his long fingers use the tiny stick to spread just enough honey on the first of the bread cubes. He offers you the cube. It would take nothing to grab it from him and pop it in your mouth, but you hesitate. He’s offered it at face level, so you take the chance. Your plump lips wrap around the soft bread, and your tongue sneaks out to lick any remaining honey off the tip of his thumb and forefinger.

In the time it takes you to chew and swallow he has acquired his own piece of honeyed bread. His is prepared lightning fast while barely taking his eyes off your face. The green of his iris is just a sliver, almost completely taken over by the black of his dilated pupils.

A quiet moan seems to force its way out of his chest as you make eye contact. “How does she get the delicate blend of cardamom and cinnamon?”

You clear your throat, but your voice is still a little husky. “I told you she was a genius. Try the Jalapeno.”

Together you try all the honeys, and Hvitserk comments on the balance of flavors, the texture, and how he would love to use some of them in either the pastries or the drinks at the shop. He also reveals that while they now have some bakers help in the morning, Hvitserk is still the one who recipe tests and makes all the menu decisions.

He puts his hand on your knee. “Stay here for a moment while I talk to Sara? I’ll be right back.” You watch him walk away and stare unabashedly at his ass perfectly hugged by his skinny jeans. He talks to the beekeeper, and you watch them exchange business cards

This day has turned out to be amazing, and you don’t want it to be over. Hvitserk has turned out to be an incredible conversation partner, and you can feel in your gut that the two of you click in a way you haven’t felt in a while.

When he returns, Hvitserk offers you both hands to help you from the bench. You take them, and as soon as you stand up you blurt out, “Come over for dinner tonight?” You wince at your tactlessness, but continue with “I bought so many good ingredients, and it would be an honor to share them with you.”

“I’m at Lothbrothers’ until 7. Can I come by after that?”

“7 is great. What’s your number? I can text you the address.”

You both exchange phones and add the new contact. When he gives yours back, you see he’s put Hvitserk Lothbrok in, but he’s also listed himself as “Hot Barista.” You roll your eyes at him when you look back up, and he throws you a flirty wink before saying goodbye and giving you a kiss on the cheek as well.

After watching him walk away you run back home and start prepping the menu, cleaning your apartment, and making sure you have some good wine to go with the meal.

Read Chapter 2 here.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ @appledressing​

[pawprintsmoon]

You and me, Part III

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30337365/chapters/74893146#workskin

The proposal

After a shower and clean pajamas, Alex finished packing his suitcase, tucking the ring safely inside. The next morning, he was so focused on not losing it again that he ended up misplacing his coffee filled travel mug. He had put it down for one second, and suddenly it was nowhere to be seen. Henry found it in minutes and they left for the airport. Distracted beyond reason, Alex had to hop out of the car to race back inside to grab his wallet. Then he had to hop out of the car again to run inside and get his phone.

After speeding to the JFK airport, they crossed the Atlantic and spent one night in Kensington recovering from jet lag. They spent their first full day at a trans* equity conference. The English press greeted their visiting prince with union jacks and rainbows. Naturally, they responded with charming comments and smiling photos. Alex took the opportunity to livestream a message to his followers: ‘of course transgender high schoolers should be allowed on the sports team that aligns with their gender, and here’s why…’

Privately, in the car back to the palace, Henry expressed the opinion that public schools ought to have polo teams, because it’s a coed sport and ideal for nonbinary teens who don’t like to rock the boat. Alex responded with similar sentiments about quidditch. The rest of the drive they shared a familiar rant about how Harry Potter belongs to the fans (including the trans* fans) and not only to JKR.

That night, just past 2am, Alex turned over in bed to ask, “You awake?”

“Always.”

“Good. We’re going on a fieldtrip. Come on.” Alex pulled them both out of bed, and they got dressed, Alex swinging on his Gucci jacket. He would have worn a hoodie, the incognito uniform of the internationally recognizable, but tonight he didn’t want to hide himself. It was worth the risk. Besides, they didn’t really need to sneak around anymore, did they? Old habits.

He led them out of the palace, down Prince Consort Road. He stopped for a selfie with the sign, because he really had wanted to last time. A second selfie included them both, looking goofy and not caring. When they reached the back entrance of the Victoria and Albert Museum, they kissed lazily against the wall. Once Henry’s lips melted Alex’s nerves, he drew back to take the next step.

“Thing about dating the prince,” he said, holding up keys, “is that you can borrow pretty much anything he owns. And he can get the keys to anywhere if he asks nicely.”

“You’re a thief,” snarked Henry, walking through the door that Alex held open for him. “And a knave, and a scoundrel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex gave the security guard a wad of cash. “Thanks, Gavin. It’ll be Renaissance City.”

They walked past sculptures, artifacts, and paintings, surrounded by the history that they were a part of. They got to the piazza, Henry’s sacred place. Just like last time, the first statue, Samson Slaying a Philistine took away what little breath Alex had, and he had to lean on Henry for support. Like windswept magnets, their lips met, for no reason at all.

Most of the time, Alex had a strong sense of Henry and himself being part of the current moment of history, changing the world in the here and now. But right then, time seemed to melt, and they were surrounded by historical sculptures telling timeless stories. Zephyr the Greek god of the west wind, Proserpina in the underworld, and Jason and his golden fleece. Archetypical and expansive.

And then there was Henry: the national gay landmark, prince charming, an obtuse fucking asshole. Hopefully his future husband. Sticking with his plan, he pulled away from Henry and got out his phone to open Spotify. Taking a deep breath, he pressed play. “Your Song” came from the tinny speakers.

“It’s a little bit funny, these feelings inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.”

“Why am I getting deja vu?” Henry asked, as Alex wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist.

“No clue.”

They began to sway, slow and intimate, cheek to cheek. He recognized the swelling in his chest as the same ache he’d felt when Henry first played this song for him years ago in the music parlor. Back then, he’d been trying so hard to repress his love for Henry, gripping the settee and wondering how long they would fly across the world to touch each other without talking about it. Now they let love dance around them, unbridled and openly declared in front of the world.

Other memories stirred up unbidden. Henry ghosting him after their first kiss, leaving him out in the snow and questioning everything. And then again when Alex hinted at love, leaving him in the lake with his heart carved out. Twice is not a pattern though, is it. Ever since the last time they were in this museum together, Henry had given his entire self to Alex. He had decided to be with Alex for real that night. That had been when they decided to love each other on purpose.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words. How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

For several beats of silence, he just looked at Henry. And Henry looked at him, and the museum disappeared. The whole world faded away except Henry and himself. It was now. He knelt down to one knee slowly, never losing eye contact. Henry’s loving smile showed no surprise as Alex spoke.

“Henry George Edward James Fox-Mounchristen-Windsor,” he said, making Henry roll his eyes. “I have a question to ask you. You see, my mom asked me, back in our early days, if I felt forever about you. I knew it then, and I know it now. I want to spend my life with you. So... ”

He paused, reached into his jacket, and pulled out the bedazzled box, rhinestones spelling out ‘love.’ Henry had probably guessed that it was never intended for June’s earrings, because he laughed like the box was an inside joke. Despite knowing what was coming, he inhaled audibly when Alex opened the box to reveal a simple silver ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Henry laughed again, a laugh like the birds of sunrise. “Yes, Alex. I will marry you.”

The prince reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather box, the same size as the one Alex held. Then, he knelt down on one knee as well, mirroring his fiancé. He opened it to reveal a thick antique gold ring inlaid with a gem that Alex couldn’t identify. Beautiful. “Alex Claremont-Diaz, will you spend forever with me as your partner, confidant, and best friend?”

“I,” Alex choked, “yeah, fuck, of course-”

Henry cut him off with a swift and passionate kiss, both of them on their knees, fumbling the engagement rings onto their fingers. Alex felt like the deceased king that had probably worn his engagement ring. They kissed until their knees grew sore, and they collapsed on the tile.

“How did you think to bring a ring and everything?”

“Believe it or not, I somehow predicted that you might do this,” Henry teased.

Their buzzing bodies urged them to get back to the palace, to Henry’s room, to the bed. So they pulled each other to their feet, both dizzy and desperate. Before leaving the piazza they held each other for just a little longer.

“I love you,” whispered Henry.

“Fuck, I know you do.” It’s an amazing thing, to know completely and utterly that somebody loves you. “I love you too.”

“I know.” Henry held him around the waist and their foreheads pressed together. “Hey, so, I know we’re going to have to have a big, gay, traditional, royal wedding and all that -”

“Which we’ll make fun!” Alex said, with the positivity of a camp counselor. The world could really benefit from a big, gay, royal wedding. “There will be so many rainbows, even only if the crowd brings them.”

“And we’ll definitely have an adequate number of champagne fountains.” Henry winked at him. “But you interrupted-”

“Sorry!”

“-me. I was saying that I know we’re doing the public wedding for the audience, and the press, but...” Suddenly Henry looked nervous. “Well, would you maybe want to…”

“Spit it out babe,” Alex kissed Henry lightly on the lips before pulling back to show that Henry had his entire attention. “I’m listening, for real.”

“Would you, would you maybe want to elope first?”

“I… um. Would we, you know, still do the royal wedding afterwards?” Alex asked. “Keep it a secret?”

“Well, yes.” The words tumbled out. “But it would be a secret that we’re keeping for ourselves. We wouldn’t be keeping a secret for an election, or family expectations, or our god damned publicists. It would be ours, and we would keep it because we want to.

“Because I want to keep you to myself, just a little bit.” Henry shrugged, sheepish. “You give so much of yourself to your country, to the world, and I love that about you, but I want this to be just us. I’d be open to inviting Bea, Pez, June, and Nora, and our parents too, if you want.”

“And honestly, I don’t really want there to be a minister or priest… maybe Pez could do it?” Henry continued. “It doesn’t even have to be legal, so people don’t find out. I don’t know, I just thought, it could be just us, making a promise. Not with the crown, not with the church, not with all your adoring fans. Just the people that really matter.”

“I…” A grin spread slowly across Alex’s face. “I love it. Yes. Hell yes. Where? Not Vegas. Paris?”

“Paris.” Relief sweetened Henry’s smile. “And I could play my vows for you on the piano, if you’d like.”

“Yes I’d like! We could do it on a sailboat with a captain! Can you bring a piano on a sailboat?” Henry shook his head and kissed Alex’s grin, nuzzling their noses together. Alex whispered, “Okay, I’ll slow down and we can figure it out together. You and me.”

“You and me.” They fell into each other, a blissful act of entropy, all lips and hands.

“Besides,” Alex said as they stopped to catch their breath. “Secrets can be kind of hot if I remember correctly.”

AN: So, I thought I'd end with the proposal, but I feel like there's maybe more here? Like, this scene was kinda building up to some 'just got engaged' smut, or it could go on to show their elopement. I'm feeling a tinsy bit uninspired for their vows though, so if any of y'all feel like writing those, I could insert to the rest of the marriage scene that could be fun. If anyone feels like doing the post-proposal smut (or the wedding night smut lol) lemme know! Otherwise, thank you for reading! Check out my other rwrb fics, if you feel like it :)

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Surah Yasin Pdf

Surah Yaseen Pdf In Hindi

Surah Yasin Pdf With Urdu Translation

Surat Yasin Arab Download (pdf) Silahkan anda klik link diatas, maka otomatis halaman download akan terbuka, lalu klik download. Jika link tidak berfungsi, silahkan kasih tau saya untuk saya update nantinya. Sahabat surat yasin, kita sudah sampai pada akhir artikel tentang surat yasin arab download, semoga bermanfaat. Download Surah Yaseen (pdf Format).pdf. Date: October 2019. This document was uploaded by user and they confirmed that they have the permission to share it. If you are author or own the copyright of this book, please report to us by using this DMCA report form. DOWNLOAD PDF DOWNLOAD as DOCX DOWNLOAD as PPTX. PDF Qur'an Tafsir Ibn Kathir Surah 7 (الأعراف) Al-A'raf. PDF Qur'an Tafsir Ibn Kathir Surah 3 (آل عمران) Al Imran. Surah Yaseen PDF - Download Full English Translation. Surah Yaseen is the 36th Surah of the Holy Quran. It contains 83 verses. The Surah Yaseen was revealed on the Holy Prophet Hazrat Muhammad (SAW) in Makkha Mukarma (Mecca). Surah Yasin English Transliteration by PDF Yusuf Abd'il Qadir. Publication date 2018-07-10 Usage Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 4.0 International Topics Surah Yasin.

Here you can Read Quran Sharif para 1 to 30 online, which is given in the PDF.

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Here you will get to Read Some the Quran Sharif Surah online Read. Which is given below.

Quran is the last word and last advice from ALLAH (SWT) for the whole mankind, all-mighty Lord, Ruler, and King of Kings. He is the Protector and Keeper of The Universe and Sustainer of all things. ALLAH (SWT) is the only one alone true God.

ALLAH (SWT) is the creator of everything. From Atoms to galaxies far away, from Ants to Whales, Seas to Trees, Seasons and The night and day, The human beings, Angels, etc. ALLAH (SWT) sent many Prophets with Books to take us out of the darkness and into the Light.ALLAH (SWT) is the same God Who is mentioned in The Bible and Torah Too, but He Chosen Islam as the final way of Life or Deen.

We have created a worship of ALLAH (SWT) so we need to know Him to be sure. The only way to find this from The Quran and Sunnah and it is still holy and pure. Our creator knows best how we should live and has guided us to do right. Through the medium of books by which included several different holy books like Suhuf (little books), Scrolls of Prophets, Torah, Zubur, Bible, and Quran in the end that was sent by the last Prophet from Allah (SWT) Hazrat Mohammad Rasulullah (SAW) to the whole mankind. He also tells us as there would be no Prophet after him and no such books like the Holy Quran

Lord of the worlds, he made controls the future, present, and past. Allah was and always will be the greatest, Ever living, The First and Last. Everything will get over but only Allah is immortal.

It is seen that these days the Muslims do read the Quran but they do not follow and pay focus to anything that is written in it. They don’t even learn anything from their experiences from the book. It is through the medium of the Quran that ALLAH (SWT) wants to ascribe the motive, which his servants must understand and follow the verdicts of their Prophet Mohammad spending their life for him and coming back to Allah after death completing their motives.

It is very important for every Muslim to read The Holy Quran thoroughly and understand every verdict of Allah comparing it with your own life. This comparison will make it clear whether you are following the principles of Allah or not. For this reason, it is a small effort made from our side through our website to make the Quran available to everyone.

If you don’t have translated Quran, you can simply order it from our website or can even download it for use.

Page 2. Page 3. WWW. Page 1. Page 2. Page 3. likes · 1 talking about this. is a website for all. This site is working for adult, children, women, specially for.

Author:Taujinn ShakatilarCountry:CongoLanguage:English (Spanish)Genre:AutomotivePublished (Last):8 October 2004Pages:313PDF File Size:10.34 MbePub File Size:13.70 MbISBN:254-9-82351-691-2Downloads:16598Price:Free* (*Free Regsitration Required)Uploader:Yoramar

Your consent to our cookies if you continue to use this website. Surah Al-Mulk – eMuslim.

Full text of “”

Your consent to our cookies if you continue to use this website. This Surah derives its name from the word Quraish which occurs in its first verse. Inside the priests’ chambers reinforce the impression of a “real” mosque. Islamic State was the Quraysh tribe and their allies among the pagan Arabs.

Fadhilat surah Yasin Fadhilat surah Yasin. It is a 36th surah of the Holy Quran in order. Surah Yasin alkapam probably the most frequently read chapter of the At first glance, the mosque seems to be something out of a story from the Arabian Nights. Read Surah Yaseen – yimg.

Surah Ya-Seen (pdf) – –

Surah Al-Layl – eMuslim. It is situated in Schwetzingen, roughly equidistant from the electors’ seats at Heidelberg and Mannheim and is most notable for its spacious and ornate gardens. Surah Ya-Seen pdf – alkalam. Both sides of the building are adorned with minarets. This eye-catching pink mosque at Schwetzingen built at a time when the Turkish style was fashionable in Germany, built by a French architect for the Prince Elector of the Palatinate as part of a palace complex.

The ceiling is decorated with stucco work and the cornice is supported by eight pilasters. He in Whose Hand. The interior is also oriental in style with a floor of marble mosaics. The small kindnesses v.

Surah Yaseen Pdf In Hindi

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Ya daleel ha k insan tum Allah k agay majbore ho agar won a kholay tu tum us ko. Surah Yaseen Tafseer Surah Al-Waqi’ah pdf – alkalam.

Now you can say with sorrowfully that this is not a mosque but only the mosque style building which uses for a tourism purpose only. Read Surah Yaseen – yimg. Tafsir Surah Falaq Ahkfa secrets. It is extravagant and ornate and still captures the imagination of visitors with its east- ern charm.

S chwetzingen Castle Garden Mosque – Germany shared by: Surah Al-Waqi’ah pdf – alkalam.

It is designed by French architect Nicolas de Pigage The walls are decorated with paintings and gilding. It combines elements from Moorish Islamic architecture with the exoticism of tales from the Arabian Nights. Word-to-Word Translation of Surah Yaseen.

It is the principal venue for the annual Schwetzingen Festival. Surah al-Maun The Alms. Surah Al-Mulk pdf – alkalam.

COM To ensure the alkqlam of the site, we use cookies. Fadhilat surah Yasin Fadhilat surah Yasin. Sarf Surah Yaseen Exercise 1 – Dnsi. Walking through the colonnades with their interplay of light and shadow is a delight. Surah Al-Layl – eMuslim. Ar- Rab ialah sifat Allah yang memelihara, mengasuh, mengarah, menjaga dan By Shaykh Hisham Kabbani.

COM To ensure the functioning of the site, we use cookies.

Anyone who recites this Surah gets the blessings equivalent to reading ten. It remains closed on Monday.

Surah Yasin Pdf With Urdu Translation

Surah Ya-Seen (pdf) – alkalam.pk

Surah Al-Muzzammil pdf – alkalam. Islamic State was the Quraysh tribe and their allies among the pagan Arabs. Surat al-Falaq is number and in the first verse, Allah says to his prophet, say Ya Muhammad Surah al-Maun The Alms. Verses from the Qur’an can be found on the outer walls and on the ceiling of the dome.

Surah Al-Mulk pdf – alkalam. Remember me Forgot password? Surah Yaseen Tafseer Surah Al-Mulk – eMuslim Surat al-Falaq is number and in the first verse, Allah says to his prophet, say Ya Muhammad

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kissed by fire | osferth & astrid | 5/?

summary: osferth had looked forward to join uhtred and his men at coccham. what he hadn’t anticipated was to be so taken by lady gisela’s right hand woman. a/n: hey there everybody. i know it’s been a couple days now since i’ve updated but between work and a lack of inspiration i’ve been struggling to get words on a page. but it’s finally happened and it’s my longest chapter yet so hopefully that will make up for things. anywho, here’s the next bit, hope you guys like it!

Osferth isn’t sure if he’s happy to be back in Winchester because he’s missed his old home or if he’s simply that he survived the battle at Beamfleot but there is a sense of relief sitting in Father Beocca’s home and listening to older man tells stories about Lord Uhtred as a child. It’s been three days since they had returned in the company of the princess and the armies of Wessex and more than anything there’d been celebrations. Finan has spent more time in the ale houses than anywhere else and Sihtric would’ve been off chasing his bride to be if he hadn’t been sent back to Coccham to retrieve Lady Gisela. There had been talk that they might be staying here for a while and it seemed Lord Uhtred didn’t want his wife away from him that long. 

He’s been dragged off to an ale house or two by the Irishman but for the most part he’s stayed clear of them. There’s still plenty of people there who remember him, remember his mother, remember what people would say about her and her time serving the king and queen. After the peace of Coccham he doesn’t have much desire to hear any more of it. So he stays at Father Beocca’s. The older priest is a kind man, kinder than many of the other men of the church he’s known. He and his wife - another red headed Dane, though more timid than the one back in Coccham - have been more hospitable than he could’ve possibly hoped for.

“Are you certain there isn’t something I could do to help, m’lady?” he asks, watching as Thyra moves about the small house preparing something for dinner. It’s not the first offer he has made and just like each time before she waves him off with a kind smile.

“I’ve told you, Osferth, I’m not a lady and you are a guest in our home. You do not have to help.” 

He has half a mind to argue, to do something other than sit there being useless when the door opens and Sihtric steps in, followed by not one but two women from Coccham. He almost knocks over his drink in surprise, sitting up a bit straight at the small table as he watches Astrid go over to hug Thyra. Thankfully, the only one who seems to notice is Lady Gisela, who simply gives him a warm smile and says hello before joining the women. He watches the three of them interact, all bright smiles and fond embraces and happy chatter like a family reuniting after spending too long apart. Tearing his gaze away after a moment, he joins Sihtric, who’s still standing near the door, and says, “I didn’t - I wasn’t expecting the both of them to come.” 

“She wasn’t going to,” Sihtric replies, glancing at Osferth before back to the women. “She hates it here but Gisela wanted her to come.”

“Hates it? Why does she hate it?” 

Sihtric claps him on the shoulder, heavy hand hitting in a rough but friendly gesture he’s grown accustomed to. “That’s something you’ll just have to ask her for yourself. You survived battle. I think you can handle your lady love, baby monk.” Osferth feels his face heating up as he shoves at Sihtric’s shoulder, doing little more than making the other man laugh. The women looked their way in curiosity and thankfully all Sihtric says to them is, “If you won’t be needing me, lady, I’ll be going to see Ealhswith.”

“Enjoy your time with her, Sihtric,” Gisela replies, a warm smile from the lady of Coccham and with one last smile Sihtric is gone and Osferth isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Maybe he is better off joining Finan at the ale house while the women catch up. 

* * * * *

It’s been several hours since the sun went down and her friends retired for the night but Astrid is still awake, wishing she was back in Coccham and dealing with the quiet life of her village. It’s been three years since she last came to Winchester but she’d gladly stay away from King Alfred’s court for several more. Her memories of her time spent at the palace while she and Gisela had waited for Uhtred to return from Northumbria had been less than pleasant. After months spent under the careful watch of Lady Aelswith and the Christian priests, she had never felt more out of place or more unwelcome in her life. Not even the realization that Gisela was with child could raise her spirit back to what it had been back in Cumbraland. She’d been thrilled when Uhtred had returned with Finan and Sihtric and even more so when she found out they would not be staying at Alfred's court, leaving to make Coccham their new home. And if it wasn’t for the fact that it had been a year since the last time Thyra had come to visit them in their village, she would’ve been able to refuse Gisela’s insistence that she join them. But here she was, restless and eager to return home as quickly as possible. 

Her attention turns to the door of the small house as it opens, a little surprised to see Osferth coming in looking a bit sheepish at the noise the door had made. He had disappeared a few hours earlier, not long after Sihtric had run off in search of his love, and she’s surprised to see him back. More often than not, when the men have gone out for the night, she can still find them at the ale house the next morning. But he’s here, looking only slightly unsteady on his feet and no more flushed than he usually is when she sees him. 

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, m’lady,” he says after a moment, closing the door more carefully than it was opened. She watches him from her spot by the small fire, a blanket covering her lap as her hands pull at the spot where frayed threads have started to come apart. He glances around the room, almost piecing together the time and where everyone else is before he comes over to where she’s sat. It’s quiet between them for a few minutes, her watching him as he adds more wood to the fire and brings more light with the flames. He sits back, watching the fire before glancing at her and asking, “Why are you still awake?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. They’ve been talking for weeks, short and somewhat terse conversations growing longer and more open as time goes on. She’s not sure she would call them friends - there’s so few that she would call friend that it’s not a title she grants easily - but she’s grown more comfortable with him. He’s been patiently pestering her with his inquiries about her life before Coccham and her childhood in the north and how she and Gisela came to meet Uhtred. But she still hesitates around him, still feels unsure expressing her dislike of the Saxons in Winchester to a Saxon who had lived here before. Carefully, she tells him, “I don’t sleep well away from home. And Winchester has never been home.” 

He’s quiet for a stretch, eyes watching her curiously in a way that makes her cheeks feel a little flush as she turns her own gaze away. What he finally says, voice lower and with some emotion she can’t quite place, is “I don’t believe you are alone in that feeling, m’lady. It can be hard to feel at home in Winchester even if you’ve lived here your whole life.”

This time, she finds herself asking questions of him, her own curiosity and a need for something other than silence pushing her forward. “Did you spend all of your life here? Before you came to Coccham?”

He nods, the cross hanging around his neck moving with the motion of his head. “Spent all my life in one room next door to an ale house and after...after my mother passed the brothers at the monastery took me in. Stayed there till I met Lord Uhtred and - well, you know the rest.”

She remembers his words when she had told him about her own mother’s passing and now recognizes the look that had been in his eyes. That sadness that could only be felt by someone who knew the loss as well. She has half a mind to reach out and comfort him but her hands stay where they are, fingers continuing to pull at threads. “And your father?” 

That question, the quiet words barely heard over the crackle of the fire, brings a tension to his shoulders that she’s never seen before. For all the time she’s known Osferth he’s been a rather lighthearted man. The only times she thinks she’s seen anything resembling anger or frustration have been when Finan has been pestering him with joke after joke, the Irishman’s taunts never seeming to stop. But this is different. This isn’t the friendly annoyance at one joke too many. This is a topic that’s left him stiff and stern looking. The frown ages him and suddenly he seems less like the baby monk he’s so often called. 

“The king doesn’t often have time to look to his bastard son.” 

His tone is even, words come out carefully, as he speaks them into existence. She can see his hand clench for a moment into a fist before he flattens it back out, palm pressing into worn material of the priest robes he wears. She knows there’s a look of shock on her own face as she watches him, knows her must be wide in surprise at what he’s said but she can’t help it. “Alfred’s your father.” It’s not a question, though she can’t say she sees much resemblance between him and the king she’s met a handful of times. No, she doesn’t see much of the man who lives in the palace but she’d sooner swallow her own tongue than call Osferth a liar. It’s not in his nature, that much she knows. 

She’s surprised when he continues on, surprised that he seems willing to tell her more about this part of his life. “Don’t know if you could call him much of a father. I didn’t properly meet him until after my mother - not till I was at the monastery. And even then, we didn’t - he didn’t say anything about it to me. Everyone who lived near us knew. People love to whisper about the girl who’d gotten herself in trouble with the newly married prince but he’d never - he wasn’t a father to me. My uncle did more in the way of doing what a father should when I was growing up. He’s the one that mattered.” 

“He was a warrior? The one who fought alongside Uhtred at Ethandun?”

A smile appears on his lips and some of the tension seems to leave his shoulders. There’s fondness in his eyes as he says, “Leofric. That was his name. Fiercest warrior you’d ever find in Wessex. Just don’t tell Lord Uhtred I said that.” She can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out at his words and more of the tension fades at the sound. “He was older than my mother. Lived with us when he wasn’t off fighting battles or carrying out the king’s commands. He served King Aethelred till he died and then Alfred once he was crowned. Don’t think he cared much for that change but he did his duty all the same.” There’s another pause as he takes a deep breath, shoulders relaxing as he leans forward a bit to stir the fire. The orange and red from the flames flicker across his face and she can’t seem to pull her gaze away. “I want to honor him. Make him proud of me. If there’s one person in this world I want to be proud of me, it’s him.”

There’s a knot in her stomach at his words, the honesty and sincerity in his voice pulling at something she can’t quite place. They’re both quiet after that, the crackling fire filling the space between them that’s more comfortable than it’s been in the past. Softly, she finally says, “Alfred may be king, but he’s a poorer man for not having you in his life, Osferth. That loss is his and not yours.”

His name comes out without her even realizing it but the use is not lost on him and he’s smiling at her in surprise, a happy surprise it seems. She waits for him to comment on the change. She’s spent so long simply calling him priest that she wouldn’t be surprised if made an ordeal of the change. Finan certainly would. But he doesn’t. The smile stays on his lips, a look as warm as the fire they’re sitting by, and he simply says, “Thank you, Astrid.”

And then the house is quiet once more, the two of them staying by the fire in a pleasant silence until he’s dozing off on the floor and she can see hints of the dawn coming through the window.

tagging: @pokeasleepingsmaug​ @kirstenseas​ @skatingthinandice​ @beowulfsdottir​ @astral-finan​ @omg-m-o-o-n-y​ @surityne​

[mtvswatches]

Jane the Virgin 1x18 Chapter Eighteen

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Stray thoughts

1) I like this Jane…

It’s basically eight-year-old me.

2) I don’t know how I feel about this message, though…

I get why you need to banish doubt in religion – if you don’t, you’ll question every little thing you believe in. Of course, I believe in questioning EVERYTHING, but that’s beside the point. I guess what I’m trying to say is that this is a very powerful message to convey to a young kid – they may grow up believing that they should not doubt or question anything – not only religion, and to take everything at face value. That’s a detrimental indoctrination.

3) Just please let this be the episode where Jane and Rafael break up. I’m so fucking tired of their storylines following the same pattern in every single episode and having the same result – they’re all lovey-dovey, something comes up and Jane questions something about their relationship, they fight, they say I love you, and back to square one. ENOUGH ALREADY. This is seriously putting me off the show.

4) To be fair, Xiomara…

NARRATOR: In 1991, Rogelio's mom walked in on them in flagrante, so to speak. And she was so shocked, she tripped on a lamp cord. The lamp fell, electrocuting her cat, Gordito.

XIOMARA: She's always gonna hate me.

…I’d always hate you, too. Gordito didn’t deserve to go like this.

5) I have a feeling Jane won’t follow her own advice, yet again…

Ma, if you feel yourself getting worked up, just take nice, slow, deep breaths.

And Xiomara having a Monster-in-law? I know it’s a classic telenovela trope, but I’m not a fan of it. We’ll see how it works out here.

6) This shady bitch is going to tell Jane she should stick it out with Rafael, isn’t she?

7) “It’s probably hormones”????!!! She’s not even a creative shady bitch!

8) ooooh another asshole!!

I have a gut feeling this lady will be relevant to the story, will she be Rafael’s mom, maybe? There’s a reason she was mentioned in the previously-on…

9) Okay…

She could still be Rafael’s mother for all I know. We’ll see.

10) She may have a point…

RAFAEL: Aaron is not Roman.

PETRA: Look, he obviously lured his brother out here somehow, killed him, and now he's taking his place

I was wondering how Roman could be alive when he had been impaled… The question is, why? Why would he kill his brother, fake his own death, and then come back? Or did Rose have Aaron killed thinking he was Roman? Was he trying to sever his links with Sin Rostro? Where are Rose and Luisa, btw?

11) Jane is really going to pass up spending Easter with her family in order to pretend to be someone she’s not and make some fake rich people like her so that Rafael can do some business? And I ask yet again, why is she still with him?! This is getting beyond frustrating, you have no idea how much this whole Rafael/Jane gets to me – I find it hard to enjoy the show because of them. I almost want to spot watching, it’s so fucking annoying.

12) Petra really enjoys getting into jams, doesn’t she?

13) Okay, Jane finally found out she’s been singlewhitefemaled. I wonder how she’ll confront Andie.

14) Okay, I guess I was wrong after all, Rafael sent her mom an email. I guess the snotty bitch was just a snotty bitch and nothing more.

15) This was a plot twist I wasn’t expecting…

Do I think he’ll leave the priesthood to be with Alba? I certainly hope so!

16) Oh.

LILLY: Look, I can forgive the cat. Even though the stench of Gordito's scorched fur will forever haunt me. But I cannot forgive the fact that you never told my son that you were pregnant.

NARRATOR: Wait. But she did.

XIOMARA: Excuse me?

LILLY: And as a result, you deprived me of my granddaughter. And Rogelio didn't get to raise his child.

So the reason Rogelio’s mother hates Xiomara is that he lied to her. Rogelio, shame on you, you should know better.

17) It’s actually quite decent of Michael to believe Petra and help her out.

18) Of course, Jane did her homework before meeting these Rich White Ladies.

But I really don’t like how she’s forced to act like someone she’s not to save Rafael’s ass. And let’s not forget it’s probably the first time she hasn’t spent Easter with her family…

19) You’re a good man, Rogelio. You did the right thing. He just couldn’t stand and see how Xiomara had to take Lilly’s jabs in silence because of his lie. And he may not have said “I love you” yet, but I think he’s just proven he does.

20) I wasn’t expecting a sweet moment between these two, but they got me…

MRS FALCO: I suppose I seem pathetic to you.

JANE: No, you don't. And you should know, I grew up without a father. And the one thing I remember about my birthdays is, my mom was there. And that's what your daughter will remember, too.

MRS FALCO: Thank you. And  I owe you an apology for lashing out at you the other day. I was having well a moment.

NARRATOR: And for the first time, Jane realized that Mrs. Falco wasn't the worst person in the world. She was just a person

It’s a really nice message, one I often try to keep in mind when I interact with people I don’t know or just met. You just never know what type of day – or life – they’re having, so you should be careful how you treat or judge others.

21) Lilly is kind of well-intentioned, and she makes a good point of how Rogelio and Xiomara have similar flaws and that they may be rushing into things without having a clear plan of what they want. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that their relationship is doomed. They just might need to work a bit harder at it.

22) UGH I’m rolling my eyes so hard right now. We finally got to the fight portion of the Jane/Rafael storyline of every single episode. Rafael keeps saying he wants to be a family man but he keeps acting otherwise. Jane keeps telling him this is not what she wants, but she stays. And I’M BOOOOOOORED.

23) Priceless.

24) WHAT!

Naughty priest!

25) No, Xiomara!!!!

26) No, Alba!!

See what I mean? What type of message is this? And now Xiomara is giving her the same advice!

She’s not doubting, she’s seeing things as they are and questioning the decisions she’s making.

27) Fuck, she’s listening to this dumbass advice about banishing doubts? Oh my god, how long will they stretch it out? Till the season finale? I don’t know if I’ll make it…

28) So here’s Rafael’s mom…

The reveal was kind of underwhelming, tbh.

29) And she’s a piece of shit. I’m sorry but I will never forgive parents who leave their children. Especially not if she basically sold him to his father. I hope she’s not part of the show.

30) Aww, Rogelio finally said it!

31) OMG

Who cares if your eggs are too old? We'll buy fresh ones. Combine my DNA with anyone, and the child will be extraordinary.

32) Ugh, Xiomara is going to keep the kiss a secret. WHYYYYYYY. It’s such an unnecessary plot device, I hate it.

33) IT IS FUCKING ROMAN.

34) aND RAFAEL BREAKS UP WITH JANE?????!!!! SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO BROP HIS FUCKING ASS!!! UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH I’M FUCKING DONE WITH THIS SHOW.

35) See? If she’d listened to me from the day one, she wouldn’t be crying in the hallway…

36) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

[jack-andthestalk]

Chapter 1: Back to Lallybroch

Chapter Text

As my plane touched down on Scottish soil, I looked out over the beautiful landscape, I snorted to myself thinking of the last time I had touched down in Scotland, four years previous. Eager to sight see with Uncle Lamb and oblivious to how my life was about to drastically change. My first time in Scotland was a promised visit, A long overdue holiday with Uncle Lambert, while I finished medical school and still had the luxury of a summer break, before going out in the real world of hospital rotas and long shifts. The visit had been in Uncle Lambs mind for sometime, his best friend Brian Fraser owned a historical Estate called Lallybroch, in a small village, Broch Morda, high in the hills of the Scottish highlands. Since my parents had passed away three years previously, Uncle Lamb had taken me on as his own, and did his level best to be both Mum and Dad to a very broken and scared sixteen year old. Brian and Ellen had visited us plenty in Boston during those first few years, helping Lamb find his feet with a teenager and offering support wherever they could to me. We had never managed to return the visit, Lamb had plenty of times, while he worked in Scotland on digs, he always stayed at Lallybroch. He had never managed to bring me, until that summer. It was one of my best holidays, made only better by the presence of Jenny and Jamie Fraser. Brian and Ellen’s children. My first time to meet them but we became quick and fast friends. Three weeks of unadulterated fun! What was the worst the could happen? Little did I know four years ago, in an unused cottage on Fraser lands, that my son would be conceived. And here I was returning to Lallybroch again, as a guest for Jenny’s wedding. My first time in Scotland and my first time in a long time to be in my son’s fathers presence. I took a breath and stepped on to the Scottish tarmac.

***********

 Three months after returning from my holiday with Uncle Lamb I came to the slow realisation that my periods had stopped. Funny with all my medical training, I put it down to stress and losing weight over exams.

It was only as I was almost approaching my second trimester that I realised, I was in fact pregnant. One long night between the sheets with Jamie Fraser being the cause of my ailment. A frantic and absolutely awkward phone-call to Jamie ensued. Followed by equally frantic and awkward phone calls between Lamb and the Frasers shortly after. Promises of standing by me and helping, flowing free on both sides. I just lay on my bathroom floor crying, wondering how the hell would I manage to sit my exams 8 months pregnant. True to their word, the Frasers including Jamie had done everything and anything since our little boy was born to help me be a single mum and work as a doctor. He was flown back to Scotland every two months. Ellen usually flying to Boston to collect him, spending a few days with me and then flying them both home, where the little monkey was thoroughly spoilt for weeks at a time.

Jamie flying him back to Boston, brief nervous greetings at Airport arrivals with me, before Jamie rushing to a departure gate to return to Scotland to manage the estate and farm. We managed to co parent as only two modern full time working adults can, our communication being completely facilitated by Ellen, Brian, Lamb and Jenny. This was the first time I would be in Jamie’s company for longer than a few hours with our son present in years. Deep Breath.

 *********

Jenny picked me up from the Airport, Jamie had brought Willie to Inverness to pick up horses and would meet us back at Lallybroch. Willie had arrived in Lallybroch, three weeks earlier, accompanied by Jamie. I simply couldn’t wait to see my little boy. I fidgeted nervously with my hands. Imagining how the week would go, all of us together. Jenny bubbling with excitement about her upcoming nuptials, chatting animatedly on the way to Lallybroch. Her brown hair tied in a messy bun and her hands moving over the steering wheel to illustrate the story she was telling. Wedding flowers. Jenny and I, had built a strong friendship since my first visit to Lallybroch. Obviosly because of the consequences of that visit we were thrown together somewhat. The Frasers simply became family. I was the mother of Jenny’s only nephew and the Frasers only grandchild. Jenny flew out and stayed with Willie and myself often and was always on the end of the phone in both support of Willie and friendship for me. Quite simply Jenny and myself were more like sisters these past few years, I was so touched and taken aback when she asked me to be her maid of honour. I may have cried for several hours after her phonecall.

I had no siblings, and for Jenny who had any amount of friends, to pick me to be at her side on one of the most important days of her life was simply not something I would ever forget. Her gruff speech and the rarity of emotional words from her, the day she rang to ask, didn’t help the flow of tears. “Ye ken it’s no just because yer Willie’s mam, ye’ have been there for me more in the past four years then anyone, yer my sister Claire no matter what else,” she sniffed at her end of the phone and added jovially “ asides it’ll make Da happy, he can try and push you and Jamie towards the priest and legitimise his grandson.” We had both laughed at that. Jenny had been excitedly talking about her wedding, a change in her voice, interrupted my thoughts. “So ye have yet to meet Laoghaire then Claire?” Jamie’s new girlfriend. “Yes, that’s right. What is she like Jen?” Jamie had phoned me a few weeks before, gruffly stating he was seeing someone and would it be ok for Willie to meet her. I had said off course, I trust your judge of character but the whole episode had left me feeling empty and I was struggling to think why, probably because I didn’t want any other stepmum type person in Willies life. I knew that was silly because Jamie wouldn’t allow someone to act as a Mum to Willie ... and yet still. Jenny’s tone had gone a little higher in pitch when she replied. “Ach, I s’ pose she is grand Claire.. she is queer mad about Jamie, I dinna know if that’s necessarily a good thing though... she can come on a bit strong...” “What’s she like with Willie?” “Weel she came on a bit strong there too, tried to smother him with affection, to impress Jamie I presume but then she rang one of the days asking could she take him out, Mam had to tell her it wasna appropriate .. I think that stung a bit .. but it settled her down some.” The woman was going to be around my son and I prayed Jamie had chosen well. “Do ye mind?” Jenny’s voice softening. Clearly thinking this a sensitive topic. “Not about her being around Willie, but Jamie having a girlfriend I s’pose”, she finished. “No don’t be silly why would I mind, Jamie and I were never a thing”, that empty feeling returning again. “Well that’s just it, I have no asked ye before Claire but ... weel was Willie just a one night thing or was there more to it?” She glanced over to look at my face and quickly added. “Yer welcome to tell me to mind my own business, aye? But I always wondered about ye?” I simply replied. “No just the one night.” A sudden flashback of me lying spread eagled and wanting, under Jamie’s strong body. Nails clawing down his back and Jamie’s whisper of Gaelic in my ear, made my stomach clench. I looked out the window so Jenny wouldn’t see my expression. This trip was clearly unearthing regressed memories. Great.

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

  We pulled into Lallybroch courtyard to be met by Brian Fraser. Tall and dark unlike Jamie’s colouring But had the Fraser eyes, which my son had inherited. “Ach there she is now, Claire ye look bonnier each time I see ye!” Brian’s outstretched arms waiting to embrace me. “Quit yer embarrassing pur Claire, Brian stop it.” Ellen smiling at her husband, knowing he had no intention of stopping. Brian Fraser, always the charmer and made no secret he wanted his son married to the mother of their child, partly for old fashioned reasons, partly because I was the niece of his best friend and partly, I hoped because he liked me. His teasing of the issue was guaranteed and accepted. I’d probably be more upset if he stopped. What would I do if he was jesting with this Laoighaire about marrying Jamie? Get a grip Beauchamp. “Claire, Jamie and Willie willna be long now, I’m sure yer dying to see yer wee lad, god he is a braw boy isnt he Brian Mac?” “Aye Ellen, like his Da and me..” A loud ahem from me and a smile. “Oh aye you too Claire, Jamie was only saying he gets more like ye every day.” Did he now.

I was sitting at the large kitchen table in Lallybroch’s kitchen when I heard a Jeep door slamming and little footsteps thumping through the house. “Mama... Mama!”, Willie bounding into the kitchen and up into my arms. Jamie following closely behind him, standing, arms folded and resting against the doorframe. Watching Willie and I unite, a smile on his face. “I miss you Mama” Willie clutching me about the neck, “me an Da counted down all the days ye we’re com’n on Da’s pone.” “Oh well hasn’t Da a clever pone!” I exclaimed mocking my sons pronunciation of phone, ruffling Willies red mop of hair, just like Jamie’s. I took in Willie from head to toe, satisfied that all was well and not much had changed over our three weeks apart, only a few more freckles and maybe a little taller. I readjusted my gaze and looked back up at Jamie, who was watching my ministrations with Willie, a tender look on his face. “All as it should be Sassenach?” A smirk forming on his lips. “Yes, sorry I’m always afraid il miss something”, “aye me too, Dinna fash I do the exact same.” I took in Jamie’s appearance. I always forgot how big he was. In terms of genetics I couldn’t have picked a better father. Jamie was a beautiful man. Perfectly carved muscles, a strong Viking face and beautiful red curls just long enough to tumble around his face. I couldn’t look in my sons eyes without seeing Jamie’s. Willie was quite simply his double and had all the promise of Jamie’s height too. “How was yer flight?”, I stood to greet him, with a wriggly three and a half year old in my arms. He broached the distance, kissing me lightly on the cheek. “it was good I slept for most of it”. It’s great to finally get here and lovely to see everyone. I forgot how beautiful Lallybroch is”, Always good to see him. We stood for a minute taking in our son, before we could hear Ellen shouting to bring me up to my cottage. -

[crashdevlin]

Bottle-6: Runaway

Bottle Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 2985

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: non-con, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, depression, PTSD, 

Cassie woke up in a bed in a medical room, Steve sitting beside her. She looked away from him, focusing on the beeping machine to her right. "You must think I'm crazy," she whispered.

Steve leaned forward. "No. Sad, lonely, but not crazy."

She still didn't turn to him, it was easier to talk this way. "That baby, the first one, Faye, she was everything I ever wanted. She was the culmination of all the goals I set for myself while I was in the Fridge. Get out, get a job, get married, have a baby. My grand plan. Nothing ever goes to plan." She shifted and stared at the ceiling above her, instead.

"I was trying to figure out a way to tell him when Phil got back from his mission. He started telling me all about this mission and this woman, this Audrey, and every time he talked about her his eyes would sparkle. I knew, knew he’d fallen for her. But Phil, he would never admit it. He doesn't break hearts.” She shook her head. “I made the decision that day. I hid the test, never told him. I wrote him a letter, gave him an out. If he had called me, if he had tried, I would've come back... but he was happy to be done with us. Audrey was better for him, anyway. He stopped loving me, and then Fury messed with his memories. He barely remembers me."

"He was here for two days, in this chair, until a young woman named Skye came to remind him he had an agency to run."

"Because he wanted answers, not because he feels anything for me. Or maybe he feels guilty. Either way..."

"I don't think it's that simple. But I know that you need to talk to him."

"He barely remembers me. I mean, the only difference is that he knows about Faye now."

"Well, he's still in the facility, if you change your mind." Steve stood, patting her hand. "I'm glad you're okay, Miss Campbell. I'll let the others know you're awake."

As he walked out, she knew she'd lost him. This whole event had revealed too much of her, too soon, and now the Captain didn't want her. She couldn't even think about talking to Barton, and talking to Phil was going to give her a stroke. She wondered if she was still at Playground Base. She grabbed the corner of the hospital blanket and pulled it off of her. She looked down, in disdain, at the hospital gown they'd put her in. She shook her head as she gripped the I.V. and gently took it out of her arm. She reached over and unplugged the beeping machine before pulling off the sticky pads monitoring her heart rate.

Cassie ran the odds in her head. Phil seemed to only have a handful of agents with him, five or six by her count as Joanna, add that to the number of Avengers. *It's a big facility* she thought as she looked both ways down a long hallway. *I might be able to make it out without anyone noticing... in a hospital dress, in the mountains in Europe. Just to avoid drama? Am I really going to do this?*

She settled on 'yes' as she imagined dealing with Steve and Barton as an Avenger. She couldn't go back to New York. She probably couldn't go back to America, at all, for a while. She moved through the halls, her inner map leading her to the exit. She found a biometric panel on the wall near the door and she started to try to open the program to hack it, when the stoic Asian woman stepped out of the shadows to her right.

"Where, exactly, do you think you're going?"

"I don't know. Just... somewhere else," Cassie admitted.

"So eager to leave that you couldn't find clothes first? Most parts of this range are below 0°C. Think you can survive those temperatures in that outfit?"

"Steve survived being a popsicle. Similar genetic enhancement. I could survive the Alps in... basically nothing."      

"Are you running from the questions, or the blame?"

"All of the above. This whole event has blown my life to pieces. I can't go back to work at Stark Tower, I can't join up with SHIELD." She shook her head, not even wanting to think about the state of her love life. "Any chance I had at 'happy' or even 'okay' got nuked by Loki and... Joanna. If I were less of a coward, I'd just off myself to make sure my other side couldn't ever do damage like this again. Unfortunately, I'm not even sure I'd even know how to kill myself. So, I'm running. It worked for Banner for a few years. That should be enough time to clear my head."

"If I let you leave, how would you make sure that Loki wouldn't get his claws into you again? He made it out after Barton grabbed you."

"I'll go somewhere dark and secluded. He won't be able to find me if he doesn't have any landmarks to locate... while he's spying on me." She sniffed, trying to hold back tears. "I can't deal here, Agent May. Someone like you should understand the importance of dealing with shit in... in seclusion."

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, I do. You were Phil’s partner. And I know I'm not getting out of here unless you let me. Please. I can't be here."

Melinda May looked at her for a moment before pressing her hand to the biometric lock. "Don't die. Phil would never forgive me."

Cassie nodded and bowed her head to the agent as she passed and went out the door. "Thank you, Agent May," she whispered.

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

The cold hadn't bitten her as much as she thought it would. Her fingers had gone numb pretty quickly, but as she continued moving through the mountain range, barefoot and mostly nude, she saw no signs of hypothermia in herself. In fact, the only time her body temperature changed, at all, was when she stopped moving, and then it only dipped a few degrees until she started moving again. As much as she despised Loki, she supposed that she would have died, if she hadn't been modified.

There were several times that she had to drop to the snow and hide from the Quinjets looking for her, but even then, covered in a blanket of snow, she didn't lose enough body heat to matter. She didn't know how many days she was travelling through the mountains, but she was starving by the time she found the road. She knew better than to travel on the road, but she kept it in sight as she continued down whatever mountain she was on now.

When she made it down the mountain, she found a small village. All the signage was in German, which she barely spoke and definitely didn't read. She grabbed a pair of sweats and a jumper off a line in the backyard of a small cottage and finally got rid of the hospital gown, before heading toward a small restaurant. She was greeted by a small blond woman whose crows feet seemed just at home on her face.

"Hallo. Spechen sie English?"

"Ja. Ein bisschen. A little. American?" she asked.

"Yeah. I... something happened. I don't have my passport. No money. I was left in the mountains... to die,” she lied. “I am so hungry. Can I work to get food?" She spoke slow and purposefully, fully enunciating every syllable.

"I ask," the woman said before walking into the kitchen. She walked back out with a smile. "You wash. You get 3€ an hour."

Cassie smiled, gratefully. "Thank you so much."

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

Cassie worked under the table. She started as a dishwasher, where they didn't have to communicate much with her. She slept at a church, where they had an English-speaking priest and didn't ask too many questions. They provided her a cot and a few donated outfits. A jacket that she didn't need, but was oh, so comfortable. She learned she'd climbed down in Austria. As she learned more German, she was put in the kitchen, where she was given a raise to 6€ an hour.

She had a simple life, and it wasn't easy, but somehow she'd found something close to happiness. No worries of the Avengers tracking her down, they'd have found her already if they were really looking. She was sure that SHIELD was too depleted to spend their time looking for her. The only thing she worried about incessantly was Loki.

Cassie woke up in the church. She rolled off the cot and folded her blanket, placing it gingerly at the end. She bent over and gave praise to God for allowing her to wake up as herself for one more day. She dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and pulled a plain black jumper over her head. Dark blue jeans and black leather boots rounded out her outfit. She exited her closet room, and greeted the priest with a smile.

"Guten Morgen, Vater. How was your night?"

"About so well as yours, Alex. I heard your crying, again," he responded, softly. They were the only two in the room, but he was quiet about it, like he was trying to soften the impact.

She'd chosen to call herself 'Alexandra Tristitia' because it was far from alliterative and nothing close to the name Loki wanted her to have. "I'm sorry I kept you from your sleep, Father. I'll try to keep it down," she said, sitting in front of a bowl of porridge and silently thanking God for it.

"That's not why I say it, Alex. You know, I do never ask. I promised not asking. But... you hold sadness. I can help to hold it with you."

She smiled, politely at the middle-aged German man. It was becoming more frequent that Father Nathan asked her to confide in him. She couldn't blow him off completely, but he usually backed off after she politely declined talking about it. "God helps me hold it, Father. I can't bring you into it, as well."

"I want to help you, Alex. Please, allow me to help." The priest sat next to her at the little wooden table and put a hand on her upper thigh.

Cassie looked down at his hand. She could count the number of times the priest had touched her on one hand. In the two months since she came into the church seeking refuge, he had never touched her anywhere but her forehead and her arms. This contact was sudden, and more than a little uncomfortable. She shook the discomfort away, as the man had been nothing but polite and proper with her. She took a mouthful of porridge and swallowed it down, eagerly, before standing and bowing her head at the priest. "I have to head to work, Father. Thank you for the breakfast. I will... think about sharing my burden with you."

The priest nodded and grabbed his own bowl.

Cassie shrugged it off and headed off to the restaurant.

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

As Cassie was grilling up some peppers and onions next to a couple bratwursts, she heard the door open. She'd gotten into the habit of looking to see the size of groups to see how much of an order was about to come through to her. Her heart stopped, then began again at a hammering pace, before slowing to a crawl. Clint Barton was being sat at a table near the door. He was dressed in civvies, but her eyes fell on several places where weapons were hidden. She ducked out of view and took a deep breath. *Kitchen door, back door, church, Vienna.* she thought, taking her apron off.

She quickly opened the kitchen door as Helga took Barton's order (in perfect German) and dashed out the back door, running through the alleys the half mile to the church. She ran in and made her way straight to her closet room. Father Nathan walked in as she was dumping all of her clothes into a backpack. She grabbed a jar with a handful of bills and several coins and shoved it on top of the clothes, before zipping up the bag. She turned to the priest and gave a weak smile.

"You are leaving?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

She sighed and nodded, trying to keep the urgency out of her voice. "It's time, Father. I want to thank you for all your help."

He stepped toward her. "I hope I haven't done anything to offend you, Alexandra."

She shook her head. She couldn't explain why she had to leave to the man, but she wanted him to know it wasn't him. "No. Not at all, Father. It's... it's a continuation of what brought me here. I just... have to move on and it has to be now," she said, pulling the backpack on over her jacket and smiling at him.

"You can't leave yet," he said, stepping right in front of her. "You haven't repaid my kindness."

"What are you-" she started, but he pushed her backwards onto the cot. Her arms got tangled in the bag as the priest came down on top of her. He grabbed the waistband of her jeans and pulled them down, violently. Cassie kicked her booted feet at him. "Stop! No!"

The priest's fingers found their way between her legs and began to rub vigorously at her clit. He pulled her pants to her ankles and positioned himself between her knees, his mouth immediately attacking her bundle of nerves with quick flicks of his tongue. "This is not okay!" she shouted, squirming against his suddenly invading fingers.

"A woman like you... you will like it. I promise," he said, before straightening and undoing his black slacks.

Cassie took that opportunity to kick him in the chest, with about a third of her considerable strength. He didn't move at all from the force. Instead, he grabbed her legs and pushed them up into her chest. He entered her quickly, using his weight to keep her arms pressed under her back and her legs pushing into her chest. He weighed more than she thought he should.

She closed her eyes, shutting down the thought processes that led down the roads of self-pity and shock. She chose the thought process of preservation, remembering the SHIELD agent at the restaurant, knowing she had to be gone before Clint found the church. She sat herself up just a few centimetres using her core, then pushed hard against her bag's straps. As they ripped, she pushed her legs against the man of God with all of her super strength. This time, with her holding nothing back, he flew backward.

Cassie jumped up, pulling her jeans to her waist and grabbing her backpack by a broken strap. As she ran out past the man who'd been so nice to her, she genuflected with her free hand. "God save you."

She made it out of the church and about five feet before Clint jumped down from a ledge on the building next to her. She let out an exasperated breath. She closed her eyes and dropped her bag, putting her hands up.

"I know you don't want to talk, Cassie. Solitude to deal with shit, I get it. There's a farm back home that I go to when I have to deal with... the shit of being Ops. You have to come back, though. We've got reports of Loki heading this way. It's the only way we pinpointed your location in Austria. He's coming for you," Clint said, taking a step toward her. "Now, he lost his sceptre back at Playground and now, Hydra's got it. He can't... turn you back, but he could do other things. We don't know the extent of what Loki can do."

She looked from Clint to the church, thinking of the uncharacteristically violent priest inside. "Shit!" she said, bending over to grab her backpack.

"What?"

"He got here first," she replied, running for the main street. "Tell me you have extraction."

He was keeping pace with her, but she could tell he was pushing his limits. He pointed to the edge of town. "Right off the main, outside the city, there's a jet. Come on."

As soon as she got on the jet, she dropped her bag and got in a jump seat. She felt wet drops hit her hand but she ignored them. She couldn't acknowledge the tears, or she wouldn't be able to stop. "How do I know that this isn't another of his illusions?"

"Because Loki wouldn't let you be saved by us." Natasha's voice came from the cockpit.

Cassie nodded. That made sense. He had been offended by them trying to 'save' her, before.

She pulled out a raggy t-shirt from her bag and wiped her entire face, as though she'd worked up a sweat. Her face didn't remain dry for long. She was crying a lot more than she originally thought. "So... I know the Fridge was blown up last year, are you taking me to Playground? I know there are cells there." Her voice was even, reserved. Had she not known she was crying, her voice would never betray it.

"You think we risked our asses to get you away from Loki, just so that you can rot in a cell?" Clint asked. She looked over at him, surprise written on her tear-drenched face.

"Tony, we've picked up the Red Queen. We are on the return," Natasha said into her headset.

"Red Queen?"

"Any complaints on that need to be directed to Banner. He coined the name," Clint said, reaching into a compartment beside him and tossing her a blanket. "Get some sleep. We've got a long trip."

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys

[dailyaudiobible]

02/28/2019 DAB Transcript

Leviticus 22:17-23:44, Mark 9:30-10:12, Psalms 44:1-8, Proverbs 10:19

Today is the 28th day of February. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It is great to be here with you is as we close down, right, the second month of the year. So, two months in, we have established a rhythm, we are on a journey as a community and it is a joy to be coming to you today from the holy city of Jerusalem. And we spent we spent the day yesterday in and around Jerusalem and the exhaustion of it and the crush of it, as well as the tremendous excitement of it and we’ll talk about that when we get a little bit further into our time together today but first let's go to the Scriptures, that’s what we’ve come here to do. We’re reading from the New International Version this week. Leviticus chapter 22 verse 17 through 23 verse 44 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, as we we’re kind of moving through the law while reading the Gospels at the same time we are indeed provided with some unique perspectives because we’re doing it this way. So, for the last several days in book of Leviticus we’ve been reading all kinds of interesting things that kind of boil down to clean and unclean, blemished or unblemished, spotted or spotless, right? So, God's saying, you know, I want my priests to not be defiled in any way, to not be deformed in any way. I want the sacrificial system to be the best of the best, unblemished. You’re not supposed to give second best, third, fourth, fifth, anything substandard to God whatsoever. So, what God is putting in place in this culture is that He is holy, and He will set his people apart to be holy unto Him and that this will be lived out in every conceivable way, in everything that they do they will be reminded of this. So, a set apart people, an exclusive chosen people. Over time as we continue our journey through the year and watch this people form and then be in the Promised Land and then all of their struggles, we’ll find that they wanted to hold onto the identity of being exclusive while eventually being anything but, which will eventually bring exile and downfall. Zoom forward into the time of the Gospels in the first century, we still have the rules we saw this exclusive concept, but exclusivity means that some are excluded including being excluded from God's presence, right? So, we go back to unblemished, spotless, without any deformity and then we pause, and we think about precisely who is it that Jesus is ministering to. So, we have God giving these laws and then we have God coming to live this out before our eyes in person, in the person of Jesus and where does he go? He goes to the blemished, He goes to the unclean, He goes to the deformed, He goes to the oppressed, and that speaks volumes because in effect here have God in the flesh among His chosen people making the deformed and spotted and blemished people whole. And that friends, that is the kingdom of God in action and that is what we're supposed to be doing every day of our lives. And Jesus sums this up from our reading in the book of Mark today. “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last and the servant of all.” He is in effect saying the world system is absolutely backward to the way that the kingdom of God works. And we spend, you know, so much of our time trying to defend what it is that we think we know and fight everybody else over what they are or are not doing. Are they saying enough Jesus’s in their songs? Do they have enough bumper sticker fish on their cars? And on and on we could go. And we’re like searching out for the falseness in everybody else but we just somehow are blinded to our own and we lose sight of the fact that if we want to be in the kingdom then we have to be servants and we have to keep our eyes on our own lives instead of everybody else's lives. And this played out in the gospel of Mark today too when the disciples came to Jesus and they’re like, “teacher, we saw someone try to do what you're doing, we saw somebody doing what we are supposed to be doing. They were throwing out demons in your name and they're not part of our group. So, we told them to knock it off.” What was God's response to that then in the person of Jesus. Jesus said, “don’t stop him. Whoever is not against us is for us to.” So, Jesus didn't run around pointing out people's blemishes and uncleanness and spots. He came to make them whole. So, can you not see how easily we as Christians can be stereotyped because we have mastered pointing out people's blemishes and faults and uncleanness and we thrive at trying to theologically prove a point. Are we this thick that we can't see that we are only being Pharisees in the moment? So, let's go ahead and get two heaping teaspoons of that and stir it into our cup today,

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, we invite You. As we meditate on these things and consider these things we realize that what we are railing against is our own fears our own security…insecurities our own uncleanness our own blemishes and if we can divert that and pay attention somebody else's faults and blemishes then we do not have to deal with our own. And yet, You’re not gonna let that happen, not if we’re gonna stick to the Scriptures and walk our way through every day. You’re gonna keep coming after things in us until they're not in us anymore because their poison to us. They are not how Your kingdom works. And yet we are claiming Your kingdom. And, so, we have to and we will have to continue to repent, which fundamentally means we have to change, we have to change the way they we’re looking at things, and the first thing that we do is surrender to You. All we need is to walk with You and to see our brothers and sisters in this world as You do and understand that we are one, that we are in this together and we’re getting nowhere trying to destroy each other. Come Holy Spirit bring life into us we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Announcements:

Okay. So here in Israel the rains are a blessing from God. And, so, we have been getting overwhelmingly blessed. Yeah, so yesterday was an early morning, the earliest morning of the journey and we have to do this so that we can kind of get in line to go up on the Temple Mount. And we did exactly that, we got up early like we were told and got on the buses and everything and got in line in and got a good shower. And it rained and rained, and we went on the Temple Mount and when you’re going up, you can see the Western Wall or the Wailing Wall as it's sometimes called and there was nobody there. I’ve never seen it that way in my life. There was no one there at all. And I'm sure that happens often, but it was the first time I’ve ever see no one there at all. And then got up on Temple Mount and, yeah, it rained on us, and we moved through and pressed on and saw what we needed to see. And, you know, you’re standing up there and realizing the temple of God was there and we haven't gotten to the construction of the first or second Temple yet in our reading as we’re moving through this year but, you know, like, this is it. Man, the presence of God was here, the Holy of Holies was here. It's a profound thing to realize and you realize that you are in the center of it all in terms of biblical importance, the center of it all. So, we spent some time and we didn't skimp. We moved through and got off the Temple Mount and went down below into the archaeological park that surrounds the area including the southern steps which is really the birthplace of the church and certainly a place that Jesus would've frequented. And, so, we pointed that out and let that kind of sink in. And, of course, we’re trying to document, take pictures, and remember, there’s just so much on a journey like this that it's hard if not impossible to absorb everything. And, so, you know, photographs and journaling and this is kind of activity helps with that for processing later. So, we spent some time there and got wet and then we got back onto the buses and headed toward Bethany, biblical Bethany, which is where Lazarus’s tomb is, which Mary, Martha, and Lazarus lived, a place where Jesus often stayed, would stay in Bethany on the Mount of olives and then go back down across the Kedron Valley to the temple complex. So, we just kind of pointed that out. There's not a lot of ruins. It's an active city but the tomb of Lazarus still there. And, so, we did contemplate the resurrection of Lazarus and Jesus words, “that which has died will live even though it has died” and tried to apply that to our own lives. What has died and can’t it be resurrected? And isn't that one of the, if not the most important aspect of our faith, that that which has died can live even though it has died. And the clouds lifted, and the sky was blue. It was a little chilly, but the sky was blue. And, so, that was nice. We fought the rain all day. And after visiting Bethany then we went to Bethlehem where Jesus was born and this might sound like it's all nice and easy but the logistics of these places even though they are very, very near each other are challenging because checkpoints and walls and fences and just moving around and on top of that a very congested major world city that we’re in. So, we did get to Bethany and had some lunch and in the weather was good. It wasn’t raining on us. We went in and visited a friend who has a shop in in Bethlehem and he's an antiquities dealer and a reputable one and his grandfather was heavily responsible for the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls and bringing them to light. And, so, we get to hear that story and it’s always a fascinating story and one of the original jars that were found out it Qumran near the Dead Sea, it’s there in the shop. So, you can kind of see that. Just spent some time before moving to the church of the Nativity. And there were plenty of fellow brothers and sisters from all over the world there and the line was quite aggressive to go down into the grotto where Jesus was born, where the star is placed over the spot believed to be the birthplace of Jesus. And it has been believed to be the spot for a long time. So, pilgrims have been coming for 1700 years to this place and we just took part in that grand and long tradition before then making our way back into Jerusalem for the end of the day. And that takes a little while, just getting through the traffic and checkpoints and all this. So, that was day one in and around Jerusalem. And thank you for your continued prayers moving around the weather. And we’ll see how the day goes because there are more blessings in the forecast for today. So, thank you for continuing to pray over safety, technology, logistics, health, stamina. I mean, getting out in the rain and it's a little cold and kinda getting damp is, you know, it’s easy enough to catch a cold or start feeling poorly. So, thank you for your prayers.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There's a link on the homepage. I thank you profoundly and with all humility for those of you who have partnered with the Daily Audio Bible. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today and that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

[romancatholicreflections]

26th August >> Sunday Homilies and Reflections for Roman Catholics on the Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B.

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time  

Gospel reading: John 6:60-69

vs.60  After hearing his doctrine many of the followers of Jesus said, “This is intolerable language. How could anyone accept it?” vs.61  Jesus was aware that his followers were complaining about it and said, “Does this upset you? vs.62  What if you should see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before? vs.63  It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh has nothing to offer. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life. vs.64  But there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the outset those who did not believe, and who it was that would betray him.

Following Christ always involves a calling.

vs.65  He went on, “This is why I told you that no one could come to me unless the Father allows him.” vs.66  After this, many of his disciples left him and stopped going with him. vs.67  Then Jesus said to the Twelve, “What about you, do you want to go away too?” vs.68  Simon Peter answered, “Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life, vs.69  and we believe; we know that you are the Holy One of God.”

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We have four commentators available from whom you may wish to choose .

Michel DeVerteuil :A Trinidadian Holy Ghost Priest, director of the Centre of Biblical renewal . Thomas O’Loughlin:Prof,MRIA, FRHistS, FSA President of the Catholic Theological Association of Great Britain,Director Studia Traditionis Theologiae, Professor of Historical Theology University of Nottingham NG7 2RD Sean Goan:Studied scripture in Rome, Jerusalem and Chicago and teaches at Blackrock College and works with Le Chéile Donal Neary SJ:  Editor of The Sacred Heart Messenger and National Director of The Apostlship of Prayer.

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Michel DeVerteuil Lectio Divina with the Sunday Gospels www.columba.ie

Textual Comments

This is the final extract from chapter 6 of John’s gospel that the Church invites us to meditate on at this time. We have had three rather abstract passages and, no doubt, you will be relieved to find that we have a story again, just as we had at the opening of the chapter.

The story has several characters. In your meditation, listen carefully to yourself and you will find that you are reading the passage from the perspective of one of them; stay with that perspective so that you enter the story personally.

There is, first of all, Jesus, and you might like to focus on him as he relates with the other characters. Watch his inner freedom. Already in the account of the feeding we saw him sitting on the hillside allowing the people to come to him out of their own freedom. So, too, here he gives each group their space, those who reject him as well as the twelve – including the betrayer. He also tells us the secret of his inner freedom: he knows he is in his Father’s hands and no one can come to him unless the Father allows it. This inner freedom gives him space to see others clearly, so that he is not deceived by people.

Let your memories of great people who have touched your life confirm the truth of St John’s account of Jesus, and of course, let him reveal to you how God wishes to relate with us. Jesus’ words in verse 62 are difficult, but you might want to remain with them. “The Son of Man ascending to where he was before” probably refers to the painful journey through the passion which would test his followers to the utmost. Jesus, then, is the great leader who gives his followers a first test and judges whether they will survive the greater ones that lie ahead.

Every word of the great confession of Peter is important: the four statements are different aspects of the one deep commitment. What memories does this stir up in you?  Make sure not to be self-righteous as you read of those who rejected Jesus. They symbolize us when we find some demand of God difficult to accept. The use of the word “language” is significant. When our values go astray, we find the language of true believers alien to us.

The mention of the traitor might touch you. Judas is the symbol of the betrayal of Christian values that remains within every community and within each one of us.

Finally, there are the two sayings in verse 63 that are the kind of difficult sayings that occur several times in the chapter. As I have already urged you to do, be creative in your interpretation, asking yourself when you have experienced the truth of the sayings. “Flesh” here is whatever in our lives or in our Church lacks the true spirit of Jesus and therefore is not life-giving in the deepest sense. The second saying invites us to remember “words” that gave us life and to see how they could be considered “spirit”.

Prayer reflection

Lord, it sometimes happens that when we stand up for our values our companions stop going with us • because we will not discriminate against people of a different race; • because we refuse to give expressions of love that are not appropriate to a relationship; • because we criticize those in authority. Help us, Lord, when this happens, not to become bitter, not to give up our values, but to understand, as Jesus did, that we cannot force people to come to us and that a relationship will only develop if you allow it to.

Lord, we thank you for all the times in recent years when your Church has spoken out against injustice in different parts of the world, even when many of its members found this language intolerable and could not accept it.

Lord, we remember the time when we were upset because, for the first time, Jesus asked something hard of us. Now, looking back on it, we smile. What if we had known then how much is entailed in following him on his way to you?

Lord, we live at the surface of ourselves, and so we lack energy and creativity. Give us the grace to withdraw, from time to time, to the depths of ourselves. Only if we go to the level of the spirit can we really live.

Lord, many preachers are content to repeat what they have heard from others. We thank you for those whose words have been life to us because they speak from the depths of their experience.

Lord, forgive your Church that we take pride in our great achievements • the big numbers that attend our services • our influence with the rich and the powerful • our imposing buildings and prestigious institutions, forgetting that the flesh has nothing to offer. What will give life to the world is simplicity, truth, compassion, reverence for little people – all that we know to be the spirit of Jesus.

Lord, we thank you for the great moment when we knew we had made a life commitment • we met the person we should spend the rest of our life with • we gave our whole selves to a movement • we read the life of a great person and were never the same afterwards. We knew then that there was nowhere else for us to go; this was, for us, the way to eternal life. We believed and we knew that this was the Holy One of God. It was like that when people met Jesus.

Lord, to achieve anything worthwhile in life we have to take risks. We must go ahead and choose twelve, even though one of them eventually betrays us.

Lord, there was a time when we made a deep act of faith and became complacent. We thank you that you sent Jesus to us • a friend pointed out how self-righteous we had become • we fell into a sin we thought we had finished with. This was Jesus reminding us that the capacity to betray him is always part of us too.

Lord, send us leaders like Jesus who will proclaim their message, even if many of their followers find the language intolerable and impossible to accept; who will be free enough to turn even to their closest companions and say, “What about you, do you want to go away too?”.

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Thomas O’Loughlin Liturgical Resources for the Year of Matthew www.columba.ie

Introduction to the Celebration

Rather than give an introduction, say something like this: We are gathered here as sisters and brothers, members of the Body of Christ, so let us introduce ourselves to each other.

Gospel:

When the community hears this passage, be that the community listening to John thousands of years ago or the community who hear it read at the liturgy today, it is the intention that they identify themselves with the confession of Peter. They, the listeners, are those who have decided that they should go to Jesus — and there is no one else to go to; and they are those who believe that Jesus is the one with the message of eternal life; and that Jesus is the Holy One of God.

This text appears to be a challenge to those who are hearing the message of Jesus (just as Joshua appears as a challenge to the Israelites) and appears to be a situation: now you must choose: Jesus or not! However, in fact it is not a challenge as the assumption of John is that if you are listening to this, then you have already chosen. So, in reality, it is a statement of identity.

This fact about the narrative structure of both this first reading and this gospel has important consequences for preaching. It is all too easy to imagine that the preacher must now hold a challenge to the congregation: are you for Jesus? This is neither useful nor appropriate.It is not appropriate in that the community is there in Christ as baptised brothers and sisters, not some loose assemblage of people vaguely interested in what Jesus has to say. It is not useful in that it misses the point John wanted to make: know who you are, you are those who belong to the covenant, those who know that Jesus is the Bread of Life, the Holy One of God. Lastly, the natural unit of text extends to v 71 but the last two verses have been omitted, correctly, because (1) this heightens the dramatic effect of Peter’s confession, and (2) the last verses do not make sense when this passage is read as a lection in Mark’s Year.

Homily notes

1. Avoid making challenges! 2. Ask this question: Who are we as a people, what unites us, what draws us here, what makes us live the lives we do? 3. We are the community who assert with Peter that there is no one else, but Jesus, who has the message of eternal life. 4. We are the community who assert with Peter that Jesus is the Holy One of God. 5. Now let us stand up and state that formally in our profession of faith.

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Sean Goan Let the reader understand www.columba.ie

Gospel

We come now to the last extract from John’s gospel and the end of the discourse on the Bread of Life. It highlights a theme that began in chapter 5 of John and that is a growing opposition to and refusal to believe in Jesus. While earlier in the discourse it was the crowds who were having difficulty with Jesus’ presentation of himself as the bread of life, now it is his own disciples who are complaining that it is too much to expect them to accept what Jesus has said about himself. Jesus replies that what he is speaking about can only be understood through the work of the spirit, i.e. through the eyes of faith. Some find the challenge too much and cease to follow him and in response Jesus asks the twelve do they also wish to go away. Peter replies with a confession of faith that demonstrates that he (and they!) are beginning to grasp something of the revelation that Jesus brings. Because they believe then they know that he is indeed the Holy One of God.

Reflection

‘What about you, do you also want to go away? No-one can be press-ganged into discipleship and Jesus yet again puts the choice before us as we gather for our Sunday Eucharist. Why is there a crisis here? Is it because they cannot believe that Jesus can truly give of himself in the way he has described? Is faith in the Eucharist too much to ask for?Perhaps it is not so much an intellectual difficulty about how this can happen but rather an intuition about the far reaching implications of what he is saying. For in giving us himself he is asking us to forget about ourselves and maybe that is just too much. Yet Peter speaks for us all when he says: ‘Lord to whom shall we go? Nothing in the world with all its possibilities and attractions can nourish our hunger to love and be loved as completely as Jesus, our Bread of Life.

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Donal Neary SJ

Gospel Reflections

www.messenger.ie/bookshop/

Our Choices

 We remember big and small choices in life. Ones that effected life totally like a job, marriage, retirement, redundancy; having an operation or many more. Or Choices about the children that effected their lives – school, moving house, health issues.

Life is made up of many choices, big and small. Human, spiritual and religious choices.

Peter had this sort of choice today.  Would he go after Jesus or leave like others did.  He stayed and he would have many more attempts at that choice.  Why did he stay? Our choices come from something within us.   We need Christ within us if we are to follow him.

Peter had enough of love for Jesus inside him to make this choice,it might not always be easy and he would give in later but come back.  His choice eventually would be to answer Jesus’ question – do you love me?

The choice for Jesus is the choice for love.  In all sorts of ways. For those near at hand.  If you choose Jesus then the hunger of the world as well as the tears of a baby affects you.  What we do in love for others comes from the deepest part of life. We need to fill our lives with Christ to be able to share this love in big and small ways.

We need the company of other choosers.  The community of faith and of the church.  Peter says – to whom shall we go? We follow Christ together.

Let those words, ‘to whom shall I go, Lord’, echo in your prayer and talk to the Lord about how you feel. Lord we pray for support and strength in our following of you.

[gwenore]

Dies Illa. Chapter 3.

Chapter 3: Father Gold shows Belle his library.

Synopsis: Father Gold has spent most of his time as part of the clergy to amass power to the point even the new king and queen should take care not to cross the archbishop. He has already started to think about how to spin the tension in the kingdom to his advantage. But then one day… he sees her. The girl with those blue eyes that can be nothing less than divine.

Father Gold had done a bit of investigation since the Wednesday of the confession. Since then he had learned that the lady’s name was Belle French, the daughter of a rich merchant named Maurice French.

Belle… no name could be more fitting for someone like her.

He also found out who her fiancé was. A Gaston LeGume… he was the type of noble that the archbishop could not stand. To be fair, he could not stand most nobles… but he was the worst kind. Having no worth to society, now not even having money or power, only a name. Those types were no worse than parasites.

Then again…

To have such men arrested and hung for a crime is easy… they certainly had made enough during their time.

It had only been enough to send a note to the inquisitors. Those damn vultures would take any chance to feast on the carcass of someone like him, ripping apart everything he had left of value. Then either kill him or sentence him to some degrading punishment for several years. Gold hardly doubted that anyone would stick their neck out for a man such as that.

And… if he heard talk about that a meeting with the head of the inquisition would make certain he never saw the light again. Especially if that meeting were followed by a donation.

The inquisition like everyone was not that hard to buy.

It had taken some days and each day, Belle had done as he suggested. She would come to the cathedral and pray.

How she graced the halls with her beauty.

He would always watch her, from a safe distance. He did not dare get too close.

However… one day there were no one else in the cathedral. Marked day. People had other things to concern themselves with.

But she was there. The archbishop noticed a sort of relieved look upon her face. Well… the news of the arrest should be known by now.

Slowly he walked up to her, when she spotted him she let out a slight gasp before she bent her head. He smiled at her, pretending to be the kind priest who cared for his flock… an act he had not really bothered to put on for a very long time.

“Ah, my child, you look… relieved,” he told her, smiling gently. Belle nodded her head slightly.

“Um… though I confess that it may be sinful for me to feel relieved,” she muttered as her gaze fell to the floor.

“Oh?” he asked, it taking everything in his power to keep a smirk from coming upon her lips. She remained silent for a while, clearly unsure if she should continue.

“Do not worry, you may speak to me. Words spoken to a man of god is no to leave the church, and you do seem like you could have a need for speaking about it,” he told her sitting himself down on the church bench before the massive gilded alter.

Belle nervously took a seat next to him.

“Well… you see… the man I were to marry were arrested… I do not know the charge, but it seems to be pretty grim. I am not going to marry him anymore and… I am relieved,” she looked into her hands as she spoke.

Father Gold held back a chuckle, but smiled and nodded.

“Well… the inquisition never tells even the accused what the charge is. Makes them confess to things they don’t yet know about. Makes them dig the whole they are in very large in most cases,” he explained to her.

“That sounds… rather terrifying��” Belle whispered.

“I suppose… I have never been interrogated by them, so I wouldn’t know. But it certainly is not sinful for a decent lady such as yourself to have her fate tied to such a man. His crime is his own, and will not taint your life. So being relieved and happy… that is only justified,” he assured her. With that she dared to give him a smile.

“Thank you your eminence, I have been worried. While I wish no harm on anyone… to be married to him would be a fate worse than death for me. Perhaps you will find this inappropriate for a woman of my standing, but… I do enjoy reading. Gaston was known for his disdain for books… especially for woman to read… how could I be happy with such a man?” she was opening up… clearly having no one else to speak of with that. Father Gold allowed himself to let out a soft chuckle.

“Several men like him holds that view. Claiming that books are dangerous. I would not ever wish to spend time around such people myself. They never tend to be very interesting nor hold a conversation about anything more exciting than the weather,” he cocked his head. The heavenly creature let out a slight laugh at this… the most beautiful sound that he had heard and caused his heart to flutter.

“And weather is actually he best topic you can hope for,” she giggled. Father Gold looked at her. To see her smile…

The archbishop did not know that anything could make this being look more beautiful… but her smile… her smile did it.

He wanted to see her smile as he swore it light up this dark cathedral. A smile came upon his features he thought of something.

“Lady French… do you have a moment?” he then asked as he stood up. Belle was really confused, furrowing her brow, but nodded her head.

“Yes Father,” she told him. He started to lead her to the back of the cathedral, unlocking the door before opening it, letting her inside.

“Where are we going your eminence?” Belle asked him.

“Oh…” he smiled softly. “It is something I am certain will delight you.”

With that he light a candle and lead her through the corridors which connected the cathedral to the buildings behind. Belle honestly felt really disoriented as she attempted to follow the shimmering robes of the archbishop.

They then arrived at the massive mansion behind it, Belle looking astonished at the statues and frescos on the wall.

“This is… this is beautiful…” she whispered.

“Well, the quarters were not what I wished to show you… but I suppose it is rather… decorative,” Father Gold had long since become used to this place… not that he was usually impressed by such things…

Instead he turned towards the two big doors under the split stairwell, opening them and mentioned her inside.

Belle glanced over at him… he could see curiosity on her face before she slowly stepped inside and he could hear her let out a stunned gasp.

Never before had she seen a library this large and with such splendor. Slowly she walked along the walls which held great volumes from all over the world.

“Some of these… some of these are centuries old…” Belle murmured as she ran her fingers over the spine of the massive volumes.

“Are these… handwritten?” she asked stunned.

“Some…” the archbishop replied. “They were created long before the printing press after all. Most are more recent and printed though.”

He watched her open one of them, her supple fingers running across the parchment. Her blue eyes then looked toward him again.

“Why would you show me this?” she asked breathlessly.

“Well… it seemed to me that you wanted to see it… and from what I can tell… I was not wrong in this assumption,” he gave her a gentle smiled from the chair that he had sat himself down in. Belle swallowed, but nodded her head.

“I cannot believe such a place existed in this town…” she was clearly still in awe as her voice did not raise above a whisper.

“Well... this old cathedral does have some secrets.. or well… this is rather behind it, but… oh well…” Gold shrugged his shoulders.

“The cathedral is absolutely stunning… it is really so old…” she continued to wander down the wall, her eyes eagerly gliding over the spines, reading the titles. Most of them were in Latin. She knew a bit of Latin, but nothing more than she had learned as a child.

“More than five hundred years old…” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you know its story?” she asked, he could hear the curiosity in her voice.

“Hm… it was built upon a catacomb,” he told her. He watched her over at him, not expecting this.

“That is not usual… I know people get buried in cathedrals… but…”

“Well… there was this warrior… no one knows his name… but he died and would not remain at rest, not within the catacombs. The people would see him walk around, not as a ghost but a walking carcass. Apparently he had sold his soul to the devil and as his work was not done… he was not allowed to rest. So to keep him in they built the cathedral above it so that he would never be able to escape to do the devil’s work. God’s house built on the devil’s graveyard… pretty fitting in a sense,” he told her the old legend, riveted with how she hang at his words.

“And… you believe this to be… true?” she whispered, moving towards him. He had to force himself to remain calm. She was close now… nothing separating them as she sat upon the table beside him. The archbishop smiled softly before he shrugged.

“I do not know. But there is a catacomb under the cathedral, that part is true. It is never used though… hardly would be wise,” he then smiled before he walked over and wandered among the walls for a bit before he grabbed a book and handed it to her.

“Here… this tells of the local legends,” He told her. “You may borrow it and decide for yourself if you think that it is true.”

Belle took the book as if it was made of pure gold, when it was just a dusty little thing, before clutching it to her chest.

“I will be sure to return it quickly. Thank you, you have lifted my spirits greatly, your eminence!” She smiled. He nodded his head as they proceeded to walk out towards the cathedral again.

“I hope to speak with you again soon Lady French, and hope to see you return to the cathedral. Know that you are always welcome,” he said as he lead her once more through the corridors.

At the cathedral he watched her walk down the aisle before vanishing into that busy street outside.

His heart had been racing the entire time… even if he had tried to seem calm. He wanted so much to hold her… to touch her.

How could he tell her that he wanted to give her everything?

The priest turned away and walked into the darkness. He needed to think… as not even he knew what he would do next…

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 18

Welcome to Thursday everyone! Hope you’re having a good week! Here’s the wondrous next chapter of Red Jamie and the White Lady! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it! @diversemediums and @outlandishchridhe are seriously amazing ladies. This story wouldn’t have gotten this far without those two and their beautiful brains. 

Read Part 17 HERE

Previously…

She lifted her head from Jamie’s shoulder and looked down, seeing the silver ring he'd placed on her finger. It was delicate and bright, etched with interwoven thistle that had her tracing the pattern. Then she realized what it was and what it meant. She froze, eyes snapping to his.

***

“Jamie��”

Her heart caught in her throat as he knowingly squeezed her hands. She stared down at the silver ring, eyes wide. It was a stunning piece of work.

Jamie cleared his throat.

“Wi’ as crazy as our lives are at the moment, we canna get married the way I’d like, the way ye deserve.”

“The way you’d like?”

He shrugged thoughtfully, choosing his words before he spoke.

“In a church, before a priest, wi’ you in a pretty dress. It’s… Weel, it’s only I used to dream of that as a lad. And… I want to give ye so much, Claire. I’d lay the whole world at your feet if ye asked. Ye deserve a beautiful wedding, the chance to be a proper bride.”

“Dream? Or See?”

“Just dream. But I… we canna take the risk of doing that just now. So I thought, maybe, ye might handfast wi’ me.”

Her gaze moved back to the ring, noting how perfect it looked on her hand.

“Is… Is this…?”

Claire turned the ring slowly around her finger, memory triggered by the silver shining from the thistles that adorned the circlet. The pattern was well worn, but still distinct.

“That’s the story,” he responded, smiling softly. “It’s the Faerie Wife’s ring, passed down from father to son for generations.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the ring, light blue streaks glowing and surging in his eyes.

“And now, it belongs to my wife.”

“Jamie, I…”

Her voice trailed off as she twisted the ring around her finger. In all the time she’d been with Frank, marriage hadn’t really been a topic of conversation. Sure, he probably would have asked someday, but she wouldn’t have held her breath.

But here Jamie was, asking her to agree to a temporary marriage until he was safe enough to have a real one. And all she could think of was how wonderful it would be to always be his.

“If,” his voice cracked. “If ye’ll have me,” he added patiently, watching her.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll handfast with you until we can have a proper wedding.”

Grinning, he picked her up and swung her around, kissing her cheeks as he did.

“I ken I havena got much to offer ye. I dinna even have a damned home. But if I have ye wi’ me, I dinna think I care!” He put her down, still holding her close. “You are my home now, Claire.”

Her smile grew wide and bright as she kissed him.

“As you are mine, James Fraser.”

He took both of her hands in his own and breathed deeply.

“Now handfasting is an old custom, but is still a legal form of marriage in Scotland.” With his left hand, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a strip of plaid. “Gi’ me your hand and repeat the words after me. They’re in Gaelic, so I’ll speak slow.”

“Shouldn’t we put clothes on for this?” Claire asked uncertainly, reaching up to tidy her hair.

Jamie deftly caught her wrist and shook his head.

“Ye look like a wood nymph, Sorcha,” he said, voice low and warm.

He pulled at the hem of her shirt, baring her completely.

“Yer glowin’ like a candle.”

Claire would have said something about her pale skin, but stopped herself, seeing he was perfectly serious. The look in his eyes made her heart stutter. Slowly, she reached out and pulled his own shirt over his head.

The sun shone through the trees, dappling their bodies in dancing shadows as they knelt before each other. Her hand slid back into his and he tied them together, using his teeth to pull the knot tight. He spoke unfamiliar Gaelic words, his strong and confident voice grounding her. Claire might not have understood the words, but she felt their meaning.

By some unspoken agreement, they leaned closer and sealed their vows with a kiss. It held promise and love and desire, filling her mind with dreams of what their future might be.

“So, what exactly did I just pledge? Did I promise to be meek and obedient? Because if I did, I’ve got some news for you…”

He laughed then, bending to kiss the back of her hand.

“Nae. It rhymes a bit, when ye translate it to English. ‘Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.’ I ken it’s a bit pagan.”

“It’s beautiful, Jamie. Does it need to be witnessed or anything?”

Nodding, he seemed to breathe a little easier.

“Aye, but it can be done now. We just ha’ to show someone that we’ve handfast and made our vows.”

As the surge of tenderness and emotion faded, they looked around at their clothes. They hadn’t exactly thought this through and realized tying their hands together posed a problem.

“Um…” she began, biting her lip.

“Weel… I suppose I can untie us for a moment? I dinna think it will ruin anything…”

Claire snorted.

“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

“It’s a deal.”

After a brief struggle, Jamie got the plaid untied and they both dressed. Lacing her fingers with his, she waited for him to re-tie their binding. He kissed her swiftly before turning them back toward Lallybroch.

“You know I’d rather you came with me, if it was safe for you,” she said as the manor house came into view.

“Aye, I ken. Murtagh will keep ye safe, I trust him to do that. He’s kept me alive all this time.”

Making their way to the sitting room, where they could hear several voices, was awkward with their bond hands. Ian was the first to notice and he grinned at them.

“About time, man!” he said.

Murtagh and Jenny turned to look, taking in their appearance. It was only then that Claire realized Jamie had twigs and leaves in his hair. She likely did too. Hastily, she reached up and began trying to pluck them all out.

“Claire and I have handfast,” Jamie said. “Would ye bear witness?”

“Aye,” all three said in unison.

“This is temporary, ken? Until we can make it official.”

“Good,” Murtagh said. “Now, if ye two love birds are done flirtin’ and sneakin’ about, I think it’s time we take Claire to get her things so we can leave. I’m gettin’ itchy.”

***

Murtagh followed her into her flat, keeping a wary eye out. Thankfully, the flat was empty when they walked in.

“Alright. Ye need to pack for a bit. Leave a note for yer roommate if ye like. Try and be quick about it, lass. I dinna like leaving him wi’out protection.”

She nodded and dashed to her room. Gathering her luggage, she packed whatever clothes she hadn’t taken on her previous journey. Satisfied she had everything she needed, she took her bags out to where Murtagh waited. He took one of them for her and Claire left a note for Geillis on the table.

Locking the door behind her, Claire followed Murtagh down the stairs and nearly ran into Geillis.

“Claire! Where the hell have you been?!”

“Oh! Geillis! I wasn’t sure if I’d see you before I left.”

Her roommate frowned.

“Left? Claire you’ve been gone for days.”

“I know. I just… I’m still trying to find myself after leaving Frank. I’ll be gone for a while more and I really don’t know when I’ll be home.”

Geillis eyed Murtagh, who waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s that?” Geillis asked in a harsh whisper.

“He’s, uh…” Claire faltered, unsure how to explain Murtagh.

She couldn’t exactly say he was her bodyguard.

“Oh. My. God. Claire! Is this who you’ve been shacking up with?!”

“What?!”

“I know you were with a man when you called me the other day. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type, but… Considering Frank was your last lover, I suppose you don’t really have much of a type anymore.”

Claire huffed an annoyed sigh.

“Geillis… That’s not…”

“He’s definitely not my type, but if that’s what you’re into now…”

Murtagh was glaring at Geillis, but she was facing away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said, stopping Geillis’ crude remarks. “I’m afraid I have to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“You should both come up for a farewell drink! I’ve some new brandy I think you’d like!”

Claire gave her best friend a small smile and shook her head.

“I can’t. We’re running late as it is. I promise I’ll call you later.”

A feeling of urgency pushed Claire to move past Geillis and follow Murtagh out to his car. He pulled away from her flat, heading for Lallybroch and Jamie.

“Are you sure it’s safe to take Jamie to Paris?” she asked, staring out the window.

“Aye. I’ve got everything ready for us to leave tomorrow. It’ll be better to get him out of Scotland for a bit. No one will think of lookin’ for him in France.”

She nodded, sitting back in her seat for the rest of the drive.

***

Jamie grumbled in the back seat, folding his arms over his chest to express his displeasure.

“Oh dinna start that back up, lad. Ye ken why we couldna take a flight.”

He muttered something dark in Gaelic and huffed. They’d been driving for several hours after Murtagh decided it was the safest way. The only thing Jamie enjoyed about the drive was spending time with Claire. The silver ring glinted on her finger, making him smile each time he saw it.

Eventually, Murtagh announced that they’d arrived at their destination. It was a small cottage, theirs for as long as they needed it. As he held the door for Claire, Jamie saw a tiny camera lense pointed at the front door. So it was a secure cottage - no surprise there.

“Alright you two,” Murtagh said, closing and locking the door behind him. “Exterior doors and windows have sensors so no one can break in. Ye have the master room, I’ve got the other. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go and find our Master Raymond.”

“Thank you for doing all of this, Murtagh,” Claire said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “This means a lot to me.”

Murtagh’s cheeks flushed and he looked bashfully down.

“Try and get some sleep,” he said before giving them both a pointed stare. “And I do mean sleep. Claire will have a lot of work to do and I suspect Jamie might be a part of it. I’ll see ye both in the morning.”

He disappeared with his bag into his room. Jamie, insisting on carrying Claire’s bags as well, followed her down to the master bedroom.

It wasn’t as large as the laird’s room in Lallybroch, but it would do. The bed would be interesting, given his size.

“Well,” Claire said, her eyes on the bed as well. “I guess it’s good we’re already married, isn’t it?”

Jamie laughed.

“Aye. It’ll make for cozy nights, to be sure.”

“Nights with you are always cozy. You’ve an internal furnace.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her softly.

“Now if only I could use my furnace to keep those wee feet of yours warm,” he said ruefully.

Claire giggled and dressed for bed, sliding in beside him, her body soft and warm against his own. The frame squeaked horribly, but neither of them wanted any more than to sleep and hold each other. Jamie was almost excited to see what tomorrow would bring. Excitement and trepidation warred in his mind, but the feel and scent of his wife beside him finally pulled him down into peaceful oblivion.

Continue to Part 19

[bentchcreates]

Promdi Heart by #romanceclass Goddesses (heehee)

This came in a wonderful time as I had been having bad bouts of homesickness and what better way to travel the Philippines on a budget than to read stories set in them!

While I consider all six authors to be #romanceclass superstars, two of them I’ve had the chance to read only for the first time in this anthology collection. Because the stories are short (I want them all to be longerrrr!), I’ll be reviewing the stories on their own first, and then the whole collection after. Here we go!

1.       Only the Beginning – C.P. Santi

I love the use of Visayan words in the narration and dialogue. (probably because this this the only Filipino dialect I can understand aside from the national language! XD)

As with other CPSanti books, the inclusion of architectural details/jargon is wonderfully done, it doesn’t take away from the romance.

Alon is my spirit animal! Especially that part where he tells Andi, “Dai, don’t you think it’s a sign?”

Scooter-riding MC + Dimpled LI = <3

Text/Chat parts (plus THAT joke! XD). I was a bit wary when a chapter started doing this because it’s too “youth-speak” for me (not that I’m that old!), and past experiences with this type of story-telling tended to get too corny and cringe-y for me. This, however, was okay for me, especially when Martin started the knock-knock joke (to which, I imagined Andi rolling her eyes as she replied) and ended with Andi’s own joke! It made both of them more endearing to me.

This quote: “Happiness is a choice. Happiness is something that doesn’t just happen. It’s something that you grab on to with both hands.” I forget this sometimes, and this is probably why I need to read romance often, so I’m reminded that I have a choice.

2.       Letters to a Boy – Ines Bautista-Yao

90’s old-school snail mail got me so bad! It inspired me to send mail to friends I still knew addresses of.

This story perfectly reflected how relationships could work despite the constraints of space and time. And I’m talking about both Tin-tin and Annette’s friendship and Tin-tin and Nicolas’ romance. ;)

Horseback riding is <3!

Parents! I will forever love characters that take care of their parents!

Biggest turn-on for me is this story’s depiction of MC’s affection’s unrequited beginnings but when the tide turns, Tin-tin doesn’t foolishly fall head-on to the man he’d been pining for. She makes him work for it, and work for it he does!

Tin-tin and Nicolas’ years-long slow-burn love story set the solid foundation for the HEA towards the end!

P.S. the mention of Carrie, the white girl, inadvertently reminded me of that totally unrelated other girl who burned her entire school gym and killed hundreds of people when she was bathed in pig’s blood. Ehe.

3.       Drummer Boy – Chris Mariano

Tall, muscly musicians are my weakness. Argh

The brother’s bestfriend trope is not that unfamiliar to me, but this took me on a wild ride especially at that part where the big brother actually landed a deserving punch to his best friend somewhere along the way.

I love that Reina is a woman of agency, not just in what she wants her guy to be/to do, but in all aspects of her life, as well. She acknowledges how uncomfortable her relationship with Ben might be for her Kuya, but she doesn’t let that get in the way of what her heart is telling her.

I live for the grand gesture in this one!

Chris’ descriptions of all the festivities cemented Ati-Atihan on my list of “Things to Experience Before I turn 40”!

4.       One Certain Day – Jay E. Tria

Very relatable and nostalgic for me because our family’s big on All Saints’/All Souls’ Day celebrations. It never turned as romantic as this, though. Sayang. Heehee.

I also relate to finding old classmates recently and noting how everyone looks different, yet not-so-different, at the same time.

I love that bit about naming children ‘as if with a purpose’

‘Kiligs’ everytime Son comes back to Hagonoy, especially that part where he hands Alice an unfinished song! Eeeeee!

I also love that Alice took charge of her destiny at some point. No more waiting for the guy who’s taking forever to make a move, my god.

There is heartbreak somewhere in here, but it’s done in a mature and realistic way, and it doesn’t ruin anything for me. It makes it even more special, tbh.

5.       Once Upon A Bully – Georgette S. Gonzales

Homecoming stories are near and dear my heart, especially since I’ve been away from home for too long!

Hunky-dunky LI! <3

The Vigan experience here is special because the characters reminisce the Vigan they grew up in and the Vigan now. It perfectly captured one’s love for home that many of us take for granted.

Bridgette’s “the more you hate…” trope is on point!

Bagnettttttttttt!!!!!

6.       Back to the Stars – Agay Llanera

Another homecoming story! YASS!

The scene where Wency’s mother mentions “biskwit” tugged several heartstrings for me. I always feel for remembering the places you grew up in, but I feel MOAR for the people you grew up with!

Wency is sweet AF! His full name is funny to me, but the meaning behind it, and his sisters’ names, makes it extra special.

Leah’s changed attitude after being a City Girl for so long is dealt with realistically. It’s not a bad thing for me, it’s normal. But a sort of redemption in the end made me super happt for her. :)

I ship Leah + Wency so harddd! I mean, Leah Gurl, andami mong choices! Haha!

So there, my review for the individual stories. Hehe. For the whole anthology, my only request is for the authors to expand these stories! I’m very invested in all the characters at this point and I don’t want to part with them just yet! Haha!

Congrats, ladies! And thank you for doing this. My love for the Philippines had been reinforced with these stories and I hope other readers would find our wonderful side of the world as romantic as it is. :)

5 of 5 Stars.

Blurb:

Take a quick tour of the Philippines with six hometown love stories. Visit Jimenez, Misamis Occidental where a priest might just set you up with a man whose dimples are to die for. Visit Silay, Negros Occidental and get on a horse alongside hunky, hazel-eyed Negrense royalty. Visit Kalibo, Aklan and find yourself in the arms of a cute drummer boy who just happens to be your kuya's BFF. Visit Hagonoy, Bulacan and spend All Saint's Day next to a distracting boy who promises to write you a song. Visit Vigan, Ilocos Sur and meet the hot man you used to bully when he was a shy, scrawny boy. Visit Pundaquit, Zambales and find love in a bronzed fisherman whose eyes hold depths you'll want to explore.

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Promdi-Heart-Hometown-Love-Stories-ebook/dp/B06XY73Q4T/

Print Book Order Form (PH Only): http://bit.ly/promdiheartbook

About the Authors:

C. P. Santi is a Filipina author based in Tokyo, Japan. She is a wife to an engineer / indie songwriter and a full-time mom to two energetic boys. She loves cooking and baking, and enjoys feeding people, gorging on chocolate, watching J-doramas, belting it out in the karaoke box, and running around the house playing tickle tag. She also loves dreaming up stories about the people she meets.

In another life, she is also an architect and academic.

Ines Bautista-Yao is the former editor-in-chief of Candy and K-Zone magazines and a former high school and college English and Literature teacher. She is also a wife and mom and blogs about the many challenges and joys of motherhood at theeverydayprojectblog.com. She also posts story spirals on her author blog: http://theeverydayprojectblog.com/inesbautistayao-author/ You can find her on Instagram and Twitter: @inesbyao, through email: writeme@inesbyao.com, her website: inesbautistayao.com, or Facebook: www.facebook.com/inesbautistayao

Cover (Story) Girl is Chris Mariano's first published romance work, but her speculative fiction and poetry have appeared in Fully Booked's Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards Prose Anthology, Philippine Speculative Fiction Volume 7, TAYO Literary Magazine, and Ideomancer. When she's not writing, she supports Eskritoryo Pilipinas, an organization that encourages kids to appreciate Filipino literature and culture. She divides her time between Manila and Aklan.

Jay E. Tria is inspired by daydreams, celebrity crushes, a childhood fascination of Japanese drama and manga, and an incessant itch to travel. She writes contemporary young adult and new adult romance. Sometimes, paranormal fantasy too. Visit her website www.jayetria.com. Email: jayetria@gmail.com Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Wattpad: jayetria

Georgette S. Gonzales began writing novels as romance author Edith Joaquin of My Special Valentine Tagalog (Filipino) Romance pocketbooks, published by Bookware Publishing Corp. She started writing in English and self-pubbing works in the middle of 2015. Gette works best at night, is also an editor, a public/media relations consultant, loves to cook pasta dishes and to eat caramel cake.

Agay Llanera is a freelance writer for television and video, and a published writer of children's books based in Manila, Philippines. Get in touch with her through the following: http://agayisagirl.blogspot.com https://www.facebook.com/AgayLlanera https://twitter.com/agayskee

[zafaraelgrimskee]

Tragedy

Chapter 1: A Roadtrip

Josiah James couldn’t help but to smile at the name lighting up his phone as a jazzy ringtone echoed through the speakers of his car. He might currently be driving down a road so dark that the bright headlights of the car only showed five feet ahead of him, but the voice of his significant other could always brighten his day; no matter the circumstances.  

Even if those circumstances just happened to be him returning to his hometown in order to fill the gaping hole in his memory that was his childhood.  

He pressed the answer button, allowing the call to connect and crackle through his car.

“Hey Mo-Mo.”

“That’s a terrible nickname and you know it.” There was a beeping sound of a car locking. “I just got home and thought you would appreciate some company on your ride. Also, it’s lonely here without you.”

“Well I'm sorry my nickname game isn’t up to your standards, and come on Kitten, you’re thirty-three a weekend alone won’t kill you.”

Although he couldn’t physically see the smile that Morgan bore on their face, Josiah could hear it through their response and picture it on their face.  

“That’s a better nickname Jaybird, and I might be able to survive a weekend, but that won’t keep me from being bored and thinking of you every minute.”

Josiah cracked a smile at his lover’s words, knowing full well that they were simply worried about his well-being within this whole situation. “I promise to be home before the Sunday sermon.” He meant that too, that’s the thing about Josiah, when he makes a promise; he keeps it.  

He might as well be the most honest person to grace a life, if he promised that things would get better; well then, they did. This went for sickness, depression, anxiety, troubling times; it was like he inherently made things happen in one way or another. It could explain why he had such a following at the Sunday sermons, when he spoke of brutal and honest truths; and the need to love all, and the fact that one day everything will be alright again. It was just widely accepted and known, that all these things would be overcome; no matter what.  

A small chuckle came from the other line, “You better be, I'm not sure what that church would do without you up in front of the pews. Probably fall into chaos if I'm being honest.”

“You know that’s not true; they are perfectly capable on their own.”

“Well they might be,” there was a serious tone to Morgan’s voice, “but I wouldn’t be. Not if anything was to happen to you. Promise me, that you will be careful; please.”

Brushing his elbow against the pocket of his jacket; as if to reassure himself the ring box was still there; Josiah made his second promise to his lover that night. “I promise, if I even begin to suspect something might be dangerous, then I’ll leave. Don’t worry.”

On the other end of the call there was only the sound of breathing, crackling through the speakers of his car.  

“Hey Kitten.”

“Yeah Jaybird?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful and be safe.”

“I will; you do the same.”

“I will, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweet dreams.” With that Josiah ended the call, turning the radio up enough to catch the tail end of a traffic report on a local news station. He returned his focus solely to the road in front of him, entertaining the thought of how and when and where to purpose to Morgan.  

They had been together now for around five years. A magical three years really; of course, they had had their ups and downs, but for most of the time they had been perfectly content and happy. They weren't each other’s firsts by no means, but Josiah was hoping they would be each other’s lasts.  

They had met at a church social shortly after Josiah had become the priest. He was young and foolish, letting words tumble out of his mouth before he had even thought about them. Luckily Morgan was neither terrified by his compliments or his frankly atrocious flirting. They had hit it off well, like any other basic love story. They spent time together for the first three years, forging a friendship of gold. Morgan often coming to the Sunday sermons to watch him preach; Josiah going to the local theatre to watch them perform.  

It was during that time that that Morgan had started to slowly move into Josiah’s little cottage house set adjacent from the church he was the priest at. It had happened piece by piece, them leaving clothes there from spending nights over, or books that they would have to eventually come back for. Morgan was eventually invited to stay by Josiah and the spent a year and half as roommates.  

Morgan had been the one to question their relationship, ask that one horrendous question of “What are we?” You know, that question that you never really have the answer for, but you know it has to be asked eventually if anything is going to be pursued further. It had been a rather short conversation though:

“What are we?”  

Josiah peered over his cup of tea, the inevitable cycle of ‘what did I do wrong’ coursing through his brain. He stumbled over his words, sounding as if he didn’t even have a grasp on the basics of the English language. “Eh...what? What...do..you...what do you mean?”

“I mean like,” they gestured wildly with their hands, “what /are/ we? Roommates, friends, lovers, people who just happen to live together and get along!?” Their voice rose an octave with each word, to the point where they were heaving breaths with panicked shouting, “WHAT DO YOU EVEN THINK OF ME!?”

“Oh.” Josiah whispered to himself, gaze cast into his tea. “Well I have always though that your smile is like little rays of sunshine that warm me up, and that your eyes are little puddles of water that reflect the sun and the sky.” He looked into the eyes of his long-term friend and roommate, “I always thought that we were basically a couple; did you not want that?”

“What?” Came the breathless reply, airy from the lack of proper function of the lungs.

“Yeah, I love you; I have been in love with you since...well before I asked you to move in.”

“I love you too! Seriously, I just...didn’t know how to ask you out. Or to like, make it official.”

“Is that what that was, you asking me out; making it official?”

Morgan had looked up, their wild curls crashing across their forehead, hiding the furrow of their knitted brows. “Uh, yes; it was.”

“Well in that case...” Josiah had leaned in and kissed them.  

That had been the beginning of their official relationship and now, five years later Josiah was ready to take it all one step farther. He had spent forever looking for the perfect ring. One that was not too feminine and simultaneously not too masculine. He had settled on one made of a thicker band of polished black cobalt with a thinner band of rose gold set within it. It was perfect, and once he got home, he would take them out on a late-night picnic. They would watch the sunset together, and afterwards they would lay together and stargaze; one of their favorite pastimes. He would do it while stargazing, he would pose a question about the stars and roll over and onto a knee and at that moment he would propose.  

The static of the radio suddenly screeching in and out snapped Josiah out of his proposal daydream. A staticky voice announced an incoming emergency broadcast.

“As of 21:30 of Wednesday September 18th a state-wide Amber Alert has been issued for Patrick Barrow. He is a young white male of 14 years, 5 feet 4 inches tall, 113lbs, with brown hair and brown eyes, and was last seen wearing blue jeans, a green and white striped hoody, combat boots, and a wedding ring on silver chain around his neck. His last known location was Thompson’s Grocery Store as he exited it at 5pm with a group of friends. He is believed to be in extreme danger. If you have any information, please do not hesitate to contact the Tombstone County Sheriff with this number: (765)-435-7688"

With a twitch of his fingers, Josiah switched the radio station, letting it land on a random channel; hoping for some music of some sort.  

“This is the sixth Amber Alert to be issued for Tombstone, Indiana in the last two months. A curfew has been put in place and it is highly recommended that everyone is to follow it for your own safety. School hours have been pushed back so that they start at 9 am Eastern Standard Time; that way it is fully light for any children walking to school in the morning. It is highly advised that you keep your doors and windows locked and do not answer for anyone.”

With shaky movements and unsteady breath Josiah reached to flip the radio off, having heard enough of the unsettling news. It happened very quickly, in the space of time it takes for a snowflake to land, or a drop of rain to splatter.  

Headlights swerved into his lane, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Brighter and comparable to that of the sun, Josiah was blinded; he swerved blindly in hopes of avoiding a collision; a shriek of panic escaping his lungs. He swerved to the right sharply, then yanked the steering wheel back to the left; it pulled the car too far into the ditch though, causing it to roll once before landing on its tires; the passenger side slammed up against the legs of a sign of some sort, the horn blaring incessantly from damage.  

Quickly he forcibly adjusted the review mirror, looking behind him to see what had happened to the oncoming car. There was no visible sign of it, no smoke, or fire, or screams. No headlights turned his way, or taillights driving away. The road was completely and utterly empty, just as inky black as it had been moments before. There was no sign of life besides him, it was as if the oncoming car had never actually existed.  

Josiah slouched in the driver’s seat, unbuckling his seatbelt and taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his oncoming anxiety attack that he could feel welling up inside his body. He could feel it boiling up from his stomach; sitting at the base of his throat; choking him up and leaving him completely breathless.  

He took several moments to collect himself; 20 minutes to be exact., allowing his breathing to fall back into a more normal and steadier rate before he sat up in his seat. He shut the car off, pulling out the key and fumbling for his phone and the pepper spray Morgan had insisted that he brought along. Shakily, he opened the car door, using the light on his phone to cast a shallow light in the darkness. Keeping one hand on the car he carefully treaded towards the passenger side to examine the damage done by his impromptu stunt driving move.  

He took in the dented door, scratched paint, and fractured glass of the window. Besides that, it hadn’t really taken that much damage. It had ended up being a terrible experience that had ended pretty well compared to how it could have ended.  

As he was making his way back to the driver’s side of the car, the radio crackled abruptly into the silence of the night.

“If you have any information on any of the following missing persons please do not hesitate to contact the Tombstone County Sheriff with this number: (765)-435-7688. Patrick Barrow, male, age 14. Connor Greyson, male, age 18. Taylor Braxton, female, age 11. Laura Green, female, age 19. Olivia Sawyer, female, age 7. Owen Sawyer, male, age 7. Again, if you have any information please do not hesitate to contact the Tombstone County Sheriff. The number is: (765)-435-7688.”

Not that he would admit it to anyone else, but Josiah leapt a good two feet in the air at the unexpected sound. He cursed a small indignant sound as he yanked open the door and clambered back into the car. Hastily he snapped his seatbelt back on, shoved the key into the ignition and turned. The engine roared to life. He pressed the gas forcibly enough to get the car up and over the ditch, and within moments he was back on the road; the headlights of the car bouncing off a sign that read: Tombstone in 214 miles.  

His eyes never left the road after that brief, but terrifying encounter, both hands stayed glued to the wheel; he refused to lift one for even the tiniest moment to turn the radio back on. Morgan’s words of “Be careful and be safe.” echoed continuously throughout his skull.  

“It’s going to be a long night,” he muttered to himself in an effort to sustain both his worry and his panic.

[consciousowl]

Did Jesus Go To India? Why It Really Matters

And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold:

them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice;

and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.

Jesus in the Gospel of John

In 2009, Dr. Deepak Chopra published The Third Jesus: The Christ We Cannot Ignore. He identified The First Jesus as the Historical Jesus, The Second Jesus as the Christ of the Church and The Third Jesus as the Master of Enlightenment.

Deepak’s insights were on spot, in that the deepest meaning of salvation is enlightenment, waking up to the true nature of things, that all there is, IS God, and that God IS Love. Through God’s Love, we can know God, and become a son or daughter of God.

Deepak realized that we could devise a narrative of Jesus going to India that is totally congruent with the New Testament accounts. He published Jesus: A Story of Enlightenment in tandem with The Third Jesus. Could it be that the Gospel most people believe today is essentially true, sufficient for salvation, and yet still incomplete?​

Can the Gospel Still Be True?

I grew up as a Christian fundamentalist who took the Bible literally and would readily cite chapter and verse. Convinced that Jesus of Nazareth was the unique Son of God, I gave little thought that He might have travelled in His early years. As a child, I came across a Mormon missionary who quoted the passage where Christ maintains that he has “other sheep.”

As I studied other religions, particularly Hinduism and Buddhism, and befriended people from India, my perspective expanded. I came across the Hindu concept of an Avatar, or direct descent of God, as well as a Bodhisattva, or Buddha of Compassion. These beings deeply resonated with my own experience of Christ, and I began to wonder.

Can you take the Gospel accounts at face value and recognize the possibility that Jesus travelled to India? Without question. Most of Jesus’s youth is not portrayed in the Gospels, which were written 40 years after the Crucifixion. These narratives were not intended as biographies. The Gospel as a whole is a profoundly transformational message to all humanity, and can only be understood in that light. If one is honest in reviewing the narrative, it is clear that here Jesus is a stranger in a strange land, even when He walks about His own birthplace, knowing both the customs and the rituals. His own consciousness is beyond the scope of anyone He meets.​

Swami Yogananda Bet His Life On This Premise

As a college student, I heard of Yogananda when I was learning hatha yoga at the University of California at Berkeley. At the time, there was a massive influx of swamis, yogis and lamas into the U.S. Yogananda’s masterpiece, The Autobiography of a Yogi was an all-time best seller that inspired millions to look to the East and actually moved thousands of Americans to travel to India in search of enlightenment, one of who was the co-founder of Apple, Inc. This was the only book Steve Jobs actually downloaded onto his iPad.

Yogananda was sent by his master, Yukteswar Giri, to impart his vision of the harmony of Hinduism and Christianity, specifically, the Bhagavad Gita and the Gospels. Yogananda regularly prayed and had a profound devotional relationship with Christ. In every service of Self-Realization Fellowship, Yogananda would read and explain both the Bible and the Gita.

It is amazing to think that Yogananda in his time was the equivalent of a rock star in the U.S., much like Maharishi. Unlike Maharishi, Yogananda gave most of his years to America, literally hanging out with Hollywood stars and prominent writers, such as Aldous Huxley. Not only did he inspire hundreds of thousands of Americans to bend their legs like pretzels, he also pulled together an American monastic community with as much commitment as any Catholic order.​

Birth of the Great Vehicle

Buddha virtually invented enlightenment as an institution. Before Him, many rishis in India had attained enlightenment, but only a few could receive the necessary guidance and instruction. You had to be the son of a Brahmin. No one else qualified. As a crown prince, Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha) changed all that. Anyone could become a Buddhist who agreed to be called a “Bhikkhu” or beggar, have his hair shaved and follow Him.

Buddhism became institutionalized under the Emperor Ashoka, who abandoned his military quests, took Buddhist vows and became a vegetarian. A couple hundred years before Christ, Ashoka sent missionaries throughout Asia, as well as into the Mediterranean. The Greeks had earlier invaded India, and thus all the lands touched by the Greeks were ripe for the Dharma, or teaching.

Around the birth of Christ, Buddhism underwent a profound shift, away from the idea of individual enlightenment, to enlightenment of large groups of people through the Mahayana or “Great Vehicle” tradition. The ideal became a Bodhisattva, one who, about to receive enlightenment, goes back to the community and brings everyone with him before he steps into Nirvana.​

Judaism Goes Universal

Israel, more than any other force, gave humanity the concept of One God, Creator of the Universe. It began in fact as a tribal religion that pertained only to the direct descendants of its founding father, Abraham. Initially, the Lord was seen as a jealous God demanding strict obedience, much like a Middle Eastern emperor, such as Hammurabi in Babylon or Pharaoh in Egypt.

In the time of the prophets, when both the nations of Israel and Judah fell to the Babylonians and their temple was ravished, a larger vision of God emerged. God was not just the first among many gods, but the Only True God. Israel was not exclusively favored by the Supreme Being, but by anyone who worshipped Him. Jewish people were to be “the Light among the Gentiles (Nations).”

Preceding Christ, Rabbis emerged, such as Hillel, who focused on ethics, and who de-emphasized meaningless ritual. Brotherly love was commended towards all who might reciprocate. Other people could convert to Judaism. As Jesus put it, “Love God with all your all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.”  By then, the Sermon on the Mount was within reach.​

The Three Wise Men

If you take the scriptures at face value, you are confronted with the possibility that people all over the world were awaiting the birth of Christ. Many were consciously looking for him as the Messiah, who would liberate us all. Of all the characters in the Christmas nativity plays, the Three Wise Men are often the most cherished. They came from the East as astrologers following the Star of Bethlehem, now thought to be the convergence of three planets around 5 B.C.E.

Why do they take a prominent place in the Gospels, triggering as they did the Murder of the Innocents in Bethlehem? Those Three Wise Men inspired King Herod to insane jealousy. Mary and Joseph, warned by a dream, fled to Egypt, which was under Greek influence, and which almost certainly had Buddhist missionaries.

Could it be that the Three Wise Men intended to apprentice Jesus of Nazareth in the mysteries of the East, which at that time was a mix of both Buddhism and Hinduism? Could Jesus have gone to receive training from these great masters, having been recognized in infancy as an Avatar or Bodhisattva?​

The Silent Years

After Jesus’s birth and flight to Egypt, celebrated the world over by Christmas, we read little about Jesus until His Bar Mitzvah, most likely at 13 years of age. Jesus goes with His parents to the temple in Jerusalem, where He dialogues with the priests and rabbis in a way that stuns them. Jesus gets so wrapped up that He spends several days in the temple. His parents leave Jerusalem earlier, thinking Jesus has gone on with the group, only to discover He was left behind. They reprimand Christ, and Jesus responds in a puzzled manner, “Didn’t you know I must be about my Father’s business?”

The Gospel tells us that Mary took this event to heart, and Jesus then submitted to His parents, “growing in wisdom and in stature.” We don’t hear about him again for 18 years or so, around the wedding at Cana and His Baptism in the River Jordan. What happened during these years? Did Christ go on to continue to be a good carpenter and master His craft? This is the standard account. But how, then, did Jesus become the Christ?​

Another possibility, with substantial evidence all over Pakistan, Tibet and India, is that He was summoned by the wise men, and with His parents permission, accompanied their envoys to India. It is noteworthy that Jewish people and possibly some of the “ten lost tribes of Israel” were already in India. Given that Christ was on King Herod’s wanted list, it might make sense for Him to seek refuge in a foreign land to protect His life.

Baptism in the River Jordan

The true launch of Jesus’s ministry as a rabbi and prophet was when His first cousin, “John the Baptist”, baptized him in the River Jordan. The Baptizer was revered as a great apocalyptic prophet who warned of impending judgment. He anticipated the Messiah emerging who would bring lasting peace and justice to the world. In the river, “The heavens were opened,” and a Voice announced Jesus as His “beloved Son, in whom He is well pleased.”

Early theologians speculated that this was the moment that Jesus became the Christ, that the baptismal waters were an anointing of His role as the Lord of Love. It becomes increasingly apparent as the narrative continues that Christ is building a kingdom “not of this world.” The Kingdom of Heaven is above all, a state of mind, or a transformation in consciousness.

The Gospel of John reveals Jesus as the “Logos” of God, the ultimate message from God to humanity, as the supreme embodiment of divine Love. This Gospel account maintains that Jesus has the ability to awaken the divinity of anyone who simply realizes Who He is. This is the most popular form of yoga, Bhakti Yoga, or the yoga of devotion to God and loving service to people. As we worship God in a form that speaks to us, we become a son or daughter of God.​

The Sermon on the Mount

The crowning accomplishment of Jesus’s public teaching starts out with the profoundly ironic beatitudes: Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Jesus goes on to depict a higher way of being than humanity had ever seen. These are the principles of His Kingdom, a state of being nothing less than divine.

Jesus pushes the envelope by introducing a vision of a global society infused with unconditional love, which shines like the sun upon “the just and the unjust” alike. He takes it to an extreme: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor[i] and hate your enemy. But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Only the Bodhisattva tradition would even touch on this kind of love. The Bodhisattva vow goes, “Though the flames of hell are infinite, I vow to extinguish every one of them.”

Could it be that Christ’s consciousness was infused as much with the Wisdom of the East as the Judaic prophetic tradition? In any event, Jesus is demonstrating Himself to be an Avatar or Bodhisattva, a spiritual genius of a different order than the world has ever seen. You might even think of Him here as the Second Buddha, enlightenment through the heart, not the head. The Mahayana tradition was awaiting Him. Why couldn’t the second wave of enlightenment come from Jewish people?​

The Passion and Resurrection

The greatest theologians have long pondered why Christ, the Perfect Man, had to die on the cross. The most common interpretation is that He died for our sins so that we should not experience eternal spiritual death. Jesus rose from the dead to demonstrate that it has no power over those who have received the gift of eternal life.

If you closely study the accounts, it is clear that Jesus consciously chose to die, that He pushed the priests and Pharisees to the brink. While it is clear from His night in the Garden of Gethsemane that a part of Him would do anything not to go to the cross, He surrendered to the Higher Will to fulfill His destiny.​

An alternative Orthodox perspective sees Jesus going to the cross as the ultimate demonstration of love. He had to demonstrate once and for all what it was like to love your enemies. Confronting the mocking Pharisees, He raised His head and asked, “Father, forgive them. For they know not what they do.”

You can combine these views with the perspective that Jesus, as Avatar of Avatars, deliberately took upon Himself the collective karma of all humanity, and released us from any and all bondage. If like me, you believe in miracles (I have seen enough of the miraculous to be convinced), then the resurrection account is not to be dismissed. Incidentally, great spiritual masters the world over have done truly astonishing things. Just study comparative religion, starting with Baba Ram Dass’s The Miracle of Love.​

Forty Days: Avatar, Buddha and Messiah

After Christ’s resurrection, He is recorded to have appeared to His apostles and disciples over a period of 40 days before His ascension into Heaven. Jesus could materialize and dematerialize right before his disciples’ eyes. He would break bread with them, eat broiled fish, invite them to touch Him and even breathe on Him. They earnestly gazed upon the nail prints in His hands and feet, as well as the spear mark in his side.

If you accept modern masters, such as India’s Sai Baba, the idea that one can appear at more than one place at a time, or jump continents just through thought alone is not impossible. Such a feat doesn’t defy quantum mechanics. Teleportation need not be limited to Star Trek. If Jesus was resurrected, and He was a supreme yogi, why couldn’t he go meet His “other sheep” in distant lands? He need not hang out solely in Palestine.

In the account where Jesus ascends into the skies, we need not be stumped by a Newtonian view of the Universe, where it would take him millions of years to even reach the center of the galaxy. He could very well have gone into a whole other dimension. Contemporary string theory admits of 11 dimensions. Also, the theory of parallel universes or multiple worlds is held by any number of responsible physicists, not simply wacked-out comic book fans.​

The Greatest Miracle

In truth, we don’t know for sure that Jesus went to India to attain ultimate enlightenment. As an Avatar, He was awoken from birth. We know beyond any reasonable historical doubt that He lived and died in Palestine in the first century. He is regarded as the Greatest Man Who Ever Lived. With sufficient faith, the evidence for His resurrection is compelling.

If Jesus actually did go to India, it would explain a lot---all those silent years, the strange resonance with the teachings of Krishna and Buddha. It would make it increasingly clear that Jesus is not just for Christians, but for all the world. All the avatars, bodhisattvas and Messiahs belong, not to an exclusive set of people, but to all humanity forever.

If Christianity is to live up to its potential as suggested in the Sermon on the Mount, it must go universal, both with regard to salvation, as well as to our divinity. Christ didn’t die for us because we were miserable, filthy worms. He died for us because we were infinitely precious in His sight. He died to wake us up to our own divinity.

As we partake of the Love of Christ, we begin to realize what it is all about. This love is invincible. The apostles used it to transform the Roman Empire. With it, Gandhi brought down the British Empire. We, in our day, can share it on a planetary scale. Then we can say that we have found God. For God IS love.​

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