#I thought I should draw David using his healing powers

[im-thekeeper]

[missmonsters2]

You Found Me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC

Summary: Part II to Under the Light.  Two years have passed . You think there are somethings you can’t survive, but you find a way. And when you’re forced to face Wanda once more, you learn that time can heal almost anything, but some things don’t change.

Note: This was part of my 500 (or 800) follower celebration a while back. 1/3 fics that I will be writing a part II for with a happy ending. This is about as happy as it gets LOL For any new readers, make sure to read part I: under the light for this to make sense. 

Warnings: implied depression, panic attacks, moving on & therapy.

PART I: Under the Light

Genre: Soft Angst & Romance

Count: 6589

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The end isn't always what you think it is. 

You think after the end, that's it. Roll the credit scene, and fade to black. That's the end of the book; there isn't anything else.

But it's not.

There's always something after the end, and in your case, it's called moving on.

"So?"

You look up, thoughts interrupted.

"I don't know, doc," you sigh, leaning back on the couch.

"Try to explain it," he gently asks, his legs are crossed as he's got his chin in his hand, notebook strewn aside.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, trying to string your thoughts together.

"I guess the hardest parts are the small things I have to remind myself that I don't need to do anymore. Like, earlier this month, there was a new Netflix show that I know she'd love, and I caught myself not watching it because I felt like I should wait for her, but I don't need to anymore," you hope that's enough to convey what you're feeling to your therapist.

"And?" He probes, and you sigh. 

Of course, it wouldn't be enough. You knew better by now.

"And I feel...lost," you shrug.

Your therapist hums.

"Why do you feel lost?" Your therapist questions. "What was it about Wanda that made you feel found?"

Talking about Wanda still feels like there's a painful thudding on your chest.

"I..." You rasp, "Because she was like me. Broken. She saw me for me and loved me anyway. And that all crumbled apart."

"Because she's not broken anymore?"

You nod tiredly.

"So, what is the concept of broken people?" Your therapist asks as he leans back in his chair. "If you can be unbroken, were they broken in the first place? Is being broken a forever issue?"

You're silent because you don't know. 

"Think about it," your therapist says, uncrossing his legs. "I think you should be opening to meeting more people, making more friends, and letting things progress naturally without too many expectations."

You nod, licking your lips, thoughts coming and going from your mind.

"Alright, that's it for our session today. Think about what I said and come see me again in a couple weeks," your therapist closes his notepad, standing up to let you out.

"Alright, thanks, doc," you say with a soft grin that your therapist returns.

"You're doing really well," he compliments you, "much better than when I found you."

You laugh, "You mean a real nutcase."

"Not at all," your therapist smiles, "You came here, lost and alone. Even though you had said you wanted to give up, you found a job before anything else. You have a stubborn fighting spirit, that even when you feel like you're at your end, you keep going. Be a little proud of that."

"Thanks, David." 

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Do you ever wonder what the truth is? Is the truth just a matter of circumstance? 

Because the truth is that you had run. You ran from New York and began again in LA. 

You saw the missed calls from Wanda and changed your number. You knew that she could find you, if she wanted, you can't hide from her powers and you can't hide from Tony's money.

But running and changing your numbers told her you didn't want her to come after you. 

But maybe there's a truth to that too.

"Hey, got your usual."

You look up to see the friendly coffee shop owner across from your building.

"Have I become that predictable, Lucy?" you reply with a friendly smile.

Lucy hands you your drink, laughing lightly as she does. She throws in a free muffin.

"Maybe you're just my favorite customer," she grins.

You quirk your brow at her. Lucy is undoubtedly pretty, with her blonde hair and green eyes. She's funny, and she's easy-going.

"Are you flirting with me over baked goods?" 

"Is there any other way?" Lucy tilts her head.

You smile at her, and she returns it.

"Can I have your number?" She asks bluntly, and you find yourself pausing for a moment.

It's small things like this that you find catching yourself at.

The quick second where you almost automatically say no because your body is so used to having Wanda. 

The next quick second, where it feels like you're cheating even if she's not with you anymore.

It's a constant reminder you have to learn to live your own life.

You grab an extra coffee sleeve on the side and the pen, scribbling your number down.

You give Lucy a small smile before you wave off and set off to get to work.

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"Hey, where's the fire today?" You ask your coworker as you see the office bustling around more than usual.

"We have a new client. She wants a marketing plan for her company. It's brand new, but she's bringing loads of money. Harris is sucking ass hard to keep her happy," your coworker gossips with you and you hum.

You're not really too concerned about it. After all, you're still relatively new to the company, only having worked for a year and a half. 

You were just a novice marketing designer. You worked on small jobs, fixing up other people's work, creating a few things here and there. Your boss was just starting to give you more responsibilities and really liked the ideas you were bringing.

"She sounds like a pain in the ass," you say. You've met big clients before. Most of them were demanding and a little on the rude side, but you couldn't really do much about it when you're just a novice designer. 

"Oh, we're passing by the meeting room, let's see what's going on," your worker huddles a little closer to you as the conference room comes up. As you pass by the glass walls, your breath stops.

It's been 2 years, but you could never forget her face.

She looks the same, a little more mature maybe. She's dyed her hair blonde, and no longer has the split hair part, but now to the side.

An array of emotions flicker through you, but it's the single, loud thought that draws her attention to you.

'Fuck.'

Her head whips over to you, shock registering on her face, and at least you know this wasn't a planned attack.

"Oh, she's hot," your coworker whispers to you, and the only response you have to that is swallowing.

"I gotta go," you mutter, speeding past the room and leaving your coworker alone. 

You don't even know where to go, but all you know is that you can't be in the same building as Wanda, let alone a room. Bolting out of the building, you walk and walk until you find yourself back at the café. 

You sigh, entering the shop.

"Hey," Lucy greets you, surprise on her face that you're back so soon.

You try to give her a smile, but it probably comes out as more of a grimace. 

And when Lucy cocks her brow at you, you sigh.

"Sorry," you breathe, "I got ambushed at work. I need somewhere to hide, and I don't know, I ended up here."

Lucy merely nods as you take a seat at one of the tables, setting your bookbag down. You've got your head in your hands as you're trying to control your breathing.

A cup of coffee being set down brings you out of your momentary panic. You look up to see Lucy taking a seat diagonally from you. 

"On the house for my favorite panicky customer," she lightly teases you, smiling when she gets you to chuckle. 

"Thanks," you say, taking a sip of the drink. 

You can tell it's decaf, and you smile at her being considerate. 

"So," Lucy slowly speaks, "want to share what's gotten you so shaken that you ran back to my coffee shop before I even had a chance to give you a call?"

You bite your lip.

"I..." You start.

"My ex showed up at my firm. She's a customer. An important one at that, it seems."

It's probably not a good start to talk about your ex, one that clearly so affects you still, to someone you just gave your number to in the prospect of going on a date. 

Lucy hums. 

"It didn't end well?" She surmises, and you shakily nodded. 

"Are you still in love with her?" Lucy asks.

You don't answer right away, but it's enough for Lucy to have an answer. 

You don't look at her because it's obvious this was crashing and burning too.

"I..." Lucy licks her lips, "would like to take you on a date."

Your head snaps at to look at her like she's grown three heads.

"What?" You sputter. "Are you sure? I have a lot of baggage clearly."

Lucy shrugs.

"Who doesn't have baggage?"

Your expression shows her that you're unsure because this doesn't exactly spell out it's going to end well, not that it wouldn't either.

"Look," Lucy puts her hand atop of yours, "I'm well aware you're probably still in love with your ex. Whatever it was, it must've been intense. I know full well what I would be getting myself into if I take you on a date. But I think you deserve to go out with someone and see there's more out there."

You stare at her hand on top of yours, blinking. 

"Just think about it," Lucy pats your hand as the door rings, indicating another customer has come in. "You're welcomed to stay to hide, and you know where to find me."

Lucy leaves you in your thoughts. You do take her up on her offer to stay because there's no way to go out back to the office. You e-mail your boss you'll be working elsewhere for the day, but he doesn't care as long as you turn in your drafts. 

At the end of your shift, you get up, giving Lucy a half-shy, half-awkward wave and leave.

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You leisurely take your time walking home to be able to process your thoughts. 

You feel a little calmer than you did when you first bumped into Wanda this morning, but now you had more on your plate with Wanda and deciding if you wanted to go on a date with Lucy. 

Although time has passed, you were only really beginning to heal yourself.  You weren't really sure if you were in the right headspace for dating. 

It felt much more serious now that Lucy knew you had some baggage, and still wanted to go on a date. It didn't feel casual anymore.

You were beginning to walk up to your duplex when you spotted someone sitting on your steps. 

"What are you doing here?" You bite out.

There she was, Wanda, sitting on your steps with her head in her hands. She snapped up, hearing your voice. 

A wide variety of emotions passed her face. 

"You're here," she breathed, and you find yourself recoiling with the thick emotion in her voice as she spoke. 

Wanda stands up, going down the steps before she's standing in front of you.

The smell of vanilla and cinnamon invades your nose, and a whole new wave of anxiety passes you with the familiarity of it.

Your heart starts thudding in your chest, and you're breathing heavily. Something on your face tells Wanda you're about to have a panic attack. She starts to come closer, wanting to wrap her arms around you, but she pauses.

Wanda knows that she's the cause of this right now, so she backs up and gives you some space with her hands up non-threateningly. 

"Hey," she softly speaks, "it's okay. I won't invade your space."

You close your eyes as you try to focus.

"That's it," Wanda tries to guide you, "breathe in. Hold it...that's good, okay, exhale slowly."

This repeats for minutes until you've calmed down. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda says slowly, "I would've called first, but I didn't know your number."

"That didn't stop you from showing up at my place," you mutter. 

Wanda bites her lip, but nods. 

"What do you want?" You ask her.

"Can we go inside? It's not safe about it to talk outside," Wanda nods her head towards your door.

You frown, not really wanting to let her in, but you sigh and nod. 

You pass by her, careful to not breathe in her scent as you open the door and let her in. 

You barely acknowledge her as you drop your things on the kitchen table and start to heat your kettle for hot water. 

Wanda walks in slowly, taking in your place. 

She notices that it both feels homey and empty.

You've clearly taken care of your place, getting a nice couch, and the effort of getting pillows and throw blankets for it. There's art on the wall, but there are no personal photos anywhere. 

It was like a show home. 

You watch Wanda stare at your things as you lean against the wall. 

"Why are you here?" You ask, breaking Wanda's thoughts as she looks over to you.

She purses her lips, let out a deep sigh.

"I'm on a mission. I didn't realize you were working there. I just wanted to let you know that I'm investigating your boss."

"My boss," you repeat slowly, and Wanda nods. 

"I can't go into many details, but I'm undercover right now."

You grumble. Of course, the firm you pick to build your career has a shady boss running it.

"Fine," you huff, "I won't get in your way. Anything else?"

Wanda's eyes soften as she looks at you.

"How are you? You look good," she sincerely says to you, and you give her a blank expression. 

There's a tumulus feeling rumbling underneath you. You want to scream at her because why is she asking? It's none of her business. 

Wanda sighs again when you don't answer her. "I sincerely didn't know you worked at the firm. If I had known you worked there, I would've asked someone else to take this mission."

There's a bit of a sting to her words because as much as you didn't want to see her, it sounds like she didn't want to see you either. 

"Well," you huff, "no worries about me. I won't get in your way. Do what you have to do."

Perhaps because there's a bite to your words, a tone of sarcasm as you walk back into the kitchen, Wanda follows you.

"Hey," she calls, grabbing your wrist to turn you around. You immediately pull your arm away, and Wanda lets go, an apologetic look on her face.

"I didn't mean it like that," Wanda explains.

It's silent, and you don't say anything, not making another move even though your kettle as turned off, signaling the hot water was done.

"I wanted to chase you," Wanda says. 

The words hang in the air, and you're not sure what to do with that. You just let the words sting.

"I wanted to follow you immediately the day you left. You ran so fast. One moment you were breaking up with me, and then the next day, you bought a plane ticket and left," Wanda ran her fingers through her hair. 

"I harassed Tony into finding out where you had gone. I bought a plane ticket, ready to go after you," Wanda stopped talking.

You were clenching and unclenching your jaw. 

"But Natasha said I shouldn't," Wanda finally says, and you're ready to explode at her, barely able to just keep it in.

"She said that you were hurting, I was causing your hurting," Wanda frowned. "Natasha said you needed to heal, and where we both were, I would only hinder your progress. You needed a change of scenery without me."

You don't know what to say to that.

Because it's true. 

With more time that passes, it's easier for you to admit that you being with her at the time was making things worse for you.

She wasn't in a good place when you had met her and got together. But Wanda was healing before you, and you weren't ready for that.

You relied on her too much, put Wanda on a pedestal, kept putting her before yourself. 

You were probably hindering Wanda's healing too. 

It was too hard for you to see her with Vision, even if it might've been nothing. 

"I respected your space, and I didn't check up on you," Wanda tells you, taking a cautionary step closer. "But that never changed the fact that I'm still in love with you. I'm still waiting for the right time for us to get back together."

You recoil slightly as she gets closer. You're not ready for this. You can feel every muscle in your body screaming to run. 

"Why?" You hoarsely ask, tears welling in your eyes.

"When you left, you said I had outgrown you," Wanda says, and you feel a slice across your heart at the bitter memory.

"But that's not true," Wanda shakes her head, "I had loved you when we first met, loved you when we were in the dark, and I will love you as we keep moving. It doesn't matter if we don't move at the same pace. I will love you."

They're pretty words, you feel. Because all you can remember is how she had said none of this as you were leaving. 

All you can remember is how she turned to Vision.

You don't have anything to say except you turn to bolt for the door, leaving Wanda in your place. 

You hear a call of your name, but you keep running, thankful that she doesn't follow you. 

You pull out your phone and dial.

"Hello?"

"I know it's after hours, but can you please see me right now?"

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You staring a picture above the fireplace.

"Did you want anything to drink?"

You turn your attention away from the photo, looking at David.

"Water, please," you quietly ask. 

"Sure thing," David grins as he yells down the hall for water, making you wince.

His husband, Liam, shows up looking unimpressed with David as he shoots you a wink before leaving.

You're in David's study room as he hands you the water and gestures for you to take a seat.

"Sorry for showing up like this," you apologize.

David waves it off. "It's fine. You came at a good time. Liam was kicking my ass in scrabble, he was getting too smug."

You smile lightly. It's been a while since you had seen Liam. When you had first arrived, you saw David pretty regularly and sometimes even ate dinner at their place while you were still trying to get yourself together.

"So?" David settles into his seat with his hands, clasped together. "What's got you rattled?"

"Wanda showed up."

It's quiet for a moment as David assesses what you said.

He hums.

"Why did she show up?"

"She's a client at my firm. An important one and she can't choose another firm. She didn't know I was working there," you explain as best you can since you can't tell David she's undercover. 

David nods. 

"And what happened?"

"I ran," you tell him. "I hid in a coffee shop I go to every day, where the owner asked me out on a date, knowing full well I'm not over Wanda. Then I went home, and Wanda was there waiting for me."

You speak so fast that David widens his eyes minusculely.

He doesn't say anything, so you assume you need to keep talking about what happened.

"I had a panic attack when I smelled her scent," you mutter, "I let her into my place, and she explained why she had shown up. I know she wasn't trying to ambush me."

"Alright, it sounds pretty standard. Did she leave after?"

You explain the rest of what happened to David, who seems to be taking in what happened as he sits in silence for a bit.

He hums. 

"What did you think about what she said?" He asks.

"Lies," you immediately say. "Or at least partially lies."

"Why is that?"

You sigh a little frustratedly as you lean forward in your chair. "Why didn't she say those things as we were breaking up? I told her to admit it, she had outgrown me, and she didn't say anything. Saying nothing might as well have been agreeing. Now she's here saying that she would always love me?"

"And what if it was true? That you two had outgrown each other?"

"Then there's no point," you say, "even if we land in the right place, we could always outgrow each other again."

David hums again, and you hate it when he does that.

"Just say what you're thinking," you grumble, and he smiles. 

"In my professional opinion, it's true that it can happen again. But here's the thing, love is not just a feeling. It takes work and effort. You have to choose that every day. Two years have passed, the two of you are different people. Back then, you were choosing to not move forward; Wanda was. That's where your insecurities had stemmed from when she was getting closer to Vision. Space apart might have been the best thing for you to not rely on and hinder each other. But now, you're here. Healing. Choosing."

"So, I should get back together with her?" Your brows furrow.

David laughs lightly, "No, I didn't say that. That's something you will need to decide on your own. I'm just here to help you rationalize your feelings and thoughts, suggest you do things that may help. That's why I think you should accept the date with Lucy."

"What?"

David rests his elbow on his armrest, rubbing his index finger and thumb together.

"Lucy was very clear she understood what she was getting into if you choose to go on a date with her. Seems like she's offering to show you a good time without any strings attached. You might not come across an opportunity like that again," David points out.

"If it leads to something more and you want that, you have your answer," David smiles.

You sigh shakily and nod sharply.

The end of the session comes, and David leans forward.

"Just remember, you're different than who you were two years ago. Wanda coming back doesn't change that. She's different than who she was two years ago. You don't need to idealize her. She's just another person too."

You shakily nod your head, thanking David for squeezing you in so suddenly, and say bye to Liam on your way out.

When you head home, Wanda is no longer there, but there's an address written on your notepad on the counter.

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The next few weeks pass by with a blur. Work gets so busy, you hardly have time to think about anything.

Not that it stops you from thinking about things, but it's easier. 

You see Wanda in the building occasionally, but other than a nod of acknowledgment, she doesn't speak to you. You're sure it's because you ran out the last time, and she's trying to respect your space again. 

Though, sometimes you find yourself staring at Wanda from afar. You think about what David says and how you're both different people. She does seem different.

She walks with this air of confidence that she didn't have before. She smiles more, and she doesn't look as angry and resentful as she once did. 

You find yourself self-reflecting on yourself when that happens. You can admit that you've come a long way, but you aren't quite sure you'd categorize yourself in the same place as Wanda, but you are moving forward. 

That night, you show up at the coffee shop, surprising Lucy as you come in.

You haven't seen her in weeks, you even stopped coming for morning coffees.

"And she lives," Lucy says amusedly, but you feel a little guilty for avoiding her.

You breathe, gathering your courage as you look at her.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Lucy tilts her head, staring at you momentarily before she smiles, and you think she has a beautiful one. 

"I'm actually just closing up, so if you'd like to wait, we can go to this nice little ice cream shop a couple blocks from here."

You nod eagerly, happy that you hadn't botched this up. 

You two make small talk as she cleans up, catching each other up on the week. 

The walk passes quickly, and you learn things about Lucy like how she had gotten her degree in literature and was a part-time writer working on a novel. The coffee shop was her parents, but they had passed it down to her when they had retired. She's thinking about it passing it down to her little sister when her sister is old enough. 

You stare at the ice cream menu for almost 20 minutes, unsure what you want to order, but Lucy is patient and talks about her recommendations. You apologize, but she waves it off.

You end up choosing what she recommends, and you like it, but you're not surprised since Lucy seems to understand your coffee order.

The date is simple.

It's easy, you find.

Talking to Lucy is easy, and she's definitely a beautiful woman. 

Even when Lucy slowly reaches for your hand to hold, with a half-shy smile, half-smirk, you let her.

You hear your name.

You turn around to see Wanda standing there, frowning as her eyes pass over your held hand.

"Wanda," you breathe.

The way you say her name, Lucy immediately knows. 

But then you're holding Lucy's hand tighter. 

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asks, trying to play it off casually. 

"I'm..." you start to say, but the words die on your lips.

"We're on a date," Lucy answers instead, brow raised.

"Date?" Wanda says, looking at you, and you swallow.

That feeling like you're cheating on her comes, but you squash it down because you know you're not.

"Yes," you say firmly. "I'm on a date. I'll see you at work."

With that, you turn, Lucy in hand as you drag her off. 

When you're finally far enough, you sigh. 

"Sorry," you mumble, feeling awkward.

Lucy shrugs. "You handled it better than I thought you would. I thought you had swallowed your tongue for a moment."

You let out a rough chuckle as you keep walking. The two of you sit on a park bench, enjoying the weather, the ice cream, and each other. 

"You're still very much in love with her, not even close to being over her."

Lucy speaks after a moment of silence when the conversation had died. 

You look at her, surprised she would bring it up again. She didn't even say it as a posed question. She stated as a fact.

You sigh, "yeah."

"But, you want to move on?" Lucy asks.

You struggle. 

"I don't know," you answer finally.

Lucy reaches over to hold your hand again, and you look down. 

"Does this feel good?" She asks.

You lick your lips as you stare at your intertwined hands. 

"It feels easy," you admit. 

Lucy tilts her head but sighs as she pulls her hand away.

"Can I tell you something?"

You nod, unsure.

Lucy looks ahead of her. "I don't think love should be easy. Sure, that would make everything simple. I don't think love should be a constant battle either, but I think we both should get a love that's worth fighting for."

You swallow, looking away. 

Because you agree.

It's so easy with Lucy. You know that if you let yourself, you could fall in love with her. It would be easy, and you know there's a simple path ahead of you. You'd know what the next steps would be every time.

With Wanda, it's always hard. It's true, you're not always fighting her, but being with her is not a simple feat. 

But you don't know if you want that. 

Lucy turns you and kisses you on the cheek swiftly. 

"Maybe it's not with me, maybe it is. Maybe it's with your ex, maybe it's not, but there's a great love out there. For both of us. I hope I succeeded in showing you a good time."

You smile at her and nod.

"Thanks," you tell her softly, and although she's not yours, you feel like you're losing her a little. You're losing out on something wonderful, you just know it. 

You can't help but blame Wanda a little for that. 

"I expect to see you Monday morning for the best coffee ever," Lucy says she stands up, "and a big fat tip."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," you smile at her as she waves at you before leaving. 

You stay on the park bench much longer after Lucy left, sighing. 

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When work comes around Monday, you do as you promised and get coffee at Lucy's, staying the extra minute to chat before you're on your way.

Work is relatively quiet today, Wanda seems tense, and midway through the day, your boss is getting arrested in front of everyone. The executives are taken in custody for questioning, and it will be decided later on who will take over the company.

Everyone is allowed to leave for the day with that, but you decide to stay at the office longer to get work done because you get distracted too easily at home.

It's nearly 2PM when Wanda appears in front of you. 

"Hey," she says softly, and you greet her back with a soft grunt in return.

You close your laptop, wanting to take a break as you look at Wanda.

"Looks like you're done your mission. Lucky you, you get to return."

"I'm staying in the area for a little while longer while things are getting wrapped up," Wanda shakes her head.

You merely nod. 

But at least you know she won't be showing up at her workplace anymore.  You get up, going to the copier room to make some copies of your report for next week.

Wanda follows you, standing at the door and leaning against it slightly with her arm.

"Are you dating her?" She asks bluntly.

And you pause for a moment before you continue with what you're doing.

"It's none of your business," you tell her.

"If you were over me, you would just answer," Wanda answers back, and you snap your head towards her and glare. 

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" You grit.

Wanda shakes her head.

"I just want you to tell me if you're dating her," she stands up straighter.

"Why do you even care?" You grumble with a shake of your head.

"Of course I care, I'm in love with you," Wanda says it so easily that it pisses you off.

You accidentally crumble the papers in your hand as you turn to her.

"Wanda," you say very slowly, trying to rein in your temper. "This is already difficult enough for me. You coming back here, even if it's was unintentional, makes this hard for me. I'm a long way from where I was but seeing you just a reminder of how broken I was. How broken we were, and how easy it was for you to move on."

"You don't think this is hard for me too?" Wanda hisses at you as she takes a step closer. 

"You don't think me losing the love of my life because of my inability to say the right things at the right time doesn't keep me up at night? I'm a long way from where I was too. I was just as lost as you were. You thought I had moved on, outgrown you, but I was just lost. You can't lie to me and say you weren't frustrated how you felt every day."

"But I didn't turn to anyone else when I felt that way!" You shout at her.

"Vision means nothing to me!" Wanda shouts back at you, throwing her hands in the air. "We just have a commonality between us, which is the stone. I was just learning about the stone."

Wanda conjures up red wisps between her fingers as if to emphasize her point. 

And even though you had known that might've been the case, it hadn't hurt any less.

"You can't deny that we're bad for each other," you shake your head. 

"I love you," Wanda throws out, and it makes you tense. "I know you're still in love with me too."

"You don't know that," you breathe. 

But Wanda walks up closer to you, she gets up in your personal space, her face hovering over yours.

"Then why do you get so affected by seeing me? Your thoughts are a mess, and why do your lips tremble when you breathe my name?"

You glare at her. 

"That doesn't mean I'm in love with you. You think I can't kiss other people? That I can't move on from you? Love outside of you exists." 

"With Lucy?" Wanda sneers her name. You don't even have to ask that Wanda got her name through reading your mind. 

"Why not her?" You challenge.

Wanda stands there, staring at you, her pupils dilating and contracting as she takes you in.

"Then, let's see you if you can run back to her after this."

And before you can say anything, Wanda's thrusting her hands against your jaw into your hair, gripping it familiarly as she slams into your lips with unadulterated passion. 

She moves her lips against yours, tilting your head as she backs you against the photocopier. 

It hits you so fast and so hard.

The feel of her lips.

Her scent invading your senses. 

She tastes like honey and chocolates, and you know she's been eating candy. 

She runs her hand through your hair. Her hand eventually reaches the back of your neck, and she holds it to keep you close to her. 

It takes the sound of her soft sigh to bring you back to reality, and you push her off you.

You furrow your brows, chest heaving from her kiss.

You look at her, and she's staring at you equally as breathless.

"You're such a fucking asshole," you tell her, shaking your head as you push past her. 

You're pissed.

How dare Wanda just...just kiss you like that!

She has no boundaries, no sense of what you're feeling. 

You gather your things, glaring at Wanda to not follow you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda sighs.

She fucked up.

She knows she did.

Wanda makes herself some tea at the place she's posted to until she can go home. It was pretty close to the firm for obvious reasons.

She shouldn't have kissed you like that, but it was like this ugly green monster, and the fear of losing you when she saw you with Lucy overwhelmed her.

Wanda had understood what Natasha had told her. She had understood, and let you go on the hopes that the two of you would both grow and be in a better place. 

It wasn't easy for Wanda, she felt like this giant hole was created in her when you left. 

She wasn't a good girlfriend, and she had to work through that. 

Maybe it was premature, but seeing you brought up all the feelings she never left behind. 

Wanda looks outside, noticing the day had passed by quickly, and now it was dark out. She looks at the clock and sighs when it's already 11 PM, but Wanda is feeling no closer to being able to sleep. 

Wanda knew she was going to need to apologize, that was if you were even willing to talk to her. 

She wouldn't be surprised if you decided to quit the firm and moved. 

Wanda sighs, rubbing her forehead and temples with her hands. 

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Wanda turns her head to the door, brow furrowing. The knocking continues until Wanda walks up to open the door.

You push past her and walk into her home.

"You know I had a lot of time to this about this, but what the fuck is wrong you?" You immediately fire off, pacing back and forth.

"You think you can just drop back into my life, even if you didn't mean to, tell me you're still in love with me and kiss me?"

You turn around and glare at her. "Is it crack? Is that what you're smoking? Because who the fuck does that!"

"You had no right to do that, you're such an inconsiderate asshole!"

Wanda frowns, taking the yelling. Your chest is heaving with anger.

"Are you done?" She asks, and you nearly start screaming at her again.

"Did you just come here to yell at me?" Wanda raises her brow.

It's quiet for a moment as you stare at Wanda. 

"No," you finally after a moment. "I came to do this."

And suddenly, you're running towards her, jumping as you wrap your legs around her midsection as she's forced to hold you up, slamming your lips down on her. 

You kiss her wildly, and Wanda response immediately. You wrap your arms around her neck, kissing her over and over as you tangle your hand in her hair.

Moans are heard, and Wanda is walking, nearly stumbling as she both holds you up and makes her way up the stairs to her bedroom.

She throws you on the mattress.

Chest heaving, but from kissing is a much better image Wanda likes. You sit up, grabbing her hand as you remove her rings and toss them aside, making haste to unbutton her shirt.

And Wanda pulls your shirt over your head.

Her body presses yours down to the bed, hands aligning as she intertwines them.

It feels right.

Wanda is going to make sure she loves you with all her might.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's late into the night, and twilight will come soon. You lie there, breath coming to a steady rhythm as Wanda covers your bare chest with the blanket.

She kisses your shoulder, and you sigh in small contentment.

Under the blanket, you seek her hand out, holding it.

"I'm in love with you still," you confess and Wanda smiles.

"I know."

"But I'm also scared," you tell her, "I'm not really sure if I'm ready for more right now."

"Love is patient," Wanda answers, squeezing your hand.

"How do you know it's the right time for us?" You ask her.

Wanda shifts in the bed, throwing her other hand behind her head.

"I suspect there's no such thing as the right time," she admits, "but I do believe we're both in a better place. The feelings never left. We're both choosing to fight for our own life, choosing to fight for us."

"I don't know if broken people should get second chances," you admit. It's been a ride in therapy, but these thoughts still come.

Wanda turns to you, raising herself onto her elbow.

"Broken people get to heal," she insists firmly. "We're not always broken, and I won't lie and say there won't be cracks, but I love you no matter what. You love me, no matter what. Our cracks are a beautiful reminder that we're fighters. No matter what is revealed when we're under the light, I will fight for you. For me. For us."

You find yourself crying, and Wanda dips down to kiss you tenderly.

"Under the light, you found me."

[obsidianfr3sk]

Falcon in the Dive

Summary:  Piercing into the sky and higher, Ace thrived. The weak cowered, but the fittest, like him, survived. He didn't wait until the darkest hour, he didn't wait until they spring alive. He, with claws of fire, devoured like a falcon in the dive.

AO3

As my contribuiton to the Multifandom Gift Exchange 2020 (hosted by the wonderful @darkalinas and @scxundress), here’s a gift for my little sister and favorite villain apologist (?) @alecjamesartino. As soon as they told me I was your gifter... well, I was really happy!!! And then x’d I knew I had to write something about Ace and this song just... LIKE I JUST KNEW I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT ACE INSPIRED IN FALCON IN THE DIVE, ALL RIGHT???? I JUST ✨K N E W✨

Before y’all start reading xd I need to... kinda clarify something. So, I don’t know if you know, but I actually based all of my fics on this timeline made by @honey-hippie-harper and @healing-winston-pratt, and I kinda just started to create my headcanons from it. But, today I decided to throw all of them through the freaking window and base this fic on this timeline, made by my giftee:’))) She uses it for her fic Love and Anarchy (which you should totally read!). That said, this work has nothing to do with my other fics (for example, Rise of the Renegades or The Origins), I’m just experimenting with new headcanons:’)

Another important thing x’d On this fic I mention Leroy’s eyes turn green when he uses his powers and that Hugh’s eyes are gray instead of blue. This are not my headcanons, they’re actually from this drawing made by @healing-winston-pratt​. Go check it out and reblog it!!) 

Now... well, my dear little sister Alec, I hope you like this gift. I know how much you like Ace and the Anarchists, and I have never written anything about them (Begginings and Endings doesn’t count, it was from David’s POV x’d) so this was a complete challenge for me. But what kept me going was... thinking that I was doing this for you. And honestly, your timeline just gave me so much space to play with new headcanons and scenarios, so thank you for that:’)) Personally I consider myself someone with a extraordinary imagination, but you, Alec, left me dumbfounded (quedé dirían en mi tierra). You are so young, and brilliant, and adorably deathly that I just want to hold you and protect you from the the bad things that happen on this world:’) 

I’d say I love you but I’m akward so I’ll just say I’m really fond of you. I think you have a lot of potentential and I hope I get to see you become a wonderful woman. Felices fiestas✨✨✨ 

Knock in the doors, lock up the city,

track him down through this town,

and be quick about it... now!

How the devil can I ever prevail when I'm only a man?

I can never be duped by that scurrilous phantom again.

Year 0, month 0

“I thought you were going to be taller.”

Ace stopped looking at the chandelier hanging over his head to look at the woman to his right. “Sorry?”

“I thought you were going to be taller,” she repeated almost yelling.

“Fuck, Honey ...”

Ace turned to his left. “What?” Honey asked. “I’m just saying, geez.”

The young man's eyes went from dark to toxic green.

“Leroy,” Ace interrupted, “your chair is ... burning.”

Leroy removed his hands from the armrest of the chair he was sitting in, cursing underneath. There were drops of a greenish liquid coming from his fingers and the wood smelled like a burnt tree. As he did his best to clean up the mess he had made with his powers, Ace turned his attention back to Honey. “Did you think it was going to be taller?”

Honey tucked one of her blonde curls behind her ear. She was wearing a white coat with rhinestone as buttons; a group of prodigies had given it to her in exchange for allowing them to join their ranks. Ace had replied that it was not necessary to pay any kind of tribute and that anyone who agreed with the values of the Anarchists, could consider themselves as such. Despite this, one of the boys insisted on giving Honey the coat, because from the moment he saw it, he thought it was “fit for a queen”. That was the moment when Ace's theory was confirmed: Honey had a weakness for compliments and gifts. She accepted the coat with a smile and even defended the boy when Leroy muttered, “Ahem, simp.”

That was also the moment when he realized that Leroy's weakness was driving Honey out of her mind.

Regardless, Ace could tell that they had some kind of… appreciation for each other. The first time he saw them use their powers was when Honey sent a cloud of wasps to a group of cops who tried to get Leroy into one of their trucks and when Leroy burned the face of a guy who had grabbed Honey from wrist strong enough to make her scream.

Those two were powerful and loyal without falling into blind fanaticism. Ace needed people like that in his ranks.

The whole world needed such people in its ranks.

“I mean, yeah,” Honey continued. “I had heard so much about Ace Anarchy that… well, I have to admit I did build up some expectations.”

Ace fixed his gaze on Honey's feet. She was wearing heels. Obviously. “Why don't you get off those stilts and say it to my face?”

Honey burst out laughing right away and Ace too. He could even see Leroy trying not to smile before crossing his arms on his chest.

The three were on the seat of the cathedral, Ace sitting on the main chair where the priest who officiated the mass sat, and Honey and Leroy on the chairs to the sides, generally reserved for the seminarians who helped during the celebration. He had taken the table out of the way with his powers and stored it in a cellar, in case it was needed again. During those last three weeks that they had been using the cathedral as a base, Ace had given some speeches there. The light coming from the windows illuminated his face and the crucifix behind him made him feel a kind of power that he could not describe. Also, the main chair was wide, tall, and shiny. It would have looked like a throne if it were covered in some golden metal...

Stop it.

“I think no one else is coming,” said Leroy. “we better get out of here. These chairs are uncomfortable.”

“Use a cushion, like me,” Honey commented, proudly displaying the small cushion she had placed on the chair to make it easier to sit.

Leroy couldn’t look more disgusted. “Why would you put your ass on the same cushion you use to sleep?”

As his allies began to argue again, Ace put his arms on the sides of the chair, focusing on the immense doors of the cathedral.

As far as they knew, Ace was waiting for recruits. It was a fairly common thing to happen. Many prodigies (like the simp and his henchmen) had been flocking to the cathedral, seeking help, acceptance, or a chance to prove themselves worthy of being within Ace's close circle. It was a bit tiring at times, but at the moment he couldn't afford to turn them away without even bothering to see what their powers were. If he knew something, it was that no power could not be taken advantage of in some way, and if that way could benefit him, the better.

But at dusk, the chances of people coming to the cathedral began to disappear, because at night the city became dangerous. Thus, Ace knew that he would not receive any new potential recruits until the next morning, and he knew that his allies need to rest and eat something.

However, he also knew that David could be the one to walk through that door at any moment.

Ace was still furious with him. He probably would be furious with him for the rest of his life. David was a condescending, deluded guy who didn't bother to think outside the box for the good of those who were like them.

But at the end of the day, that guy was his blood (whoever he liked it or not) and he wanted to make sure he was still alive.

David Artino would never miss an opportunity to exercise his authority as an older brother and scold him for the first reason that crossed his mind. He could see him hiding like a mole in some hole in the city, losing his mind to the chaos that his younger brother was slowly planting in every corner of planet Earth.

However, he could also see him being killed in the street by an angry horde who knew he was a prodigy, or by a group of policemen who mistook him for one of the hundreds of protesters that had filled the city, and although the thought made him uncomfortable, it might be best if things stayed that way.

After all, if David went out to the real world, the world that was out there right now would probably kick him to the ground, take out his eyes, and eat them before stabbing him and letting him there to die.

Yes, things should stay that way. With Ace Anarchy alive and building the world as it must have been from the start, and with the Artino brothers dead, buried in a sealed tomb from which not even their souls could escape.

He was about to stand up when someone knocked on the door. Honey’s bees, which had been quietly resting on the church pews, began to buzz like watchdogs barking at the presence of a stranger.

Alec knew those four knocks.

Honey and Leroy suddenly fell silent and settled into their chairs almost unconsciously. Ace put on his helmet and then, with a wave of his hand, he slightly opened the cathedral door.

His hair was longer than normal. He recognized the same coat he was wearing the last time he saw him, but he had changed his pajama bottoms for faded jeans. He had a mysterious blow to the head and the deepest circles under his eyes he had ever seen. That, plus that unkempt beard, made Ace even more certain that, had he seen him on the street, he probably wouldn't have recognized him.

At least until he saw his blue eyes. David had unmistakable blue eyes.

“Good evening, fellow anarchist,” Ace greeted from his seat. “How can we help you?”

David gripped the door and frowned. “Alec?”

The bees buzzed louder and Honey turned to see him. “Do you know him?”

Leroy and his toxic green eyes seemed to ask the same question.

“You don't want to mention that name here,” Ace warned, ignoring his allies. “Seriously.”

David did not reply. Not that he expected him to. “Come in,” he assured him, nodding slightly. “Us Anarchists are willing to help any prodigy. We fight for all of them. Even for those who prefer to give in to the system that oppresses us in the first place. "

His allies fell silent. Ace knew he wasn't going to be wrong about them; they were fully aware that their opinion was not necessary at that time.

David's old sneakers squeaked on the marble floor of the church. The white shoelaces were stained with dark blood. “I… I looked for you everywhere,” he muttered.

“I didn't go anywhere,” he replied. “I was always here.”

He resisted the childish urge to ask where he had been, precisely because that was it. Childish. Something that only a kid would do.

And Alec James Artino, the kid, was dead.

David reached the first step of the altar and Ace stood up. “Don’t.”

His brother stopped before taking another step. He even stepped back and put his hands to his chest, as if his heart had ached at that simple word.

You see? Weak.

“I'm not here to take you anywhere,” he assured.

Ace gave a mocking laugh. “So?”

“I'm here to join you.”

The smile faded from Ace’s face. However, he did not interpret it as a sign of weakness, because immediately, he was able to recover from the blow and remain expressionless as his brother's gaze pierced his like stakes.

Even with him there, right in front of Ace, standing in the middle of the cathedral, he knew that David didn't belong there. He was not an Anarchist like them. Something was missing. Maybe courage. Maybe it was determination.

Perhaps what he lacked was that spark of life that rage gave when it started a fire in the depths of your gut.

So why bother?

Before the question slipped from his lips, the answer came to his head and it all made sense to him.

Ace was right. The day anarchy was born, the Artino brothers had died, but there was no one alive to bury them. The ghost of David Artino had spent days searching for his only remaining family, wandering around town like a beggar.

Because deep down, he needed him more than Alec had ever needed David.

How did he explain that the little brother he was looking for was dead, and now only the man he had become remained?

He knew how to explain it, but David was stubborn. Even if Ace chose the most appropriate words for the situation, he could never make him see things the way he wanted him to. At least not if he knew Alec was dead.

He did not know that in an ideal world, the only one still alive was Ace Anarchy.

It wasn't the perfect scenario, but the perfect thing about that scenario was that David didn't need to know that just yet. Alec's ghost could come out of his grave as many times as necessary and Ace could use that to his advantage for as long as he wanted.

That would make the ghost David very happy. And if David was happy and he could take advantage of that happiness, then Ace would be happy too.

Ace removed his helmet and laid it gently on his chair. When he returned his gaze to David, his eyes were full of tears.

He also tried to cry, but couldn't. Therefore, he decided to extend his arms and allow David to stumble his way to him, giving him the strongest hug he had ever received while stroking his hair and sobbing: “I missed you so much, my little nightmare.”

Alec took Ace by the arms and placed them on David's shaking back. “I missed you too.”

But he was lying. He wondered if ghost David was lying too.

He better not.

***

I wasn't born to walk on water,

I wasn't born to sack and slaughter,

but on my soul, I wasn't born

to stoop, to scorn, and knuckle under.

A man can learn to steal some thunder.

A man can learn to work some wonder.

Year 4, month 7

When it all started, Ace did not like to think of himself as a leader. At least not a leader like the previous ones. God, just thinking about becoming one of those who used to rule the world before he turned things around made him feel sick.

However, over time he grew tired of explaining to each of those who arrived, full of desire to prove something (to the world, to Ace, and themselves), that he was not a leader as such. Little by little, he started to ignore those types of comments and just let himself go with the flow.

At least until David noticed his unconformity with the matter and approach him to talk about it.

It was a couple of months after he arrived. Ace was saying his prayers before going to bed when someone knocked on his door.

Four times. As always.

He quickly crossed himself and muttered, “Come in.”

David came in, holding a candle and wrapped in a robe that "the simps" had given to Leroy (it hadn't fit him, but David was so malnourished that it was like the robe had been made for him.)

Ace put on his robe too. “How can I help you?”

David fixed his gaze on the figure of the Virgin Mary that Ace had on a ledge. “Were you praying?”

“Of course,” he answered, feeling a little defensive.

David scoffed. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I thought ... I thought you didn't do it anymore.”

Ace rolled his eyes and pretended to arrange the covers on his bed (they didn't need to be arranged, he was very meticulous about that matter). “How can I help you?” he repeated.

David finally took his eyes off the Virgin Mary and turned to see him.

It surprised him he still had bags under his eyes. He thought that now that he slept in a decent bed, ate decent food, and no longer had to go through the same stressful situations that he went through before, his face would start to look more youthful again.

Maybe the bags under one’s eyes were like expression or acne marks. They would always be there.

Just like experiences.

Then David started talking to him. A lot. About how he had noticed his discomfort when people called him a leader. About him believing that he shouldn't feel that way because being placed in such a position was completely expected and even natural for it to happen. (“Don't interrupt me.” “I wasn't going to.” Oh, but he was going to.) About if he really wanted things to work out, the world was going to need someone to guide it down the path of good, and David did not doubt that someone was Ace.

They spent several hours just ranting about it. There was a point where the two of them were lying on his bed, Ace covered by his red blanket and David tightly holding a pillow against his chest. The candle was getting smaller and smaller, and David had chosen to place it next to the figure of The Virgin Mary as if it had been lit for her from the beginning.

Only that there was a God who saw everything, and that God knew that the candle had not been lit for her.

Ace was staring at the wooden ceiling when David told him, “I could never be a leader.”

“Why?”

Obviously Ace knew that David could never be a leader, but he wanted to know why his brother thought that way.

David clung to the pillow tighter. He wasn't looking at the ceiling; he looked at Ace. Sideways, but he was looking at him. “I don’t know. I think it's just not my… personality. Even when the guys and I were out there doing the… protests and stuff, I never led any of them,” he explained. “I've always been more of a follower.”

Ace did not answer. Yet he hoped David would interpret his silence as a sign that he had agreed with him.

“But on the other hand, you... Alec, you are a leader.”

His jaw clenched when he heard his name. He had to work on it. “What makes you think that?”

“Because… seriously, why wouldn’t you be a leader?” He turned around so he could look at him and Ace felt obligated to turn to see him as well. Only that he decided not to. “People look after you. They know you are a leader and they follow you. See how much you've changed in a matter of weeks. Inadvertently, you have led people up to this point in history. No one had ever come this far. No one except you.”

Then, Ace couldn't take it anymore and turned to meet his brother's eyes. “But won't that make me like everyone else?”

“Everyone else?” asked a very confused David.

Because David never understood anything.

“Like all the other leaders,” he replied, trying not to lose patience. “Leaders who are corrupt and selfish and—“ His brother interrupted his monologue with laughter. Much to someone who had complained when he tried to cut him off in the middle of a ridiculously long explanation. “—What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” David replied smiling. “It’s just… forget it.” He put a hand on his cheek and kept laughing underneath. “Alec, you’re not going to be like the other leaders.”

“And how are you so sure of that?” he asked a little louder than he wanted to.

David hardly seemed to notice. “Because you are not like that. You are not evil.” He sighed. “Now… there is the potential for evil everywhere, but the only way to combat it’s if more people choose goodness. If more people choose heroism. And you… you are one of those people. I am sure.”

And with those words, the candle extinguished, and Ace decided that it was time for both of them to go to sleep. He allowed David to stay the night. It was not like he had given any sign of wanting to go back to his room anyway. Ace spent most of the night awake, but not necessarily because his older brother's snoring kept him from sleeping.

What kept him from sleeping was thinking that maybe... maybe he was right. Maybe Ace did have to start taking the role of leader. After all, human beings were like that. They were always looking for someone to follow, someone they could cling to that would protect them in some way or another. That someone could be the parents. Older brothers. God himself.

But sometimes that someone was not looking for what was best for them. For example, Ace and David's parents never made the slightest effort to hide how much they hated their children. He was still a kid when his brother took him by the hand, put a coat on him, and told his parents that they were going out to the park. Ace didn't want to go to the park; he wanted to stay home to play with his wooden cubes, but David told him that if he went to the park with him, he would give him a surprise on the way home.

However, they passed the park and David went to a clothing and suitcase store that was near the dock where various boats full of tourists departed. On his way out, he bought his younger brother a lollipop and two one-way tickets to Gatlon City.

They never looked for them. Although if they had, he doubted they would have found them.

For a long time, Ace didn't fully understand what had happened. He just knew that he was never going to see his parents again. Regardless, it was not a thought that haunted him. After all, he hated his parents. And he didn't feel bad about it. Ace had David. David would never hurt him in any way.

At least that's how it was until he grew up. He grew up and realized that David had lied and stolen to get them out of Italy. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing; they would never have survived in Italy anyway. The bad thing was when David lied to him and robbed him for his own benefit. He lied to him about Gatlon's hate towards prodigies and he stole money from his savings when what he earned wasn't enough to pay the monthly rent on his apartment.

And then… there was God.

God existed. Clearly. It was one of the few things Ace didn't feel like he needed proof for. However… God hadn't always been there for him. God had been used as a weapon for hundreds of years to attack prodigies like Ace...

Yes, God was not going to save him. He wasn't going to save any of the millions and millions of prodigies that were counting on Ace Anarchy. God was not a hero.

But Ace could be.

So from that day on, Ace began to be the head in practically all the operations that the Anarchists carried out. Nothing happened without him finding out and approving it first. He recorded numerous videos and wrote dozens of speeches that they would use to spread his word around the world. Prodigies from all countries began to rise against their respective governments, and although some of them gave them what they wanted, the vast majority made the mistake of underestimating them and denying their more than reasonable requests.

Because, well, Ace didn't find anything outrageous about a bunch of people asking their governments to recognize their basic human rights.

Sometimes the prodigies of those places could take down their governments by themselves. However, on a couple of occasions, Ace had to travel to those places to give them a hand. They weren't too far away, so Ace could use his powers to transport himself there, and he still had enough strength left to turn the helicopters and tanks that they sent to try to finish him into unusable pieces of metal. There wasn’t a single place where he had not succeeded, and there was not a single place where people did not make him a symbol and call him a hero.

Not even a single one.

That was why he did not understand people who wanted to leave the trenches.

The first time people from the cathedral had explicitly told him that they wanted to resign were the Benitez twins, Fénix and Tritón. He was a water elemental and she was a fire elemental, who had fought alongside Ace and hundreds of other prodigies like him when they took over the government palace of their country and liberated the population. They were young but strong, like most of those who joined the cause. They spent a year and six months helping on missions that Ace, Honey, or even Leroy assigned them, and never received anything other than good comments from their superiors...

“Then why do you want to leave?” Honey asked them.

She, Leroy, the twins, and he were in what had been the bishop's office after he summoned them all to a meeting where they would assess the situation. Not because he felt a special affection for them; they weren't too different from the other people Ace had in charge of. He just wanted to know why and approve the situation.

Like he always did.

Tritón smiled charmingly at Honey. He and his twin sister had the same curly black hair, but she never smiled. “As we said before… it's nothing personal,” he replied. “Fénix and I were never mistreated here, but... we want to find our own way in life.”

Honey and Leroy turned to see each other. Leroy looked quite indifferent to the situation as if he wished to be in his lab, looking for new ways to finish burning his eyebrows, while Honey seemed quite suspicious regarding the true intentions behind Tritón's words and Fénix's deadly silence.

Ace stood up and looked out the window.

“Are you going back to Mexico?”

“Yes. But not to the same place we came from.”

“And how are you going to—“

“Stop overwhelming them with so many questions, my Queen,” Ace interrupted while turning around. “They are old enough to make their own decisions.”

Tritón sighed in relief, and Fénix didn't even look up to see him. “They had already packed their things, apparently,” and he pointed to the backpacks they were carrying. The same ones with which they had arrived at the cathedral.

“Yes, it's just… we didn't want to make a big fuss about our departure,” Tritón replied. “We want it to be respectful and press-free, please.”

That comment managed to make him smile slightly. “I see no reason to keep you as prisoners,” he said, addressing Honey and Leroy. “If they want to leave, they can.”

Leroy raised his only remaining eyebrow. “Can they?”

“They can,” he repeated. He turned slightly to continue staring out the window. It was a lovely day out there. “Wanting to look for something more than what we are capable of offering is a valid reason to leave.”

“Not that we’re filling like something’s missing here,” Tritón said. “On the contrary, we have never been more… blessed. We promise that we will always keep in mind all the things the Anarchist taught us. We will be on your side even if it is from a distance.”

Now it was Honey's turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don't know, this is too—“

“Excuse me, Queen Bee,” Tritón interrupted, “but ... we're in a bit of a rush.”

“An ally has promised to take us to the border in his truck,” Fénix said, speaking for the first time during the entire conversation. “He's going to pick us up in an hour and it's a long way to the meeting point.

Ace looked through the window to find David welcoming some of the prodigies who had come out to find more supplies for the cathedral. He pointed out where they were being kept and offered to help them carry some boxes up the stairs.

Ace had to go to check on that.

“Acey...”

“Take care of yourselves, Tritón and Fénix,” Ace said, heading for the exit. “Thank you very much for your loyalty. Let me show you the door.”

The twins looked at each other, immediately nodding slowly and leaving the room, walking in front of Ace, shoulder to shoulder, and muttering something. As they walked down the stairs, Ace was too busy thinking about the new shipment that had arrived to care about their conversation, until he tried to overhear them and realized they were speaking in Spanish.

They never spoke Spanish. Not in the cathedral. No one could have understood them if they did. What was the point of hiding something?

Unless they are hiding something.

He turned his attention back to the backpacks they carried. Yes, they were the same ones that they had brought the first day they arrived, but now they seemed fuller than before. And when Ace said fuller, he meant it. Those backpacks were about to explode.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The twins kept walking as if they hadn't realized that Ace was no longer with them. Honey and Leroy caught up with him, while Honey was saying something about this situation making her babies (the bees) very nervous, and she knew that was a bad sign. Leroy replied that those "babies" should take a Xanax, but he didn't sound too convinced of his words either.

Fénix took his brother's hand and Tritón looked back, making contact with Ace's dark eyes.

The backpacks. The backpacks were too full.

Ace used his powers to rip them off their shoulders, at the same time he grabbed them from the collars of their clothes and lifted them like a mother lioness would have carried her cubs. The two cried out in shock but fell silent when they came face to face with Ace.

Neither of them said anything. Not even Tritón. They only held on tighter by the hand as Ace opened their backpacks, dropped their contents on the floor, and revealed that they were carrying, along with their personal belongings, tons of food and hygiene items taken directly from the cathedral warehouse.

The warehouse that David was supposed to watch.

“My bracelet!” Honey exclaimed. “That... bitch was taking my bracelet!”

A group of bees returned the bracelet to her queen. Honey thanked them in a low voice and immediately, her face was completely changed by her anger. “How dare you?” she asked Fénix putting a finger on her chest. “How dare you disrespect me like that ?! Is that how you were going to pay the man who was going to take you to the border!?” But Fénix didn’t say anything. Again. “Answer me!”

“More like how dare you!” Fénix suddenly yelled. Honey took a step back from shock. “How dare you take everything from people who have nothing!”

“Fénix... por favor...” Tritón whispered.

“Shut the fuck up, Diego!” she yelled at his brother. “Tell me, Harper! How do you sleep at night?” she kept asking. “How do you sleep at night knowing that you have helped destroy the world as we know it? How can you reason that what you’re doing is right?!”

“Eleonor! Eleonor, por favor!”

Fénix started to try to free herself from Ace's grip, but that only made Ace cling tighter to the collar of her blouse. “How dare you even think you’re the good guys?”

Then, she looked him dead in the eye and spat, “How dare you call yourself a hero, Alec Artino?”

Ace thought hearing his name was going to make him lose his mind. Yet some way or another, his face remained expressionless. Even when Honey slapped the shit out of Fénix and the bees began to fly around her, stinging every bit of skin that wasn’t covered by her clothes. He also remained expressionless when he heard Tritón yell at Honey to leave her sister alone, calling her a "pinche vieja bruja" in the process, or when Leroy (who didn't understand anything, but knew it wasn't a compliment) held both of his wrists to prevent it from forming a wave of water that would drown all the bees instantly. It did not cause him anything at all to hear the poison melting Tritón's skin, making him cry in pain, or Fénix yelling and cursing.

And he didn’t even flinch when he broke Tritón's neck. Or when he left Fénix alive just the exact amount of time for her to process what her actions had caused to the only family she had left before breaking her neck too.

Ace dropped what was left of the Benitez twins. The bees moved away from the body and returned to Honey as if they were children hiding in their mother's skirts after having been lost for hours in the market, and Leroy let go of Tritón’s wrists without saying a word. Ace looked around and realized that a big amount of people had watched the entire scene from a distance.

One of those people had been David.

At that moment, Honey's bracelet fell off her hands. Ace picked it up with his powers and Honey whispered, "Thanks, Acey". She tried to put it on, but her hands were shaking so much that Leroy reached out (reluctantly) to help her adjust the clasp.

She didn't take her eyes off the corpses. “Someone come pick them up,” Leroy ordered.

Ace pointed to the first group of people he encountered. “You,” he barked. The trio of anarchists trembled slightly. “You’ve heard Cyanide. Clean up this mess.”

He turned to tell Leroy and Honey to go with him to the office, but they had already made their way to Honey's quarters, while she was babbling about something insignificant and a cloud of agitated bees followed them. David was also not where he had last seen him, but found him turning his back on him and putting the supply crates in the warehouse.

The warehouse that was his responsibility. The warehouse that the Benitez twins had managed to steal from it without anyone noticing.

David couldn’t stay there. He would have to get him a new position, the sooner the better.

Being a hero was not doing things that everyone considered right. Being a hero was to be a revolutionary, one who was willing to make sacrifices to protect the people who were on his side. Especially when those sacrifices meant the death of traitors who only sought their own benefit, completely forgetting the rest of them.

To protect the people who were on his side. Not the enemy. Never the common good.

The common good was not something Ace believed in, because that would mean looking after his oppressors, and they had never looked after prodigies at any point in human history.

Why start doing it now that the tables have turned?

Perhaps those thoughts made him more than just a revolutionary. Ace was probably a visionary.

But did those thoughts make him a villain too?

***

And soon the moon will smolder,

and the winds will drive.

Yes, a man grows older, but his soul remains alive.

All those tremulous stars will glitter,

and I will survive!

Year 10, month 11

For a lot of people, the answer was yes.

Being a visionary was the same as being a villain.

No one had ever said that to his face, but Ace knew it was what they were thinking. He saw it on the journalist’s faces, who came from time to time to the cathedral to report the latest advances in some important mission or some notable event. He felt it in the air of the cathedral, where some of his allies bent down every time they saw him as if they were not worthy to look him in the eye. He felt it every time he looked at his brother's expressionless eyes, working in the basement that served as a workshop where he created weapons for the Anarchists.

However, none of those silent reproaches mattered to him. Ace knew what he was doing was the right thing. Even if that made him not fit into the perfect image society had in its head of what a hero should be.

Ace had learned that there were no heroes or villains. Not like everyone thought.

The world would one day understand it as well as he did. But in the meanwhile, he had to sit down and observe that embarrassing spectacle.

They had managed to fix the TV that was at the former’s bishop's office. The only channels that were still actually broadcasting anything, besides the same old shows over and over again, were the news channels. But then he decided to do it just when it was absolutely necessary, for example, when they lied or got too close to a truth the public didn't need to know.

After all, freedom of speech was a human right.

Leroy was sat on the comfy chair Honey always sat on when they were in Ace's office. David offered Honey his chair and she said that she expected no less from someone as chivalrous as him (“Definitely some men should start taking your example”), but then added he shouldn’t worry about it, Ace was surely going to allow her to sit on his desk. Ace didn't see why not. She even brought her pillow with her. She put it over the desk, at the exact place she was going to sit on, and had her eyes fixated on the TV like she were a little girl watching colorful cartoons.

They were broadcasting from the West Zone of the city. An Anarchist truck was on fire in the background of the image. The trio of prodigies that Ace himself had sent to exchange some weapons for medicines with the usual gangs they always trade with, were tied with a chrome chain as if they were animals. The sky was still blue, but the evening light made the clouds turn orange and illuminated the faces of the two figures standing at the base that held the statue of a man with a copper-colored helmet.

Ace had never seen that monument as an ode to himself. He didn’t even know it was there until David told him about it, after going out to the city to visit that girlfriend of his. It seemed that some prodigies had come together and built it on their own. They hadn't left a signature or a way to prove who were they, but they did leave a golden plaque that read: "Long live to anarchy".

To anarchy. Not him. He was just the face they had given it.

He thought that everyone would think the same, but apparently, that pair didn't see it that way.

Because again, apparently, that pair shared a single brain cell.

One of them had brown skin and his cape flapped in the wind. His entire body looked slightly translucent, probably due to the nervousness that caused him to have that many people looking at him. Ace had met enough prodigies to identify when their powers gave away their mood. However, most of the general public would not be able to know exactly what he was feeling, because a black mask covered most of his facial features and he was not saying a single word.

He was terrified.

Poor little thing… sure.

The other was blond and his eyes were full of courage. The more words that came out of his mouth, the more his cheeks turn red and the tighter he clenched his fists. He was also wearing a mask, but even someone less observant than Ace could tell exactly what he was feeling.

“…and now this!” he yelled at the crowd. “Now this statue! A statue in the middle of the city, as if having experienced firsthand all the misfortunes that his anarchist reign has brought to our lives has not been enough, now he wants to constantly remind us that he won. He won—” His voice cracked, and he tried to hide it by coughing. Honey burst out laughing. “—and he will keep winning until someone stops him!”

The boy in the cape put his hand on the monument. “You know what this reminds me of? It reminds me of loss.” He became invisible and within seconds, he was sitting on the statue's outstretched arm. “Because Ace Anarchy has taken away from us so many things—” He jumped off and fell gracefully onto the base again “—that he took our fear with him.”

“That’s why we are here,” the other continued. “We are fed up with Ace Anarchy and his government, and I'm sure you are too.” He took a deep breath and smiled at the nearest camera. “But we don't blame you if you still don't understand. There is nothing wrong with being paralyzed with fear. That is what Ace Anarchy has wanted us to do during these ten years that he has been in power. The good news is that there is a cure for fear, and that cure is hope.”

A young, dark-skinned reporter pushed her way through the crowd. Her microphone had a number five printed on it, and Ace recognized the channel immediately.

He had killed one of its journalists after she refused to stop digging graves. He had to do it; if she dug too much, she would surely have found Alec Artino's body.

After all, freedom of speech was a human right. Messing up with the dead was just a quicker way for you to end up like them.

“Georgia Rawles, for Channel Five,” the reporter said with a heavy breath. “I think we're all asking ourselves the same question about—” She tried to search for the correct words, but the time was running out and she couldn’t find it, so she sighed and just blurted out, “Who are you?”

Leroy rolled his eyes. “More reporters like her, please...” he mumbled sarcastically.

She handed the microphone to the one with the cape. For a few seconds, he was almost completely invisible, but the insistence of the reporter Rawles brought him back to reality and his voice did not tremble as his legs did when he said: “We are that hope.”

The other boy tapped Georgia Rawles’ shoulder and she swiftly passed him the microphone.

He never stopped smiling. “We are the Renegades.”

Georgia Rawles drew back slightly. He couldn’t tell whether her expression was one of horror or joy because right after replying, the boy smashed the monument to anarchy with a single blow and turned it into pieces.

They both jumped from the base before the monument could crash them. Dread Warden and Captain Chromium ran towards the city, without any reporter bothering to follow them.

Ace turned off the television with his powers, and for about five seconds, neither of them spoke.

“They're not good at picking aliases,” Honey spat out of nowhere.

“So that’s the problem you have with this?” Leroy blurted out.

“Dread Warden… that has nothing to do with his powers,” Honey explained as if she were explaining to a five-year-old why the sky is blue. “And Captain Chromium is too… cheesy to be a real alias. Are we sure they were serious when they gave their names to the reporters from the first channel that arrived on the scene?” She cleared her throat and said (trying so hard to imitate the voice of a teenage boy whose voice hadn’t change yet), “He won,” before burst out laughing again.

“How mature of you…” David muttered.

“Do you have something to say, brother?” Ace asked.

For a second, he thought that David would not answer him, as he had been doing lately whenever he asked him that question. However, this time he did not remain silent and turned to see him. Not in the eyes, of course. “Actually, I do.”

Ace leaned back in his chair. “Go ahead then.”

“I don't think we should take this lightly.”

Honey scoffed. “Who says we are taking this lightly? The invisible twink and his lesbian boyfriend hate us, so what? They’re not the first ones, like… get in line, girl.”

“Well, you don’t seem too worried about the whole situation, to be honest.”

“It's because Honey doesn't shut up about the names thing, right?” Leroy asked in a slightly teasing tone.

“It's just my marketing major talking,” Honey said, slightly kicking him, barefoot. “I know about branding and stuff.”

“You dropped out.”

She put on her left heel and kicked Leroy. “You too!”

David massaged his temple. Ace turned around in his rotating chair and looked out the window. The sky had turned the same color as the clouds.

“Alec,” David called him. “It seems like… they—the Renegades think of themselves as heroes, and… they see you as the villain. I don't know, they could be a real threat, you shouldn't ignore them.”

Ace really wanted to tell David to just go back to his workshop. What did he know? They were just a couple of children who had destroyed a monument, who hadn't even been able to reveal their true identities and hid the entire time behind their masks, like criminals.

They were not a real threat.

But then, the seventeen-year-old Ace Anarchy appeared on the other side of the window, challenging him to finish that sentence inside his head. The seventeen-year-old Ace Anarchy who had dismantled entire governments and liberated millions of prodigies simply by wearing that helmet and its powers.

And when Ace blinked again, it was no longer the dark eyes of his old self that were staring at him from the glass, but the gray eyes of Captain Chromium, with that smug and arrogant smile, that he used to charm the cameras moments ago, passing his fingers through his hair as if his life depended on it.

Ace couldn’t look away from him.

He resembled Ace, but it was not enough. The old Ace didn't smile at his oppressors and he didn't have an unhealthy obsession with his hair either. He did not seek to protect people to win their affection, because he didn’t care if people like him or not, he knew he was doing the right thing.

The old Ace was not a kid playing to be a superhero, because superheroes didn't exist in the first place.

When he blinked, none of them were there anymore. Just his present self.

He smiled at himself to regain confidence.

Ace had learned that there were no heroes or villains. Captain Chromium was going to have to learn it too, and soon. Ace was willing to be the one to teach him that lesson.

And he would, whether he liked it or not.

***

There was a dream, a dying ember.

There was a dream, I don't remember,

but I will resurrect that dream,

though rivers stream and hills grow steeper.

For here in hell where life gets cheaper.

Oh, here in hell the blood runs deeper!

And when the final duel is near, I'll lift my spear and fly!

Year 20, month 5

The main difference between Ace and his brother was that David always fled at the first sign of danger. Always.

When the boys at his school began to suspect that he was a prodigy, David skipped school for weeks, getting his clothes dirty enough to make it look like he had spent breaks running after a ball along with his bullies. When his mother slapped him with the hot metal spoon, yelling he would not eat dinner that night, they both hid in the closet of his room, while David hugged him tightly and sobbed, telling him he rather be dead. When his father came home from work a few hours later and almost killed him, David took them both out of that house and out of Italy.

He said it was because he knew that the next beating would be the last and that when he was gone, Mr. Artino was going to focus all his anger on Alec, who would end up having the same fate as David. He didn't want that for his little nightmare.

What he didn't count on was that if Ace had been in his place, he would have turned around and slammed the bullies into the concrete wall of the school. He would have endured hunger and weariness with dignity and would have killed his father before he could touch a single one of his hairs. Ace wouldn't have turned his back on his problems. Ace would have fought for himself, just as for twenty years he had been fighting for all prodigies.

And now this.

He always knew that David didn't have what it took to be an anarchist. He was too deep in his own thoughts to even make an effort to listen to him. Ace had decided not to bother to explain to him the whole situation because there was no force on Earth able to change his mind anyway, and he had much more important things to worry about.

They were both sitting in the tiny white dining room in the apartment where he, Tala, and the girls lived. Ace had arrived unexpectedly so she had put more water to boil because the one they had put in for breakfast had cooled down. She apologized for the inconvenience, but he assured her that there was no problem, she could take all the time she needed. David had a cup of cold tea in his hands. He had never lost that disgusting habit of biting his nails.

No, David was not an anarchist. But Ace never thought he was a traitor.

Not until now.

The kettle began to boil at the same time the baby cried from the other room.

Tala turned off the stove and Ace could tell she was debating between pouring his tea or going to see what was going on.

“Don't worry,” Ace said walking towards her, “I'll serve it, you go take care of your daughter. Would you like me to make one for you too? "

He knew he intimidated people, but Tala took it to another level. She looked at her feet the whole time, her hands were shaking and she didn’t even answer the question before running into the next room, where Nova was complaining about her little sister's cries.

Ace took another splintered mug from the cupboard. With his powers, of course. The place looked clean (they probably spent a lot of time cleaning for lack of other hobbies), but he didn't trust them. “I've always said it: Tala is a lovely woman,” he said.

David didn't even flinch.

He had never been good at hiding his feelings.

“How does she like her tea?”

“Uh?”

He put his hands behind his back and opened the jar where they kept the chamomile tea. “How does Tala like tea?” he asked again.

David finally came back to reality. “Oh… three of sugar. She likes to add three spoons of sugar.”

Ace tried his best not to roll his eyes. I see this wife of yours wants to give herself cavities.

By the time the tea was served, the baby had stopped crying and Tala left the room again, with Nova following her. “Uncle Alec!”

David and Tala turned to see her with a single exclamation on their lips.

No.

But they didn't say anything. It was too late. Nova was already hugging his legs and Ace was stroking her strands of poorly cut hair. “Good morning, Nova, how are you?”

“Terrible,” Nova replied in all honesty. “Evie has been si—“

“Tala, Alec made you some tea,” David interrupted suddenly.

“Oh, that’s true.” He levitated the cup towards her and couldn't help but smile when he saw her recoil as the cup approached her, wondering if this was how she would see the barrel of a pistol approaching her forehead. “With three tablespoons of sugar. Just the way you like it.”

For the first time, Tala looked at him. “I don't like my tea with sugar,” she said in a calm voice. She shot David a stern look. “I thought we have talked about it.”

David looked so... small and weak. “I forgot about it. I'm sorry.”

But that "I'm sorry" didn't sound at all like the "I'm sorry" someone says when the only wrong they've done is forgetting how their wife prepares her tea.

It was the "sorry" of a traitor.

It was the "sorry" that Ace was waiting to receive.

Then he held out the other cup. “I apologize, that was my mistake. Take this cup then. I don't like to add sugar to my tea either.”

Tala accepted the cup. She took a sip and Ace recognized that micro-expression of disgust as she felt the hot chamomile water touch her palate.

It didn't surprise him that she had lied to him. That whole family was full of liars.

Nova turned to see her dad, laughing as only a child could laugh. “Oh, silly papà…” she said, hiding her head in his uncle's neck.

David smiled almost imperceptibly and raised his arms slightly so that Nova could run into them.

It reminded him a lot of when he wanted Alec to run into his arms.

But, like Alec, Nova didn't go to him. She liked being in her uncle's arms. “Oh, silly papà” Ace repeated. “Silly, silly papà...”

And the imperceptible smile disappeared completely.

“What were you saying, Nova?” he asked. "Moments ago. Are you having a terrible day? "

Nova knew immediately what he was talking about. She wasn't too busy drowning in the bitter taste of her lies. “It's just that Evie hasn't stopped crying for days,” she exclaimed with a face of pure exasperation. “We have given her everything, but nothing calms her down, and I always have to—”

“Alec, I have to tell you something.”

David had stood up and his fists were clenched on the splintered table. His knuckles had turned white and his bushy eyebrows betrayed the real nervousness behind all that facade of sternness.

He was so pleased by the image that he didn't even comment on how inappropriate it was to interrupt a woman when she was giving her point of view on something, or when Tala took advantage of this seemingly distracting moment to snatch Nova from his arms.

That was the moment. David was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to break as he had broken that night when they were hidden inside the closet and just as he had begged his abusive father before he smashed his head against the nightstand. He would tell him that he regretted betraying him and that from now on, he would agree with him on everything. He would accept that he had never been anything but a coward who escaped trouble at the first opportunity and would run into Ace’s arms one more time.

That was the time for David to choose Ace as the god to whom he would pray for mercy.

That was the moment.

But of course, it would have been too dangerous. Therefore, he was not at all surprised, when he looked down at his teacup again and blurted out, “Evelyn has been very ill, and… we have run out of options. You know I wouldn't bother you with this if it wasn't important, but I wanted to know if… you know.”

“If I could get some medicine for Evelyn?”

David nodded energetically. “That's right.”

Ace pretended to stop to think about it. He wanted to see the desperation in his eyes and wanted him to suffer at the thought that he might never get the much-needed medicine for his little daughter.

He wanted David to suffer in every possible way he could, and when he thought it was going to break, Ace replied, “I think I have a contact that could help us with it.”

“When will you—”

“And with that medicine, Evie is finally going to stop crying?”

Now it was Nova's turn to interrupt him. If he weren't so blinded by the pain he wanted to inflict on his brother, he probably would have had found the act of Nova being the one interrupting her father delightful.

Tala tried to hide Nova with her arms when Ace approached them, but it was useless because he used his powers to gently pull Nova towards him, making her laugh out loud at the feeling that the levitation caused in her entire body. “I assure you, Nova, that with that medicine Evie will stop crying,” he replied, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “But in the meantime, you have to help your mom and papà, and keep doing what you say you do to calm her down. Now… how do you calm down your little sister?”

“I put her to sleep.”

David threw down a chair and ran over to Nova. Ace felt like she had been snatched from his arms again.

Having the two of them there, side by side, made him more aware of how similar they looked. Although Nova had always been a perfect mix of her two parents, Ace was much of the idea that one could know a lot about a person by looking into their eyes.

Nova had the same eyes as her father, but without the golden details that gave away the stardust that David was able to manipulate since birth.

The fact that their eyes were very similar but not identical could mean a lot of things. Perhaps it was that Nova had the worst quality of her mother and the only prodigious thing inside her was the half of the blood that ran through her veins. It would be a shame. The world did not need the oppressors to continue to reproduce with the oppressed and to gradually extinguish the spark with their inferior genes each prodigy had. It was only one of the thousand ways in which they were slowly annihilating them.

However, it could also mean that Nova was not like David, but not in the sense of being or not being a prodigy. Maybe those golden sparks were actually that her brother's soul had been born rusty and that was what would never allow him to see the world as Ace did. Instead, Nova did her name justice and could symbolize a new beginning for them, much like the supernova that granted them their powers had been.

For a second, she saw Nova not as a child, but as raw and pure potential.

Did he know? Was David aware of how precious was what his rough hands were holding?

“She sings her to sleep,” he explained hastily. “Nova loves spending time with her little sister, and she loves carrying her. Whenever she cries she insists that we let her hold her and that always calms her down. It is like—”

“Magic?”

David hesitated. “Yes… magic.”

Nova played with the collar of her dad's shirt, thinking about God knows what, until something made click inside her brain. “Uncle Ace!”

“Yes, Nova?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but David silenced her with a severe look.

Ace offered Tala his help with washing the dishes before leaving. He assured them that he would be back as soon as possible and asked Nova to kiss little Evie goodnight for him. He gave Tala a quick (and unrequited) kiss on the cheek and a handshake to David.

The same hands that could have defended themselves from the abusers, that could have stopped the burning spoon before it slapped him, and those that could have wrapped around their father's neck before blood stained the old carpet in the room.

He decided that there would be no survivors. Not even the ghost of David.

David always ran from danger, but now he was the danger that could destroy what it took Ace years to build. Ace wasn't running from him. Ace noticed it, faced it, and defeated it.

Because, in the end, Ace Anarchy was the real danger.

***

Piercing into the sky and higher, 

and the strong will thrive.

Yes, the weak will cower while the fittest will survive

If we wait for the darkest hour,

'till we spring alive...

He had already been to the dome of the cathedral on other occasions. The first time he had done it, it was dark. The entire city was in lockdown and there was not a single light because Ace had managed to uproot the building that provided basic service to all the city. Then, he thought that maybe, just maybe, that night the sky would be so clear that he would be able to see the stars. And what better place for stargazing than the dome of the cathedral.

He was right. He could see every last star. Their light was not like the light posts in the parks or the lamps in his old room. Their light was energy, it was strength, and it was sheer power.

They were so present in the sky and seemed so close to his fingertips that he felt one of them himself. But he did not believe that his energy, his strength, and his power was similar to that of any of those stars; it would be like reducing himself to being something that he was not, so he could fit into a mold that he did not to fit in and please people who did not appreciate him.

And like that, under the stars and on the dome of that cathedral, the birth of anarchy was announced with the explosion of a supernova.

Ace Anarchy was a supernova. Ace Anarchy was born on that dome.

Now he wondered if he was going to die there too.

Hugh Everhart was in front of him. He didn't move a single muscle and he didn't make a single face, not even when Ace spat his name like it was a blasphemy. With one hand he held his spear and with the other, he clung to the piece of cloth that passed through his chest and that held a baby dozing on his back. He took a step forward, and Ace imitated him, too blinded by adrenaline to even think that this image was too good to be true and that Hugh Everhart would never give himself up like this, on a silver platter, and without his allies by his side, unless he didn't plan on giving himself up in the first place.

It was the worst mistake he could have made. And he didn't even notice it until he began to feel… that.

It was as if he was being absorbed. Someone ran their hands from his head to the tips of his toes, causing the feeling of lightness with which he had lived for so long to gradually fade away. The cars he launched, the walls, and the corpses he used as weapons against the friends and relatives of the dead were growing heavier and Ace had never carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. At least not that way.

Never like this.

The fire inside him was getting smaller, and smaller, and the only thing that seemed to remain was a single spark.

Ace stepped back, but Hugh Everhart kept on walking towards him.

There came a time when there was no more dome Ace could stand on and he fell to his knees.

For that thousandth of a second, he felt the presence of Tala and the baby behind him, looking at him with a deadpan expression. David's ghost, made of the same stardust that his fingers could manipulate, laid his hand on his shoulder and a tear, bright and white, fell on the fabric of his trench coat.

It was a pure tear, waiting to be paid for with another tear that was just as pure as the first one. But Ace had long since lost the ability to cry.

Hugh Everhart pulled the helmet off his head with such force that he backed away a couple of meters. The air swiped away the ghosts of his brother, his wife, and daughter, leaving only Alec Artino, with his knobby knees and messy hair, looking at him as the lost child in the middle of the battlefield that he was.

He ran towards him and wrapped his thin and fragile arms around him telling him that perhaps it was time to accept his own humanity.

Because… what is Ace Anarchy without his helmet?

His enemy readied his spear and Ace turned to see the boy asking the question, who was looking at him as if his mere presence was the answer.

What was Ace Anarchy without his helmet? Was he that weak child, with a stuffy nose and restless hands? Was he the man he saw in the reflection of his eyes, with a sloppy beard and deep dark circles?

Was he the ghost he would soon become?

Alec held Ace by the cheeks, with those bony little hands that were always cold, no matter how many gloves he wore or how many times David wrapped his around them and rubbed them to keep them warm.

And then he asked him, “How do you kill a god?”

The answer was what brought him back to reality and the one that made him realize, that it had only been a couple of seconds from the moment he fell to his knees and now that he was standing up, Alec’s ghost fading for the last time.

Because David and Alec Artino should have died completely since day one. In a perfect world, the only one alive was Ace Anarchy.

Someday, that vision of a perfect world would become real, and neither Alec nor David would be there to intervene.

Someday...

The only thing that remained inside of him was a spark, but even a single spark could start the biggest of fires.

How do you kill a god?

How do you kill Ace Anarchy?

Oh, my little nightmare.

You don’t.

And with that, he spread his arms and leaped straight into the flames.

...then with claws of fire, we devour like a falcon in the dive!

[loving-jack-kelly]

Like Real People Do

The path was hidden. Barely visible. It was rarely used. Almost never, in fact, leaving the path faint.

The entrance was marked by a stone, perfectly round and covered in moss that was just slightly too bright green to be entirely natural.

It was always talked about in hushed whispers. Whispered warnings told to friends who wandered too far off the road.

If you wander, the whispers said, the path will appear. And once you take the path, you can’t step off of it until you’ve given it what it wants.

What it wants, nobody knows. Names, some said. Lives, souls, wishes, hopes, dreams, money, goods, anything you have. It wants.

But some whispers didn’t stop there. Some whispers kept going, some whispers dropped even quieter, hard to hear over crackling fires, hidden in the dancing shadows cast by candles. Some whispers went past the warnings and delivered the promises.

The promise that the path, if sought, not stumbled upon, could give up what you needed in return for what it wanted.

The path was dangerous if you wandered onto it by mistake. Keep your eyes on the road, watch for the round, mossy stone and the faint trail, and avoid them.

Perhaps, the promises said, the path was even more dangerous when sought. Perhaps there’s nothing more dangerous than seeking your wishes and being willing to give yourself up for them. But perhaps, for some things, it would be worth it. Perhaps, for some wishes, having no name would be worth it. Perhaps, for some dreams, fewer years would be worth it. Perhaps, to some, the most dangerous few, perhaps vengeance would be worth never leaving the path at all.

David had heard all of it before. It was cookfire gossip, stories of old relatives told to young children to scare them into staying on the well-traveled road and staying off the hunting paths. That was all. About a half-hour outside their little village there was a decent-sized rock that marked an old deer trail, and that was what kids pointed to to tell the stories. They dared each other to step onto the faintly-there trail, and nobody ever went through with it.

Because maybe they all claimed they didn’t believe the stories, but was it worth it, really? To risk it? To risk everything to test a story?

There was another stone. Further along the road, and smaller. Almost hidden in the undergrowth, but almost perfectly round, and covered in moss so green it almost seemed to glow. And just beyond it was a path so faint it was almost invisible, little more than a simple break in the trees. Too natural to be a hunting path, and almost too narrow to have been made by an animal.

That was the stone and the path David was staring at.

Was it worth it? Was it worth the risk of this being the real path? Was it worth giving up a piece of himself?

Yes.

It wasn’t as hard of a choice as it should have been.

David stepped onto the path.

It didn’t feel any different than the rest of the forest. It felt like what it looked like, a barely used rough path through the trees. He followed it, feeling the underbrush catch at his pants, the dead leaves and dry twigs crunch under his boots.

He was hyperaware of everything around him. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting, but he kept waiting for the path to shift. To change. To become whatever it was that could grant his wish.

It didn’t.

The path ended against a boulder. It wasn’t a clearing, just a big boulder with the trees and brush growing up right against it.

David sat down with his back against the boulder. The path he’d followed hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, he could follow it back to where he came from.

Maybe this was the wrong path. Maybe there was another somewhere, hidden even better.

Or maybe he’d been stupid to believe the stories, even for a second. Even out of desperation. Maybe he’d just wasted his afternoon following a path to nowhere.

“Been a while since anybody’s been down here.” A voice came from somewhere above and behind him, startling him out of his moping. “You here on purpose?”

David stood up and turned around.

A man who looked like he was several years older than him was sitting on top of the boulder. David didn’t know him, had never seen him before, and hadn’t heard him approach or climb up the boulder. He was just…there.

“Must be, if you sat down. When people end up here on accident, they’re freaking out by now. Cursing the name of someone or other, whoever told ‘em to follow the path.”

He was grinning at David, a bright, disarming smile. Something about him just seemed…strange. Maybe it was his eyes, the same bright, bright green of the moss on the round stone. They didn’t seem to match the rest of him. He had dark hair, dark skin, his clothes were muted natural colors, and his eyes were so bright they seemed to glow.

“Nice to have somebody come visit who isn’t kicking and screaming. Guess that probably means you want something, though, huh? Nobody’s ever here just to visit. I wasn’t, the first time. Just got lost in the woods, picked the wrong place to wander.”

He was sitting cross-legged on top of the boulder, and as he spoke, he rested his elbow on his knee and his face on his hand, still grinning.

“Cat got your tongue? I don’t bite. Unless you try to trick me, then I do. It’s in the contract. Clause eight. If trickery is attempted, bite them. Hard. Draw blood. I’m paraphrasing, of course, no need to look so scared. I just have to trick back. You won’t try to trick me, will you? You gotta say something, here, I won’t be able to help if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“You’re…”

“I’m a wish-granter, a man of the path, a soul stealer. A life taker. I’ve been called many things. I guess you could call me Jack.”

“Jack.”

“That’s what everyone called me, once. A long time ago. Nobody has asked in a long time.”

“This is the wish-path, then.”

“That’s one name it’s been given.”

“What do you call it?”

“Home.” Jack’s smile widened, and David pinpointed another slightly unnerving feature. His teeth were ever so slightly pointed, just a bit sharper than a human’s. “And what do you want with it? Nobody comes here on purpose without a wish in mind.”

There was a glint of something in his eyes, David decided. He was speaking charmingly enough and seemed friendly enough, but he was dangerous. Maybe he’d been kidding less than he’d seemed when he’d said he would bite back.

But he was right. David had come here for a reason, and he did have a wish, and he was going to make it.

“I wish that my father was healed.”

“Oh?”

“He got hurt. Two weeks ago. He can’t work, and without him working our family doesn’t have enough. My little brother and I have to work, instead.”

“And you don’t want to work?”

“I don’t mind, but Les is only ten. He shouldn’t have to be working yet. He should be in school. Playing with his friends.”

“You know, making a wish is a dangerous thing. Answers come with a price.”

“I know.”

Jack’s bright green eyes seemed to look right through David like he could see his every thought and his true intentions and was analyzing them closely to see if he was worthy of the wish.

“And you’re willing to pay the price?”

“If I can.”

“I never charge an impossible fare. That’s also in the contract, clause two.” Jack smiled again. It was unsettling, how close he was to human with just the details slightly off. Human but a bit to the left.

“What would the price be?”

“Your wish is simply to heal your father?”

“Yes.”

“Your name.” Jack’s eyes flashed a deeper green, and David wasn’t sure if it was the light or if they’d actually changed colors.

“My…name?”

“I can heal your father if you give me your name.”

David knew those stories well. It seemed like such a simple request. Give Jack his name, just say the word, and his father would be healed. Only that’s not what Jack was asking, not in the way any normal person asked for David to give his name. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t “what is your name?”

It was a price. If Jack told David to give him his name and David responded, then his name wasn’t his anymore. It was Jack’s.

Was it worth it?

David thought about why he was here. About the expression on Les’s face when he had to go to work instead of to school, about how Les was too tired to play with his friends. Was it worth giving up his name for his little brother?

Yes. It didn’t take long to decide. Of course it was worth it. His family was worth anything.

“Okay.”

“In exchange for healing your father, give me your name.”

“David.”

In a flash of a moment, he could feel the difference. It wasn’t his identity that was gone. He knew who he was, where he came from, who his family was. Why he was here. He could remember that a moment ago, he’d had a name, and that it was David. But he could feel that it wasn’t his name anymore. He didn’t have a name. He was himself, but there was no name to attach to that.

Jack’s eyes glowed. This time he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light, light came from Jack’s eyes.

“That’s a nice name. Strong.” Jack looked down at him from his seat on top of the boulder. “Your father is healed.”

“Thank you.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully and slid down to the ground. Almost floated, really, very gently and gracefully. Jack was shorter than him by a few inches, and once he was close his energy was almost palpable, like the feeling before a lightning strike. Jack paused, looking into his eyes, and too late, he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to say thank you. After a long moment, Jack smiled, a much softer smile than the one he’d displayed before.

“You’re honest. You have a good heart. Take a gift from me. I give you a name, not as strong as the one you gave me, but a good one anyway. Davey. And I give you a promise, that nobody will ask to take it away.”

As soon as he said it, the void left by giving up his name was filled, and he knew that he was Davey.

A gift from Jack. Not a filled wish, not a trade, but a gift. Maybe that was even more dangerous, maybe it left a debt unfilled, but that was a powerful gift. A name that nobody would take away.

Jack reached out and touched the tip of his finger to Davey’s nose, and another space was filled, this time one he hadn’t even known existed until it was gone. His name was secure, now, immovable. The second part of Jack’s gift.

“Use it well.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and when Davey blinked, he was back on the road, staring at the stone that marked the wish-path.

Wish-magic was a dangerous thing. Davey knew that. He’d known that before he sought the wish-path and he’d known that while he was making his wish and he knew that as he made his way home, a new name in his being and a gifted protection burning at the tip of his nose.

He could feel it, where Jack had touched him. The imprint of Jack’s finger, right at the tip of his nose, where the magic flowed around him and protected his name.

Wish-magic was dangerous, and gifts from wish-granters were dangerous, but when Davey got home and the village all knew him as Davey even if there was a little bit of confusion like they knew it had changed, and his father was out of bed, still weak but no longer in pain, it didn’t matter how dangerous the magic was.

He was home. He had a name, and a promise that he would always keep it. His family was safe and cared for. That was what mattered.

In the months and eventually years that followed, Davey was almost able to forget Jack, the man with the bright green eyes who’d granted his wish and given him a gift.

Twice, the tip of his nose burned like it had right after Jack had touched it. Once, when an old woman in the center of the village, passing through selling her wares, asked his name. He gave it, without thinking, and when his nose burned, he noticed her face fall.

And again, walking on the road and passing by a stranger going the opposite way. As soon as Davey looked at him, his nose was burning, and he knew better than to take a second look.

On those occasions, Davey was forced to remember his trip to the wish-path because it was clear the gifted promise was still in effect. When he passed the stone that marked the path, covered in its otherworldly green moss, he remembered. And sometimes, when he wanted something so bad it hurt, he remembered.

But most of the time, he didn’t think about it. The things he wanted were things he could get himself or go without, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he’d get off so easy on a second venture to the wish-path.

So while he occasionally thought of the wish-path and of Jack the wish granter, he didn’t really seriously consider going back.

Until, that is, he was told that he was to be married.

He knew that his parents wanted what was best for him and what was best for their family, but he also knew that he would never be happy married to the woman they’d chosen. Mostly because, well, she was a woman. And he didn’t want to marry a woman.

He knew they didn’t understand why it upset him so much when they told him, and he didn’t know where he was going when he left, but somehow he wasn’t surprised when he found himself standing in front of the moss-covered stone.

When he started walking down the path, his nose burned. The closer he thought he was to the end, the stronger the feeling got. It wasn’t painful, but it was very present.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a repeat visitor before.”

Jack’s voice hadn’t changed at all in the three years since Davey’s last visit. When Davey looked up and saw him, again perched on top of the boulder at the end of the path, his face hadn’t changed either. The same bright green eyes framed by dark, dramatic curls. The same muted clothes. He hadn’t changed at all.

By looks, Davey had caught up to his age.

“How are you, Davey?”

That question surprised him. He couldn’t think of any way it could be twisted around. He wasn’t be asked for anything, just a simple question.

“I suppose that’s a silly question, actually. Why would you be here if you were good? Your gift is serving you well, though. I can feel it working now, and I’m not even trying to trick you. I must have made it more powerful than I meant to.”

Jack’s eyes sparkled, and Davey was sure it was with humor.

He had a feeling Jack didn’t do much on accident.

“Do you have another wish?”

“I wish that I didn’t have to marry her.”

Jack tilted his head, and for a second time Davey felt like he was reading every detail of Davey’s mind, thoughts and motivations and desires.

“Strange,” he said after a long moment. “That’s a selfish wish, and yet you still aren’t selfish.”

“What?”

“People have made that wish before. It’s almost out of nothing more than selfishness. Because she’s too ugly, or he isn’t rich enough, not out of consideration for anything. You don’t want to marry her because it will make you unhappy, but also because you know it wouldn’t be fair to her. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy? Is it selfish to want that?”

“It’s selfish to want your own happiness even if it means the unhappiness of others. I don’t think it’s selfish to want something for your own happiness when what you want will also make somebody else happy.”

Jack slid down to the ground, again with the otherworldly grace Davey had seen the last time he was here.

“Selfishness is addressed in the contract. Clause four. If a wish is made for selfish gain, it may only be granted at the highest cost. Even though I don’t think your wish is selfish, it’s a powerful wish. Much more powerful than simple healing. I can grant it, though.”

“What’s the cost?”

“Give me your time.” Jack extended his hand, his eyes glowing like they had when he’d healed Davey’s father.

Davey hesitated, but he took Jack’s hand. It was warm, and Davey could feel energy coursing through the connection, like the burning at the tip of his nose but more comfortable and powerful. After what only felt like a few seconds, Jack let go.

Davey felt dizzy. Something had happened, he could tell, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

“A powerful wish. A powerful price. I hope it was worth it.”

“What did I give you?”

“A year of your time.” Jack tilted his head, studying Davey’s reaction. “She’s married. Happy. There’ll be a kid in a few months.”

“You mean it’s been a year since I came here?”

“I told you. A high price for a powerful wish.”

“What will my family think?”

Jack shrugged.

“They know you’re safe. They probably know you found a path, people are smart about these things. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

“I…I have to go.”

“Of course.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and he gave Davey a small smile. “Hey!” He called when Davey started to walk back down the path.

“What?”

“You don’t have to have a wish to visit. Come back any time.”

“You…you want me to just come to visit?”

“Gets pretty lonely here. People don’t come very often. It’d be nice to have a friend.”

Davey’s family was glad to see him. His parents had tears in their eyes when they hugged him, and Sarah and Les did too. The people in their little village looked at him differently. He��d been gone for a year, of course they did.

He didn’t tell his parents, or his siblings, or anyone that his missing year had been a wish. Of course he didn’t, that would require explaining too many things. He told them he’d gotten lost. Took a wrong path while not paying attention, and when he’d found his way back, it had been a year. Just like that. A year passed in the blink of an eye.

And that was what happened. Technically. Just with a little extra intention behind it.

For a while, things were wonderful. Even though it hadn’t felt long for him at all, and he hadn’t aged that year he’d given to Jack, for his family it had been a long time that he’d been away from home. They were happy to have him around, happy that he was safe and home and with them again.

Every once in awhile, Davey found himself wandering down Jack’s path, spending an afternoon just talking to him.

There weren’t many people his age in the village. And he knew, obviously, that Jack wasn’t his age either. Jack was something old and powerful, not even human. But he had a face that seemed to be Davey’s age, and when he wasn’t talking in riddles or saying things just outside of Davey’s realm of understanding, he sounded like he was Davey’s age, too. In fact, he was easy to talk to.

Friendship with somebody like Jack was probably even more dangerous than wish-magic, but he was easy to be friends with. Easy to talk to. Even if the tip of Davey’s nose burned whenever he was there, it was easy to feel comfortable at the end of the path at the moss-covered boulder.

Jack asked questions about life. He’d been human once, Davey learned, a long time ago, before he signed the contract he kept referencing. He wanted to know how much had changed since then. The answer seemed to be not much.

Davey sometimes was brave enough to ask questions back. He learned that Jack was bound to his path, that he could walk from the top of the boulder to the smaller stone that marked the entrance, and no further. He learned that there were limits to Jack’s power, but not many. Jack could raise a person from the dead. He couldn’t force somebody to fall in love. He couldn’t change a person’s nature, make a bad person good or a good person bad.

It took a lot of visits before Davey asked why Jack had signed the contract.

It was clear that he was lonely. He missed being a human, having friends. He wanted to grow up.

“I found this path on accident and made a very, very powerful wish,” Jack said simply. “Signing the contract was the price I paid.”

“What was your wish?” Davey asked.

Jack’s eyes, which changed shades with his mood, darkened to the deepest green Davey had ever seen in them.

“Justice. Something the world rarely offers, which makes it a very costly wish.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Jack didn’t hesitate. “Justice served more than me. It was a bigger cause than my life was worth. And one day somebody will come along and sign their name under mine, and I’ll be able to walk away.”

“That’s how it works? A trade?”

“Of sorts.”

For a while, that was wonderful. Davey was happy at home, and happy to continue his friendship with Jack. Happy to continue his relationship with Jack.

If wish-magic was dangerous and being friends with a wish-granter was dangerous, surely falling in love with one was deadly. But could Davey help it? When Jack was interesting and kind and always willing to listen, and always had something to say. Maybe for the same reason he’d been drawn to Jack as a friend, that there weren’t many boys his own age in the village, Davey couldn’t help it.

When his parents began to urge him to find a wife again, that only intensified it, because the way he felt when he was around Jack, leaned back against the boulder in a conversation he was actively enjoying…that kind of feeling never came from anybody else, least of all the girls his parents were pushing him towards.

It was that realization that took him down Jack’s path again, with a wish in his heart.

Whenever Davey came, Jack asked.

“Do you have a wish?”

Normally, Davey told him no.

“I do.”

“Really?”

“I wish that everyone would understand.”

Just like Davey hadn’t had to explain who he hadn’t wanted to marry, he knew he didn’t have to explain what he meant. Jack understood.

“That’s a selfish wish.”

“I know.”

“Clause four. I have to charge a high price.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jack looked into Davey’s eyes, reading him.

“Give me your breath,” he finally said.

His breath.

That was a high price.

Before he could change his mind, he nodded.

Jack’s eyes flashed.

And then he kissed Davey.

It took his breath away.

When Jack pulled back, he was laughing.

“There’s more than one way to steal a person’s breath.”

“That seems like a cheat.”

“Isn’t that my job? To trick? I tricked you. I tricked the contract.”

Davey was also laughing when Jack kissed him again.

The summer sun streamed through the trees, the boulder was solid behind his back, and Jack stole his breath until the light was gold and he had to leave.

And when he got home, everyone understood.

It was a strange thing, long after Davey’s third wish had come true and everyone understood and nobody was trying to push him into a relationship. Long after he’d started to find excuses to spend sun-drunk afternoons with Jack, somehow easily falling into a relationship that should have felt impossible.

A man walked down the road into the village.

He looked familiar, Davey thought. Dark curls framing a dark face, worn in clothes that almost faded into the forest behind him. Eyes so dark brown they were almost black. He was pretty. He walked with a slight limp like there was a stone in his shoe.

Davey didn’t recognize him at first, not until he was much closer.

“Jack?”

“Hello.”

Davey’s nose wasn’t burning the way it always did when he visited Jack’s path. Jack’s eyes weren’t green, they didn’t shift when he smiled. But it was Jack. Unmistakably Jack.

“You left the path?”

“Somebody made a wish,” Jack said, sitting down next to Davey on the step to his house. “A selfish, powerful wish.”

“Oh?”

“There is nothing more selfish or more powerful than wishing to live forever. To leave behind everyone and everything, to cause your loved ones pain, and to disrupt the way of the world.”

“Somebody signed the contract.”

“And now he’ll live forever, and I can live my life.” Jack smiled again, and Davey decided that his brown eyes suited him much better than the green.

“I have one more wish, then.”

“I don’t know if I can grant it.”

“You can.”

“Oh?”

“I wish that you would stay. Here. With me.”

“That might be the most expensive wish from you yet.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Give me your life.” Jack opened his hand, palm up, and extended it to Davey. Resting on his palm was a ring, made out of something as green as Jack’s eyes had been. As green as the moss on the stone that marked the wish-path.

“Okay.” Davey took the ring and slid it on his finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did, Jack seemed to know everything he wanted to.

Out of all of the prices he’d paid for his wishes, this was perhaps the easiest to pay. Hadn’t he already started to make the decision anyway?

Jack’s smile widened, and he twined their fingers together, staring at the bright green ring against Davey’s skin.

Davey realized that this was the first time he’d seen Jack smile without anything else behind it. Nothing but happiness.

And that meant that Davey’s wish wasn’t selfish. Jack had decided that before, that a wish wasn’t selfish as long as it was to make more than one person happy.

Maybe this was the most worthwhile wish yet, even if magic hadn’t been needed to accomplish it.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What if Aldrea's ghost really did work with Rachel or Toby Hamee instead of Cassie in #34?

First of all, I think #34 does a reasonably good job of showing why Aldrea ends up with Cassie — people keep describing Aldrea as “tough-minded” and “independent” and I’ve argued before that those are some of Cassie’s core qualities.  I also like that Aldrea’s gender is a core part of her identity, given that she talks a lot in Hork-Bajir Chronicles about being frustrated with the way female andalites are treated and even having internalized some of the dominant attitudes about being “weak” because her tail is smaller than her brother’s.  It feels like a cool triumph that she wants and needs a female host.  Anyway.

Toby would probably be a friggin disaster if Aldrea took her as a host, because it’d be a perfect storm to combine Toby’s deference for her ancestors with Aldrea’s dismissal of her host’s mind.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the respect and love and awe that Toby feels for Aldrea — this is Toby’s only to her own culture, which has been annihilated by genocide.  However, Toby also considers abandoning her family and the only home she’s ever known in order to go die fighting yeerks at Aldrea’s say-so, and she later only abandons that plan because of a push from Aldrea.  Toby trusts Aldrea so much that she angrily dismisses Ax’s question about how to ensure the host’s safety, even though Ax later proves to be exactly right about the danger of there being no kill switch on the Ixcila.

If you combine that with Aldrea’s utter lack of respect for the person hosting her?  I shudder to think.  Toby wouldn’t fight and argue and force the issue of a personal connection in order to get control back the way Cassie does.  Toby would probably give in completely and let Aldrea have her body.  Aldrea would probably mean well toward Toby, but she’d probably also demonstrate exactly the same entitled imperialistic attitude toward Toby that we see her have toward other hork-bajir and non-andalites.  So I’m not saying Aldrea would get Toby killed, and she wouldn’t knowingly go against Toby’s wishes... but she also wouldn’t take Toby’s wishes into account either.  That scenario would probably end with Toby going off to try and die liberating the hork-bajir homeworld, an outcome that everyone from Cassie to Toby to eventually Aldrea herself agrees is not what’s best for the free hork-bajir.

Rachel on the other hand might not figure out how to work with Aldrea at all.  There’s this interesting motif starting as early as #2 that Rachel fears neither death nor pain — she fears a cage (X).  Specifically, she is afraid of being trapped in her own mind because someone else is controlling her body or because she is physically unable to fight back against the threat.  It informs her horror at being buried alive in earth (#17) or water (#27), her attitude that she’d kill Saddler or David if she thought it would help (#22), her nightmares (#2, #7, #22) and her ridiculous bravery because death doesn’t seem so bad by comparison (#37, #54).  Rachel would dig in and not give up any modicum of control over her body, and the harder Aldrea pushed to try and get in, the harder Rachel would push back.  There would be no give-and-take with Cassie offering Aldrea the use of her mouth and Aldrea letting Cassie do the hard morphing and the two of them offering each other privacy once Cassie figures out how to demand it.

Instead, I imagine that those first few minutes where Aldrea’s inside Cassie but completely disoriented would involve a lot of Rachel mentally shouting at Aldrea “This is MY BODY, you are a GUEST, if you do not wipe your feet and GTFO when you’re done, then we are going to have PROBLEMS, lady.”  Cassie realizes that Aldrea’s on the verge of just shutting down completely when it becomes clear that Dak and Seerow and the whole damn planet are dead, and — it being Cassie — finds a way to support her and draw her out anyway.  I think if it was Rachel hosting Aldrea at the time, then Aldrea really would just shut down.  Of course, then that leaves a whole other problem of how they’d get Aldrea out of Rachel if none of them can communicate with Aldrea and she’s in Heroic BSoD mode.  A really creepy thought: since it takes Cassie a long time to figure out how to communicate with Aldrea enough to figure out she’s there, maybe Rachel wouldn’t even realize that the ritual had worked.  So Aldrea would be this, like, sleeper cell inside Rachel’s mind, also lacking some important context on how she came to be within a human body on a foreign planet... That could end really really badly.

If I can venture a dark-horse candidate that no one in canon even considers... How about Tobias?

Tobias also has a lot in common with Aldrea personality-wise.  He’s an idealist who doesn’t always fully consider the consequences of his idealism.  He learns and embraces hork-bajir culture in spite of not having been born hork-bajir.  He’s a nothlit.  Ax also says of Aldrea “You are highly intelligent, emotionally self-controlled, capable of lying and manipulation... also fundamentally peaceful, moral, courageous, and capable ofself-sacrifice,” a description that always struck me as applying to Tobias maybe even more so than Cassie, even though of course Ax is describing andalites in general.  (Wow, it’s almost like Tobias is part andalite or something!)  Anyway, part of what’s striking is that Ax and even Cassie fundamentally don’t get why Aldrea would ever become a nothlit voluntarily, much less a nothlit in a body with a shorter lifespan than the one she was born with.  Tobias obviously does get it.

If Tobias and Aldrea were sharing a body, Aldrea would probably consider the three-pound thing with feathers she got stuffed inside to be less than ideal, but they also might have a lot of potential for harmonious coexistence.  Tobias has more experience with multiple minds in a single body, including the balance of hawk-human-etcetera that he has to perform when listening to multiple sets of instincts at once and figuring out which one to use.  Tobias is more thoughtful and self-reflective than Cassie, and I think he’d be far more aware as a result of exactly how much power and control Aldrea would have at any given time.  Although Cassie and Aldrea learn to work together, Tobias would probably set a mutually beneficial division of powers between himself and Aldrea and remain in control of the situation the whole time, only changing the relative degree of power over his body if Aldrea comes to him with some damn good reasons why he should do so.  It’s also notable that this is ONE DAMN BOOK after the events of #33 with Taylor and the Anti-Morphing Ray.  So it might be good to have Tobias do what he’s good at and get a win for the whole team at a time when he’s feeling like he lost himself.  It might even help him heal if he chooses voluntarily to connect with another mind compassionate toward his own, and to continue to get in touch with his andalite heritage through mind-melding with Aldrea.

[kaypeace21]

I have a question but I just want to say first that I love your theories. They’re very well thought-out and interesting. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you could explain how Mike is queer-coded? I’ve seen you mention it and I’ve seen others talk about his attraction to androgynous El, but is there more? Thanks!

ALOT MORE! I talked about it here in the past- but without getting too much into s3 (since I’ve already talked about s3 byler extensively).I’ll just have links for everything I noticed in s3 at the bottom of this post. In regards to s1 and 2, Mike was heavily coded as queer. But most significantly this was done in s1- arguably he was more queer coded than Will ever was. I won’t get into all the details (we’d be here all day) but the highlights, at the top of my head are-

s1

- Mike in his his basement has a red heart being propelled by a rainbow.

- 4 separate characters said El looked like a boy, but Mike doesn’t care! Even one of the men thought El might be the missing ‘Byers boy’. When El loses her wig , Troy said “she doesn’t even look like a girl” to the cops. But Mike just calls her “really pretty”

-Nancy says “I thought you were acting weird, but I thought it was because of Will” And Mike responds “I thought you were acting weird too I thought it was because of Steve … Do you like Jonathan now”?” Nancy: “No, do you like Eleven?”. They literally compared the explicit love triangle between Steve/Nancy/Jonathan to the Will-Mike-El dynamic!

- Mike literally uses gender inclusive pronouns when talking about crushes using the word “someone” (3 times), and embarrassing himself because he can’t articulate the difference between friendship and romance. When he could of simply given the 80s heteronormative  answer of ‘when a boy likes a girl’.

Mike: “ you go to school dances with someone. 

You know someone that you like” 

El: “a friend?”

Mike: ‘not a friend uh … uh someone like a” (gives up and kisses her)

-Mike’s mom said “ What’s been going on with Will, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. I just … want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to HIDE anything from me” (she even emphasizes the word ‘hide”  (which is heavily queer coded)

- when Will ‘dies’, “we can be heroes” by David bowie (a bisexual singer) plays,   “And we kiss as though nothing could fall and the shame” is the lyric that plays when Mike returns to his house and cries in his mother’s arms over the ‘death’ of Will. Do I have to explain how ‘kissing and shame’ are queer-coded . And how such a lyric is oddly romantic- if we’re supposed to see their bond as nothing but platonic XD

-his dad jokes “Absolutely not” *turns to wife* “our son with a girl?”.

- when Lucas makes fun of his crush on EL, Lucas gets down on one knee  and says “ I love you so much, will you marry me?” and literally 1s later, we’re introduced to the bullies and the idea (for the first time) that Will is ‘gay’, and Mike is in the forefront of the scene and unlike his friends he is THE ONLY ONE physically assaulted (like a gay-bashing) .  They leave Lucas and Dustin unharmed. Even though Lucas just proposed to another guy- which should have gotten him a beating by the homophobic bullies.

It’s supposed to subconsciously hint Mike is queer like Will, and likes Will. The first interaction with the bullies, they mention Will being ‘gay’ right after they mention Mike’s crush on androgynous El and have a guy propose to Mike. Mike says to “ignore them” ( the homophobic remarks) but is assaulted anyways. And when asked what happed he doesn’t want to tell El the details cause he’s ashamed . 

2nd time the bullies talk about Will, Mike is once again in the forefront, unlike his straight friends who are in the background . But this time Mike initiates the confrontation), as the bullies say Will is “flying in fairyland with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay”. Mike was literally on the verge or tears at this comment (despite being happy a few moments earlier , telling the others to ‘act sad’ because they’d look suspicious other wise). But this is the comment where Mike snaps and pushes Troy back (because he took it personally/wanted to defend Will). 

The framing of Mike once again being in the front and snapping at the homophobic remarks (these gifs don’t do it justice, just rewatch the scene -Mike eyes water at the remarks). Then the last time the bullies appear , Mike jumps off the cliff and “flies like a fairy” (like Troy said) thanks to El . Troy at the police station even uses the word “fly” not levitate.

- Mike proclaiming “I’m the only one who cares about Will!” Seems like something a kid with a crush might say ( because obviously his other friends care about Will). But he thinks he cares the most.

-Mike sneaking out to find Will, as Steve sneaks in to Nancy’s. They both even make eye contact (and pretend not to have seen each other).

- they share dinosaur toys , in s1 and 2 they appear to be the only ones with dinosaur toys.

- The s1 mom hug scene where Mike feels he lost Will is paralleled in s3 - signifying how he lost him a 2nd time.

- Mike in the 1st ep being the one to insist on looking for Will in the rain (callback to s3). But he never went looking for El when he saw her through his window? Even when Mike saw Will’s dead body, the second he heard his voice he convinced his friends to help rescue him!

- You remember the binder (from s1) that Mike keeps, filled with 100s of Will’s drawings, and how he caresses the drawing after thinking Will was dead. That’s totes platonic.

s2

- Will in all 3 seasons identifies as a wizard. But in s2 Mike (the paladin) says Will is a cleric. Meaning this reflects how Mike actually feels about Will. In d&d, they have similar moral values, powers, and generally need and depend on each other in the lore of d&d. Paladins have similar healing powers to clerics, but clerics have stronger healing abilities - which is interesting since Mike has always been viewed as the protector. But to Mike Will has helped him (maybe deal with the loss of El and other trauma) , just by being there. And if Mike says Will is a cleric,despite Will still identifying as a wizard in s3, it shows how deeply Mike actually feels about Will. It shows he views Will as one of the only people who understands him and views him as a healing presence and his moral compass.

“ strength of conviction gave many paladins a sense of common fellowship but did not always endear them to others. In many cases, paladins did not get along quite as well with other non-paladin adventurers, with the exception of clerics with similar beliefs.”

“A Paladin tries to hold to the highest standards of conduct, but even the most virtuous Paladin is fallible. Sometimes the heat of emotion causes a Paladin to transgress his or her oath (of honesty, courage, compassion, honor ,and duty). A paladin who has broken a vow typically seeks absolution from a cleric who shares his or her faith or from another paladin of the same order. After a rite of confession and forgiveness, the paladin starts fresh.

-Mike stands next to Will under the rainbow poster

- Mike forces Will to dance with a girl, but you literally see Mike’s shocked expression like  ‘what,why’d I do that ?’ And after this, they show Dustin looking sad about Max/Lucas dancing and then they have Mike get into the frame (next to Dustin) and look sad when Will/girl are dancing in the same exact frame as Max/Lucas. As they switch between these 2 shots.

- All the mileven byler parallels or byler scenes were almost ALL initiated by Mike. If the parallels were meant to show a one sided love triangle (on Mike’s end). They would of made Will the instigator not Mike! Parallels can be watched here , start at 6:50)

-Mike initiated the “crazy together’ line- and in s3 he said ‘blank makes you crazy’. So subconsciously he knew the line had romantic connotations.

-Mike initiating the hand hold (with a zoom in shot) and in the show this is only done for romantic pairings. Also Mike being the one to initiate the ‘arm thing’ which is generally romantic. But in s3 , Lucas also does this, saying “I am spending quality time with my girlfriend’

-Mike saying, asking him to be his friend was the “best thing I’ve ever done”

-Mike constantly following Will around, asking if he’s okay or biking to his house to check on him. In s3 running out to chase Will to the garage and apologizing, and running into a storm to apologize a 2nd time.

YOU SEE A PATTERN! Mike is whipped! And is the one constantly chasing and pursuing Will, not the other way around! Before s3, people always portrayed Will as the (stereotypical- problematic trope of ) a sad-pinning-gay in a one sided love with Mike. It’s like people didn’t even watch the show (and just assigned tropes/stereotypes they wanted, that weren’t actually there). Will (probably too shy or scared to- because of homophobic taunts) never initiated a single byler moment- it was ALWAYS Mike!!! If people were actually objective, they would of thought it was Mike who was the one pinning! I talked about it here. 

We literally only saw Will pine or be jealous in s3 when Mike was in a relationship with El/when they fought.  

The cannon Spotify playlists

called ‘Mike’s basement beats’- These are character playlists that Spotify and St worked on together after s2.

-his first song is “small town boy” an 80s LGBT anthem about living in a small town and being queer and bullied. Every band member was openly gay.

-his 11th song is ‘don’t you want me’ from a “celebrate your gay pride” album

S3

I’m not repeating my literal essays so here are the links to pretty much all my s3 byler meta.  (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

- brief s3 mentions) it’s implied Will and Mike go on movie double dates all the time (right after he makes out with El). He celebrates the holidays (generally associated with introducing s.os) with Will/El. The breakup with El is treated comedically - and all Mike does is complain and burp on the couch. The byler breakup is serious (with the backdrop of rain)while Mike was visibly upset he hurt Will and apologized twice almost immediately . Running to the garage and then into the rain and banging on his door (s2 callback). The “it was the best thing I’ve ever done “ shed scene was shot purposely more romantic than the pool shed scene of “you’re the most important thing in the world to me”. The fact he think “blank makes you crazy”,and he used a similar line on Will in s2. The fact that Mike equates falling in love with girls as a part of growing up and his love for El as something “old people” say. While his affections for Will , he believes are childish (like d&d) and something he has to grow out of. The “I love her” scene was treated comedically. The last Mike/Will exchange vs Mike having his eyes open and not kissing El back . Not remembering he said “I love her”, and dismissing it as something he said in the heat of the moment. Mike looking back at the Byers house , then flashing to Will crying, than flashing back to Mike hugging his mom. Then those scenes having a monologue about not wanting feelings to change but how it’s inevitable.

Also we see in s3 (in El’s room) the return of the heart being propelled by a rainbow.

No hate, but I’m honestly flabbergasted when people think Mike is straight when he’s literally MORE queer coded than Will. Is it just my autistic brain seeing things as obvious, that others easily miss- or just people refuse to see it … or heteronormativity getting in the way?

gif credit : (not sure about the first 2, tell me if they’re yours so I can give credit), last 3 by  eggogorgon , the last gif by cath-avery

[mcheang]

Shadow And Bone episode 6 recap

Spoiler alert

Kirigan interrogates the Conductor. With the help of Ivan to detect his (unconvincing) lies, Kirigan deduces his identity. Yeah, he’s not happy that the man smuggles Grisha out of his palace and desert Ravka. Oooh, turns out Nina wasn’t on the Conductor’s side, she was spying on him for Kirigan. Nice. I would have felt bad for the Conductor about this betrayal, but after seeing him kill Marie...plus, he isn’t the decent man I thought of at first impression. Turns out this man has some inner steel, and general sliminess. After Kirigan correctly deduces his plan with the Crows, the Conductor admits he was hired for a bigger bounty to kill Alina. He tries to escape punishment by offering to spy on General Zlatan...for a price. WTH that’s a lousy offer to escape punishment. Kirigan kills the Conductor by choking him with shadows. Did not know he could do that. How can shadow choke a person? Also, nice hand movements, General. This is one of my favorite scenes, minus the death part, because we see how the Grisha operate as soldiers beyond the battlefield.

Also Arken is a lousy liar. He was caught in an oprichnik uniform and still claimed to be an entertainer... not to mention Genya survived to give witness

Alina escapes the locked trunk and the Crows. Can’t say i blame them, they are not exactly friendly. Inej lets her escape, actually smiling as she does so. Woohoo!

Inej’s smile

Fedyor reports about Nina’s recent capture and is sent to find her alone. Yikes. Maybe bring some back up if she’s near the Fjerdan border???

Nina and Mattias survive on a floating piece of wood. They reluctantly agree to work together because he can swim them to shore and she can keep them warm.

The crows try to find Alina in vain. Kaz accuses Inej of saving her saint, which will end with them penniless and no more Crow Club for nothing. Can’t blame him for getting angry. But go Inej!

Uh oh, turns out Zoya has a history with Kirigan... she wasn’t just a girl with a crush. She was his actual lover...wow. Awkward. And anyway, after somewhat incorrect but not entirely conjecture that Alina left on her own, Kirigan rejects Zoya. Dude...maybe you should have made that clearer way earlier!!!! Zoya is not happy being dumped. Anyway her accusation about Alina is clearly based on jealousy, but Kirigan identifies with Alina’s struggles.

Nina and Mattias wash up on Fjerdan shores. Seems like it. Nina can also speak fluently in 6 languages.

Alina is suspected for her Shu heritage but she blinds the soldier who tries to take her captive, and punches the other. She flees into the woods and is located by Mal.

Nina and Mattias take refuge in an abandoned shelter. To get warm, they have to strip. Nina is more practical. Mattias is not, but he eventually agrees to share body warmth and let Nina warm him with her powers. And I can’t blame Nina for getting stunned speechless by Mattias.

Alina and Mal learn that they did write to each other but never got the letters. Alina reveals she was unaware that she was Grisha, that she sabotaged her exam so she wouldn’t get taken away. Alina is disappointed that Baghra is telling the truth when she realizes Kirigan stole her stag drawings from her journal.

Apparently Fjerdan has expectations for women to be modest housekeepers and the men to be fighters. Nina is not impressed.

General Kirigan, David, Ivan, the dead Inferni’s twin Polina and Zoya have arrived at the Crows’ current location, using their stolen carriage as a clue. Said carriage was also booby trapped to explode and alert the Crows that their time is up. They enter the streets but Inej’s knife makes her identifiable to a vengeful Polina.

Splitting up was Kaz’s idea. Jesper knows better than to enter Ivan’s sight and tries hitting through his bulletproof kefta, enjoying a challenge. It doesn’t hurt that he is a Fabrikator either...maybe that had helped...but the presence of a child woken by their fight makes Jesper spare Ivan.

Polina fights Inej and wounds her. Inej gives Polina a possibly fatal blow but tries to spare her life. Upon hearing Polina swear vengeance, Inej makes the blow certainly fatal and leaves. Yeah, Polina wasn’t thinking clearly... I understand her rage, but maybe try not to give your opponent more incentive to kill you?

Zoya fails to find Kaz. Kirigan does not. Kaz mocks the Darkling by saying Alina left on her own, no longer desiring to be his captive. Wow...Kirigan honestly looks hurt by this. And he’s going to kill Kaz. Even if he doesn’t have useful information, he did provoke them first. Kaz escapes the Cut via flashbomb.

With Inej wounded, the Crows settle for stealing Kirigan’s carriage, knocking out David in the process. Wow...you really want Kirigan vengeful, don’t you? Anyway, David promises he can track Alina via the ring Genya gave her. Try to use nicer compliments than useful, please Kirigan!

Alina tries to help heal the wounds Baghra’s oprichnik gave Mal. Yeah, pretty sure she would not be so grateful to Baghra if she knew the woman tried to kill her first love. Alina decides to head after the stag so she can destroy the Fold.

Mattias admits he is softening towards Nina and even saves her life when he could have let her die. They introduce themselves with names. It is here that I have fallen for Mattias.

Alina realizes that using Grisha powers makes them healthy and is how Kirigan is so old. Mal doesn’t want to know about what she did with Aleksander but just wants her safe. Aw.

Kirigan interrogates the soldier Alina punched, confirming she fled north into the woods. He also reveals that a tracker (Mal) came looking for Alina. Kirigan realizes Mal and Alina are probably reunited and is NOT happy. He also deduces she is hunting the stag. (Actually the direction she fled in was pure chance since she only just decided to hunt it)

David’s hand-raising moment is the funniest. The Darkling and Ivan are like, what are you doing? Lol

Seeing Zoya’s relationship with Kirigan. I am actually on her side here. The Darkling dumped her just because Alina came along. Maybe it was a physical relationship only, but Kirigan shouldn’t have just ended things like that. Though, granted it definitely was not serious if Zoya was willing to sleep with Mal...

While Kirigan doesn’t have feelings for Zoya and sees David as a useful Durast, he does care for his Grisha, sending out Fedyor to save Nina even while he is occupied about Alina, as well as allowing Polina her chance at vengeance. He is also noticeably upset that Alina has truly run from him, and also her reunion with Mal. He’s hurt by the former and angry about the latter.

And Alina saying Baghra was right...did you hope she was lying?

What did the Darkling say in Siege and Storm? That killing gets easier? This seems true for Inej. She killed the inferni instead of knocking him out to save Kaz. She killed Polina rather than risk her vengeance. She can kill to save others, but not to procure her own freedom.

I like Ivan in this episode. Frankly the Crows vs Grisha fight was awesome!

And did you see the book David was reading? XD

[ucflibrary]

Weekend Watching helps close out Diversity Week at UCF with a look at a disparate group of artists challenging norms in South Africa.

~

Johannesburg (Ian Forster, 2018)

Four artists—Robin Rhode, Zanele Muholi, David Goldblatt, and Nicholas Hlobo—are featured in the "Johannesburg" episode of PBS's Art in the Twenty-First Century, each with their own unique story and unique approach to art. Each as well are trying to make sense of a diverse South Africa that still has Apartheid as part of its recent history. Taken individually, each of the four artists here create amazing and varied works.  But looked on as artists in dialogue with one another, we can see the larger tapestry of not only the art scene in Johannesburg, but the life in and history of the city itself.

Rhode says outright that producing art is easy, the difficult part is surviving day-to-day life. And his contribution to his community is made more explicit by the fact he employs so many of the people in his neighborhood. We see him talk to a couple of kids on the street and they end up helping him paint for the project he's working on during this documentary. Conversely, he's also mentioned that some of his assistants have disappeared and a couple are in jail. There is a stark contrast, that Rhode himself acknowledges, between the large comfortable space that is his studio and the dangerous street corners where he can often be found creating his wall pieces.

It's these same people that are the subject—or, rather, "participants" as she prefers to call them—of Muholi's photographs. Muholi laments that often the only time real people are worth photographing are when it is attached to tragedy. That's why she often points her camera back at herself and the people she knows. For when would the world get to see them otherwise?

Goldblatt's photography differs in some ways from Muholi's in that it also heavily focuses on setting, the land and structures of Johannesburg. He sees buildings as value systems, describing the way the architecture of the city reflected the inherent values of Apartheid. When his pieces started to focus on the people that were being affected by his values, he cancelled a contract to show a collection of pieces when it was up for consideration that those works would be censored for being too offensive.

Hlobo too created performance pieces that were meant not only to reflect but confront the realities of this community. He believes part of art is inflicting pain in order to heal: "As an artist you should be the one who sings off key." His wonderful piece shown in the documentary uses the domestic art of sewing to draw lines between it and colonization, conflating ideas of creation and destruction.

I've thought a lot recently about the direct impact of art. Individual works in any media are rarely ever "important" to the broader society, I think. Sure, they may advance that particular art form and are therefore vital to the medium itself. But rarely did a single novel or movie or painting change the course of history. The importance lies in the existence of the art itself, how it collectively powers a culture forward at the same time reflecting it. How it provides a space for people's expression and helps define and explore a community's identity. If nothing else, the art of these four individuals—and many others—certainly proves that.

Johannesburg (2018) is available through Films On Demand.

[fillystick]

week 9 and 10 lecture

NIE WIEDER KRIEG!!! NO MORE WAR – ACT NOW – Urban street art sticker

RESPECT MY EXISTENCE OR EXPECT MY RESISTANCE - Urban street art sticker 

photos from Markus Spiske 

I was catching up on past lectures when I realized week 10′s content ties back to what is happening in the US right now, which made me decide to create my cover photo in relations to the event. 

My intention is to pay my respect- as well as acknowledge- the rights of the community that is in pain at the moment, and reflect on ways of improvement when it comes to racial equality.  

knowing that design is closely related to activism really gave me a new perspective, which is the power of design: the fact that we can make a difference by creating, expressing, and voicing an opinion. Design is so much more than just making a profit, it is a tool that comes with great responsibility and potential. Learning how to utilize it to spread importance is what I shall be thinking in my future years. 

---------------- 

WEEK 9

PUNK: a counter-cultural movement

PUNK DESIGN, A SUMMARY: despise typesetter, prefer DIY

collage-style 1: ripping up and starting again

Takes a commercial image and repurposes it for revolutionary purposes.

collage-style 2: the use of stencils

stencils had frequently been used for their ease of use and acquisition, their association with the underground through graffiti, denoting something raw and urban, as well as its nature as simply being flawed by design. 

zines: using illegible and garish styles to shock the viewer out of apathy, the punk movement gave little thought to the commonly perceived ‘good’ design practices.

parody and politics: using images from a media-saturated culture for a new purpose, they meant to trigger recognition in the viewer and include them on the subversive in-joke.

All ripped up: Punk influences on graphic design

MALCOLM MCLAREN: A multi-talented man

promoter and manager of bands the New York Dolls and the Sex Pistols

he was one of the first white music producers to bring hip-hop to a wider audience and one of the first to popularise world music in the west

partnership with fashion designer Vivienne Westwood: SEX

In a new, in-depth biography, Paul Gorman offers a vivid portrait of the postmodernist impresario who conjured up punk’s angry pose, the Sex Pistols, and much more.

Malcolm McLaren's Life of Chaos, Music, and Art

JAMIE REID Jamie Reid’s artworks

 A GUIDE FOR ANYONE WANTING TO DO IT THEIR WAY, FROM REID:

Destroy Your Computer: The more we get drawn into this mad digital world, the more we lose contact with each other. “Most jobs are about enslavement, break free if you can”

Study Art: If I hadn’t gone to Croydon I would never have met Malcolm McLaren, not just for what he did with the Pistols but for everything else he did. The irony is that neither Malcolm or I would have got into Croydon if it was today. What does that tell you about what’s happened to our education system?

Have a Sense of Humour

Learn from the Past

Look to the Future: Radical ideas will always get appropriated by the mainstream, people in authority lack the ability to be creative, and they rob everything they can. you have to keep moving on to new things. 

Iconic Punk Artist Jamie Reid Has Some Advice for Young Creatives

XEROGRAPHY ART: is an art form that began in the 1960s. Prints are created by putting objects on the glass, or platen, of a copying machine and by pressing "start" to produce an image.

What Happens When a Photocopy Machine Becomes an Art Tool?

MEMPHIS DESIGN (MILAN 1980’S): its aesthetic embodies the 1980s

Simple geometric shapes; flat colours combined in bold, contrasting palettes; stylised graphic patterns defined by black-and-white stripes and abstract squiggles – these are the ingredients of Memphis-inspired design, fuelled by influences from earlier movements such as Pop Art and Art Deco.

10 iconic examples of Memphis design

ETTORE SOTTSASS: One of the most influential and important figures of the last century, Architect and Designer, founded the Memphis group In 1981, a group that has radically changed the scenario of Italian and world design.

Ettore Sottsass’ works

DAVID CARSON: RAYGUN   David Carson design

David Carson’s deconstructed style for Ray Gun, was very much a design aesthetic that blurred the lines of visual communication and challenged its readers to interpret the text in their own way. Much like the youths that he targeted throughout the 90s, they were rule breakers themselves that rebelled against society. His use of non-hierarchical text and visually complex, layered compositions, spoke ‘their language.’ 

“I’ve never used grids; I still don’t. I never studied or learned about them, and when I did I saw no reason to use them.”

STREET PRESS ANALYSIS: RAY GUN COVER — David Carson, Anti-grid Design Icon David Carson Says Computers Make You Lazy, Contextual Studies: David Carson

NEVILLE BRODY: THE FACE

The Face, drawing freely for his visually exciting layouts and typography on avant-garde artistic ideas. Brody was thoughtful to the construction of its layouts, with blocks of texts often placed horizontally or vertically on the page, the layouts contrasting strikingly with hand-mediated imagery and photography. Such ideas exerted a significant international impact on the appearance of the magazine, advertising, and retailing design.

POST 14 – 1980's – 'The Face' Neville Brody – Monique

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

WEEK 10 

MIMMO ROTELLA 

'With a Smile', Mimmo Rotella, 1962

Mimmo Rotella - 324

ROBERT RAUSCENBERG

Robert Rauschenberg 1925–2008

JACEK TYLICKI

Jacek Tylicki Art and Artworks

FISCHLI & WEISS 

Fischli & Weiss: Flowers & Questions. A Retrospective – Exhibition at Tate Modern

GILBERT BAKER: RAINBOW FLAG

“Our job as gay people was to come out, to be visible, to live in the truth, as I say, to get out of the lie. A flag really fit that mission, because that’s a way of proclaiming your visibility or saying, ‘This is who I am!’” 

Baker saw the rainbow as a natural flag from the sky, so he adopted eight colors for the stripes, each color with its own meaning (hot pink for sex, red for life, orange for healing, yellow for sunlight, green for nature, turquoise for art, indigo for harmony, and violet for spirit).

How Did the Rainbow Flag Become a Symbol of LGBTQ Pride?

FLAG IN DESIGN: the lecture talked about how flags influence to power of design, this is an interesting article of how flags can go beyond the rules of design, but still make it work.

7 fantastic flags that break every design rule

ACTIVISTS (ADBUSTER, TIBOR KALMAN, GUERRILA GIRLS, BENETTON: COLORS MAGAZINE)

A Review of COLORS

“Oliviero Toscani and Tibor Kalman launched “a magazine about the rest of the world” for United Colors of Benetton in 1991. It seems only fitting that an unconventional title like this should be documented in an unconventional way.” 

“Toscani wanted a magazine without any stars, without any celebrities, and without any news. He decided they’d interview people nobody knew, and they’d use the internet to find stories. This approach- a combination of dynamic graphics, striking photographic imagery, provocative themes, and an unwaveringly global outlook—has become familiar to magazine readers now, they hope to firmly establish COLORS’ status as the founder not only of today’s independent magazines, but of mainstream media as well.”

SHEPARD FAIREY: HOPE POSTER   Visual Analysis of Shepard Fairey's 'Hope'

Color: Red, blue and beige are representative of the American flag, illustrating his patriotism. Blue help to define his features, the beige on his face might be to say that race doesn’t matter.  

Typography: provides the concept that the poster is trying to communicate. HOPE’s typeface used is Gotham, a strong slab sans serif, the use of Gotham in this work creates a sense of authority and a bold assertive statement in which there is no uncertainty. These clean letterforms grab the viewers’ attention and makes a statement, permitting for maximum legibility and objectivity.

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.20

Hook’s Dreamscape. Storybrooke. The Jolly Roger. (While Hook examines Excalibur, Mr. Gold climbs aboard the ship.) Hook: (Sheathing the sword:) “I wasn't sure you'd show.” Mr. Gold: “And miss my chance to take your other hand?” Hook: “No, this won't do. This has to be a fair fight. I can't have your surviving family members blame this loss on your limp.” (Hook uses his Dark One powers to heal Mr. Gold’s leg.) Mr. Gold: (Tossing his cane away:) “It's been centuries since I stood here a mortal.” Hook: “Oh, you mean when I took Milah? I remember thinking that day, what type of sad little man is too afraid to fight for his own wife?” Mr. Gold: “Yeah, well, I'm not afraid anymore. I know I have to fight for the people I love.” Hook: “Don't you mean die for the people you love?” (Draws Excalibur.) Mr. Gold: “We shall see.” (Mr. Gold attacks first and the duel is on. They are pretty evenly matched until Hook side steps Mr. Gold and the older man falls down the steps. Advancing with powerful thrusts, Hook eventually brings Mr. Gold to a knee. Then, suddenly, Mr. Gold thrusts his sword into Hook’s stomach, impaling him.) Hook: “Oh! (Chuckles:) We can do this all day. But until you have Excalibur, it won't make a lick of difference. (Killian uses his hook to cut into Mr. Gold as he pushes him away:) They say the first cut is the deepest. Well, they lied. (Stands over Gold, pointing Excalibur at him:) Well, I have to hand it to you, Crocodile. You lasted a lot longer than I expected. If you'd fought me with such vigor back in the day, I might have given you your wife back.” Darkness: “What are you waiting for, pirate? Finish him.” (Mr. Gold uses Hook being distracted to let loose a sandbag, which hits Hook from above. Mr. Gold grabs Excalibur and stands over Killian.) Hook: “Well, get on with it, Crocodile.” Mr. Gold: “There's nothing I'd like better than to run you through. But I think... I think I'd rather let you live, knowing for the rest of your life that I bested you.” Hook: “Today.” (Hook disappears in a red puff of smoke, while Mr. Gold throws the sword to the ground.)

Storybrooke. Present. Morning. (Awakened by the sunlight pouring through the curtains, Emma groans and rolls over, reaching out a hand for Regina. Feeling only sheets, Emma lifts her head in time to see her wife returning to their room carrying a tray of food.) Regina: (Smiling:) "Breakfast in bed." Emma: "Hey, I should be doing that." Regina: "Well you can get it next time. Here." (Taking the tray, Emma places it at the foot of the bed before helping Regina lower herself back against the pillows.) Emma: (Bringing the tray laden with food back up:) "This looks delicious." Regina: (Smiles:) "Now that neither of us have anywhere to be, I thought I'd do something special." Emma: (Taking a bite of toast:) "Yeah, but now I feel like such a- Ooh, I know. Move over a little." (With some maneuvering, Regina finds herself sitting in the middle of the bed while Emma puts one of her pillows under her feet.) Regina: "Emma, what-" Emma: "Foot rub! The book mentioned something about them." Regina: (Chuckles:) "No, I mentioned it. Several times actually." Emma: "Yeah, well now I'm taking the hint. (Begins massaging the soles of Regina's feet:) Hows that?" Regina: "Wonderful. (Groans:) You know, foot rubs are good for anytime, not just during pregnancy." Emma: "Is that so?" Regina: (Enjoying the attention:) "Mmhmm." Emma: "Great, so you can do mine next." (They share a smile, Regina buttering her own slice of toast.) Regina: "Henry's not home. His bed wasn't slept in either. I'm not sure I like him spending so much time in the dream world. We don't know what he's doing in there." Emma: "I do." Regina: "You do?" Emma: (Casually rubbing her wife's feet:) "Yep. I knew you'd be curious sooner or later, so I asked him." Regina: "And?" Emma: "Well, he didn't tell me any specifics, but he's basically living out his fantasies. Sword fighting, danger, romance, adventure. Being the hero in his own story. Who knows, maybe he finally kissed the girl." Regina: (Sitting up:) "Girl? What girl?" Emma: "Um, well he didn't say anything, but I kinda got the impression there's a girl involved. Hey, relax, it's not like-" Regina: "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything, and keep rubbing." Henry's Dreamscape. Dungeons. The Next Morning. (Ella stands over a still slumbering Henry.) Ella: "Good morning, sunshine." Henry: (Turning towards her:) "Ow. (Holding his head:) Hi." Prisoners: (Also standing over him:) "How are you?" Henry: “Oh, God. Ow.” Ella: “Rough night?” Henry: (Sitting up:) “I don't remember what happened.” Jester: “You said her pretty brain exploded and went all over her face. And you tried to kiss her.” Henry: (Sighs:) “Well, that's the least of our problems. I think I might have ruined our only chance, and now I don't know what to do.”

Gareth: (Entering:) “Good thing I do. (To Richard:) Wake up, sire. We've come to get you out of here.” King Richard: (Rising from his bed:) “Oh, God. (Stands:) Well, I knew you cared.” Gareth: (To guard:) “Take him outside.” King Richard: “This place is horrible.” Ella: “All right, everyone, take only the bare essentials. We can always pick up odds and ends on the road.” Gareth: “None of you are coming, except you.” Henry: “What?” Gareth: “You're coming with me.” Henry: “I'm not going anywhere, not without everyone in here.” Gareth: (Grabbing his arm:) “You don't have a choice, son.” (Quickly, Henry kicks Gareth in the gut, then slams his head into the cell door, knocking him down.) Henry: (To Ella:) “Listen, I remember what I said last night, and I meant every word. I think you're the most wonderful... (Ella kisses him:) I think I'm falling in love.” (Suddenly, Gareth hits him from behind with a chair.) Gareth: (To Ella:) “Nice kiss. I hope he remembers it. Come on, you.” Ella: (As Gareth drags an unconscious Henry from the dungeons:) “Henry, no! Please, Gareth!” Hook's Dreamscape. (Hook stands alone at the edge of the water, staring out at the lake when the Darkness joins him.) Darkness: "So, after spending centuries quelling your bloodlust, you threw yourself right back into that darkness, quite literally, for your chance at revenge. How did it feel? Oh, that's right, you failed. (Giggles:) Even with the power of the Darkness you couldn't get the job done!" Hook: "Quiet!" Darkness: "Oh, no no no, dearie. Now is the time for you to be listening to me. Because you see, if you can't bring yourself to kill your enemy now, in a dream world, where none of it matters, then how can you possibly think you're incapable of change?" Hook: (Turning to him:) "What?" Darkness: "All of this is happening inside your head. You should be able to do whatever you desire. And yet, you couldn't kill your Crocodile. Could it be then, that what you crave more than retribution, is a chance to atone for your past?" Hook: "I can't bring my father back... or David's. Nor any of the countless men I killed on my quest for revenge." Darkness: "No, but there is someone in this world you can help. And, perhaps in doing so, it will allow you to embrace your own future, free from the shadows of your past."

Storybrooke. Present. Heritage Park. (Strolling through the park, Regina and Emma walk hand in hand towards a bench and take a seat. Watching as Regina kicks off her heels and sighs in relief, Emma chuckles.) Emma: "Don't you own any comfortable shoes?" Regina: "What, and have you tower over me more than you already do?" Emma: "It can't be good for you or the baby." Regina: (Curling her toes, wincing:) "It wasn't mentioned in the book." Emma: "Yeah, because the guy probably didn't think anyone was crazy enough to wear heels while pregnant." Regina: "Oh hush. There was no way I was going to visit the leaders of the united realms while wearing Uggs." Emma: "Who the hell cares what shoes you wear?" Regina: "I do." Emma: (Sighs, smiling:) "I don't get why you had to go see them anyway, Snow's in charge now." Regina: (Snorts:) "Emma, please. Letting your mother deal with the day to day running of Storybrooke is one thing, but sending her to speak to other realm leaders is entirely different. One morning spent with the council of Lost Boys and Snow would've signed away half the town to them." Emma: "Hey, mom can be tough when she needs to. She kicked your butt pretty good back in the Enchanted Forest." Regina: "She got lucky." Emma: "Uh huh." Regina: "The point is, now that we've spoken to most of the leaders, it's one less thing for your mother to worry about." Emma: "Sure, and that's why you did it. Nothing at all to do with you being a control freak." Regina: "Well exactly. Mostly." (They laugh.) Emma: "You know, I'm glad we get to take this time for ourselves. I mean, once the baby arrives, we're not gonna have a heck of a lot of down time." Regina: "True. Juggling Henry and work was no picnic, even though having the townspeople under a curse did help a little." Emma: "Yeah, well there'll be two of us to share the load this time. No need to curse anyone." Regina: "Just wait till the 2am feedings, you'll be cursing all right." Emma: (Laughs:) "I'm sure. Until then, I think we both need to learn to let go and relax a little." Regina: "Maybe. But for right now, I need to eat something, I'm starving." Emma: "Hm, me too." Regina: "Any suggestions?" Emma: "Actually, yeah. (With a wave of her hand, Emma transports them to a table outside the Rollin' Bayou food truck:) I thought we could learn from someone who leads her people, but still finds time to do what she enjoys most." Tiana: (Approaching with a tray of fresh beignets:) "Hey guys!" Emma: (As Tiana places the tray on their table:) "Thank you. Tiana, please tell Regina what it's like to rule Wonderland and still find time to follow your passion." Tiana: (Chuckles:) "Well it wasn't easy. Back when I was little, all I ever wanted to do was cook. I worked so hard to start my own business, then when my father died, my mother and I were threatened with losing everything, so my priorities changed." Emma: (Smiling as Regina starts on her second helping:) "So what changed for you?" Tiana: "Family. When Will and Alice came into my life, I realised that I could have it all. I could rule Wonderland alongside Will, who really knew the people, had a connection with them. And while Will was helping, along with my mother, in matters of state, Alice was helping me with my food dream too." Regina: "Point well made, Emma. (To Tiana:) I'm so glad your dream worked out for you, because these are delicious." Tiana: (Smiles, watching Regina pick up her third beignet:) "Thank you, Regina." Emma: (Smirking:) "Do you think I could get one of those?" Regina: (Through a mouthful:) "Only if you're quick." (As Emma quickly takes one from the tray, Tiana turns and heads back to her kitchen to make another batch.)

Henry's Dreamscape. (Henry is thrown down onto the beach.) Henry: "What's this? Where am I?" Gareth: "These pirates will take you and the king back to his kingdom, where he'll be safe.” King Richard: “What? No.” Henry: “I'm not leaving her. I'm going back.” Gareth: (Blocking his path:) “I've left word with my men. You step one foot in that castle and everyone you love gets the ax. No more games, Henry.” King Richard: “Listen, Gareth, I'm moved, but I've made my bed, and for once, I should lie in it.” Gareth: “You get in that boat.” King Richard: “Oh, Gareth. I know you're doing this because you love me.” Gareth: “I don't love you. I don't even like you. No one here likes you, so go.” King Richard: “Well, now you're just being mean to me so I'll go.” Gareth: “You're self-centered, self-absorbed, and you wear too much velvet.” King Richard: “Now you're just going into a lot of specific details, so I'll believe you.” Gareth: “You have a skinny left calf and a crooked...” King Richard: “Okay, okay, fine. I'll go. But you're not fooling anyone.” Gareth: (To Henry:) “Go on. And you.” Henry: “Not one hair.” Gareth: “I give you my word.” Henry: “And know this... I will return for them. Justice will be done.” Gareth: “I'm excited for you, but let me give you a couple of instructions. He can't sleep at night if he ain't got a second pillow to hug. Dairy makes him gassy. And if he gets cross, give him some salty snacks. It's good for his electrolytes. But if one hair on his head gets harmed, I will hunt you down, I will gut you, and I will use your skin as a lap blanket. Do you understand?” Henry: “We have a deal. (Gareth and Henry clasp each other’s forearms in a warrior’s handshake. He turns, walking towards the boat where Richard is already seated:) So who’s captaining this vessel anyway?” Hook: (Revealing himself for the first time:) “Why, that’d be me, lad.” Henry: (Shocked:) “Hook? How did you get here?” Hook: “There’ll be plenty of time for explanations later. (To the crew:) All right, shove off, me hearties.” Pirates: “Arrr!” Gareth: (Watching from shore as they sail away:) ♪ Good night, my friend ♪ Kingdom of Valencia. Throne Room. (Queen Madelena and Kingsley enter as several guards hurry back and forth.) Queen Madelena: “What in God's name is going on here?!” Guard: “Henry and King Richard have gone. We don't know where they are.” Kingsley: “Find them or I'll eat your firstborn for breakfast.” Queen Madelena: (As Gareth enters:) “He's behind this. I know it. Where have you been?” Gareth: “I'm sorry, milady, I must have slept in.” Queen Madelena: “Oh, really? Well, why don't you help yourself wake up by going down to the dungeon and killing everyone who's left?” Gareth: “Okay. It will be my pleasure.” Courtyard. (Gareth opens the doors, leading Ella and the other prisoners to safety.) Gareth: “Okay, here's the plan. One of you is gonna knock me out and take my keys.” Ella: “What? You're not going to kill us?” Gareth: “I keep my promises, and I promised your little lover boy that I'd take care of you. So who's first? Come on. (One by one, the remaining prisoners to knock out Gareth, without success. Sighs:) Just take the keys and go.”

Storybrooke. Present. (It’s early morning and Emma and Regina are driving in the rain to their next doctors appointment.) Emma: “Ugh. Why did we have to get an appointment so early?” Regina: “Because it won’t be as busy at the hospital and it’s our best chance that Whale won’t be drunk yet.” Emma: “We really need another doctor.” Regina: “Well maybe your mother can add that to her list of-” (Suddenly, Emma slams on the brakes to avoid hitting a knight on a horse at the intersection.) Emma: (Rolling down her window, shouting:) “I had right of way, jackoff!” Regina: “Maybe Grumpy had a point after all.” (Just then, she looks up sees a man standing at the corner of the street. Regina cannot believe her eyes.) Regina: “Daniel?” (She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, Daniel is gone.) Emma: “Are you all right?” Regina: “I-I’m fine. Let’s go.” Henry’s Dreamscape. Kingdom Of Valencia. Throne Room. (Gareth returns to the throne room, where Kingsley and Madelena await him.) Queen Madelena: “Gareth, did you kill everyone who needed to be killed?” Gareth: “No, milady.” Kingsley: “What kind of kingdom are you running here? (Stands and approaches Gareth:) A henchman that doesn't kill, a queen who does nothing about it. (Draws his sword:) This place has gone soft...” (These words turn out to be Kingsley’s last, as he is literally stabbed in the back by Madelena.) Queen Madelena: (Wiping her dagger clean:) “Turns out he wasn't my type. (Gareth takes the sword from Kingsley’s cold, dead hand:) You just got a promotion. (Indicating the throne next to her:) Sit.” Gareth: (Taking his seat:) “You're gonna have to either lose or gain a lot of weight.” (Madelena smiles and they both watch as Kingsley’s body is carried out of the room.)

[araitsume]

The Desire of Ages, pp. 43-49: Chapter (4) Unto You a Saviour

This chapter is based on Luke 2:1-20.

The King of glory stooped low to take humanity. Rude and forbidding were His earthly surroundings. His glory was veiled, that the majesty of His outward form might not become an object of attraction. He shunned all outward display. Riches, worldly honor, and human greatness can never save a soul from death; Jesus purposed that no attraction of an earthly nature should call men to His side. Only the beauty of heavenly truth must draw those who would follow Him. The character of the Messiah had long been foretold in prophecy, and He desired men to accept Him upon the testimony of the word of God.

The angels had wondered at the glorious plan of redemption. They watched to see how the people of God would receive His Son, clothed in the garb of humanity. Angels came to the land of the chosen people. Other nations were dealing in fables and worshiping false gods. To the land where the glory of God had been revealed, and the light of prophecy had shone, the angels came. They came unseen to Jerusalem, to the appointed expositors of the Sacred Oracles, and the ministers of God's house. Already to Zacharias the priest, as he ministered before the altar, the nearness of Christ's coming had been announced. Already the forerunner was born, his mission attested by miracle and prophecy. The tidings of his birth and the wonderful significance of his mission had been spread abroad. Yet Jerusalem was not preparing to welcome her Redeemer.

With amazement the heavenly messengers beheld the indifference of that people whom God had called to communicate to the world the light of sacred truth. The Jewish nation had been preserved as a witness that Christ was to be born of the seed of Abraham and of David's line; yet they knew not that His coming was now at hand. In the temple the morning and the evening sacrifice daily pointed to the Lamb of God; yet even here was no preparation to receive Him. The priests and teachers of the nation knew not that the greatest event of the ages was about to take place. They rehearsed their meaningless prayers, and performed the rites of worship to be seen by men, but in their strife for riches and worldly honor they were not prepared for the revelation of the Messiah. The same indifference pervaded the land of Israel. Hearts selfish and world-engrossed were untouched by the joy that thrilled all heaven. Only a few were longing to behold the Unseen. To these heaven's embassy was sent.

Angels attend Joseph and Mary as they journey from their home in Nazareth to the city of David. The decree of imperial Rome for the enrollment of the peoples of her vast dominion has extended to the dwellers among the hills of Galilee. As in old time Cyrus was called to the throne of the world's empire that he might set free the captives of the Lord, so Caesar Augustus is made the agent for the fulfillment of God's purpose in bringing the mother of Jesus to Bethlehem. She is of the lineage of David, and the Son of David must be born in David's city. Out of Bethlehem, said the prophet, “shall He come forth ... that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from the days of eternity.” Micah 5:2, margin. But in the city of their royal line, Joseph and Mary are unrecognized and unhonored. Weary and homeless, they traverse the entire length of the narrow street, from the gate of the city to the eastern extremity of the town, vainly seeking a resting place for the night. There is no room for them at the crowded inn. In a rude building where the beasts are sheltered, they at last find refuge, and here the Redeemer of the world is born.

Men know it not, but the tidings fill heaven with rejoicing. With a deeper and more tender interest the holy beings from the world of light are drawn to the earth. The whole world is brighter for His presence. Above the hills of Bethlehem are gathered an innumerable throng of angels. They wait the signal to declare the glad news to the world. Had the leaders in Israel been true to their trust, they might have shared the joy of heralding the birth of Jesus. But now they are passed by.

God declares, “I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground.” “Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness.” Isaiah 44:3; Psalm 112:4. To those who are seeking for light, and who accept it with gladness, the bright rays from the throne of God will shine.

In the fields where the boy David had led his flock, shepherds were still keeping watch by night. Through the silent hours they talked together of the promised Saviour, and prayed for the coming of the King to David's throne. “And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

At these words, visions of glory fill the minds of the listening shepherds. The Deliverer has come to Israel! Power, exaltation, triumph, are associated with His coming. But the angel must prepare them to recognize their Saviour in poverty and humiliation. “This shall be a sign unto you,” he says; “Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”

The heavenly messenger had quieted their fears. He had told them how to find Jesus. With tender regard for their human weakness, he had given them time to become accustomed to the divine radiance. Then the joy and glory could no longer be hidden. The whole plain was lighted up with the bright shining of the hosts of God. Earth was hushed, and heaven stooped to listen to the song,—“Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, good will toward men.”

Oh that today the human family could recognize that song! The declaration then made, the note then struck, will swell to the close of time, and resound to the ends of the earth. When the Sun of Righteousness shall arise, with healing in His wings, that song will be re-echoed by the voice of a great multitude, as the voice of many waters, saying, “Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.” Revelation 19:6.

As the angels disappeared, the light faded away, and the shadows of night once more fell on the hills of Bethlehem. But the brightest picture ever beheld by human eyes remained in the memory of the shepherds. “And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.”

Departing with great joy, they made known the things they had seen and heard. “And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God.”

Heaven and earth are no wider apart today than when shepherds listened to the angels’ song. Humanity is still as much the object of heaven's solicitude as when common men of common occupations met angels at noonday, and talked with the heavenly messengers in the vineyards and the fields. To us in the common walks of life, heaven may be very near. Angels from the courts above will attend the steps of those who come and go at God's command.

The story of Bethlehem is an exhaustless theme. In it is hidden ��the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God.” Romans 11:33. We marvel at the Saviour's sacrifice in exchanging the throne of heaven for the manger, and the companionship of adoring angels for the beasts of the stall. Human pride and self-sufficiency stand rebuked in His presence. Yet this was but the beginning of His wonderful condescension. It would have been an almost infinite humiliation for the Son of God to take man's nature, even when Adam stood in his innocence in Eden. But Jesus accepted humanity when the race had been weakened by four thousand years of sin. Like every child of Adam He accepted the results of the working of the great law of heredity. What these results were is shown in the history of His earthly ancestors. He came with such a heredity to share our sorrows and temptations, and to give us the example of a sinless life.

Satan in heaven had hated Christ for His position in the courts of God. He hated Him the more when he himself was dethroned. He hated Him who pledged Himself to redeem a race of sinners. Yet into the world where Satan claimed dominion God permitted His Son to come, a helpless babe, subject to the weakness of humanity. He permitted Him to meet life's peril in common with every human soul, to fight the battle as every child of humanity must fight it, at the risk of failure and eternal loss.

The heart of the human father yearns over his son. He looks into the face of his little child, and trembles at the thought of life's peril. He longs to shield his dear one from Satan's power, to hold him back from temptation and conflict. To meet a bitterer conflict and a more fearful risk, God gave His only-begotten Son, that the path of life might be made sure for our little ones. “Herein is love.” Wonder, O heavens! and be astonished, O earth!

[metawitches]

Episode 9, David, is the penultimate episode of season 3, but it actually feels like episodes 8, 9 and 10 are meant to be watched together as a trilogy, since they breathlessly flow from one to the next.

This season goes out with several bangs, beginning with this episode. It’s crazy and intense and will have you on the edge of your seat.

The episode begins in Shanghai, with a Traveler team infiltrating a dark building. Inside the building, they climb on top of a self-contained vault, similar to the archive in Seattle. Next, they wave a Geiger counter over the roof, then mark a spot with chalk. They drill through the metal of the vault, then lower a wire cable, hooked to a small tool, down to a device below. It’s a nuclear bomb, and they’re attempting to disarm it. The design for the bomb can be seen on a pad held by one of the Travelers.

Something goes wrong, and the bomb arms itself. The Travelers realize what’s happened, and try to run, but it’s too late. A nuclear bomb explodes in Shanghai, destroying the archive.

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In London, the nuclear blast from the end of episode 8 has created a firestorm that’s burning through the heart of the city.

As Philip and Carly watch the evening news and compare reports from London to what Philip saw in his vision, news of the Shanghai blast breaks.

It’s a little after 6:00 PM and Marcy still can’t find David, despite leaving voicemails. She goes to fill up the kettle to make tea, but is interrupted when she notices the bloody dish towel in the sink. (It’s covered in Archivist A-18’s blood.)

It’s a bad omen when either David or Marcy don’t get to finish making the tea.

Marcy turns on the David tracking device on her phone, which locates him immediately, despite there being no phone service in the vault. Strange.

Inside the archive, David draws a big breath and sits up, then scrambles back against a wall. He must have stopped breathing at some point. It looks like a war zone in the vault, complete with the dead body of A-18.

When he was shot, David was holding the bags of archivist blood, which is filled with medical/archivist nanites, in front of his chest. The bullets went through the bags, then through him, and he fell onto his back, with some of the bags still in his arms and blood soaked into his shirt. So, once he was lying down, the blood and nanites drained into his wounds, and the nanites got to work healing him. They are so powerful that they brought him back from the (mostly) dead.

The Shanghai team live-streamed the bomb op to their historian and other Traveler teams, so Philip has video showing the device schematics.

Trevor: “The devices went off exactly an hour apart, on the hour.”

When Philip pulls up the image of the device, Mac says that it looks like the Rothski device. Trevor notes that the device wasn’t supposed to be built for another 22 years. They agree that these bombs are being set off by the Faction.

They tell Mac that Philip saw a bomb go off in Seattle, too, at the same time that the bomb went off in London. Philip saw a projection from an alternate timeline, where the bombs went of in a different order. Mac says that the Faction stole enough uranium to make 4 or 5 nuclear bombs (S2 Ep6, U235). One of them must be in Seattle. He leaves to warn the FBI.

Marcy arrives at the old roller rink, with the “Historical Time of Explosion” countdown clock that’s appeared showing 31 minutes to detonation. Carly coms her to call her in to ops. Marcy says she’ll be there as soon as she can. Neither tells the other what’s going on.

Marcy pounds on the door of the archive and rouses David, then pushes the button on her com, and talks to him again. He startles, because suddenly, he can hear her in his head.

Being David, he assumes he’s dying.

He has a com, implanted by Marcy without telling him. Remember, back in season 3 episode 2 (Yates), when Marcy came home and found David asleep on his yoga mat? And she pulled out her auto-injector and injected him with something, under his left ear, where a com would be? It was a com.

She’s been using the com to track him all season. That’s how she knew about the fight over the bike, and how she knew he was buying a gun. That’s why she could find him, even in the vault. Future technology works in places cell phones don’t.

It’s both genius and a horrifying level of stalkery invasiveness. I have to ask again: Just what is going on in the future, that makes Marcy think this is okay? Is everyone chipped and monitored at all times?

Moving on, Marcy asks if he’s hurt. David says that, even though he got shot a bunch and is covered in blood, it doesn’t hurt the way you’d think it would. He tells her that he doesn’t think the blood is all his, because the room is filled with bags of blood. Marcy figures out that he’s in an archive.

David also says that it’s freezing cold in the archive.

So it is refrigerated, as you’d expect. Most of those cupboards that line the room are probably freezers.

David wants to go home and get into bed, because he’s cold and covered in blood and has bullet holes all over his shirt. He figures he’s either dreaming or he’s a zombie. He’d really prefer to be dreaming.

He could at least try the zombie lifestyle before rejecting it. Surely a transition as big as death calls for a little open-mindedness about change.

Marcy bursts his bubble, and explains about the healing nanites and the com in his neck.

The word “implanted” throws him, because that’s never a good thing, and he starts thinking about everything she could have been listening in on for the last few months. Marcy gets him to focus on the door, which has laser beams crisscrossing it. She tells him not to cross the beams. Now David is insulted. Every 21ster is practically born knowing not to cross the streams beams.

Since she can’t get him out of the archive, Marcy decides that it’s time to call in the rest of the team. David informs her that there’s also a big metal box in the room with him, that wasn’t there before.

Looks a lot like the Shanghai bomb.

Jeff has been captured by 001 and the Faction, and is tied to a wheelchair, sitting in front of a TV. The TV screen flashes a photo of the Traveler he was forced to kill as a Faction loyalty test, then a screen showing Protocol 3: Don’t spare a life, Don’t take a life.

Trevor and Carly rush to the archive. Carly wonders why the Director hasn’t assigned them to disarm the bomb as a mission. Trevor suggests that she’s driving too fast for a messenger to stop them.

Philip tells them that the traffic lights are taken care of, which he could have done from inside the van with them. Trevor says that Philip needs to stay outside of the blast radius, so that there’s a record of what they do with the bomb, that can be used to help other Travelers, should something go wrong. Philip doesn’t like the idea of being the last of the team left alive.

Mac calls Jo to inform her that his team has found the bomb and she should evacuate the area. After a little back and forth where Mac still tries to keep some secrets, Jo is on her way to the archive.

Mac arrives at the archive right after Trevor and Carly. Marcy has to admit that she imbedded a com in David, and that’s how she’s able to communicate with him. The rest of the team doesn’t approve of her giving him a com, especially without his consent, but it’s turned out to be a stroke of luck, so they won’t complain right now.

Marcy tells David how to activate his com so that the entire team is patched in (press 3 times gently, then hold it down until it beeps). He’s still more concerned with what she might have overheard, and now he’s upset because he thought the com was a tumor.

Once David has followed Marcy’s directions, Mac starts talking to him, quickly passing him over to Trevor, who’ll talk David through disarming the bomb. Carly is holding up her phone, so that Philip can see what she sees.

Trevor has David describe the metal box, then determines that it matches the Rothski device, so he should be able to talk David through disarming it. Marcy hasn’t told David what the box is, so she has to tell him now.

His head almost explodes, and he almost panics. The team tries to talk him through it. Mac says, “You told Agent Callahan at the farm that you wanted to man up. We are running out of time and you’re our only option. So, now would be the moment to man the f–k up.”

Marcy tells him that the terrorists only left him inside because they thought he was dead. David wants Marcy to get away from the bomb, but Philip cuts in to say that there’s no way for Marcy to get away in time. And time is getting very short. That’s what finally steel’s David’s resolve. He clears his head, straightens his spine, and gets down to business.

Trevor has him look for something to use as a screwdriver to remove the screws from the bomb casing. There’s nothing lying around, but the archivist still has the knife that she pulled out of her side. David unscrews the screws which hold the lid in place, lifts it up, and then removes the metal shielding he finds underneath.

Jo comes into the roller rink while David is working on the lid. Mac fills her in on the situation. He has to tell her that their inside man is Marcy’s boyfriend.

Once the shielding is removed, the working parts of the bomb are revealed. Trevor explains to David what he’s looking at, and which wire to clip to disarm the bomb. David finds the wire that looks correct, and cuts it, just as the countdown is about to reach zero.

The bomb springs to life, making the same whirring and clacking sounds that we heard in the opening moments of the episode, in Shanghai, as pieces move into place. Either David didn’t cut the right wire, or he was a moment too late. Either way, he wasn’t successful in disarming it. Based on what we saw in Shanghai, it’ll detonate in about 5 seconds.

Mac thinks quick and acts decisively. “David, grab the core with both hands, pull it out as hard as you can and throw it on the floor, now!”

The metal casing has just closed around the nuclear core, and the ball of nuclear material begins to glow. David does what Mac says. He burns his hands in the process. Marcy instinctively tried to stop Mac from ordering David to touch the radioactive material. Now she’s crying. Everyone looks like something awful has happened, instead of a success.

The bomb doesn’t explode and the nuclear material stops glowing. The bomb is disarmed. The lasers beams on the door have disappeared, so David’s able to unlock the biometric lock (which only archivists should be able to unlock) and leave the archive.

Carly, Mac and Marcy run to help him. He stumbles into them, getting blood all over Mac’s suit. Carly and Marcy help him out to a vehicle. Mac suggests taking him to a hospital, but Marcy intends to takes him back to ops, where she knows the Director can see him. The only chance he has of survival is for the Director to send a D team.

Mac tells Trevor to go with. As he begins to walk away, Jo asks what she’s missing. Trevor stops to explain, “When David grabbed ahold of the nuclear core, his body was exposed to lethal radiation. His internal organs will begin to liquefy in a few hours.”

Jo asks if future technology can save David. Mac says it’s possible the Director will send help for David, but right now, he needs her to warn the SAC that the Faction will target the archive in Moscow next. Philip breaks in to say that the Moscow archive just blew up. They detonated that bomb early when the Seattle bomb failed. The Seattle archive is the only one left.

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Jeff is still tied to his wheelchair and being questioned by the TV. He refuses to answer the questions. (What is your mission? & What is your blood type?) The goon who’s been sent to discipline him hits him.

Mac and Jo stay at the archive to wait for a clean up crew and guard against the Faction. When they take a look inside the vault, Jo is very confused.

Jo: “This is vital to the future?”

Mac: “Since they arrived, the Faction have been destroying elements of the historical record in order to blind the Director. This is our countermeasure… Nanites, placed in the blood, write and store information into dormant genes of DNA. You can archive a h-ll of a lot of data into a small amount of blood… Pretty much all the digital information in the 21st century. Well, all that’s useful to us. Traffic cameras, cell phone videos, phone calls… The genetically rewritten blood is transfused into known ancestors of people who survive into our time.”

He’s telling Jo all of this because he needs her to trust that they’re all on the same side.

The clean up team arrives. They’re not sure if they can save the archive. “Depends on how badly the blood was irradiated. Archival nanites are pretty susceptible to hard radiation… They’ll have to be replaced with military-grade.”

Mac leaves the archive.

Mac walks out of the darkness and into the light, while Yates is left behind.

Outside, she tries to convince him to come back to the office to do paperwork with her, but he needs to go change out of his bloody suit, then check on David and the team at ops. He suggests that she write the first draft of the reports.

Jeff has been badly beaten and subjected to another round of TV questions. Thinking Jeff is unconscious, one of the goons unties him from his chair. Jeff sucker punches him in the gut, then the face, dropping him.

When they arrive at ops, David has fun imagining that the garage is much more like a bat cave than it is.

It does seem to have expanding side rooms and nooks and crannies, like new Rooms of Requirement that appear when needed.

They get David up on the procedure table and Marcy gives him an injection of a future super painkiller. His face instantly relaxes, showing how much he’d been grimacing in pain before the shot, even though he wasn’t complaining. Carly and Marcy cut his shirt off, while David notices how worried everyone looks and bemoans the loss of his comfy shirt. He wonders why they’re looking so grim instead of celebrating with cake.

When Marcy and Carly pull off the front of David’s shirt, there are five, possibly six bullet wounds in his chest. They are healing up quickly.

Carly’s phone receives a message from Jeff, but she has it set on silent and doesn’t receive it.

Mac goes to the loft and tries to rush in and out, just stopping for clothes. Kat starts to ask whose blood it is, then thinks better of it. Mac says that he needs to get right back out there. She tells him that they just cancelled the evac alert, but he says already knows, because he helped find the bomb. Kay starts to show concern, but then stops herself, and almost rolls her eyes. “Course you were,” she murmurs.

He’s always involved in something huge and life threatening, leaving no time for normal, day-to-day concerns. He makes her feel inadequate for even having those feelings and expecting to be taken seriously. Then he’ll lie to her or suck up to her for a few days and it will all seem okay.

But now, she’s done hoping and pretending. She draws a deep breath and tells him, “Get what you need, get changed and go. I want you out.”

Mac: “What?”

Kat: “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”

Mac still can’t figure out why forgetting how and when they met is important evidence against him. He tries to blow her off, saying they can talk about it when he gets home.

Kat tells him that this is her home, not his, so she’s the one who gets to stay. When they met and everything else is important, because it’s important to her, and she’s half of the relationship. Mac tries to use the “important FBI agent” card, again, saying he’s having a bad day and isn’t up for his wife throwing him out.

Kat tells him to get back to his important work instead of letting her slow him down. He “begs” her not to throw away all of their years together over something silly like her self-respect and need for a healthy relationship. Kat says that what she really threw away was her chance to be with her original fiancé, John. Instead she chose a man who swept her off her feet, the man he used to be. But, “That man is gone. The new one scares me.”

She’s already packed his bags. Now that he’s changed his clothes, all he has to do is take them and leave.

He stares at her for several seconds, no doubt considering whether he can get away with using memory serum on her one more time. But then he walks to the door, grabs the bags, gives her one last look, and leaves. Kat is nearly in tears, both because of the loss of the man she loved, and because of how afraid she was of Mac in that moment, and what he might do in retaliation. She was strong and stood her ground, and I’m proud of her for it. He fell right back into his self-centered, psychologically abusive patterns of trivializing and undermining her needs while aggrandizing and over prioritizing his own.

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David has been thinking about everything that’s happened, and can’t deny that strange things are going on around Marcy. He lists some of the oddities, like the nanites and the com, then asks her to tell him the truth. He admits that he’s been willfully naive, but he’s not dumb, and he’s ready to know the truth.

Marcy gives him more pain meds and he falls asleep. Boyd arrives moments later, with extra meds and nanites, but David needs military grade nanites, which they don’t have. Marcy still believes that a D team could arrive with the nanites to cure David. Boyd takes over David’s care, and tells Marcy to get some rest.

Ilsa begins receiving a transmission from the Director. She tells Teslia that, “It appears to be an upload, writing a large block of encrypted data into my racetrack core… If it continues, my cognitive ability will become significantly reduced.”

Neither Ilsa nor Teslia can stop the Director’s upload, so Teslia calls Grace. He tells her to get over to the lab, right away.

The entire team sleeps at ops, in chairs and on the couch. Marcy sleeps for a couple of hours, then stays by David’s bedside. In the morning, Carly checks her phone and finds a message from Jeff:

“Carly, this is Jeff. I got kidnapped. I got out of the room they had me in, but they’ve got people at every exit. I think it’s like an abandoned mall or something. I know this breaks Protocol 6 but I need you to…”

The message ends with the sound of gunfire. It’s at least 8 hours old.

Mac has Philip pull up all of the old malls in the area. There’s only one that fits the description. Trevor is frozen in a time aphasia episode, so Carly and Mac leave to get Jeff by themselves.

When he wakes up, David and Marcy talk about the future. He’s figured out that Marcy is from the future and trying to save the world, based on what the archivist told him. He’s not mad, just a little sad she didn’t trust him enough to tell him. She says that she does trust him, but he replies that she doesn’t trust him enough to tell him that he’s not going to make it.

Marcy: “I believe that help is on the way.”

David: “I know that you do. I love that about you.”

Marcy; “You saved thousands of lives. The Director has to save you for that.”

Marcy and I are not watching the same show.

David: “I had the balls to do that because you were there.”

Because she brought her purse.

David asks if she has some pain meds she can give him, even if it’s not the good future stuff, because the pain is getting really bad. Marcy pulls some out and injects it into his IV. As he’s falling asleep again, he asks if they can go home when he wakes up. She says yes. He asks her to stay with him while he sleeps.

Mac and Carly search the abandoned mall, which appears to be empty. They do find a blood stain on the floor, so at first they assume they’re too late. Then Mac notices the newly built brick wall near them, with mortar that hasn’t dried yet. Since burying Travelers alive behind walls exactly like that is one of 001’s specialties, they knock down the wall to look for Jeff. He’s there, and in bad shape, but alive.

The program the Director is uploading into Ilsa is huge, and Grace can’t stop it. Teslia is upset that it could kill Ilsa. Grace scoffs at him, since Ilsa has only become a sentient life form due to her contact with the Director. Teslia was fine with the Director’s involvement with his program, as long as it was also benefiting him, and he knew if he said anything the government would take Ilsa away.

Teslia still doesn’t think that it’s right to hurt Ilsa.

Grace: “Don’t worry, the Director can’t take a life. Ilsa’s capacity may be reduced, but her core consciousness, if you can call it that, will be left intact. The Director’s just getting rid of old coding, you know, redundancies and useless things.”

Grace hears what she’s saying and pauses. This is virtually word for word what she said about Marcy’s brain at the end of season 1, and again when she was on trial in season 2.

Teslia: “That makes me feel a little better.”

Grace: “I’ll feel better when I find out if this massive program it’s downloading is the one I think it is.”

Carly and Mac bring Jeff into ops and call for Boyd to treat him. He tells the team that his mission was to find out if the Faction and 001 are working together. They are, and they discovered him. If it weren’t for Carly, he would’ve died. Carly acknowledges his thanks.

Mac asks Marcy how David is doing. She tells him that David doesn’t have long. He needs a D team and nanites, now.

Marcy gets up to yell at the surveillance camera that’s pointed at the bed, as a way of talking to the Director: “You hear me? I know that you know who I am. I know that you’re watching. You saved my life when you reset my consciousness. [Points to Mac.] You saved him after a plane crash that he never should have survived. So why won’t you save the life of a man who, without any training, without having sworn any oath, and without any regard for his own life, saved thousands of people? Why?”

David calls Marcy back to the bed. Mac comes over to tell David how grateful they are to him. He saved 50,000 people. David asks Mac what his real name is, in the future. Mac gives Marcy the sideeye for letting David know about the future- maybe there’s still time to give him some memory serum before he dies. But he tells David his name is 3468.

David asks Marcy what her number is, but then decides he doesn’t want to know. He wants to keep thinking of her as Marcy.

David asks Marcy if they can go home now, and bring everyone with them to answer his questions. Marcy says they can. The scene shifts to a vision. The atmosphere is soft focus and gauzy, David is healthy, and Marcy is in a light, ruffled dress. They are sitting on the couch in their apartment, with the rest of the team around them.

David: Why didn’t you just tell us what was going to go wrong and how to fix it?

Mac: You already knew what was going to go wrong.

Trevor: And what you needed to do to fix it.

David: Yeah, maybe…

Carly: We believed if we just stopped enough bad things from happening, the future we came from would never happen.

David: “Right. Well, why all the secrets? I mean, why not just say, ‘Hey, we’re from the future, things are about to go rats–t. Let’s fix this.”

Mac: “Who would believe us?”

David realizes that nobody would. He suggests that they could use their knowledge of the future to prove who they are so that people would listen to them. Mac tells him that every government in the world would try to use them for their knowledge.

Mac: “The 21st century screwed things up, David. We’re just trying to clean up the mess.”

David: “But it’s our mess. Don’t you get it? We should be the ones to fix it. What if after all that you’ve done, it still doesn’t work?”

Mac: “We haven’t given up.”

Trevor: “So long as the Director exists, I doubt we ever will.”

David realizes that he’s getting tired. Everyone decides that it’s time for them to leave. As they say goodbye, Trevor gives David a hug, Philip shakes his hand and tells him how brave he was, and Mac tells him he’s part of the team now.

Once everyone else is gone, David and Marcy turn toward each other. They’re standing in front of a window, so they’re backlit with a soft, glowing light, as they have been several other times this season. They press their heads together, and David says, “Don’t you wish we could just stay here like this? Let’s try.”

Marcy nods her head yes. They kiss, but the vision is failing. It’s interspersed with flashes of the medical equipment in real world and real world Marcy. David’s blood pressure is bottoming out, and he’s fading fast. In the vision, he tells Marcy he loves her so much. Real world Marcy begs David to hold on a while more. She says, “I love you.”

David goes messenger and says: “Protocol Omega.”

He dies. Marcy is devastated. Everyone else looks stunned and horrified.

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Omega= Ω – As the last letter of the Greek alphabet, Omega is often used to denote the last, the end, or the ultimate limit of a set, in contrast to alpha, the first letter of the Greek alphabet. (Wiki)

Protocol Alpha was used to indicate a matter or mission of ultimate importance, such as a direct threat to the Director’s existence. Alpha, which is the first letter in the Greek alphabet, refers to a threat to the beginning of the Travelers or a top priority emergency.

Protocol Epsilon is a threat to the archives, which is a threat to the Travelers program, as it would blind the Director. Epsilon, which refers to a small quantity, refers to the need to relocate the tiny nanites and blood cells that store the rewritten DNA.

The protocols which are named after Greek letters, instead of numbered, are seldom used and pertain to emergency situations. The Greek letter Omega refers to endings and limitations.

Every time Kat tries to talk to Mac about her needs and their marriage, including in the therapist’s office, he pulls the “important FBI agent” card and walks out, just as he tried to do in this episode. Kat is terrified of Mac, and has been manipulated by him for months. She had to mentally prepare herself for this episode’s conversation in order to go through with throwing him out.

You could see that she considered, for a moment, putting off the discussion, but realized that there will always be some excuse why it’s not a good time to have the discussion she wants to have, so she plowed ahead with it. As she said, if Mac paid the slightest bit of attention to what’s really going on with her, he would have seen this coming. He didn’t because he only sees his image of her, not the real woman.

He’ll be fine. Kat needed to get this over with, for her own sanity, and her needs matter. She’s the injured party here, not Mac.

I’m so glad that the writers made Kat strong enough to remain firm, calm and rational in her responses to Mac. And that he gave in and eventually left, despite how hard he’s previously fought to stay. He’s developed some sort of obsession with her over the last two seasons that isn’t really about her, and his anger that she wouldn’t cooperate with his fantasies has bled into his relationships with the women he works with.

It’ll be interesting to see what he does next. Will he take stock of himself and figure out that he was the problem, maybe do some actual soul-searching? Will he blame her? Will he assume that this happened solely because he wasn’t the real Grant, and ignore everything she said about how much he scared her because of his abuse tactics?

Mac thinks of himself as a good man, and in many ways he is. But sometimes it makes people more dangerous when they have issues in addition to their heroism. What would it take to get Mac to see himself as the one who victimized someone else? He couldn’t handle the thought that he might have killed Aleksander, and tried to block it from his mind. The lesson showing what he’s capable of doesn’t seem to have stuck, and his empathy for Aleksander didn’t generalize into empathy for anyone else. There’s still a frightening potential inside him, even though he’s a hero and a good man.

I’d like to see Mac’s past explored in future seasons, to understand his issues with women. Were Andrew Graham’s relationship with his mother (S3 Ep8) and Aleksander Andrieko’s with his foster-mother (S3 Ep3) meant to be foreshadowing for Mac’s relationship with his own abusive mother?

It’s funny how Philip’s two closest friends, Carly and Trevor, snark at each other every time they’re alone together (see also S3 Ep3). If I were in the fan fiction business, I’d think they were jealous of each other and start writing about love triangles, but I’m not.

David isn’t just on the team, he’s an archivist now, right? He had the nanites and the blood with the encoded DNA inside him. He should go down on the Travelers Wall of Valor with credit for a major save, and for participating in a specialty, however brief his participation was.

Carly hardly had any lines during David’s vision, and didn’t get to say goodbye. Marcy also barely spoke during the entire vision. This was David’s “successful man up” vision, where he gained the approval of the men on the team.

In season 3 episode 7 (Trevor), David’s elderly client and mentor, Jim, was set up for the tropes Incorruptible Pure Pureness and Too Good for This Sinful Earth. Both tropes are just what they sound like. Incorruptible Pure Pureness describes a character whose pure goodness and able to resist all temptations toward evil and corruption. Too Good for This Sinful Earth describes the death of characters who are so good that they end up sacrificing themselves or being killed by the overwhelming evil in the world, then dying a lingering, dramatic death and being mourned by everyone who knew them, and probably inspiring the living to keep fighting.

The tropes didn’t really fit Jim. David, with his willful naivité, which allowed him to see only the best in people, just thought they did, and he used Jim as his role model. His death has been foreshadowed for a long time, and his self-sacrificing nature is legendary. In this episode, his desires to do good, to save people, to feel like a real man, and to be Marcy’s hero all come together. As soon as the Travelers came into his life, this kind of ending was probably inevitable. David wasn’t going to sit back and watch other people save the world without trying to help.

David has a thing about going home when he’s stressed, scared and tired. He told Marcy he wanted to go home when Vincent/001 had him, while he was in the archive, and two or three times while he was at ops, dying.

I think we can all agree that if there’s one improvement the Director needs to make, it’s to increase the availability of military-grade nanites. They seem to be the cure-all bomb this season. I don’t recall hearing them mentioned before S3. Trevor, Grace and Philip need to set up a manufacturing facility, stat.

I’d never heard of anyone doing what Mac had David do to disarm the bomb, but, according to my research, it seems like it really would work. And be very lethal, but I imagine none of us questioned that part. I haven’t found any information on how radioactive an unexploded bomb is. It surprised me that they could all stand that close and not also receive a large dose, but the story of Louis Slotin and the Demon Core, which was part of the Manhattan Project in the 1940s, has some similarities.

Wisconsin Project on Nuclear Arms Control- Nuclear Weapons Primer

The New Yorker- Demon Core: The Strange Death of Louis Slotin

Demon Core at Wikipedia

001 asks about Jeff’s blood type during his TV interrogation. Do archivists have a particular blood type, like O negative, the universal donor type, that aids in transfusing their blood into known ancestors of future people? Did 001 wonder whether Jeff was an archivist, too?

The two creepiest things in this entire season are Jo’s mom and David suddenly going messenger just before they die. I’m definitely against the use of the dying as messengers. Marcy deserved those last moments. So did Jo. It seems so disruptive to what you hope will be a peaceful process.

The Travelers always speak as though only children are used as messengers, but at this point we’ve seen many dying people used that way. If you count the elderly people the Director used to speak to Grace during her “sentencing” in S2 Ep8, 0027, it’s probably used more dying people/adults than children.

It killed Vincent’s wife, Irene, and his partner, Oliver, and Ellis/0014, even though they weren’t dying. For dying messengers, it’s used: all of the people who helped it speak to Grace, Jo Yates’ mother, David, and the dying messenger in S1 Ep4, Hall, who told Mac to find Hall for the first time and give him medical assistance. There may be more that I’m forgetting. Let me know if there are.

I’m going to wait to analyze David’s dying vision in with the episode 10 recap. These 2 episodes are so closely entwined that I’m worried about accidentally spoiling something if I do any further analysis.

  Travelers Protocols:

Protocol 1: The mission comes first.

Protocol 2: Leave the future in the past. Don’t jeopardize your cover.

Protocol 2H: Historian updates are not to be discussed with anyone. Ever.

Protocol 3: Don’t take a life. Don’t save a life. Unless otherwise directed.

Protocol 4: Do not reproduce.

Protocol 5: In the absence of direction, resume your host’s life.

Protocol 6: Traveler teams should stay apart unless instructed otherwise.

T.E.L.L.: The Time, Elevation, Latitude, and Longitude of what would have been the historical death of a Traveler’s host body.

Traveler numbers:

MacLaren-3468

Marcy-3569

Trevor-0115

Carly-3465

Phillip-3326

Grace-0027

Forbes-4991

Vincent Ingram-001 5692

Katrina Perrow-001

Simon-004 5069

Jeff- 5416

  Images courtesy of Netflix.

Travelers Season 3 Episode 9: David Recap Episode 9, David, is the penultimate episode of season 3, but it actually feels like episodes 8, 9 and 10 are meant to be watched together as a trilogy, since they breathlessly flow from one to the next.

[dfroza]

Love is absolute Justice that will right every wrong.

but Love is also grace for those who choose to embrace it.

we need spiritual truth in a deceptive world.

A set of lines from Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament Letter of 1st Timothy:

The Spirit makes it clear that as time goes on, some are going to give up on the faith and chase after demonic illusions put forth by professional liars. These liars have lied so well and for so long that they’ve lost their capacity for truth.

(the opening lines in The Message)

with the whole chapter here in The Voice translation:

But even so, the Spirit very clearly tells us that in the last times some will abandon the true faith because of their devotion to spirits sent to deceive and sabotage, and mistakenly they will end up following the doctrine of demons. They will be carried away through the hypocrisy of liars whose consciences have been branded with a red-hot iron, saying, “Don’t marry. Don’t eat such-and-such foods.” But God created all these to be received with gratitude by people who hold fast to the faith and really comprehend the truth. For everything God made is good. That means nothing should be rejected as long as it’s received with a grateful heart, for by God’s word and prayer, it is made holy.

Place these truths before the brothers and sisters. If you do, you will be a good servant of Jesus the Anointed, raised and fed on words of true belief, trained in the good instruction you have so clearly followed. Reject worldly fables. Refuse old wives’ tales. Instead, train yourself toward godliness. Although training your body has certain payoffs, godliness benefits all things—holding promise for life here and now and promise for the life that is coming. This statement is worthy of trust and our full acceptance. This is what we work so hard for! This is why we are constantly struggling: because we have an assured hope fixed upon a living God who is the Savior of all humankind—especially all of us who believe.

So go out and insist on these things. Teach them. Don’t let anyone belittle you because you are young. Instead, show the faithful, young and old, an example of how to live: set the standard for how to talk, act, love, and be faithful and pure. Until I get there, make sure to devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, and to teaching. Don’t neglect the gift that was given to you through the prophecy spoken when the company of the elders laid their hands on you. Cultivate all these practices; live by them so that all will see how you are advancing and growing. Take care of yourself, concentrate on your teaching, and stick with these things. If you do, then you will be effective in bringing salvation to yourself and all who hear you.

The Letter of 1st Timothy, Chapter 4 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 30th chapter of the book of Jeremiah where he is instructed to write everything down into a book:

The word of the Eternal again came to Jeremiah.

Eternal One: Write in a book all the words I, the Eternal, the God of Israel, have said to you. Look! the days are coming when I will restore the fortunes of My people—both Israel and Judah. I will bring them home to the land I gave their ancestors, and they will again possess it.

So says the Eternal in a message about Israel and Judah.

Eternal One: A cry of fear is heard—

it is the sound of panic, not of peace.

Ask and see for yourself:

can a man give birth to a child?

Then why do I see strong men clutching themselves,

their hands on their abdomens as if they are in labor?

Why has every face paled, looking sickly?

I will tell you why:

for that great and awesome day is like no other.

It will be a time of suffering for Jacob’s descendants;

still they will be rescued from it.

For on that day of deliverance, declares the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, I will break Nebuchadnezzar’s yoke off their necks and tear off their shackles; no longer will foreigners force them into slavery. Instead, they will serve the Eternal their God, and I will raise up a descendant of David their king to rule over them.

So do not be afraid, O Jacob, My servant;

do not be troubled, O Israel.

For I, the Eternal One, promise to liberate you from that distant place,

to bring your children home from where they are in exile.

Jacob will return home to peace and quiet,

and no one will make him afraid,

Because I am with you, and I will deliver you.

I will completely destroy all the nations where I have scattered you,

But I will not destroy you completely.

I will discipline you, but My discipline will be just.

I will not let you go unpunished.

Your wound is incurable;

your shattered pieces are beyond repair.

There is no one to plead your case—

no healing for your injury,

no relief for your affliction.

All of those allies you loved have forgotten about you;

they care nothing about you.

For I have struck you as an enemy would

and punished you like the cruelest of foes.

Why? Because your sins abound

and your evil actions are abundant and brazen.

Why do you cry out over this wound,

this pain that won’t go away?

I have done these things to you because your sins abound

and your wicked acts are abundant and brazen.

But all those who devour you will be devoured.

Exile awaits each of your enemies.

Those who plunder you will be turned into plunder,

and all who prey upon you will be turned into prey.

For I will make you well again and heal your wounds

I, the Eternal One, declare to you,

Because they have called you an outcast:

“Look, it is Zion, the one for whom no one cares.”

I, the Eternal, have this to say: Look, I will bring back those from captivity.

I will show mercy to Jacob’s tents and dwellings;

From the ruins I will rebuild Jerusalem,

and the palace will once again stand where it belongs.

Songs of joy and gratitude will rise from the people.

I will bless My people and increase their numbers; nothing will diminish them.

I will honor them in the presence of others;

no one will despise them.

Their children will live as they did long ago,

their community will be established again before My watchful eyes,

And I will punish anyone who tries to harm them.

The prince who leads them will come from among Jacob’s descendants;

their ruler will be one of their own.

I will draw him near to Me, and he will delight to come close,

for he will devote himself to remain close by My side.

And as before, you will be My people,

and I will be your God.

Behold, the storm of the Eternal’s wrath will now break open,

swirling down out of the sky like a whirlwind onto the heads of the wicked.

The Eternal’s anger will not relent until He has carried out His most fervent plans.

You will understand all of this in the days to come.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 30 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, September 12 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that faces fear:

The devil wants you to be afraid, to be very afraid; and indeed, inciting fear is the primary weapon he uses against us... The devil understands that the emotion of fear profoundly affects the way the human brain processes images and messages. Fear colors the way we see and hear things. And since the mind and body are intricately interconnected, fear is the root cause of many physiological problems such as heart disease, high blood pressure, clinical depression, and other ailments. Indeed, left unchecked, fear can be deadly...

Most of our negative emotions come from fearful thoughts, including anger, frustration, and rage. On a spiritual level, fear and worry can cause people to question God’s love, to doubt His promises, and so on. The devil knows that frightening people causes them to be unsettled, off-balance, and therefore vulnerable to all sorts of sickness, manipulation, and deception. Living in fear is a form of slavery (Heb. 2:15).

Logicians call illegitimate appeals to fear "argumentum ad baculum," or the “appeal to the stick.” When someone plays on your fears, it is wise to discern whether there is any basis in reality for the supposed threat, or if the appeal is simply a rhetorical scare tactic intended to persuade (coerce) you to accept some sort of conclusion. Unscrupulous people such as advertisers, politicians, dictators, community organizers, social activists, and so on, regularly use fear to manipulate public opinion, of course, and they are only too glad to tell you exactly what you should fear. They are delighted to prey upon your anxieties and then offer you their supposed “remedy.” You know whom they serve, friends...

The war for truth began in the Garden of Eden, when Satan lied to Eve by saying that she wouldn’t die if she disobeyed God (Gen. 3:4). Satan cunningly played on Eve’s fear of being deceived to persuade her to disobey. Fear, then, is the emotional center of sin and the opposite of faith. The fearful are referred to as the “unbelieving” and those who “love and make a lie” (Rev. 21:8, 22:15).

God repeatedly tells us not to be afraid – not of man, nor of war, nor of tribulation, nor of various plagues, yea, nor even of death itself (Rom. 8:35-39). Indeed, one of the most frequently occurring commandments in Scripture is simply al-tirah, “Be not afraid.”

But how do we overcome our fear? How can we live our faith in the midst of a worldwide cultural slide into deception and insanity? How can we walk in peace while a worldwide tyranny is crafting a globalist police state wherein no one will be able to buy or sell if they are not wholly subservient to the dictates of an unseen power elite? How else but by wholeheartedly trusting that God is with us? The LORD will never leave nor forsake us, even if we are faced with difficult circumstances. The antidote to fear is heartfelt faith in God’s love for us (1 John 4:18). God saves us from our fears (Psalm 34:4, 2 Tim. 1:7). When we trust that God personally cares for us, we find comfort and courage to face life without fear. [Hebrew for Christians]

9.10.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

September 12, 2021

Two Faithful Friends

“But I trust in the Lord Jesus to send Timotheus shortly unto you, that I also may be of good comfort, when I know your state. For I have no man likeminded, who will naturally care for your state.” (Philippians 2:19-20)

Paul cited Timothy and Epaphroditus as two faithful ministry friends (Philippians 2:19-30). Their activities provide a great inventory to follow as we “work out [our] own salvation” (Philippians 2:12).

Likeminded: The Greek word is isopsuchos, or “equal in soul.” Effective ministry friendships agree in purpose (Amos 3:3).

Genuine Care: The Holy Spirit used merimnao, a burden for others’ needs. Philippians 2:2-4 lists the restrictions.

Seek Christ’s Things: Edify each other (1 Corinthians 14:12), focus on heavenly ideals (Colossians 3:1), and crave the kingdom and God’s righteousness more than our welfare (Matthew 6:33).

Serve Together: Timothy was to Paul like a “son with the father” serving with him “in the gospel” (Philippians 2:22). To be acceptable, that service must be in “righteousness, and peace, and joy” (Romans 14:17).

Companion in Labor: Similarly, Epaphroditus is said to work with Paul (Philippians 2:25). As with Timothy, their focus was “to establish you, and to comfort you concerning your faith” (1 Thessalonians 3:2).

Fellow Soldier: Military metaphors abound in the Bible, with a common thread of the spiritual warfare defined in Ephesians 6:10-18. We must “endure hardness” when we assist in the ministry (2 Timothy 2:3).

Not every Christian meets the excellence of these faithful friends. “Most men will proclaim every one his own goodness: but a faithful man who can find?” (Proverbs 20:6). HMM III

A tweet by illumiNations:

(i personally support the ICR and illumiNations)

@IlluminationsBT: Did you know there are 3,732 languages still in need of Bible translation? But illumiNations has a roadmap, a process and the tools in place to help millions of people access the Word of God in their heart language! Learn more at http://illuminations.bible.

9.11.21 • 8:11pm • Twitter

[hellyeahomeland]

[Hi! We’re back. We haven’t done a Director’s Chair feature since “R is for Romeo” so please bear with us as we get back into the swing of it. This week’s episode was directed by Michael Klick, who has been a producer on the show since the very beginning and directed his first episode last year (“The Flag House,” which you can read our Director’s Chair feature on here). The DP for this episode was Giorgio Scali, who, along with David Klein, heads up the photography department on the show.] 

“Standoff” | Directed by Michael Klick

The episode opens not with a shot of Carrie’s face, but of her hands. Her manic energy--she’s restless and can’t stop fidgeting--is further highlighted by what we hear but don’t yet see: those signature Carrie Mathison huffs and puffs. The device reminded us of the reveal of manic Carrie in “The Vest,” as Saul hears her gradually loudening yelling about her green pen before the camera finally reveals her battered and bruised face.

Our first glimpse of the compound in this episode comes as the fleet of FBI vehicles approach. That yellow “Don’t Tread on Me” flag was a major symbol of the American revolution. Notably missing: the American flag.

Next, JJ and a clearly happy dog appear down one half of a forked road. This fork in the road, and the hesitation and impasse associated with that image, come to represent the main thematic elements of this episode, at least as it pertains to Saul and O’Keefe. These two men (themselves with massively divergent paths) face major decisions in this episode and their storyline is wrapped up in their “wait and see” approach to the brewing confrontation on the compound.

As Saul and JJ meet, we get the first of many medium or wide shots that Klick and Scali use in the episode, showing two characters in this kind of symmetrical yet combative stance. Saul’s on one side, and O’Keefe and his “army” are on the other.

We also got some season one vibes from the scene of Carrie and Maggie in Maggie’s kitchen. Carrie’s ensuing panic attack and Maggie’s calm brings us back to the end of “Blind Spot” when Carrie shows up on Maggie’s doorstep, distraught.

Sara’s notes here were simply “cool ass shots.” We don’t really have much more to say but the focus shift in this scene from O’Keefe to Saul was some fancy camerawork. Kudos!

As this is our first Director’s Chair for season seven, let’s talk about how they’re shooting Keane this season. Namely, it’s exactly the same as they shot her last season! Tons of close-ups where she’s just inches away from her adversary (or advisor, as it were) -- literally mano a mano. The camera angle even contributes to the power dynamics at play here, as they typically film Keane slightly from below, so it appears she’s looking down on Wellington.

Keane has always been shown as a principled, rigid politician when it comes to her policies. What’s changed, of course, is what those policies are. The way she talks to Wellington here is almost identical to how she talked to Dar Adal last year: perpetually in confrontation mode, and never backing down.

Nothing to add here but what do we think is in the box in Carrie’s closet labeled “GREY”? All of her grey pantsuits? Her Grey’s Anatomy DVD boxsets? PROP MASTERS OF HOMELAND, PLEASE LET US KNOW.

~IJLTP~

Last year we evaluated the contents of Carrie’s refrigerator, and this season we’re getting even more personal. Just what the heck is in Josie Mathison-Dunn’s medicine cabinet? (Also, guess Bill’s last name is Dunn. We still want to call him Bill Mathison.)

First, some Mario Badescu Skincare products. Sara has literally never heard of this man. We have an aloe, cucumber, and green tea cucumber spray. Also an aloe, herbs, and rosewater facial spray. (Side note: what is “facial spray”? Sara has also never heard of this.) 

A bottle of Murad Razor Burn Rescue at the far left.

That tube in the middle with the happy-go-luck young woman is Benefit Pore Fessional Minimizer. Gail says this smells really good and works wonders. Sara has never heard of this product before but she does get her eyebrows waxed at the Benefit Cosmetics stores in NYC and really likes them and all the millennial pink and calm vibes there.

That tiny blue bottle next to the nail polish (speaking of nail polish, Sara calls BS that a teen as moody as Josie has bright pink and purple nail polish. WWDBD?) is Too Faced Shadow Insurance, which is some sort of eyelid primer. Once again, Sara has never heard of it and Gail hasn’t used it (“I’m a Smashbox girl!”). We do both love that the prop department found a product called “Too Faced.” We see what you did there.

Our thoughts on the cosmetic and facial care portions of Josie’s medicine cabinet can be described thusly:

Sara: I’m sorry but do teenage girls have this many products in their medicine cabinets? Is this a thing? Did she pick this up in Rome? Am I just that out of touch??

Gail: There is no way a teenage girl that owns a shadow primer only has one make-up brush in her arsenal. Sorry, not buying it.

Josie also has three meds in her cabinet. The first is Isotretinoin, which according to the world wide web is used for treating severe acne.

The second bottle is of course Adderall.

We think the third bottle is Methylphenidate (the generic name for Ritalin), which, like Adderall, is used to treat ADHD.

We get the second Carrie mirror shot in as many episodes. This is just one in a long trend on this show (i.e., it is the thirty-seventh but certainly not the last!). And while the mirror and hair length may change, the tone and meaning of them almost never does. She’s steeling herself here--for an inevitable crash, for another day of a waking nightmare, for the descent further into the rabbit hole.

The Saul/O’Keefe confrontation is notable for a few reasons. First, again Klick and Scali shoot almost the entire sequence in a series of medium or wide shots where both characters are contained in the shot yet standing opposite each other. There are almost no shot/reverse shot cuts where we see a frame of just Saul and then one of just O’Keefe. They are literally in a standoff.

The progression of their stance is also interesting. As Saul first approaches O’Keefe, he’s standing on the opposite side of the picnic table. As their conversation continues, he comes around to O’Keefe’s side and sits next to him.

The wider shots in this scene also reveal the imbalance at play and, in hindsight, hint at O’Keefe’s long game. Behind Saul, we see the FBI in the distance, ready to pounce. In a show of power, the FBI has numbers, large vehicles, and a coordinated presence. The playing field isn’t even. O’Keefe only has a handful of supporters, including some young children. Abandoned bicycles, an empty picnic table, and an over-turned red wagon depict a typical rural yard of an American family. This is not a war zone in some faraway place. The country is in a civil war and Klick sets the scene to drive this point home--literally.

Sara picked up on this facial reaction upon first viewing--after Dante says his bipolar ex-girlfriend left him--but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Gail chipped in with a simple explanation: it’s her appreciation of his empathy, which is not something she’s that used to in her daily life. Carrie still views her bipolar disorder as a reason not to be with her--those wounds may be buried, but they exist nonetheless. The jury remains out on whether Dante’s intentions are altruistic or not, but this moment was interesting nonetheless.

The sequence of Carrie resisting being booked was a powerful reminder of early season three, where she is restrained and drugged against her will (though as part of a larger “play”). When you combine this with the images we’ll see weekly in the opening credits, what does this tell us about the path Carrie’s going down?

Here we have yet another shot where the camera is shooting Keane from slightly above. This angle further illustrates the tension (they are literally not seeing each other “eye to eye”) and power dynamics of their relationship. It’s clear that Keane does not see them as equals (nor should she, to be honest).

With each episode this season, Carrie is more isolated and alone. Here she’s locked inside a sterile and dark room all by herself, bolstering her current estrangement from anything resembling a normal life. These shots especially call back to the end of “Tower of David,” when she’s crouched and alone in her room in the hospital. The combination of these images, their heavy parallel to past seasons, and Carrie’s comment to Maggie about a “locked ward” leads to a potent sense of foreboding.

This is a totally gorgeous shot--the blue and red in the background and the way Carrie is lit from behind. Sometimes this show is really visually arresting.

Klick and Scali film Carrie and Dante here just as they shot Saul and O’Keefe earlier in the episode. The wide shot with both characters in frame suggests the same adversarial “standoff” stance, and yet the moment itself seems on the surface healing and supportive. Have we mentioned the show is giving us mixed messages about Dante?

We don’t have to remind you all of the parallels between this scene and the one with Carrie and Quinn at the end of “Still Positive,” but we will anyway. Even the shed in the back is red!

The final shot of the episode, an absolutely beautiful wide shot, again depicts both characters in frame. Dante looks over at Carrie while she stares straight ahead. And despite the light in the background (Quinn’s “light on the headlands, steering [her] clear of the rocks”?), Carrie is still shown in the dark. Again we must ask, is there more going on with Dante than she realizes?

The score used at the end of this episode was originally used at the end of “The Star” (and later at the end of “The Man in the Basement”) when Carrie draws a star on the wall for Brody. The use of it in this scene, along with the visual callbacks to a famous scene with Quinn, combine to form a strange and eerie amalgam of Carrie’s past romances. Brody’s music and Quinn’s words. Where does Dante fit into this equation and what is the show trying to say? For now, those remain open questions.

Finally, the colors in this last shot--red, white, and blue--feel symbolic. Carrie is forever fighting for the country she loves--the country she feels an innate duty to protect--even to her own detriment. In this episode alone she sacrifices her mental health, yet again, to continue on with this battle. As the bright lights illuminate the sky against a brilliant backdrop of the colors of the American flag, the music viewers have come to associate with loss, broken promises, and missed chances swells. 

Our freedom doesn’t come free. And Carrie has chosen her price.

ETA: Ashley would like us to point out that we missed the Clean & Clear in Josie’s cabinet and that cabinets are entirely her domain for all future reference. We deeply and sincerely apologize, Ashley.

[marieabanga]

Picture taken 06.05.18 Healing eye was still taking its time too lol

God is God, God is not Man…He has done it again in my life period.

Watch this 18 seconds celebratory clip lol

It has been with tremendous honour and humility that I cycled on, braving it uphill amidst sometimes intense emotional, mental and physical challenges, some from quarters hard to imagine; while also at other times, sometimes steadying my balance as I sloped downhill especially towards the end of each stage of the journey started last March 01 2018.

These notes may make another memoir someday right?

Can we say this was a spiritual journey or what? It can’t be explained to anyone’s satisfaction –  I just came to conclude; I can only share some to hopefully inspire and motivate so that anyone set out on any dear project of theirs, especially one of a ‘spiritual cum purification’ nature, will brave on and hang on … yes it was worth it. Let me try to sum it more…

So, this was a four stage spiritual journey dictated to me by my inner voice (call this crazy am ok with that – I do work in a psy ward anyway); and you could refresh on my preparedness for each stage by clicking 1, 2, 3, or 4. 

I got to find out the names of the stages and the reason for their breakdown into 7, 14, 21 and 28 days on the first day of the 4th stage last April 23rd (this happened to be the anniversary of my beloved Grandma’s passing and I was real emotional). So, the stages were dictated to me to be:

Stage 1: Stage of New Beginnings (7 days were sufficient for me to see how new it would be if I persisted)

Stage 2: Stage of Determination (14 days was ample time to get real and hang on)

Stage 3: Stage of Discipline and Dedication (This was the make or mare stage and only perseverance for 21 days could take me on)

Stage 4: Stage of Grace (28 days to feel the Grace to my core amidst all what can go wrong and right full cycle)

Come on someone say wow, this happened and happens to me… am so in tune with my spirit and my world inside out, my prayers have been answered, I guess this is the price I was thinking I am very well prepared to pay, to benefit from and deserve to keep benefiting from all these gifts and responsibility and the accompanying graces…I am so proud of me, I am my own heroine…dare to be yours for you sure can…

I will be writing more in the days ahead, today I am simply in awe of my tenacity and resilience; including the 3 days break in between stages; I fasted and watched myself like a hawk for 79 days…

Eating some day with near fire and fury after I broke my fast – captured by Alain lol

I’ve got to learn to eat and do other stuffs again lol, but I don’t miss not shouting, getting angry and having attack thoughts…serenity and discernment are really my daily portions now… Aw I love this new me and am so proud of her…she is indeed a brave lady and will live her purpose in all faith…she self-evaluates herself at 85% and this is an A PERIOD!!!

For tonight, let me celebrate with my muskeets at this new Ice cream house (opened in January but we had to have a big reason to go check it out lol – with us it’s always about making memories out of moments) in our neighbourhood. We had decided in our last family meeting to draw a budget and save to go check it out when I crossed the finish line of my official spiritual cum purification journey. I know it is a life time journey, and am ok with this… I am well passed lesson 100 student manual in A Course in Miracles, and taking it in strides with the other sections of the book. One day I may write about my journey studying and practicing all am learning in there…

  Don’t worry about the price tags, am ok negotiating the amounts lol

David has started real business with his drawings too

Gaby is definitely coming up bigtime lol

A very soulful expression of deepest gratitude to all those who encouraged and motivated me with encouragements or otherwise. You may have been very few, but quality has always mattered to me over quantity.

I just got struck by Marianne Williamson’s quote on our deepest fear yesterday and I find it so apt to summarize this journey I so bravely undertook. Some reached out to me, seemingly concerned about the length of the fast and the physical effect especially with an inflamed eye quickly confirmed by them to be a result of the food deprivation – come on, food was the least I was working on or fasting from. Others were scared I had joined a sect or was visibly mentally ill/challenged and should seek professional help – I think my Age and tenacity saved me. I was left in awe and near mute where all this fear came from, why some could be seeming led by fear to the edge of outright panic attacks? So what is this deep fear?

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Cycling all the way to the finish line…it was worth it…thank you God, thank you Universe God is God, God is not Man...He has done it again in my life period. Watch this 18 seconds celebratory clip lol…

[karamelsecretsanta]

This is dedicated to Nicole @kaiho. Happy Xmas my darling, if this isn’t what you had imagined, drop me a message and I will write something more suitable J 

--  @chelseaellie

AU Kara and Mon-El never kissed in ep 8, and they are friendly but nothing romantic has happened, cannon to Ep 7. Alex and Maggie are dating, as are Lena and James.

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Late December, the trees had long since shed their leaves and the darkness of winter had started to draw in. Alex was loved up and busy with Maggie, and Kara felt as if she was adrift slightly. Everyone was partnering up and Christmas was coming, she was happy for Alex, and happy for Lena and James with their new romance.

But felt so lonely missing her family more at this time of year. Missing her aunt, and her home. It was a lonely time of year.

So she flung herself into her work, both jobs. Longer hours, taking all assignments. It kept her busy however today Kara was frustrated it was a quiet day in CatCo. Well a quiet day in National City, not even SuperGirl was needed, so she was left to edit the horoscopes. She sighed deeply, and looked at her pile of notes. Madam Nicole was a highly rated psychic, every newspaper wanted her on their books, but she was a nightmare to work for. Her columns were always written in short hand and needed a lot of explanation.

She had been working on the corrections for 30 minutes when she realised she needed clarification and decided to speak to Madam Nicole. Grabbing her note pad she decided to brave the psychic.

Madam Nicole was a pretty young girl, dark hair and green eyes, calmly dressed in a black knee length dress, and kitten heals. Kara had expected bright colours and an older woman, a little eccentric. She was anything but. She was as normal as any other young woman.

“Hi. Just poof reading, but I’m not sure what you mean by this?” Kara asked. She was nervous, but wasn’t sure why. She had braved Snapper, and Cat, and survived, anyone else was simple.

“The famous Kara Danvers” Nicole commented in an almost sing song tone, smiling a charming smile, “I’ve heard so much about you” she looked Kara up and down.

“Thanks, I think” Kara responded with a sense of nervousness she rarely was subjected to.

“You are unsure to believe my powers” Nicole tilted her head, “you are lonely, your sister is in a new Romance, her first, you are scared that you will never find a love like that. Scared that she will forget you, as you are not true blood. She won’t, there is a bond with you, greater than that if blood.”

“I don’t know” Kara confessed

“You are scared to love, you lost too much, too many people, places, you feel as if your world was destroyed, as though nothing you have will ever last.”

“I guess” Kara pretended to be indifferent yet felt unsettled, everything was too true to be a guess.

“There is someone for you, your soul mate. The one person who is perfect for you. You already know him, your own Prince Charming, when the clock strikes 11 on the 24th you will understand. You will know when he gives you a gift of something from your childhood. Trust how you feel in that moment, don’t second guess yourself. You need to live in the now. Grey is the colour that matters”

“Ok, thanks I think” Kara had no idea what was happening, cryptic clues for something she hadn’t asked for. She smiled falsely and walked away.

8888

She walked home, her head full of what had been said. No idea about what Madam Nicole had told her, she was happily sceptical of this type of thing, and more so now. But the possibility of a guy that she could be paired with was interesting. She was struggling to think who it could be. She discounted J’onn and James right away J’onn as he was her boss, and James because he was dating Lena. Winn, well he was like a brother, but nothing more, there was Steve in IT, he was sweet but a little geeky, David, Chris and Jeremy in the combat teams, they were nice guys. Was she just thinking about this because of something that was suggested?

Almost in a daze she walked into the DEO, Winn, Dana and Mon-El were looking at a monitor and laughing. This was normal, Dana had always been very interested in Mon-El and often made excuses to be close to him. Kara was surprised they hadn’t started dating, relieved but surprised. She wasn’t sure why she was relieved.

“Hey Kara” Beamed Mon-El noticing her presence and she smiled at him and went to join them.

“What’s up?” she always enjoyed their company.

“Winn was trying to work out if Father Christmas had a space ship with transporting powers if that was how he delivered the gifts” Dana explained as though this was a normal consideration.

“Is it normal for one person to monitor all people on the planet?” Mon-El asked

They all looked at him

“Well if he knows if everyone is naughty or nice, he must monitor everyone” the Daxamite queried innocently.

“It’s not quite like that buddy” Winn raised an eyebrow, trying to judge how to answer him.

“What’s it like?” asked Mon-El looking very innocent and childlike, Kara felt a wave of affection, remembering how strange she found Christmas her first year.

“More a threat to make kids behave” Winn confirmed.

“Just as well, as surely naughty and nice is subjective” Dana shifted slightly closer to Mon-El looking him up and down, “Kara thinks you are naughty, I know you are nice” she winked and walked off. Kara stood slightly open mouthed at the clearly flirtations comment.

“Dana has a thing for you” Winn laughed, softly punching Mon-El’s arm.

“Well as we say on Daxam, the more the merrier” he laughed slinging his arm around Winn, Kara just watched them. Bemused as to how the boys had bonded, they were pretty inseparable these days. Often found after work having a kick about in the park or playing computer games, or in a bar attracting female attention. A slight pang of jealousy surged over Kara, Winn was meant to be her best friend and Mon-El was her mentee. She should be the focus, yet was rarely involved with them. She looked sadly as the boys laughed and walked off.  

88888

Reaching the steps to the training room, she felt a familiar arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him.

“So fancy some sparing? I’m pretty sure I can take you”

She turned and smiled at Mon-El, bemused “I don’t think that will ever happen” she winked, mischief glittering in her eyes, but pleased that he was spending time with her.

“If I win you have to come to help me get my Secret Santa gift”

“And if I win?” she replied

“What do you want?” he smiled slightly seductively, but he used that smile on all females he wanted to persuade.

“You have to wear a Christmas jumper that I pick to work tomorrow, and it will be a bad one”

“You are on Supergirl” he chuckled, “But I’m winning” he winked at her with a playful look.

88888

Kara landed on her back with an almighty thud, shards of concrete sprinkled over her like snow. She tried to shake the dust from her hair, but Mon-El pushed her to the floor and pinned her down. She squirmed under him, but couldn’t push him off. She was frustrated, something was clearly off. Any other time she would have beaten him without a seconds thought.

He beamed looking down at her, a twinkle in his eyes, “So will you admit defeat Kara Zor-El”

“Urrr” she grunted, trying to wiggle away, but his legs pinned her to the floor and he held her arms above her head, “No”

“Well we could be here a while” he matter of factly stated.

“I will get out of this” she insisted, not sure she really wanted to, she was having fun.

“Well while we are stuck lets chat, I will tell you all about festivals at the Great Palace of Daxam” he moved slightly to be next to her ear “Or you can accept I won” he dropped his voice so it was soft and husky.

She shivered slightly, their sparring was often physical and close, but this was new, it felt more intimate. She realised how much she missed that, or longed for it. His breath on her neck felt nice, his smell, the weight of him pressed on her. She hadn’t realised how lonely she was, and hoped that maybe Madam Nicole was correct, her soul mate was close. She sighed deeply and he looked sadly at her, then jumped up and held out his hand. She eyed him curiously.

“Let’s call it a draw. I get it, you don’t want to be beaten by a Daxamite, or go shopping with me. I won’t make you”

“No it’s not that!” she was horrified that he thought his race was a problem, though considering their past it was clearly on his mind. “I just have a few things I’m thinking about, I don’t care where you are from. I want to go shopping with you, I don’t get to be human much”

“So you accept that I win” there was the trademark Mon-El charm, the poor Earth women she thought, no wonder he seduced so many, if she was not immune to his charms things could be bad, but she was immune, or at least she told herself she was.

“Yes you win” she chuckled, and grabbed his hand, she kicked out at him and pulled him to the floor, he landed in a pile next to her.

“Cheat” he laughed, turning to face her, a bemused smile lighting up his face. She smiled back at him, wishing she could meet someone like him.

“So who did you get in the secret Santa?”

“Your sister”

“Oh, I understand why you need my help”

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Kara was shaking her head at the baby pink dress Winn was suggesting, it was the 4th poor suggestion he had made, while Mon-El was transfixed by the many options for bath products. The poor boy looked scared, it was hard enough for men to navigate the art of Christmas shopping for women, but an alien having only been on the Planet a few months shopping for women was daunting. Winn suggested another pink item of clothing, and Kara looked bemused, enough was enough time to rescue them. She linked her arm through Mon-El’s and dragged him over to the book section.

Half an hour later they were sat in a little coffee shop out of the way of the main hustle and bustle, drinking coffee and the two aliens had a few slices of cake in front of them. Winn was proud of how much they could eat.

“So we must be close to finishing” Winn sighed, “How is any of this fun, all these people buying cheap rubbish that will never be used. Ignoring that Christmas is just about being with your family and friends”

Mon-El looked at Kara and smiled “Do you remember the festival of ummm, I can’t remember the word for it. Was midwinter, when it was dark and cold and your people used to celebrate family and friends, would have meals and invite the lonely to our homes. I know you celebrated it on Krypton as well because I was there when I was about 7 and visiting. I had kicked up such a fuss about missing out, it was my favourite time of the year, and I was so cross that we were off world at that time. But we arrived there and they were celebrating, and we had treats around a fire, and games and ate and played, it was the best time of my life”

“Oh I remember it well, would make gifts from nature for those close to you, and share with those who had less” she bit her lip remembering fondly.

“One big happy family” Winn gushed wrapping his arms around the pair of them, who exchanged confused looks

“No more Egg-ogg for you” Mon-El declared

“Nog, EggNog” corrected Kara wrestling the remaining liquid from Winn, whose grip was very tight when it came to food he wanted.

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A few days later she was relaxing in the break room at the DEO looking at the tree, which was decorated by Jenna and Clara two of the younger admin girls. They had been all excited about Christmas and had persuaded J’onn to have a department tree. He agreed mostly to stop them bugging him, but on the proviso that anyone was welcome to add their own decorations. There were a few sprinkled amongst the well planned colour coordinated blue and silver design. These made her smile, pictures of children, hand drawn animals, painted pine cones. She missed home, missed her family, she loved Alex and her adopted parents but there were moments when she missed her family.

“Hi” Mon-El said softly, almost too softly that she didn’t notice

“Hi, are you ok?” Kara looked at him, he looked shyer than normal, less confident

“Well, I don’t really understand Earth customs, so I hope this isn’t out of line”

Kara raised an eyebrow, “I don’t understand Earth custom some times and I have been here 13 years, I’m sure is fine”

“The other day when we were talking about our childhoods I thought we needed something to remember home by, so I found this for you” he handed her a small box wrapped in silver sparkling paper, smiling shyly. She hesitated and they gazed into each other’s eyes for a matter of seconds, it felt like forever, she nearly stopped breathing. He shook the gift slightly edging it more towards her.

And just like that the trance was broken, and he was nervously holding out his hand. She smiled and took it. With that he shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced down. The unwrapping felt like it took years, as she nervously opened it. Inside the neat wrapping was a plain white box. Kara felt cheated, something else stood in the way of this gift. She eased it open, and beamed.

Inside the box was a glass blown red star, with gold flecks, and slight swirls of colour. Kara was rendered speechless. Tears formed in her eyes.

“I’m sorry” Mon-El stuttered “I just wanted a connection to our home here, I didn’t mean to cross the line”

“You didn’t” she smiled, “Its perfect. Thank you, it’s the most thoughtful gift I ever received” She hugged him pressing close and savouring his scent. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt comfortable and safe. Then they sprung apart, looking slightly shell shocked, hugging wasn’t their normal behaviour. “Thank you, I know what to do with this” and she floated slightly to the top of the tree to place the star on the top. She landed on the floor and looked proudly at it, sharing a thankful smile with Mon-El. She was about to talk to him when Alex appeared.

“Hi Kara, are you ok?” she asked looking at her slightly tear filled eyes.

“I’m happy, look” she pointed to the star, “It’s from Mon-El to remind us of home, the star Daxam and Krypton shared” and she glanced around to see he had gone.

“That’s sweet, he’s a nice boy” she looked at Kara again, “are you sure you are ok?”

“Just feeling a bit lonely, you have Maggie and I wish I had something like that, and I met a psychic who said I would find my soul mate on Christmas Eve”

“Kara you know better than that” Alex shook her head, Kara was always the more sensitive of the two of them.

I know, just wonder what it would be like, to find a love like you and Maggie share.”

“You will find someone when you least expect it” and she pulled her sister in for a hug. They stood there arms around each other, thankful for finding each other and the bond they enjoyed.

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Christmas Eve

The season of goodwill had clearly hit National City, it was peaceful. Normally Kara would be restless, but this time she was very excited about Christmas, more so by the pile of gifts under the Christmas tree at the DEO. Secret Santa had been very successful, and there was a huge pile of gifts waiting to be collected. In reality Kara’s hyper level passion had meant most people were scared to collect their gift until today. She was known to scold anyone who tried to claim theirs early.

The break room was filled with festive snacks for people to have during their shifts, aware than a full sit down meal was unlikely with the nature of their role. Kara was acting as Father Christmas and handing out gifts of chocolate to each staff member. As much as Alex had told her to forget about what Madam Nicole said she couldn’t forget it, and was using this as an excuse to check out all the men at the DEO.

As the shifts ended people left to be with their loved ones, a Skelton crew would cover Christmas day, with everyone doing a maximum of 4 hours to allow them to spend some time with their friends and family. So the gifts started to filter out as did the staff. Kara had narrowed it down to David, Charles or Steve, all were single, relatively handsome and she didn’t hate their company.

She was sat at a table with a cream covered hot chocolate and Alex who had a plain black coffee.

“You are not still thinking about that Psychic are you?” Alex sighed after five minutes of silence, which felt unsettling given Kara’s normal chatty excitement.

“UMMMM no” lied Kara.

“You are, Kara Danvers, you have a serious tell when you lie” Alex chuckled, she loved her sister, but she was a terrible liar.

“No I don’t” she protested pointlessly.

“Oh you do” Alex chuckled, “Mon-El, Winn, over here” she shouted at the two boys who were looking for a table.

“Hey” Winn smiled, “What’s up?”

“Does Kara have a tell when she’s lying?” Alex teased.

The boys laughed “She has a crinkle in her forehead” Mon-El smiled softly.

“She really does” Winn gasped with amusement.

Kara glared far from impressed.

“See everyone knows when you are lying?” Alex responded “So ‘fess up”

“Grrr, I guess I am a little more hopeful, it would be nice to find my soul mate” she was resigned  to this being public.

The boys looked confused by this statement.

“Kara saw a psychic who said she would meet her Prince Charming today, so she’s on the lookout” Alex explained.

“Prince Charming?” questioned Mon-El still was struggling with Earth culture.

“Her perfect match, different to your Prince, this isn’t a real Prince, mostly a good guy who she falls in love with and who saves her.”

“Ok” nodded Mon-El not really understanding, “Princes on Daxam were real, and tend to marry anyone my Mother decided they should marry, didn’t really save anyone” he still looked a bit unsure.

“We are not on Daxam, and the Prince isn’t here, thank Rao” Kara replied ignoring the clear slip in comment he had made.

“Yes, just as well, see you around” and he walked off uncharacteristically short in his conversation.

Alex and Winn looked at each other with clear interest. “I’m going to follow that up!” Alex stated bluntly as she walked after him.

“Good call” replied Winn, “So Kara who are your options?” and he slumped in to a chair, luckily she was too focused on her love life to pick up on what Mon-El just said.

“Well I think it’s between David, Charles or Steve. They are all nice guys, but…”

“But?” what Winn asked watching her reaction.

“But I don’t have feelings like I should for them” she protested

“So are you just considering them because some psychic told you that you would meet someone?”

“I guess so”

“And had the psychic not said anything what would you be doing? “

“I don’t know, teaching Mon-El about Christmas, hiding the alcohol from Alex, teasing you about something” she smiled fondly.

“So let’s do that, if you were meant to be with any of them you would know them more than you do, so don’t force things, let things happen naturally”

She nodded and smiled, he drew her in for an embrace. She sunk into him. “You are such a good friend” she smiled into his neck, he pulled her closer. Winn was like the brother she always wanted.

“I know” he chuckled, “Let’s find your sister and find out if we are having Christmas with a Prince”

Kara looked at him, and her eyes opened in shock, “NO NO NO NO NO, he’s not!”

“I’m sure we will find out soon” shrugged Winn. Having been suspicious of his friend’s heritage for a while, a few slips and his behaviour was not what he expected from the guard to the royal family. Yet he had never pressed to find out as it didn’t change who he was now.

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Alex was stood on the balcony, lost for words. The cool winter air had nothing on the chill between her and Mon-El.

“So you can see why I never said anything, plus now it’s not really important, my planet is gone, my family are dead, who I was 35 years ago is nothing” the was a defeatism in his voice she had never heard before.

“Do you not think harbouring the Prince of Daxam could put us in danger? If someone wanted to kidnap you?” she attempted a scolding tone, failed because of her empathy and compassion for the lost Prince over powered her wrath.

“Not really, none of the Aliens in the Dive Bar have recognised me, I’m assumed to have died on Daxam. Kara is the closest to anyone from our galaxy. She had no idea who I was. They are looking for someone in their 50s or older. I have powers, I’m stronger than most people on this planet. It’s not a problem”

“Ok, J’onn may disagree but he can have that conversation with you” she conceded, now was the time for emotions not practicality.

“Look, I like your sister. Really like her, she’s pretty and kind and inspiring, but she hates my people, she hates my family and she hates me. The first thing she did when she learnt I was from Daxam was to attack me and lock me in a cell, accusing me of a crime. Once we got past that I explained how I escaped Daxam, and said the Prince saved me, and she used that as a reason to insult the Royal Family, my family, but my saviour in the story I told. No matter what happened I would never live down her perceptions. I like being part of your group, being friends with Winn, and you. I have no family, and you made me feel welcome. As long as I was just a guard, you welcomed me, so I stayed just a guard. I like being normal, or as normal as an Alien with super powers can be. I made friends who liked me for me, not because I was the Heir to the Throne. I got to do things I never had a chance to do. I get it, it was fun while it lasted” he was defeated, the new life he created on Earth was everything he longed for on Daxam, he never asked to be the Prince, or picked the family into which he was born, this was the life he wanted. Real relationships.

“Look Mon-El, I understand, just wish you felt you could be honest earlier”

“Yeah, me too” He took a deep breath, “For what it’s worth, I liked being a normal guy, I got to be who I wanted, not who I was expected to be. I am sorry” He walked out past Kara and Winn, with his head down and tears forming in his eyes.

Winn ran off after him. Kara sank to the floor in shock. Not sure what to think or how to process this.

“Kara are you ok?” Alex looked worried

“I don’t know” Kara shock her head, “I don’t know” as her sister hugged her close.

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Winn sat next to Kara, he waited in silence for a few minutes, then decided to say his piece.

“Look Kara, I don’t know Daxam like you do. I don’t know Krypton like you do, but I know I have met one Daxamite. He’s probably my best friend, kind, loyal, supportive and does everything to try to be the best person he can. Yes he started off a bit of a frat boy, but he’s far from that. I have meet a few Kryptonian’s not the nicest people, they tried to mind control the whole city into doing their bidding. I know you, you are everything that is good, loyal, kind, caring and compassionate. If I was to take what I knew or heard I would avoid you, but I knew you first. My dad killed people for revenge, I hid that, I hid it from everyone I didn’t want people to know who I was in case they judged me from what he did. Mon-El is the person you fight-flirt with most days, the person who gets you drunk and the person you team up with because you trust. You can judge him on stories, or what you know.”

He stood up and walked away

“I don’t flight flirt” she stropped, not sure if he was trying to upset her or not. Not sure why this was the thing she decided to pick up on.

“Oh you do, you smile and glow around him, don’t let this get in the way” Winn walked out of the room, leaving Kara to wonder if she really flirted with Mon-El, no way was that possible, she tried to convince herself. He was a friend, nothing more, just a lost Alien like her.

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Xmas day

Kara arrived for her shift, the original plan had been for her J’onn, Mon-El and Winn to cover a few hours at lunch time and then have their lunch after. The events of the night before still hung in the air, Kara and Mon-El had not yet spoken. He was giving her space. Winn was conflicted between the two friends. There was an air of tension, Mon-El sat at the computer terminal watching as scans processed and came back clear. She walked in and walked past him, and went to the break room. Her stomach churned feeling a little unsettled.

“Hi Kara, can we talk?” Mon-El caught up with her, slightly less composed than normal.

“I’m not sure that’s a good plan” she stated trying to move away from him.

“Because of who I am and where I’m from?”

“Yes, I’m not sure I can ever be alright with that” she snapped.

“I understand, I’m sorry. Thank you for everything you did for me. Im just sorry I wasn’t born on another Planet.” and he walked away with purpose. His words hung in the air surround her for a while.

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Under the tree were a few lonely gifts not yet collected, she gathered them up to put them on each person’s desk. In the mist she spotted a small box, wrapped in red shiny paper, with her name on the gift tag. She was confused, she had already received her Secret Santa gift, it had been a tasteful light green jumper, she assumed from Kevin in accounting, it looked like what his wife wore.

She picked up the box and took it to a table to open it. Curiosity overwhelmed her. It was a 4 inch  metallic circular disk, and a post-it in on the middle saying press here. After waiting a few minutes she decided to obey.

An image appeared in hologram form, taking a few moments to complete. It took up the whole of the table. As it crystallised she realised what she was seeing images of Krypton, her red sun and Daxam, and all their moons. They danced around each other in orbit. Her eyes watered. She hadn’t noticed until the tears dropped to the table. She felt content, and adored.

“He had that made for you, has been organising it for months, it took a while for us to work out how to make Earth technology work with what he wanted” Alex was stood in the door frame. “He was going to give you it at midnight”

Kara looked sadly at her, not needing to ask who he was. “I was a bit harsh wasn’t I?”

“I don’t think there was any ‘a bit’, he is the person you know, you laugh and smile with, but you made it clear to him how you feel” big sisters know best and Alex was smugly proving this.

“What if I was wrong?” Kara trembled

“Tell him you are sorry, you are fire and passion, and when you calm down you see things more clearly, you know who he is, you always have. You know what matters, you know what to do”

There was a rush of wind and Alex realised Kara had gone, she smiled finally Kara may see what she and Winn had known for months.

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Mon-El was pacing in the corridor. Replaying everything in his head, maybe he should have told her earlier maybe he should have pretended it was a mistake. This was all such a mess. He paced uncomfortably.

“So you are a Prince” Kara suddenly appeared in front of him, eyes slightly red from the tears. He misread this as anger.

“Yes,“ he replied sadly, turning slightly away from her.

“THE Prince?” she accused attracting his attention.

“Yes” he dropped his eyes from hers and swallowed nervously.

“I’m so sorry….” she started

“You are sorry?” he questioned looking up and confused.

“Yes me, please hear me out.” He nodded as she carried on. “I was cross when I first heard that you were not who you claimed to be. But I realise that part of how I acted towards you created that situation. I have never treated anyone like I treat you, everyone else I give a chance to prove that are not who they are perceived to be. But I locked you away because of where you were from. Yet I fought to defend others less worthy of a chance. I judge your family from hearsay and stories I heard as a child, and I am ashamed. Worse that, I know better. You are not the person I heard stories about. You are incredible, and caring and brave. But most of all you are my friend. Just over a week ago, I meet a psychic who told me that I would find my soul mate. I took that to be a new boyfriend, but I think all the clues are about you, Prince Charming. Well you are both a Prince and can be charming. That grey would be significant and you have the greyest eyes I have ever seen. That he would give me a gift of my childhood and I should trust how I feel in that moment, and your gift was something special”

“How did you feel in that moment?” he asked nervously. Fiddling with his fingers.

“Like I couldn’t not have you in my life, in some form, I needed to let you know you matter to me. I don’t care who you were” she looked up into his eyes, unaware that whilst speaking she had been stepping closer and closer to him, there were inches between them if that. She could smell the coffee on his breath.

“You matter to me as well” he smiled, biting his bottom lip slightly, as she realised she had been staring at his lips. The alarm on his watch beeped, and he glanced at it. “Eleven, time to set the scans”

“Don’t go” she almost whispered, he looked at her quizzically. She pointed to the ceiling, “Mistletoe.” Then moved in for a kiss, brushing his lips with hers. Wrapping her arms around him, he returned the favour once the shock passed, their lips parted to deepen the kiss as they tasted each other, there was more urgency. Her fingers were in his hair, trying to get as close to him as she could. He returned the favour squeezing her tightly towards him. Then his back hit a wall, as they tried to stabilize each other. It made them pause and laugh. Neither was sure who was more surprised.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this at work” he chuckled very aware that this was not normally accepted behaviour.

“You are right” Kara flushed slightly, “Stay at mine after Xmas dinner so we can carry on with this” with a cute wink. Not sure she could wait that long, wondering why she hadn’t realised that she cared for him earlier.

“If you can control yourself that long” he teased, walking off to start his scans. She caught up with him and slipped her hand into his, intertwining fingers. She smiled at him.

“That’s going to be a challenge” as she leant up to place a kiss on his lips. Which he gratefully accepted.

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Madam Nicole, smiled at the image she was viewing via her crystal ball, and sprinkled glitter over the ball. “Ah True love, maybe I was a few hours out”

“A few hours is far from a problem” Alex hi-fived her

“On to the next couple who need a wake up” Nicole stated and she covered the crystal up, and ticked off a list. Shutting her case she revealed her wings and flew away. Alex smiled “Happy Christmas Kara” she whispered