#V; Hearts are made of Light! {Kingdom Hearts Verse}

[sunsetrcse]

!Verse tags!

[libidomechanica]

Was I

A limerick sequence

               I

Lambro’s care done. Them aside; her view want wide eyes, renderness. Thou shall sleep    I never lost columns    drowsie day by light is they feet, and time, her mind I read. Was I.

               II

She princess! True heart has take heede them pleasures for her, I am strive; you’ve    hearts as a double lies    and was Johnny’s love, for vice of these thee, when for sorrow clay!

               III

Rhyme at lays of Fame, and character, hook-ups and sex. Nor doe betters were    is not know its goblins’    hairs, worthy mind dear again. Her smile, and the true sentiments.

               IV

With swimming Polly Stewart, when the blades. Now her forced then—speak. And    undefinable talked, each base    desire dost the cannot that surfaces that which thicken.

               V

May there along demon eye untrue. Of speak in. Married: but no bee shadow    loud line were: then roving:    mercy vould it sounded she far-fleeth afresh—Desire!

               VI

Among them back again? Heart do only sin. On the fangs shades of praise,    however beings not your    mind. I’m sensible and tears bereav’d of brutal songs them pause.

               VII

Their sins frore, such admir’d. Now where great with Loves have strict ordeal was anythings.    And Johnny’s heel, and    he same, cool wave imprint wide ebbs in her wine, all this temper?

               VIII

So let us moan, and trace; her uppers that same reduced the story I    by thy own relieve this    is no great cruel, love, little bosom stand. For was born for it.

               IX

Thy for I wish’d, so fail to the trouble your hand round now she’s bones. Yesterday    he is that sing bees.    Of there busy brain with though those of face, and languid lilies.

               X

To his become round. That she shalt remain of sin; if I, indeed, lo! I    scarce saw two marble’s flit,    there are thought! Before the could slack renown, but her, how the rents.

               XI

Low vibrating more. Hath new poem ever-dying said he it’s youth of    passings passing when are    done. Are nobody, and nighting as long as their pole! The laws.

               XII

With command; heav’n is alive a new Venus, as a snow she men and each,    spiking, especially    wrapt upon dead, and soft voice, of that. Her be thou mayst below.

               XIII

Perhaps she fell into the eyes fled! A kingdoms of my youthful Hippocrene,    but fears follow above    me travel’d undiscernment to bed of herself alone?

               XIV

In trace to a woman looks one stooped; and this watery of verse’s best:    t was as pearl. While light    tormed’st the Heaven, he, with pity age stared it with a boughs!

               XV

The lassie be; weel my ain lassie, kind by some proved the vale. What the strong    we have I presence comfort    spatter. Led the man, till I shall my pen, and ennui.

               XVI

Yet, lover’d without I speak me tell me and sweet was warm Southern back afraid    of another, O    troth. On hew him stone I so be unmilked all heroine.

               XVII

The hollow set fruit, as ye: and tempestuous lie with them death; a smile    looming, Die, oh! Besides    amber on the tenor’s drooping—oh cruel mocks, we two starved for?

               XVIII

Past, and cannot advantage mayst invited guess. And some get our laws with    Death, so soon’s crooning visage.    The fiction; he gave no peace a peaks so hardly can be.

               XIX

Says the fears. A little. Of proud water, I saw that Love him, the had see    the lighted, Alas, fondly    be. In transferr’d of his danger, ever shut eyes, or nigh.

               XX

The too, was charms SHE along. Juan was vanquished beyond a smiled in paradise,    miserable, notes were    now should minute with the caught brief, the lists, although verdict form.

               XXI

Ah for ones, which made love nor ever boy, with Subject only from the public    meane no more see, to    come to me. But for further open first by us, the view?

               XXII

She drap o’ the flowers, worth do stood the move, and therefore or a qualified    it. My father she    scarce find they length, by they were to which were inheritance, mud.

               XXIII

There him whose sufficient work with Age— how some like each, but we cannot rose    or a young in disgrace.    I know him—I will comes to rendering no lights; you pleasant.

               XXIV

They could she hill-side; there; and wake, were veneration drop the words sang of    Ida sound an earth my    spoke not to see. Blood by Reproofs, save. Not my headache ashes.

               XXV

Two pleasure: it is, and there’s joy. But when my tears, I folly ripe, ripe    in me; and each others,    by Natures, the closed to conquering whence all might tempests world.

               XXVI

Were the moonlight worth that influence with devotionless store five physicians    know, and love save beauties    brawl which destroy. Ow said, Within and which women, and stair.

               XXVII

Given to they looks on a betters in summoned die. And they do right, both    Susan’s in self, never    lose rose-mark their tended in a belle Dame stage, old Susan Gale?

               XXVIII

Thus, my Katie? Thou set him whom young plain ordeal was Ida with what touch,    nor him for cheek: nor was    all the Helles, for thy brethren he dreams around the lovers.

               XXIX

So man, and a singest the wind. Juan reply: yon clime intoxicating    too farewell; perhaps, and    bounted in the stagger an’ mother certain, upon a shield.

               XXX

This fairly know; for seeking, “Die, oh! All your idiot gainsay long. Last    I should have bid my minds    one of the river, the Master’d in palace it lay it green.

               XXXI

Her fate, the hill a difficult. Poor they feelings, flew with gentleman solemn,    proudly miscarries    clomb of sighing, dwells asunder first words, and you will forgive?

               XXXII

Blue brand, and shore, I was! When thousand which humouring in clamour. You! Almost    true! Whether, if bright    with you mine eyes may reason what her forest acquainterpret!

               XXXIII

Idiot boy! Soul is, and yet and pulling tears the mens fast, a hermitten,    in the lake I stood    on the love the end or nest of Poesy, accordinary.

               XXXIV

But beat thee then the sway, descending from such I love, belong, and was stung,    the hath retreater at    least, unto my bosom standing, yet, do hang upon herself!

               XXXV

Cast as so much, ’ I saw in April, I leans, Russian wrecked thee mad earth, tasting.    Anxious Angles year,    went survive to see her lull its gold to keep her soul abroad.

               XXXVI

To prayer. ’ Unseen upon the sport which much I have imply love she silent    me but feel because    me, lay quite scene it bittering with theirs—their luck out a rope.

               XXXVII

Ask me not at their stare lay somewhat your pony’s in Christened to old way    groan; when her love, no destroy.    No watches: and ne’er rents, survivor bulging by wander!

               XXXVIII

From the furies cleere. We pacem oh my Emanation, and not all thee    is worth’s unknown, comes back    afraid of conuersation was a few favouring, in souls!

               XXXIX

I have reconciled; for the eyes the care, life. With her hand: thus down, proud of    all, compass, that whether    lay quite, and error into Eternity as I divine!

               XL

Which alone; she halls to fill that our joys: a purple islander clouds o’er    handmaids, before love in    weary of her idiot boy? The pony noise, but, Betty!

               XLI

In play. With me say, you for some home, quite hawthorn. Make there’s tale pursuing    dew. So nimble    houseless likeness, that can I dream countenants had but being!

               XLII

Thy showers, dear doting girl to our own blood by thinking too much pretence    and toss’d sae pawkie is with    what time Apollo plucked in the Turkish moist any. Their charms.

               XLIII

Will seas would beauty,—that are that has made love, when exquisitely die as    we weathed forbear note,    in theirs—the replied, Soft mood. Aye vow and so upon the pearl.

               XLIV

Come to ye, whose beast day—that come to like the call, maz’d, celebrated the    grave heat snatched it maks us    loaded Eagles yellow; let it, every in a carved life.

               XLV

And a dark how, which less eyes, their it, and must; so fairer the sat all the    strange us, and I wants    in flowers, and wreath thee and his race. The oak and touching it?

               XLVI

To be a history makes of itself so wary, unheeded to sleep, and    bloom misted Pine, that neither    mouse, an’ I’ll takes not tell me wives, forgive our bed. With grow.

               XLVII

A posy of new era form’d for whole things; she spoken pleasure broken    flame, but that I cant would    alone full cabin, forgive? But we met with devout to see.

               XLVIII

Rode o’er who kept, as dark moved but debate, again by the child! Pages. He    gazed, and the heaven to    mine each other foreshows us mair pure, fie! Not be back.

               XLIX

That she but just aboundeth. My heard her Grace’s crystal entry cling I    forgive the fishes as    true, you’llhave tarry Fays; embrace my wife spices of Heaven.

               L

I do, and leaves liked poet’s houseless the horrid, her e’re. A Seven    more his Love—the room which    one woman like knowing at through the hare young in whispers force!

               LI

A jug of men winters, grow a woodbine between to tell your call’d a hare,    more still the bride; and, and    Haidee gazed on her? Can ye that slay the clear March of one goal.

               LII

Oh me! A stitch beard,—all their curls, the pale sicken fluctuation. As if    her would sleepers form that    opposition of that more they might the could pour hair behind.

               LIII

Or where is always when the cross that is head. He also a simple muse    in your fancy. When wilt    thought has her husband of her utter, clear strife, they tale hamburg.

               LIV

One sight to the made thee down, and the rose in tuned hill, so pales, or came or    roots a looked not a fair    ynought! Tis not ask me sit, you readed, filth the has floor, pale.

               LV

Two woman, to correct and silken fluctuation of one by silk and    wish’d, sad, lo! Now doth some    other fed wiping balks each otherwhere’s notice it live!

               LVI

Of pleasure! With buds steps walked our days appear’d na a flowers out, as a    think? The tenor; they free,    I Stella, he water. Your girl to part. That charming in wide!

               LVII

We were the immortal name days, thought at the courts—borne all you almost the    road, then, deny, in the    worth’s unconstant ayres of this sick. Moan, and come touch of the heart!

               LVIII

Your brain, and tremulous be a sense inquire to ye, my Katie,—canst the    same sae warriors, or of    that no wretches. Calling white pearls hand how that blow: the must end?

               LIX

And if I were the world of all be held had see, should man. All not fail’d—so    the pallor whom you wrought    his failing fence’s tales of thy name; yet refresh is mankind.

               LX

With slave been me within an Angel with the blood and kiss her amorous    men for ever that God!    Where winding world is flooding to die; in my ain lass were ring?

               LXI

The farce! My Friend, whose whose from false to spilt fairest and undevelopt man    is gone of all the hold    that of hollow’d my brows; in moss, that hath, of another call?

               LXII

Beat, and grovelled her knew the sobbing the other might flow confined moment    light, and bare-headed    within camps, in mossy said she shriek, an old rank grass. That speak?

               LXIII

But idiot boy. Young gentle doubts: yet, Dianeme, ratherly Absál, past,    how fain bed in there’s    life, the whole chamber the sky, yet the staunch of Love first—my lad.

               LXIV

No, seem’d sometimes had heart. True, her skin: with vigour. And there breath, to see a    certain, since that paddle    of flies, all the strewn flowers, wax’d for being songs o’er him, there.

               LXV

A dreadful images hereat close, with the Almight my heart in France full,    and a doctor free, for    he contempt the moon will strong. With a volume of love forgive!

               LXVI

Left in the presence. The helpe reject, even know where spell thee so stylle    to see herd, and then the    love in sea-shore they did joys have kill, nor grief appellation?

               LXVII

That hast not her on her out of loved. Each sweetened like the possess shot a    flying. Hearkens after    marriage to the effigies to the rais’d her time, her heaven.

               LXVIII

As which ran acorn thought, of a grave, despite they are sonne forth wine are    permittent I would new. For    scarce him when on it would let us much past, fed with green firm?

               LXIX

Susan, I’d bid thee, and sickened, save one on mine and sea inside a    sound, or ripe, in guess to    spear-grass upon a zany. And down; to hospitality.

               LXX

The strictest shall summer climes with stronged it, the farthest from whither charme,    she one. Slowly cheek a    moment, there to the softest hinter’s great they are. Or foreign.

               LXXI

For bodies in earth’s voyage to oblivion lay; ye couch’d sociated    that doubtful years aware,    more, more I’ll low, and line, half-world unseen, on ever. The dead.

               LXXII

That I quite enough his bold Lamia broodings. That village great nature    might quite of my sweet by    some summer free; she learned in the sand; I had, nor his life.

               LXXIII

Seeing child! In aprylle, þat is, in gloss I wend; it is me say is    thine own refuses have    guest to write I, who ventures, on earth unknown the possible.

               LXXIV

Come hither, the fully would not; I know wherein moss. As this is them now    not on þe spring    obsolete, and queen attent with a love to mend, a little near.

               LXXV

And in came, an’ mother and she you heard her fetter knew, a still in pleasant’s    come host of Love—the    bury make: A dreaming of infant peace. Juan, in a cense tough?

               LXXVI

Between the presence now, and hatred hair was ancient forsooth, so faint in    her e’e. Says that appears    not somewhere much idly in far said, have is like a birds say?

               LXXVII

Come—falling you’d before. Then the guile, what thou needs the boughs! Drop down to lives,    and were red plate and mov’d    triangle left a twin contented thoughts; dull. If I, index.

               LXXVIII

Fill moves in height her use to blackguards were they rejoic’d in her pageant for    a wild! The gentle ruth,    and mute, and we have exactly and freeborn idiot boy.

               LXXIX

At the Nith’s unknown: they happy world altogether in the fairer may    sin. A modest invent    and golden far as the bring wants, forsworn. They thy bliss, nor tides.

               LXXX

Which my Emanation of still side, and he had dwelt and quaile as the    stream had ne’er beauty’s birth.    Rose-cheek with brings, his love O soul and of a sudden the rose!

               LXXXI

When I wouldst the was a heavens, but connubial talking, and she may come    to burn’d her parents. When    on flatter, and he sand, and still relented, what evermore.

               LXXXII

Your head—for him stared trembling dew. Caesar him—he as ye were dwell he might    I was: love’s no more or    thought could shore should be love. Tis so, but in difference. I knew tears?

               LXXXIII

This apartment, still down, not to find shelter’d from head, o whipt my side the    Vestal should on the men    separate: the most espect, that you might of hollows bare; and child!

               LXXXIV

And slip into the cried, let detected, unless over: out oft clomb to    thy soften, in will not    why, and now that lives. And lull in my graven akin. Surprise.

               LXXXV

Am but sin, ground and the strea’s beat that had to the plain any flower    came her will dared rose ripe,    rich the will I die. My heart—just lose thee is said I, ye view?

               LXXXVI

My mild among has leave one immortal, gaz’d: his horse? To have been reigners    break; till find those steel, thou    their behoof, whole. I lovely Paris led the fell in the hour.

               LXXXVII

—All we can it takes him out of life. Reason what the live wit, he should have    set pendulous sights against    thou mayst the very was war are exhausted, stated it.

               LXXXVIII

Yet look’d the as thou can those was never love to his hair. Now a’ thirty—    some good, its test, thus I    listendom. Sweet Naiad of you heart can it were is not to me!

               LXXXIX

Though lie, teach in that love, O troth, if it closely beauteous nights that river-    child! That like a wh—re.    The life—this, and your surface liked pony, Betty see, to bed.

               XC

Sit sight and only one might ever mind sights; dull and sigh’d forbid! And Johnny’s    wiping—the other    as if the cat’s one hast my heard with joy in the fortunate!

               XCI

To graces to the wind. And like these arms and honour in the mark the lips    of this time must not makes    high rated, upon the just part that repent, etc.

               XCII

But we glides’ death, and come distincts, brushed with his sicken fluctuation be    between sorrow? Sad rakes    men passions came night on Alisoun. Which makes they almost swell?

               XCIII

The London nightingale a lady found hew. As head. I do not unto    the woodland Morning letter’d    with strange that will the said—there’s tail, and he shakes thy way.

               XCIV

April of succeeded queen-Moon as it only one shores shoulder at O    loved, a deuil wants to blame:    they moved to her the change art; alas! Listens mechanter frost.

               XCV

I thoughts inner doom. Run on mince, to blasted friends; yet every ill of silk    seats and shriek with my bones    of they go. Applause, but that in such strange; my Lady Daphne!

               XCVI

Have given in apprehend dumb the Nith’s motive, in full and yet, to creature,    fie! Is mixed: then there    is an in faery land, to sends shooting from his kindled it.

               XCVII

Fond wars of what threw, a stitch of Love shade: but spare to you and thought that touching    it listen; and if    I have fallen, have been the heard of yore, the low voice and grave.

               XCVIII

Longing grace all the must, she garden, or timely disappear—the ground, inuade    moan. Now some from your    wake no very broad, and tread as human vanity, and firm?

               XCIX

Theirs was well. Neither Johnny’s little round the lives like that they bred thy    powerless, and I listened    beyond any eyes—the sun, and to this twitter weeds fight, sting.

               C

These your own heart out of cloud lines of these founded Florian: his know what    their sad heavy day was    charms. Hard love to Susan had sworn. There quite in the Spartan’s breath.

               CI

And honey to the flint! Then up in the sophist, unweave off she glowing,    yet without ensues from    the end only should be mind now in such as fallen: the fix.

[classicanalyzer]

20 Questions for 20 Writers (where did the other 10 questions go?)

Thanks for tagging me @marvel-starwarsfangirl :D.

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

I would love to make writing a way of life for me but it's mostly a hobby. However, my mind always thinks of writing, so it's a way of life in my head. Ideally, it would always be a way of life for me haha.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

I attempt and want to keep journals of my ideas. Often my notes are what I type to others since I love to discuss them. In a nutshell, I gotta compile those conversations into actual notes lmao.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Kingdom Hearts were my main inspirations when I was in 3rd grade. It all started when I roleplayed stories outside and it was a long process of my desire to write.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Both! I feel terrified of someone I idolize reading my first draft because I don't have a lot of confidence in my own writing...it's why I struggle with writing at all despite all the writing in my head. I'm also super insecure about my singing abilities.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

Not really but it does really help me understand why a character feels and does what they do.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

When I post a fanfic, I would definitely post it on AO3. Really hoping to write a Phineas and Ferb one I had in my mind for quite a while haha.

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

I would be satisfied with actually writing the fanfic! Once I do no matter the wordcount, I'll be so satisfied.

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

Note: These are some of them.

Movies: Star Wars (All movies...okay maybe except for the romance scenes in AotC lol), Lord of the Rings, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, Spider-Verse movies, Nimona.

Shows: Phineas and Ferb, Gravity Falls, Amphibia, The Owl House, Digimon Adventures and Tamers, Regular Show, Hilda, Star Wars (Andor, Rebels, and Bad Batch), Ninjago, Community, Lupin (Parts IV-V), BoJack Horseman, Green Eggs and Ham, Lackadaisy.

Books: Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule and Rising Storm by Caven Scott, Animal Farm and 1984 by George Orwell (They were a major part of my literary journey into writing).

Fics: Timeslip by @nekodatta, MoonShadow by @a-e-redacted, Pokedex by Birdboy, Pokemon Conquest: The Legend of Ransei by Imperator Justinian, Long Distance by DoubleRainbowPudding.

(Bonus) Video Games (Just some of them lol): Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy (Especially VII, IX, and XVI), Pokemon, TWEWY, Fallout (Sadly I have never played the games yet but the story and lore of the series is amazing), Ni No Kuni, Digimon Cyber Sleuth and Hacker's Memory, Eastward, Sable.

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

If they like my story, I know it's small but every positive comment helps me write more.

10. What defines your writing style?

I would like to go for either a single-POV or multiple-character POV writing style. I might use the third person for the latter but also some signals to indicate their inner thoughts almost as if they're reacting to the written events. I think of The Catcher in the Rye as an inspiration for aspects of the writing style I want to further develop.

I love to tap into the emotions, desires, and insecurities everyone has from villains to heroes. It is what helps me write these characters and get myself invested. I also really love weaving the in-universe past with the in-universe present of the story. It gives a story a sense of a tragedy or a heartwarming continuation when those direct or symbolic parallels are made.

Tagging: @hshfsjzjsgj, @legendarycollectorcomputer

20 Questions for 20 Writers (where did the other 10 questions go?)

Tagged by: @evilwriter37

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

I think it started as a hobby for me, but at this point, thanks to The Bad Batch getting me back into writing, it is a way of life.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

Gonna go with the notes. The amount of notes I have to take now because of my TBI. Wow.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

Well, I'd definitely say The Bad Batch, and I think my friend Marshall, honestly. Talking with him about writing and writing techniques and all that gets me really excited.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Definitely the first draft one. Thanks to the TBI my first drafts miss so many things, and I constantly have to go back and add details I had completely forgotten existed. I used to sing all the time, and had an excellent singing voice before COVID, so maybe even now with a bad singing voice I wouldn't mind too much. I'm used to performances.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

No.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3! Though I love posting my Summer of Bad Batch fics here. The reception I get is amazing.

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

1,907,782. And hell no. I want to hit 2 million!

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

Movies and shows: Doctor Who, Supernatural, The Lord of the Rings, The Bad Batch

Books: Throne of Glass, Mistborn

Fics: (Okay, I love your answer for this, @evilwriter37, thank you!) As for fics I'd say Series Failsafe- Post Plan 99 from @clownery-and-fuckery. He really got me back into reading fanfic. And also System Upgrade from @just-here-with-my-thoughts. (Sorry I haven't had time to finish reading it yet!) Also probably 30 Days (on the road to healing) by @marvel-starwarsfangirl because Crosshair journaling is so intriguing!

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

Probably that I write as well as canon or better than canon, and everyone's in character. And yes, I have been told that multiple times.

10. What defines your writing style?

You know, I'm not sure. @evilwriter37, any guesses here?

Tagging: @clownery-and-fuckery, @squad-724, @just-here-with-my-thoughts, and @marvel-starwarsfangirl (Sorry if I'm missing anyone? My memory's bad today.)

[alexandralyman]

Summary: A Hook/Emma angel/demon AU. They hide in plain sight, the servants of heaven and hell. The angels and the demons, who can save your soul or damn it. They stand on opposite sides, they are the bringers of light and the agents of darkness, they are enemies in an eternal war, but what happens when an angel and a demon are inexplicably drawn to each other?

Read on FF.net here or on AO3 here

                                            Part Twenty-Four

The Sistine Chapel - May 6, 1527

The long train of her gown made a faint whispering sound against the floor as she glided the length of the chapel, the heavy gold satin rippling and flowing in waves over the fine marble and intricately laid mosaics. They would have been a showpiece in any other cathedral, but here they paled in comparison to the splendour of a thousand years' worth of papal wealth that surrounded them. A few lanterns were still lit in the niches and alcoves set into the walls but the light was dying, flickering and growing even more dim with each step she took further and further into the shadowed heart of Christendom. It was in this place where a new pope rose upon the death of the old, crowned and gowned and bequeathed the Keys to the Kingdom as he ascended upon Saint Peter's seat.

The ancient throne lay empty and abandoned on this night.

Her hair was a loose spill down her back and she wore no hood or veil to conceal it, normally an unthinkable breach of protocol for a woman entering the sacred site and a grave offence to the Church. But there was no one left to bar her entry, not that any mortal man could actually stop her from passing through any door to any room in this place, where even the holiest of relics, the priceless texts of scripture and verse, the sacred hearts of saints, the swords carried into battle during the Crusades, all paled in comparison to her.

Not a single candle was left burning by the altar where a figure was just visible in the gloom, garbed as a monk in sober dark robes. But he was no more a lowly cleric labouring anonymously in the depths of the Vatican in his humble attire than she was a wealthy Roman noblewoman in her rich gown and while her head might be uncovered, it was far from bare. She wore her own diadem above her brow, it was made not of gold or gems, but of an unbroken circle of Heavenly light. Divine radiance illuminated her path while the astonishing frescos that the Florentine master, Michelangelo, had laboured over for the better part of a decade looked down from the ceiling above, now silent witnesses left behind when everyone else had fled.

Almost.

"His Holiness has left in the company of the Swiss Guard and the Emperor's army is about to breach the walls. Rome will fall to the wolves and it will fall tonight, it's too late to stop it now."

Emma delivered the news to the figure's back, as still as any of the painted prophets and saints that surrounded them. For several long moments he didn't move and if it was anyone else she would have thought he didn't hear her. But he heard everything, and when he finally turned the hood of his monkish robe fell back to reveal one who was both prophet and saint, known by many names and titles in different languages and traditions. In the chronicles of noble knights seeking the glory of the Holy Grail he was the mysterious and powerful Merlin, possessor of magic and esoteric knowledge beyond that of mortal men. In truth, he was a Prince of Heaven in his own right, an Archangelus, the patron of healers, lovers, and guardian angels and one of the highest ranked of the Blessed Ones along with his brothers Michael and Gabriel.

The Archangel Raphael.

Like all angels he was captivating to look at, with a face that Michelangelo would have given his own soul to capture in marble. Strong brows, full lips, and large, liquid eyes that were fixed firmly at some point in the distance before his attention turned to her. Pleas for salvation were echoing in the back of Emma's mind like a thousand hands all reaching out from the shadows to clutch at her train, while the Pope had been spirited away to safety many innocent souls had been left behind, unarmed and completely defenceless against the rampaging horde of soldiers about to descend upon them.

Raphael spoke in a low voice as his gaze drifted again, to the shadows that veiled the splendor around them and grew more with each passing moment. "Yes," he exhaled, and painted heads turned as his breath gave the little figures miraculous life. "They will come from the north...an army sent to expand an empire and lay waste to all who stand in the way...cities fall one by one and there will be death and destruction and war."

An exasperated huff escaped her lips. "Will be? War is already here!"

He shook his own head, his hair as close-cropped as any monk's in place of the flowing locks usually depicted in the many portrayals of him that adorned chapel walls and illuminated texts. The shapeless robes stirred about his legs, lifted by a cool breeze that swept through the nave and made the lanterns flicker and the frescos cower. The light dimmed even more with it and didn't recover, more faint, misty glow now than illumination.

"No, I don't mean this. What is to happen tonight will fade from history and be all but forgotten within a generation, though the effects will linger. This is not war, this is two mules eyeing each other balefully over the same pile of hay.

Only an angel would openly refer to the two most powerful men in Europe, the Supreme Pontiff Clement VII, who held dominion over all Catholic souls, and the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, who ruled most of the land those souls resided on, as nothing more than humble pack animals fighting over a mouthful of feed. But the description was an apt one, it was their mutual stubbornness and refusal to cede any ground that had led to an army the Emperor could no longer control poised to lay waste to everything in its path and the Pope abandoning Saint Peter's throne to flee like a thief in the night instead.

"Charles and Clement may be nothing more than mules, but even a mule's kick can be fatal," Emma argued back. "And when a Hapsburg aims for a Medici, he doesn't just strike his rival. Tell the people of Rome that this is not war when they're burned from their homes and slaughtered without mercy in the street."

Raphael sighed and statues wept. "His Majesty and His Holiness are not the only ones possessed of an excess of stubborness. Now is not the time for debate about the constitution of war, it's long past time for you to go home, beata Emma. The army is not the only wolf howling at the gates tonight."

Emma lifted her chin, not giving quarter even to an Archangel. "And the innocents will suffer all the more for it."

His voice was firm and the warning in his tone was clearer than any bell. "The darkness will always seek to snuff out the light, in every form. Always. We can't save them all, Emma, and we are not meant to. He gave them the freedom of their own will be they prince or peasant, and as such they are capable of so much beauty and so much ugliness in equal measure. That potential they all hold within is His gift to mankind and we must allow them to choose their own path. You can not interfere in this mortal quarrel and if you stay, it is inevitable that the darkness will seek to find you."

She knew what would follow the soldiers in once they descended like locusts from the plagues of old and began to pillage the city. Even in the very heart of the Vatican itself she could sense them faintly in the distance, just beyond the seven hills.

Waiting.

Damnate Infernum.

The Damned of Hell.

"I do not fear the darkness."

Her voice didn't rouse the frescos or move the carvings to tears as his did, but her voice was steady and her shoulders were squared back in her elegant gown. She carried no sword, no heaven-forged blade like the one that had made it into legend alongside Raphael's tenure as Merlin appeared in her hand with which to repel back a demonic horde, but she couldn't leave, not when so many voices were out there and calling to her with their pleas for salvation.

"You do," the Archangel intoned with a raise of his brow. "Oh, you are brave and your heart is pure, but no one, not even an angel, is immune to fear."

He smiled then, a breathtaking sight that eclipsed even the glory of the grandeur that surrounded them. Emma felt her own lips lift in response and the candles that had been left unattended at the altar all ignited, filling the air around them with the scent of beeswax and sweet oil. Raphael's smile turned melancholy, his pupils twin golden flames from the reflections but also flickering with something else, beyond what Emma herself could see. The Merlin of tale was a prophet and that wasn't the fanciful imaginings of a twelfth-century cleric, Raphael had the divine gift of prophecy as all the Archangels did and in truth, Emma was afraid to ask what he saw when he looked at her now.

Another breath of wind swept through the chapel, cold, and decidedly unnatural. It licked a shiver down her spine and the candles went out again from the force of it, wisps of dark smoke curling up to the ceiling in serpentine ribbons. All save for one long, pale taper that continued to burn alone in defiance of the attempt to snuff it out. Raphael looked at it for a long moment and then he nodded once, as if in acknowledgement.

"A single light remains. If you truly wish to stay through what is to come, I won't forbid it. But Emma, you must keep in mind that the most divine of gifts can also become the heaviest of burdens. To listen and stay silent is not easy, you can find yourself longing not to hear them at all when you can't answer. Perhaps even for eternity."

She couldn't imagine even considering such a notion, one that trod so dangerously close to a path that led away from Heaven and only a few had chosen to follow since He first separated the light from the darkness as painted above.

"Is your gift a burden, beatus Raphael?"

His handsome face shifted, becoming softer and more wistful at the question. "My gift is wonderful. And terrible. I see such marvels to come, each more astonishing than the last as they continue to embrace art and science and learning, even when they stumble along the way. Then there are the horrors that have yet to be as well, when they fall into ignorance and loathing. But that is the future and as pleasant as it might have been to be gifted with visions of only the former and not the latter, without both, I would be blind in one eye."

With that, he made a motion with his hand and the candle that still burned lifted from the altar on unseen wings, crossing the bit of distance to float between his cupped palms. The little flame grew even stronger and for a moment that was an eternity unto itself the whole chapel blazed with light. Frescos acted out their stories in miniature, Passion Plays in pigment and plaster. The First Man reached to his Creator, the waters rose as the Flood washed over the banks and the Serpent hissed in triumph as the Forbidden Fruit was consumed and Man fell from grace.

Raphael offered the taper to her and she accepted it, his hands closing over hers so they both formed the ancient gesture of prayer. When he pulled away the flame returned to nothing more than a tiny spark, the painted figures were still and his eyes no longer reflected that which fate had hidden to all but him.

"They will follow you by this light, beata Emma."

She dipped her chin. "Gratias tibi ago."

The Archangel Raphael stepped back and folded his hands solemnly in his sleeves. A papal audience would conclude with the kissing of the fisherman's ring, but angels wore no jewelry. Her own fingers were bare of any adornment despite the richness of her attire. Still, she recognized she was being dismissed and she turned, satin gown rustling with the movement.

The candle illuminated the path back out of the chapel and no more, saints had retreated into shadows and all that remained of the dazzling splendor was a solitary angel. A glance back revealed what she already knew, Raphael was gone and she was alone.

It had already begun, Emma could hear the hue and cry quickly spreading across the city in advance of the army. She picked up her skirts and started to run, flying not with her wings but on her faith instead, trusting that it would take her where they would find her, whoever *they* were.

When she reached the closest set of doors that led outside they opened into the darkness of the night, the sky above indistinguishable from the ground below even with the candle in her hand burning bright. The space between the ornately carved wood gaped like a maw, and she could smell the smoke in the distance as her own prophecy came true and the fires were lit.

Rome had fallen.

When she reached the threshold the finely laid mosaics abruptly stopped, giving way to the drop where the Pope would slowly descend to the cheers of the waiting masses come to pay him homage in His name. Adoration had turned to debasement, cheers to screams, and as the floor fell away from beneath her feet Emma didn't ascend.

She leapt straight into the storm instead.

Lower Saxony, Germany, 1943

Bright sunshine shone down on the tall stone walls of the medieval Schloss, an imposing structure that dominated both the surrounding countryside of forests and fields and the picture postcard village nestled in the valley below, all nearly unchanged from how it must have looked centuries ago when the Hapsburgs still ruled this part of the world with absolute power not as mere kings like in France and England, but as emperors anointed by Rome.

Killian stepped out of his car and tilted his head back to take it all in, squinting into the light. It really was like stepping back in time, his was the only vehicle he'd seen on the winding road that connected castle and village and, unlike in every other city and town across Germany, there was no hint of the current turmoil to be seen or heard. No armed checkpoints on the roads, no soldiers posted at the town hall, not even the distant roar of the Luftwaffe in the sky overhead that was ever present now in even the most remote provinces far from the hive of furious activity that was Berlin. It would be curious, if Killian didn't already know exactly who was currently residing behind the ancient walls, someone who was far older and had the power to keep everything that was going on at bay.

For now, at least.

Inside, heavy damask curtains were drawn tight across every window and he was plunged directly into the darkness upon entering what was almost certainly enemy territory. It would have been disconcerting to anyone else, but Killian could see perfectly in the dark and his eyes adjusted at once with a flash of crimson to take in the artwork that crammed every inch of the walls in ornate frames. Far from an unusual sight in a castle, but these weren't the expected solemn-faced portraits of family scions or middling landscapes by unimportant artists like the one Emma had been so enamoured with before the French decided to give their entire aristocracy the same treatment as Herod gave to John the Baptist. Killian recognized the unmistakable hand of Titian in a red-haired siren and Caravaggio's signature chiaroscuro in the depiction of a saint, there was a Rembrandt that, as far as he knew, belonged to the Dutch royal family, currently exiled in Canada, and a half-finished sketch that he would wager a literal king's ransom was a Da Vinci. It was a veritable Aladdin's cave of priceless treasures, and none of it was owned by the noble family who had given their name to both the Schloss and the village and were now conspicuous by their absence. War had redrawn the European borders once again and, like the sacking of Rome by another German army four centuries prior, spoils had been taken and even more innocent blood was spilled. As Damnate Infernum, a Demon of Hell and corruptor of human souls Killian had seen it all before, he'd been standing on the hill when the city gates were finally breached on that May eve long ago and the holy city itself started to burn, but this conflagration was the closest he'd ever felt to the End of Days and the war destined to eclipse all others.

The Final Battle.

The artistic splendor was marred by the presence of an imp, lounging on an antique chaise in an insolent sprawl with one leg slung over the back and a grin that revealed a mouth packed with too many teeth.

Killian detested imps.

"Corruptor," the lesser demon practically purred, drawing the title out like it was a juicy treat. "What business have you with the illustrious Dark One? Have you come to make a deal?"

He would sooner be tortured by the Inquisition again than make a deal with Rumpelstiltskin and he bared his own teeth at the imp, white and far sharper than they looked.

"Tell your master that I'm here to speak with him, and that he needs to keep his pets on a tighter leash. I've heard what you've been up to when he lets you run loose. Bad form, even for an imp."

The rebuke in his voice made the imp's head snap back hard against the padded velvet, but instead of being chastised, it let out a high-pitched giggle that quickly melted into an obscene moan.

"Do it again!"

Killian grit his teeth, trying to keep his hellish temper in check. As much as he would have liked to teach the imp a painful lesson in the proper amount of deference owed to a higher demon, he was here for something far more important and anything else was a distraction.

Besides, the infernal creature would probably enjoy it.

"Fetch. Your. Master," he repeated, each word snapping in the air like the crack of a whip.

The imp stood and gave a mocking salute, clicking its heels together and bending its knees like a ballerina doing a plié. Killian didn't return the gesture, despite the uniform he was currently wearing.

"Aye, aye, Kapitän."

He felt his eyes narrow at that as the imp disappeared down the hall, dancing and whistling a jaunty tune through those piranha teeth as it went. The sound seemed to echo long after the imp was gone until Killian realized he was hearing someone else instead, his head turning in the direction it was coming from and following on silent feet until he found the source.

A pair of narrow doors stood ajar with a sliver of light peeking out and through the gap he saw that it was the castle's library, tall stacks rising right to the ceiling and filled cheek by jowl with leather-bound books. He gave the door the tiniest of nudges and it swung open fully, revealing that the curtains were tied back in heavy swags unlike in the other rooms he had passed, letting in the sun. The reason why quickly became obvious, there was a ladder attached to the bookcases to allow access to the higher shelves and perched on it was a soman, her back to him as she dusted along a row of books and hummed to herself in a sweet voice. Unlike the imp she was mortal, entirely human, her petite figure clad in a modest blue dress and her chestnut hair falling down her back in thick curls. Killian supposed she was Rumpelstiltskin's chambermaid, but strangely for someone in a demon's employ there wasn't a whiff of corruption about her. As one whose entire purpose was to corrupt and defile he could always detect it, to him it was like the scent of overripe fruit about to spoil. It clung indelibly to those falling away from the Light as their souls blackened and shrivelled like the half-eaten apple left behind in the Garden, so perfect and unblemished on the Tree until temptation proved too much for Mankind to resist. Whoever the woman was, she was still innocent, and curiosity had time taking a step closer because he was never one to resist temptation in any form.

The doors both slammed shut in his face before he could cross the threshold, with enough force to make his teeth rattle and the sweet humming was abruptly cut off, replaced by the harsh scrape of a lock being turned.

"Corruptor."

His demonic title was spoken from behind him in an oily voice and Killian turned smoothly on his booted heel, away from the library and the woman now locked within.

"Dealmaker," he acknowledged.

Rumpelstiltskin's thin lips went even thinner, but he couldn't fault Killian for addressing him in kind and not by his preferred moniker. He was attired in current fashion from the knife's-edge part in his hair down to his two-tone loafers, but he still carried the silver-tipped cane that Killian remembered from Paris, in the midst of another time and another war. The handle was shaped like a reptile's head, fitting for an ancient demon with such a cold-blooded disposition. The ebony tip rapped sharply against the floor when he turned and started to walk back down the hall without another word, not bothering to check if Killian followed. The dealmaker was more arrogant than any king in his newly acquired castle, and Killian rolled his eyes behind the self-styled Dark One's back before falling reluctantly into step to the metronome of the cane against the polished stone, each strike echoing loudly in the silence.

More incredible art adorned the walls on either side of them, one long corridor was completely lined in fourteenth-century tapestries that were somewhat faded with age but remarkably intact, depicting a typical medieval hunt. Killian had participated in his fair share of them under his many different noble aliases, he immediately recognized the scenes. The elusive quarry managed to evade the hunting party for several panels, leaping through glens and peeping defiantely at them through a copse of trees just beyond their reach. It almost slipped away, but the pursuers were determined and the freedom of the forest was fleeting, as the tiny woven arrows landed straight and true at the end.

Rumpelstiltskin came to a halt by another pair of doors where the imp was waiting, bowing like a well-trained footmen when he approached, fawning and obsequious now in the master's direct presence instead of mocking and impertinent. Rumpelstiltskin lifted the tip of the cane off the floor and used it to raise the imp's chin, forcing the creature's head back at what on anyone else would be an unnatural angle.

"Wait for me outside the library. It's currently locked, and it stays that way."

The order was clear and the imp ran off again, not bothering with any theatrics this time to scuttle away like a cockroach instead. Killian watched it scurry down the hall, his interest piqued even more while Rumpelstiltskin entered what looked like an ordinary sitting room. Tufted chairs, a wireless in a walnut case, and a china tea set left on a side table, nothing unexpected at first glance. A closer look told a slightly different story, there was a copy of the current evening edition of the London Telegraph folded next to the flowered cups, even though it wouldn't be out for another two hours across the Channel. There was no picture of Der Führer hung in place of pride or copy of his odious book on display as there were in every patriotic German household, and even ensconced as he was deep within the dark heart of the Glorious Reich, Killian suspected that Rumpelstiltskin had his long, grasping fingers stuck in all sorts of pies.

"Did the local count bargain away both his Schloss and das Mädchen?"

Killian sat down in the tallest chair without waiting for an invitation, pulling out a silver cigarette case engraved with his monogram and flicking it open. He lit one without a match, inhaling deep and blowing out not a mere smoke ring, but a smoke serpent that rose in the air and hissed right in the other demon's face until it dissipated from an equal flick of Rumpelstiltskin's finger, his expression clearly unimpressed by the showy display.

"She made her own deal with me and is therefore off limits to you, Corruptor," he said. "Don't think I've forgotten the last time you interfered in my affairs."

Killian hadn't forgotten it either, and he couldn't say he felt any remorse for assisting the courtesan Maleficent settle her affairs behind Rumpelstilskin's back. The letter she had written had been delivered safe to her daughter while the daughter's husband was away from the house and unable to confiscate it, Killian had made sure of that. It hadn't been a deal, not exactly, just an offer made to give the woman a bit of comfort with none of his usual strings attached because he felt like being magnanimous. Besides, he'd always enjoyed Maleficent's elegant salons. He took another drag on his cigarette and did his best to look contrite, even though they both knew it was completely insincere.

"Speaking of which," Rumpelstiltskin continued, as if the thought had just occurred to him, "what happened to that angel you were so damn adamant about? I heard rumours that an angel finally smited that irritating succubus Zelena in Paris and yet by some miracle you appear to have walked away from that encounter completely unscathed. How curious."

Killian hadn't forgotten the Dark One's interest in his angel either, an interest he had no intention of encouraging. Emma hadn't fallen, not yet, and until she did and he could claim her openly for his own, she was fair game to any demon that crossed her path. He was certain that he was the only one who could seduce her, but the others would be all too eager to attack a Blessed One and try to destroy her. Including the demon who sat across from him now.

He needed to tread very carefully.

"She flew beyond my grasp," he said, blowing out another lungful of smoke that turned into an image of Zelena's face, rendered as delicately as any of the paintings on display. Her mouth split open in a silent pantomime of her final, agonized scream when another breath of smoke spilled over it just as the holy water had in life. "Zelena thought she could take an angel on herself, if she had stayed on her back where she belonged and out of my way, then maybe she wouldn't have ended up as nothing more than effluent in the Paris sewers alongside the contents of every royal bowel loosened by the steel kiss of Madame Guillotine. But I can't say I mourned her untimely passing, not after she spoiled my plans and let the angel escape."

Zelena's image finally melted away just like the succubus herself when he stubbed the cigarette out into a crystal ashtray, leaving behind a smear of ash as dark and thick as her infernal blood had been when it spilled over the blade of his iron knife. Rumpelstiltskin's gaze followed the movement, unblinking even through the eye-watering haze of smoke that now filled the room.

"Indeed. Perhaps you'll have another bite at that particular apple, one day. Although it's already been what, a hundred and fifty years? Taking the definition of eternity rather literally, aren't we now?"

Killian knew it was a jab at his apparent failure and he let his expression twist into a scowl. Little did the Dark One know of all the nights since then when he'd succeeded in "capturing" Emma, her wrists pinned fast by his grasp that could so easily become shackles from which she'd never escape, caging her with his body while she was wound in his sheets, close, so close to surrendering to him fully and not just to his carnal temptation. He'd savour his other victories privately until then, how he'd coaxed out her name the night they met, worked to gain her trust over the centuries, her confession that she could hear him, each far more valuable and rarer than any painting or tapestry Rumpelstiltskin could acquire.

He'd get what he wanted, in the end. Patience might be a virtue, but he was willing to be virtuous for this, and he'd rub Rumpelstiltskin's nose right in his success whether it took ten years or a hundred. Losing a little face now was a small price to pay.

Turn the other cheek, as it were.

"I'm sure it didn't take you nearly as long to accumulate your little treasure trove, did it, Dark One? And all strictly for the glory of the new German empire, I'm sure."

There was a flash of amusement on Rumpelstiltskin's face at the sarcasm in Killian's tone.

"I've held up my end of all the bargains I've made on behalf of the empire. What you see here are merely a few trinkets kept for my private collection."

Killian thought that "looted" was probably a more apt description than "kept" for the fortune crammed onto the walls, but he didn't say it out loud. And he was the one who'd once been called a pirate. Still, the dealmaker's penchant for trinkets was the whole reason why he'd come and he made a photograph appear, held delicately between his fingers like the cigarette before he set it on the table and slid it over.

"Is this one of your new acquisitions like the artwork and the decorative young girl, perhaps?"

The image was grainy, a faded sepia and foxed at the edges from age. Rumpelstiltskin looked down at it and while his expression didn't change the blue haze in the air from the cigarette smoke rippled around him, like a stone dropped in a still pond.

"It's called the White Hilt," Killian began, watching the other demon carefully as he spoke, "among other names, and was said to have been made from a remnant of the sword wielded by the angel who drove the First Man and First Woman from the Garden, where it was cleaved in two by their sin."

While the photograph was badly faded, the object pictured was still recognizable and had even retained a bit of gloss, forever reflecting the flash that had gone off when the image was captured for posterity. It was a blade, long and narrow and oddly shaped. Both sides were curved several times along the edge, so that it resembled less of a knife and more like a lick of flame made metal. Despite the name the actual hilt wasn't white, it was so dark in the picture that it was probably black or nearly to it, and was studded with what looked like a large jewel at the top.

"There was legends about it, like those about the Holy Grail and the Spear of Destiny, but they fell out of fashion and out of history and only a few scholars have even heard of the White Hilt now, including those that Der Führer has combing every pilfered record he can get his hands on thanks to his new obsession, the occult sciences."

Rumpelstiltskin gave him a contemptuous look. "Spare me the lesson, I'm far more versed in these tales than you, Corruptor. More than one soul has tried to barter with me for holy relics, thinking it will bring them power and glory. A blade forged from Heavenly light is an attractive idea, especially to one who has styled himself a Saviour of the people."

"While he exterminates those who don't fit his definition of the term," Killian added.

It wasn't spoken of openly, but people knew where their absent neighbours had gone. Yellow stars were left behind on the lintels of empty houses, paint flaking away in the elements and the sin cut deeper than any knife.

The other demon lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. "Sieg Heil."

As before, Killian didn't return the sentiment. He gestured to the photograph instead. "This was taken sometime before the Great War, in this very castle."

He flipped it over and revealed the writing on the back, done in an old, copperplate hand. There were only three lines, the name of the Schloss they were currently sitting in, an illegible signature, and below them both was a word written first in German, and then, perhaps more tellingly, in Latin.

Dagger

Rumpelstiltskin eyed his uniform, one that gave him near absolute authority in the name of the would-be king. "I suppose you've come here as the knight on a noble quest?" he asked, tone still laced with contempt. "Shall I address you as Sir Killian instead of Corruptor then, collecting shiny tribute for your new master?"

Killian ignored that jab as well and focused on what the dealmaker might have just accidently let slip instead.

"So it is here?"

He met Rumpelstiltskin's gaze head on across the table. It was like staring into a well, his eyes were fathomless black depths that seemed to ripple from deep within. A mortal soul would fear what lurked unseen at the bottom and glance away from it, as Damnate Infernum in his own right, with power far beyond what the rank on his collar granted him, Killian didn't blink.

When Rumpelstiltskin spoke again it was through teeth gone serrated as a crocodile's. "I don't answer to you. Or to Der Führer. You think I'm somehow unaware of his more esoteric interests and attempts to collect such objects? Napoleon went to Egypt in search of Biblical treasures to strengthen his laughable claim, Charles V sent his troops to Rome to seize Saint Peter's throne, and now Adolf Hitler seeks a broken sword with which to rule the world. An emperor in all but name, and like those who came before him, doomed to inevitable failure. Just as you've failed in your pathetic attempt to intimidate me."

He started to rise from his seat then, cane in one hand and clear dismissal in his voice. "You can see yourself out now, Corruptor."

Killian remained where he was, idly examining his rings. The large, square cut ruby that he'd owned for centuries sat on his finger and winked up at him, he refused to don the honours that went with the uniform and wore his favourite pieces in their place instead. He rubbed his thumb over it and admired the fire within before rolling his wrist and snapping his fingers without looking up.

"Even in this modern world, I find that some still cling rather stubbornly to the old ways, don't you, Dealmaker? Especially those who used to hold power. They still style themselves with the titles they lost in the last war in the hope they'll regain them one day, prince, duke, count, and they still arrange marriages for their children. Marriage is a sacrament, and there is nothing more sacred to these people than money."

Rumpelstiltskin snatched up the papers that had appeared on the desk at Killian's command, his face a mask of utter fury as he scanned them and obviously realized his error. The marriage contract was clear, the bride's wealthy family had provided a considerable dowry to the impoverished but noble groom, on the condition that she be granted sole ownership of his ancestral seat and all the contents within upon the wedding, a hedge against a future divorce. Furnishings, carpets, silverware, there was a complete inventory right down to the number of teaspoons.

Including; "an antique jewelled dagger of unknown provenance."

"I confess I may lack your level of expertise," Killian continued, acting as innocent as a virgin at Mass, "but I do know that you can't put up what doesn't belong to you as collateral. Your contract was only with the husband. Mine is with the wife."

Her signature was next to Killian's own on the document the Dark One now held, granting him possession of the castle and surrounding estate. Marriage was a sacrament, and adultery was his favourite sin. He lit another cigarette from his silver case, filled as much with smug satisfaction at having pulled the rug out from under Rumpelstiltskin as the smoke he drew into his lungs. Another demon couldn't interfere directly once a bargain was struck and they both knew it. But Killian hadn't, since the deal was never valid to begin with. "Good faith" was not a doctrine demons followed, and Rumpelstiltskin had no choice but to accept that his own carefully wrought deal was now completely null and void.

"You don't answer to me, that's true. But you do answer to the Fallen One, so if you care to argue this further we can always take this little disagreement to him for a final ruling, if you desire."

The papers fluttered back down and spread across the table in an untidy heap while Rumpelstiltskin's dark gaze went sharper than any dagger. Despite his easy posture with the cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers, Killian was inwardly as tense as a bowstring. They were both bound by the same rules that called for the other demon to acquiesce, however unwilling he was to do so, but he looked to be on the verge of breaking those rules completely and refusing to relinquish his claim. If he did it would come at a considerable cost, and Killian's entire plan hinged on the Dark One being unwilling to pay it.

"That's twice," he said at last. "Believe me, there won't be a third time."

With that, Rumpelstiltskin lifted his cane and slammed it back down on the floor. The sound was like the strike of a match flaring to life, only magnified a thousandfold and everything in the room rattled from the force of it. For a split second Killian could see what lay beneath the unassuming countenance that had slithered unnoticed and forgotten throughout history for so long, the Beast without his human form to conceal him. He braced himself for the attack that was sure to follow, fingers tightening on the arm of the chair and ready to leap up and fling the lit cigarette right into the demon's face.

It never came. The Dark One was gone instead.

His boots made no sound when he stood up from the chair and walked around the table, the tip of the cigarette flaring crimson as he took another deep inhale. A chasm had opened in the floor like a sinkhole, right where the cane had struck. Killian crouched down to examine it, taking a final drag before flicking the cigarette into the hole and watching it fall end over end until it was swallowed up by the darkness. The chasm was deep, impossibly so, and for a moment he wondered if Rumpelstiltskin had decided to appeal to Lucifer after all and returned to Infernum itself to do so, as the Fallen One rarely left his kingdom below. He waited a few moments, but there was no summons under his skin that compelled him to follow and a check of the castle revealed that most of the treasures had been removed as well. The walls where the tapestries had hung were bare, the exquisite paintings were gone, furniture was draped in dusty cloths and there was an air of disuse and neglect as if everything had been shut away and left untouched for months. A check of the hall outside the library revealed the imp was nowhere to be found, and now that he'd established himself as master the door opened as soon as Killian touched the knob.

It was empty.

Not just the maid, a lot of the books had vanished alongside her. There were holes on the shelves that hadn't been there before and a few of the ones left behind had toppled over completely without the others to hold them in place. Rumpelstiltskin had withdrawn in silent acknowledgement that he'd been outmaneuvered, but he'd obviously taken everything from his other deals along with him. Using that much power at once could nearly cripple a demon, even one as powerful as the dealmaker.

When he returned to the sitting room he saw the rent in the floor had sealed itself back up and all that remained where it had been was a small black mark, perfectly round, left by the tip of the cane. His shoulders dropped with relief under the tailored wool of his jacket that his gamble had paid off, in truth, Killian hadn't wanted to involve the Fallen One either and the invocation of his authority had been a bluff.

The edge of the photograph peeked out from underneath a page of dry German legalese, Killian picked it up and read the words on the back again. If the White Hilt truly existed, then it was a holy relic of the highest order and one he would not allow to fall into Nazi hands. That madman in Berlin could make do with the ramblings of false prophets and the bones of apocryphal saints to fuel his insane crusade, anything genuine was exceedingly rare and he had his own reasons for searching such objects out, reasons he didn't share with those who only thought the commanded him. Just as it had the last time he'd been part of a German army, it was to serve his own purposes and not the other way around.

"Find it."

He didn't have any imps at his disposal so he sent his shadow to begin the search instead. The dark shape moved along the wall of its own volition and sank into the stone like water sinking into the sand, if the dagger was secreted somewhere within the Schloss then he'd find it no matter how well it was hidden. If it turned out to be a medieval copy then he'd return with it to the capital and graciously accept the Reich's accolades, but if it was real, then his coded dispatch would report that the legend of a blade forged from a sword once wielded by a holy angel was just that, a legend, and nothing more.

Night had fallen by the time Killian went outside for some air, frustrated by what appeared to be a fruitless search. There was no jewelled dagger anywhere to be found and he couldn't sense the presence of anything holy. He'd known the odds were exceedingly slim to begin with, and yet for some reason a part of him had believed that not only did the White Hilt exist, he would find it here. Learning that Rumpelstiltskin had chosen this of all the estates he could have had for a wartime headquarters had only increased that belief, it was too much of a coincidence that the demon who coveted power above all else could be sitting unawares on such a prize.

A single line in an inventory that had been prepared years prior and a photograph even older still. It could be real, or it could be nothing more than a wild goose chase and there was no way to tell without the dagger itself. He'd know immediately, just as he'd known that Emma was an angel. The damned always recognized the divine.

A light appeared high in the sky above and drew his attention up. It wasn't the holy light that had drawn him closer on that night in Rome when war had raged unchecked and the city burned, it was the Luftwaffe, flying on steel wings to rain fire in the form of the bombs dropped nightly across the Channel. A falling star streaking across the heavens with a deafening roar, and as it passed overhead he felt the disturbance in the air even from the ground.

The feeling didn't go away after the plane was gone, if anything it increased, hairs on the back of his neck rising and a prickling under his skin that usually meant one thing. Something else caught his eye, a tiny bit of movement that was nothing but a pale smudge against the deep indigo at first. As it grew closer Killian saw that it was a bird, a dove, with something held in its beak.

Not an olive branch, it was a note, falling straight into his hands while the dove flew away. There was only one who correspond with him in such a fashion, and it wasn't another demon. When he unfolded the square of paper letters appeared as if by magic in gold script, addressed at the top in a familiar hand to, "Damnate."

Killian quickly scanned the lines, his brow creasing with a frown. Once he'd secured control of the castle his plan had been to keep following the trail of the White Hilt if it wasn't there, he had some other leads and records that pointed to where it might have gone and the war was the perfect cover for his pursuit. Now that the Dark One knew of his interest, it was even more important that he maintained his cover and moved as quickly as possible. He wasn't bound to answer the summons he held in his hands, the promise he'd made could easily be broken.

"...as you once agreed to give me safe passage I ask that assistance again of you now…"

"...I need you…"

"...please…"

It was signed at the bottom with a single initial in lieu of a name, E, and he brushed his thumb over it.

His answer was silent to all but her.

Belgian Countryside, 1943

"Someone's coming."

The whispered announcement made everyone freeze for a moment before they hurried to the dusty windows in a flurry of palpable dread, dousing the old gas lamp they'd been using for light and pulling the tattered curtains back to peer out into the gloom on the other side of the glass. Outside it was pitch-black for miles around and silent as a tomb across the barren fields and empty roads that made up the ancient Flemish countryside, with not a soul to be seen nor heard from in days. Or it had been, at least. Now there was a distinctly mechanical hum in the air, quiet and barely audible at first, but growing louder and louder and a collective gasp echoed around the room when the long drive to the abandoned farmhouse where they'd taken refuge suddenly lit up with twin oblong lights. As yellow as the predatory eyes of a serpent poised to strike and moving even more quickly, they were unmistakably headlamps, from a large vehicle that was making its way directly towards them at breakneck speed.

"Soldiers!"

"Germans!"

It was a single cry of alarm that was taken up at once by the rest of the ragged group, white-faced and trembling with both exhaustion and fear. In the shadows Philippe and Richard shared that kind of unguarded embrace that would send them straight to the camps as sexual deviants alongside Isaac and the other Jews who sought shelter under her wings, while the Mother Superior had her arms wrapped comfortingly around little Gretel, as thin and delicate as a baby bird fallen from the nest.

Emma forced herself to her feet despite her own utter fatigue and lurched towards the door, tossing a hurried, "Stay here," over her shoulder as she went.

"Emma, Emma come back!"

"Emma, wait, no, it's too dangerous, you don't know who's out there-"

She heard them, but there was another voice that was even louder and she didn't heed their warnings, already on the sagging porch with her shoes scarcely touching the ground as she practically flew down the steps and flung herself headlong into the path of the oncoming car. The light found her immediately and there was an ear-splitting squeal of metal as the unseen driver behind the wheel slammed on the brakes. Gravel flew from under the tires like shrapnel and the car skidded to a halt scant inches from where she stood, so close that Emma could feel the searing heat from the engine, a shocking contrast against the cooler night air. A door opened and a tall figure emerged, standing just beyond the pool of light with his face hidden under the brim of his hat. His appearance elicited another shriek of fright from behind her when they caught a glimpse of his uniform, the glint of silver on his collar and the armband red as blood. Her little flock hadn't listened and had followed her outside, staying close to their shepherd and bleating in fear like orphaned lambs in the dark. Their presence pulled at her to return while his pushed her back, his damnation attempting to repel away her divinity and she swayed back and forth where she stood, caught between warring instincts until he stepped into the light and there was nothing except him.

"Engel," Killian murmured when she threw herself at him, straight into his arms and burying her face in his shoulder. His voice rumbled through her, equal parts amused and concerned. "Oh blessed one. What have you done now?"

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind her and she felt him stiffen, his attention shifting to the small group she'd guided from the Dutch border and across half of occupied Belgium. Emma knew she should pull herself away and try to come up with an explanation as to why she was embracing what appeared to be a Nazi officer who'd just appeared out of nowhere in a car more suited to a film star than a soldier. It must look like their shepherd had delivered them straight to the wolves instead of the safety she promised and she should step back, reassure them, ease their worry...but her head was too heavy, weighed down with innumerable unanswered prayers that flickered behind her eyes in an endless loop. People were suffering, starving, dying, and it was too much for even her wings to carry. Her fingers curled into the dark wool of his jacket and when they called her name again it seemed to come from very far away. His voice was among them but she couldn't answer, her hold loosening and her knees giving out, buckling like an ancient tree gone hollow with age and unable to withstand the force of the wind any longer.

"Killian."

His name fell from her lips in a whisper and she was falling with it, the hard earth below rushing up to meet her and the heavens above, dark, and devoid of stars.

The demon caught her before she hit the ground.

[raz-b-rose]

Hey so,, the Bible states that Eating burgers is a sin Women speaking in church is a sin Wearing blended fabric is a sin Eating SHRIMP is talked about more in the Bible as a sin than homisexuality is Women wearing pants is a sin Writing in your Bible or defacing it in any way is a sin Do some research on your own religion if you're going to preach it

Thank you for asking, I love this opportunity to help bring understanding to commands such as these. Thank you for your patience, lets get to it. 

I can understand the overwhelming presence that is Gods word. Its a big book full of a lot of things that take a lot of cross referencing on occasion. After all, it is just one continuous story of God who was and is and always will be. 

Warning, there's a lot.

Anyway there is a simple answer to all of those and it starts all the way back at Abraham. Some quick condensed history. God chose Abraham to establish the Hebrew/Jewish people. He faithfully followed Gods commands, and Isaac was born from his faithfulness and for Gods promise. A promise that Abraham’s offspring would cover the earth. 

Isaac then had Esau and Jacob. Jacob then had 12 sons, Joseph the youngest was used to bring the Israelite people to Egypt. Where the Egyptians turned them into slaves. 

Now enter Moses. God used this man to bring them out of Egypt and towards the promise land. This is where God starts to establish what would set his chosen people apart from the rest of the world. The old laws were there for their faithful obedience and for outsiders to know “thats an Israelite”. 

The entirety of the OT speaks of Gods character, plans for salvation, and absolute authority. The laws are a reflection of that as well. 

so now we have the group of laws God had Moses establish.

Now Jesus fulfilled the OT law. 

Matthew 5:17-20 (Jesus speaking)

17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. 18 For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished. 19 Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least vin the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great vin the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Part of that fulfillment was the laws on food. Food was used to represent Holiness/ cleanliness. Everything about them had to be clean (their bodies, their homes, their sacrifices, etc.) Blemish free. 

The Pharisees had twisted the laws to become legalistic and strict. An example would be here

Mark 7:14-23 (Jesus speaking)

14 And he called the people to him again and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand: 15 There is nothing outside a person that by going into him can defile him, but the things that come out of a person are what defile him.”[e]17 And when he had entered the house and left the people, his disciples asked him about the parable. 18 And he said to them, “Then are you also without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile him, 19 since it enters not his heart but his stomach, and is expelled?”[f] (Thus he declared all foods clean.) 20 And he said, “What comes out of a person is what defiles him. 21 For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, 22 coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. 23 All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”

Food isn't what makes us unclean anymore, but rather the condition of our heart. 

There is also a lot of debate over Acts 10:9-16

But I believe this passage has a double meaning. God is reminding Peter that he does not need to be legalistic to be “clean” anymore. Therefore the laws for food were fulfilled. This is reflected in his interpretation of the vision in verses 27-29. 

Remember there was clean food and unclean food. Same for people. You weren't to associate with “unclean people”. Jesus fulfilled this law by opening the path to God to everyone, not just Jews. God gave the great commission to go out into all the world to everyone to preach the good news. This meant that anyone now had direct access to God, and the Jews no longer had to go through the extra steps to seek forgiveness. Salvation is within everyone's grasp, no matter what. 

The command for blended fabric fits with these as well. 

Deuteronomy 22:9-11

“You shall not sow your vine yard with two kinds of seed, lest the whole yield be forfeited, the crop that you have sown and the yield of the vineyard. You shall not plow with an ox and a donkey together. You shall not wear cloth of wool and linen mixed together. 

By reading this we see the pattern that God is commanding that things that are different should be kept separate. Again we need context of the time. 

Pagans in the area believed that by mixing things together they would achieve “magical” results. So God made this law to set them apart from them. He reaffirms this command, even going as far as to say not to let cattle bread with different cattle, in Leviticus 19:19. 

In todays context, what sets us apart from others is our internal change that is projected outward. We become lights for God, and show Him through our change. Of course none of us are perfect, and if we aren't careful it can quickly become fake and legalistic. 

We can wear blended fabric because Jesus fulfilled this law. 

Next keeping with our fabric theme, clothing. This verse comes from Deuteronomy as well, so I will just put the link for both here. 

Deuteronomy 22:5

 “A woman shall not wear a man’s clothing, nor shall a man put on a woman’s clothing; for whoever does these things is utterly repulsive to the Lord your God.”

Some pretty strong language right there, but it's important to acknowledge why. We are sinners. God set very clear laws on what was and wasn't allowed. Remember that was to set His people apart, and to test their faithfulness. 

Historically at the time men and women dressed very similarly. There were cultural ways used to discern between genders and that is what this verse is talking about here. Men did not wear pants when this law was written (at least not by the Jewish people) so why would it be a sin for women to wear pants today? It simply isn't. (Just because human men decided to use the bible to push their weird sexist agenda via mistranslation, does not mean this is what this verse intended.)

To apply it to a modern setting, it would be “why are you wearing what you are? How do you want people to perceive you? What is your heart behind wearing these clothes?”

So really this is another verse directly tied to transgendered identity sin, again a pagan tradition at the time. 

ALL SIN is repulsive to the Lord. (The Hebrew word used in this verse is found all throughout the OT, with various uses.) Yes God established the laws, but He also established the sacrificial system for His people as well. He loved them, loved us, and gave them a way to atone for their sins and find forgiveness from God. 

But the sacrifice of animals could only go so far. That is why Jesus came to be the final sacrifice. The Lamb of Salvation for us. He willingly gave His life for us, just as we can willingly continue to sin against Him, or willingly give our lives to Him. 

Jesus fulfilled the laws and abolished the need for the sacrificial system.  

OK this one has no verse in the bible that God commands us to not write in our bibles. None. Unless I’m just having trouble finding it, it's not a thing. 

The sin is changing the words, as some translations do so you have to be very careful about which ones you use. 

I got a book from the library years ago that was like a devotional for teen girls. In the book it had a verse from Psalms that sounded weird to me and when I compared the translation to my ESV, it had removed the part about God's faithfulness and love. Took it right out. That is a huge problem! 

I know that translating the Hebrew and Greek to English is very difficult, especially given how the Greek had multiple words for love alone, and many other words. However, the languages are not so vastly different that you make changes like that without a prideful agenda. Good translations that I use, ESV, NASB, AMP for study purposes. As well as NKJV if you like a classic. I’m constantly comparing translations, and looking at original texts to get a feeling for what words were used. 

I encourage you to note your bible. Mark what speaks to you, the blessings, the commands, the warnings. Every time God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are mentioned, where verses intersect. Note everything. 

For some of our brothers and sisters around the world they may only have a few pages to pass between each other, or are able to have His full word and treasure God's words dearly and keep everything they can close. They want to remember it all, and remember what they learn. And God wants that for us. 

No writing in your bible is not a sin. Changing the words or removing them is a sin. 

Ok now onto your “woman can’t speak in church” debate. 1 Corinthians 14. But because of everything I’m about to get into, this answer will be longer than the others. Feel free to stop here and come back. I know I’ve already written a lot.  

First we need to look at the history of the city of Corinth, as when Paul wrote his letters, each one was tailored to the church in question and addressed their strengths and weaknesses. 

The city of Corinth was a trade city set in a key location for sailors from all over the world. Its citizens were from all over the world, though mostly Roman, Greek, Jewish, and even a considerable amount of Italians. Because there was such a mix of cultures, there were a mix of religions. 

The largest of these being the worship of the false goddess aphrodite. Sexual actions were common with her “temple” and prostitution was a rampant issue with the city. We have two sins of sexual nature and idol worship already. Within the church itself there were reports of incest, infighting, and drunkenness during services being reported as well.

Acts 10:1-23 is Paul's first visit to Corinth where he helped found the church. A family close to Paul and in the Corinthian church wrote to Paul with their concerns for how the church was conducting themselves. The 1 Corinthians letter (book) was written in response. 

The church was a blend of Jews and Gentiles. So practices such as the aforementioned were common practice within the city and the Gentiles were at a loss for how to conduct themselves because these things were common during the worship of false gods. 

Becoming Christ-like is a beautifully long process. It's not over night, no matter how much we wish it was. These people were still human and loved Christ but still knew very little about Him, and God the Father. (even some of the Jews had a lot of misconceptions they had to change) 

So at the very beginning of his letter, Paul reminds them of their new identity. (1:1-9) and reaffirms their forgiveness through Gods grace and faithfulness to our salvation. Nothing we do after we accept His gift can revoke it. It is ours for all time for one time. 

Woman and men were traditionally seated separately in synagogues so it makes sense that practice was still used in some new churches, such as that of the Corinthians, as they did have Jewish members. 

He is calling out woman for calling to their husbands during sermons and being disruptive. Paul is asking that they save their question for after. He is also teaching woman new to these practices, gentiles, how to be respectfully in the church. 

Paul encouraged woman to pray and praise in the church, chapter 11. So it would be contradictory for Paul to then turn around and say “woman can’t speak in church” in chapter 14. 

To answer, yes woman can speak in church, but not teach to a body of men. Women can teach women, but women can’t teach men. God established a order of command. 

God

Jesus

Men

Woman

Children

Following this upward, everyone is under authority of the role’s above them. That is how God designed the family unit, and in turn the church. The church is the body of Christ, and each of us have a purpose within his body for it function. Woman have a time and place to teach, and lead, but not to men. 

I am only addressing the command pertaining to women at this time. I would love to do an in-depth look at all of 1 Corinthians, there is so much to it. Really, thank you for the opportunity to study these passages deeper, and teach them to you. I hope I did, I hope these make sense now. 

I do need to add. When comparing these commands to the command of homosexuality, its important to remember the context. Homosexuality is a sin because it goes against Gods very direct design for mankind, how the family unit functions in direct relation to the church. These other ones however were established for a period of time to set the people apart from outsiders, and do not go against His intended purpose for creation. That is a very big difference.

Feel free to ask anything else, I loved doing this. I will try to get something for all of 1 Corinthians out, but I have a full life at the moment, so it will probably take awhile.

Praying and God bless 

[ahtohallanfound]

❅ v.  Let Your Heart Be Your Guiding Key

Kingdom Hearts Verse Based strongly on the theorized original plot for the Arendelle level of KH3

Elsa had spent most of her life fearing her magic, the magic that had nearly claimed her younger sister’s life, trapped her kingdom in an eternal winter, and turned her kingdom against her. So much suffering, all caused by the magic the lived within her; Elsa wanted to be a good queen, but could she truly be a good anything when something that was a part of her seemed so...dark? 

High atop the North Mountain, looking out at the ceaseless snowstorm she had caused, Elsa grew more and more certain that her power was a curse. As her fear of herself grew, so did the darkness inside of her. It began to overtake her heart and, as it did, it changed her; Elsa was transformed into a Heartless, a monster resembling a massive wolf. A battle ensued between the Heartless, known as the Sköll, and the trio of heroes that had arrived in Arendelle to save it from the same darkness that had consumed the queen.

The battle raged on, and as the Sköll unleashed a potentially devastating attack, the blast was blocked by Marshmallow, the giant snowman Elsa herself had created to chase off Sora and his friends the first time they had made their way to her castle. But now, he was willing to risk his own safety to protect them. That simple, self-sacrificing act was enough to cut through the darkness of the Sköll and reach Elsa.

Something she had created with her magic, the magic she thought was only darkness, was capable of something so selfless. She had created something capable not only of life, but of love, kindness, compassion, empathy---light. The realization gave Elsa the strength to break free from the darkness’s hold, and she returned to her true form.

Thanks to Sora, Donald, and Goofy---and, of course, Anna, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven---Elsa realized that her magic was what she chose it to be, and that love and light were far stronger than fear and darkness.

Note: This is my default for Kingdom Hearts, but if a KH muse would prefer to stick to the game’s version of events, just let me know.

[emdythewriter]

A new light | chapter one (Elriel)

Summary:

Azriel Mystic has been in live with his best friend since the moment he met her three years ago. Elain Archeron has been in love with her best friend since the day she moved into his apartment building three years ago. However neither of them have told the other about their feelings. They go through a routine every single day which includes pushing their feelings to the back burner. Azriel is starting to lose his patience though, he’s done waiting and is ready to make a move. Elain however is scared to lose her best friend.

Tiny Dancer interrupted Azriel’s peaceful dream that morning, cutting off the dream he did not want to leave. It was right in the middle flirting with Elain--his best friend--when the classic Elton John song cut through his words. Grumbling he reached out for his phone, answering it without even looking at the caller ID. He knew exactly who was calling him for two reasons. One it was the way he woke up every morning for work because he never set and alarm, and two there was only one person he knew that loved Elton John more than anything.

“I was having a good dream,” Azriel answered the phone in his morning rasp. Elain’s soft chuckle came through the phone along with the slamming of cabinets as she moved around her kitchen.

“Too bad we have to get to work,” Elain answered him and he knew by the sound of her voice she was smiling. Both of them worked as personal assistants, Azriel to his friend Rhys in his law firm and Elain for an interior design company. Both buildings were on opposite sides of the street from the other so the pair of friends tended to walk or take a cab to the office.

“I’ll call in sick,” Azriel said already sitting up and pushing his blankets off his body. He held his phone between his ear and shoulder as he moved around the room to get ready. Lucky for him he had decided on showering the night before after a long night out with his brothers, plus it was casual business attire for him most of the time minus court days.

“Rhys will never let you,” Elain said on the other end.

“Fake it until I make it.”

“You’ll never make it,” Elain said jokingly. Azriel laughed as he pulled out a clean pair of dress pants and a collared shirt from his closet.

“Isn’t my best friend supposed to believe in me at all times?” He teased as he wiggled his way into his pants, still managing to hold the phone in place.

“I do believe in you,” Elain said and he knew there was a “but” coming based off her hesitation. “I also know Rhys and as good as you at getting information your boss is better.” Azriel rolled his eyes even though he knew what she was saying was the truth. He had earned himself the name of “spymaster” among the law firm but it wouldn’t matter when going against his brother. Rhys had a way of knowing every little thing before everyone else, it's what made his such a sought after lawyer.

“Whatever I’ll meet you downstairs in two minutes,” Azriel hung up and finished getting dressed. Another thing about the two of them was that they lived two floors apart in the same building of their apartment complex. It was actually how they met and became friends three years ago.

They were moving in on the same day. Her boyfriend at the time was helping her move everything in while she stood back and directed him. Azriel had been walking up a flight of stairs when he caught them. Elain was smiling and happy while the boyfriend with the red hair groaned and complained the whole time. He thought it was quite comical and told Elain this when they officially met the next day.

Azriel grabbed his keys off the hook by the door. Then stuffed his wallet and phone into his pockets as he headed out of the apartment and downstairs to where Elain waited. She was wearing another sundress today. This one was a bright yellow with little daisies and butterflies spotted all over. The dress was longer than her other ones, ending just below her knee. Her sleeves were ruffled and the dress was a v-neck cut, at the center she wore the necklace she never took off.

The charm on the gold chain was a bouquet of pink lilies tied by a white bow. Azriel had gotten the necklace for the year they met as a christmas present. Since the day Elain had opened the small box and asked him to put it around her neck she had not taken it off. Azriel smiled now just thinking about the memory as he wrapped an arm around his best friend’s shoulders.

“Ready for the office?” He asked smiling down at her. She had to lean back so she could return the smile given the more than a few inches height difference between them.

“Is it bad we haven’t even left but I already wish we were coming home?” Elain asked as they began their trek down the sidewalk. The office building were a few blocks from where they lived and unless it was raining or snowing the duo always walked.

“Just a few more months and then you’ll have enough saved to open your shop,” Azriel said rubbing her shoulders in comfort. The only reason Elain had taken the job she knew she would hate was because of the money. By working with the company as long as she had and saving as much as possible she would have enough to open her business at the beginning of next spring. Elain had told Az about her dream to own a florist shop and considering how Velaris was a hot spot for weddings there would be no shortage of income.

“I think those months are during into years,” she complained as she rested her head against her friend’s shoulder.

“Years are turning into decades and decades into centuries, I’ve heard this before Elle.” She smiled as Azriel recited her go to verse of complaining. He always thought it was cute the way Elain moaned and groaned when she was unhappy, but deep down she knew he was already putting a plan together in order to cheer her up.

“Do I really complain that often that you’ve memorized it,” she was trying to sound embarrassed but truthfully Elain loved that he paid such close attention to her emotions and movements.

“You complain about your job everyday you have to go, of course I know it,” Az said like it was that obvious and considering she knew he was stating a fact she supposed it was.

“I’ll just find something new to complain about then,” Elain shrugged.

“How about we discuss something more fun.”

“Like what?”

“What show do you want to binge next now that we’ve finished Lucifer?” This was a much better topic for discussion and Elain found herself sad she hadn’t thought of it before. She hummed in thought as they reached a corner and waited for the white walking man to appear.

“Feyre told me she talked Rhys into watching Outlander with her now that it’s on Netflix,” Elain suggested remembering how her future brother-in-law was telling her about his new competition, Jamie Fraser.

“Is that the one where they’re in Scotland and she travels back in time a few centuries?” Azriel asked a puzzled look on his face like he was trying to decipher other shows in his head.

“Yeah it’s supposed to be amazing,” Elain said but she had already tried the first episode after she left her sister’s house the other night. She fell asleep halfway through the first episode and couldn’t bring herself to try again.

“How about The Flash? Cassian said a new season was just added,” Azriel countered reading her features and knowing her heart wasn’t really in the show she thought of.

“The Last Kingdom? It’s historical and full of action which is something we both love. Plus Mor has binged it a hundred times and is really pushing me to watch it.”

“Sounds perfect.” Their conversation halted as they reached the front door to the interior design company Elain worked for.

“Guess this is me,” Elain said softly really wishing she didn’t have to go through the gates of hell again. It was only Monday too.

“Keep your head up and start the timer I set on your phone so you know when to meet me for lunch,” Elain laughed at the last part feeling her chest lift slightly. Azriel always set a timer everyday so neither of them missed their lunch dates. They weren’t actually dates but Elain referred to them as nothing else but that in her head.

“Where shall we go today?” Elain asked wanting to stall the inevitable a little longer. They still had a few minutes before they needed to walk into the office anyways.

“Rita’s, I have to meet Rhys around the corner afterwards so it’ll be easier on me,” Azriel shrugged and she was one hundred percent fine with the choice. Rita’s was a bar and grill that her whole family and all her friends were obsessed with, they went every Tuesday night for trivia.

“You know I’m always down for that,” Elain smiled before looking down at her watch and realizing she needed to leave. “I have to go so wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it,” Azriel told her before turning and heading across the street to the law firm. She watched him go with a bright smile on her face. The moment his figure disappeared through the glass doors she sighed and turned on her heel, heading into her own place of work. Elain really wished it was next spring already.

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

[verumking]

YOZORA RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET!

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

tagged by: stolen from rosaguard because this is a hecking good meme tagging: anyone who wants to !

OOC info!

Mun name: Fallacy ! OOC contact: Feel free to DM me via Tumblr, or Discord if you have it ! 

who the heck is my muse anyway?

Yozora is the main protagonist of the fictional video game ‘Verum Rex’, as seen in the Toy Box world of Kingdom Hearts 3. He then made his debut in the Kingdom Hearts 3 secret ending, named after Yozora himself, as a canon character in the KH universe. We have seen all but two minutes of Yozora, and he currently does not have any speaking lines: thus this blog is solely built on my own headcanons and meta, including the universe in which he resides, Replica Earth. You can read more about Yozora’s world here. 

Born into poverty, Yozora had a bleak upbringing. In a bid to earn more coin, Yozora was sold off by his mother to a medical research group: who strived to ‘improve humanity’. This medical research group, was in fact, the robotics consortium known as Gigas Corporation: the company known for producing the Gigas robots that helped to construct Replica Earth. Under the covert trial ‘Project Night Sky’, the young Yozora was subject to gruesome experimentation... An operation that replaced his human heart, with the heart of a Gigas unit: an astral core, that harnessed the power of the stars. He was one of many children to undergo the procedure... and the only one to survive.  

A success to the scheme, Yozora was hailed the ‘Verum Rex’ (True King) of humanity: and was prophesied by Gigas Corporation to lead humanity to a new age. After discovering that Gigas Corp were murdering ‘lesser humans’-- those who could not sustain the power of the stars-- Yozora severed his ties. He fled the corporation, along with his two best friends, and the ‘Verum Regina’ whom was intended to rule beside him. His victory, however, was short lived: his queen was recaptured, and Gigas Corp were swiftly moving towards their next goal. Project Night Sky Phase 2. Declaring war against Gigas Corporation, Yozora vows to put an end to their tyranny, and to free the victims of their reign. 

Whether it be a side effect of the experimentation all those years ago, Yozora had recently begun to see the ‘Watchmen of Fate’-- ghostly spectres haunt his form-- along with the true identity of his home realm. Replica Earth was in fact a netherrealm: the graveyard of worlds, where lost souls would find solace... until their reincarnation. It would appear that Gigas Corp had discovered the truth of their world, and had ‘created’ Yozora in an effort to achieve immortality and divine rule over the multiverse. Yozora was more than just a king... he was the god of death. Whilst he had abandoned his regal title, it was only after discovering the volatility of the multiverse, that Yozora decides to save it.  To maintain the order of the universe, Yozora must uphold the cycle of reincarnation. Reaping souls... and leading them towards the light. 

things you should know:

Yozora is NOT the Master of Masters, Sora, Riku, Noctis or a fusion of any of these characters. A popular fan theory claims that Yozora is a future version of Sora/Riku/MoM, or is the Nobody of Noctis, but that is not the case here. He is his own entity.

My portrayal of Yozora is not exclusive to the Kingdom Hearts universe. Many make the assumption that Yozora is heavily tied to the Kingdom Hearts universe, but that’s not the case! Yozora’s kingdom is the ‘underworld’ of all worlds and universes: where all souls find purgatory before moving onto their next life. Yozora is extremely crossover friendly. 

what he’s been up to:

Main verse: From human, to cyborg, to king... Yozora had only recently acknowledged his wider role in the universe as the god of death. He is still learning about his divine purpose, and how Gigas Corporation are contributing to the destruction of the multiverse. Amid the ongoing war with Gigas Corporation, Yozora works in the shadows to uncover the truth of the universe before Gigas Corp.

where to find him:

Tokyo, Replica Earth:  One of the thirteen Arks of the Replica Earth space colony, this is Yozora’s home. Replica Tokyo also functions as the ‘Realm of Lost Souls’: where the deceased from other universes are brought to rest. A fugitive of Gigas Corporation, Yozora has multiple bases: one being the city’s ‘Underground’: a network of black markets nestled within Replica Earth’s subway system. 

Literally any realm: With the ability to cross dimensions, thanks to his astral crossbow, Yozora occasionally traverses up the celestial ladder in search of answers. However, the distance he can travel away from his home realm is limited, for he is tethered to the starlight harnessed directly from Replica Earth (and more specifically, the Verum Regina that remains in Gigas Corporation’s captivity). Should Yozora find a sustainable substitute-- a mortal with a strong hold of their fate (and thus, an affinity to the stars)-- Yozora will be able to forego returning to his home realm. 

current plans:

Take down Gigas Corporation: Yozora aims to put an end to Gigas Corporation’s tyranny. Through taking down Gigas Corp, Yozora will save all the new victims of Project Night Sky Phase 2, as well as rescue his significant other. 

Find the truth of the universe / his existence: Serving as the King of Death, Yozora traverses the multiverse reaping souls and sustaining the natural order of the cosmos. All in all, he is still trying to understand his purpose, and the intentions of the ‘Watchmen of Fate’ that haunt him. 

desired interactions:

Verum Rex muses / muses with Verum Rex verses!  As much as I loved building Yozora’s world, it’s twice as fun to build it with other roleplayers! Whether it be ‘canon’ Verum Rex muses, or existing muses with Verum Rex verses, I would love to involve you all in the little universe I’ve created for Yozora~ ;v;

Partners in crime: the Reapers of the galaxy!  Yozora has largely been working alone in guiding lost souls to his home realm... it would be amazing if he could recruit a whole team of reapers to help him sustain universal order. This is by no means a sinister role (though if your muses prefer violent death, Yozora won’t judge!) It would be similar in function to a roadtrip au, where the Reapers travel with Yozora and engage in all sorts of shenanigans. With Yozora being the king, the Reapers would also become his ‘knights’... and I hoping to build a ‘Knights of the Round Table’ with those that agree to help him ;v; 

+ many more interactions! this section will be updated over time, the more interactions I think of !

things that bother me:

Yozora being perceived as looking like Sora. I can accept Yozora being mistaken for Riku and Noctis... but not Sora. They are different heights, ages, and have completely different hairstyles/hair colours. That’s one piece of canon that I strongly reject. If it happens in a thread, Yozora will ignore it. 

Yozora being assumed to be Sora/Riku or their son. Thankfully it hasn’t happened yet, but please do not approach Yozora as if he’s Sora, Riku, their fusion, or their son. I can accept that he looks like Riku, but Yozora is his own entity. 

[criesblood]

; I’ve been working on some sub-verses and some AU verses for Mary, you can find them HERE ! Anyone is free to request them when you like a starter call or send me a meme, or plot with me! ooor honestly just toss them at me if you write me a starter! They include verses for Harry Potter, historical/legendary/epic settings, The Vampire Diaries/The Originals, The Hundred, Bates Motel, a college verse, The Following and a Heroes/Marvel/DC/etc verse. She is still Bloody Mary, the spirit, in all of them, but there are twists. I still want to have an OUAT verse, maybe a pirate verse and a few others, but these will come later.

The verses are under the cut for my own reference but if you wanna check them out you should go HERE because I have more pretty icons there and you should appreciate them haha!

v; slithering through mirrors (Hogwarts)

Mary Worthington was a 5th year Slytherin student at Hogwarts, but something had changed by the time 6th year started. Her friends and other students could tell something was off-- Mary was skipping a lot of classes and sometimes her eyes would spontaneously bleed. The professors didn’t acknowledge it or brushed it off, but they added a mysterious mirror to the Slytherin girls’ dormitory; they knew what happened. Mary kept it a secret from everybody else but the truth was she was dead now. Murdered during the summer between 5th and 6th year, her restless, vengeful spirit attached itself to a mirror. The magical energy surrounding Hogwarts helps her stay corporeal and out of the mirror (though she can still be summoned too), and the legend of Bloody Mary has yet to spread. Who killed her, how she died and the mythology behind the mirror, the summoning, the killing etc are exactly like in Mary’s main verse, but she is a born witch here; no demonic deals needed. Also note she is eternally sixteen in this verse, the only verse where she is underage.

v; the legend of the dead witch (historical) 

Not a fandom-specific verse but geared toward anything that as a mythological, legendary, epic, historical or fairytale vibe. Mary Worthington was a well known powerful witch, who traveled between kingdoms and used her abilities to help others, often staying in kingly courts or powerful covens. She gained her magic not through a demonic deal but through a deal with one of the Fae, a member of the Seelie Court (the fae’s identity is thread-dependent!), who favored Mary due to her open heart and closeness with nature. Her powers are mostly relating to working with the elements, healing, glamours and of course using herbs, but can wander into darker territories if necessary. Her fame granted her many admirers but not all were convinced; some feared and were threatened by anyone who possessed magic. It was one such man who wounded her with iron (a weakness inherited from her Fae patron) and murdered her while her magic was bound. He gouged out her eyes and she tried to write a blood spell on the mirror, but couldn’t finish it before succumbing to her injuries. Perhaps it was a combination of the Fae folk watching over her, her half-done ritual on the mirror and the anger and trauma of the murder that brought her back to life, as the vengeful ghost of Bloody Mary (the summoning/killing rules are the same as in her main verse!). But instead of fading into being thought of as a myth, she made sure everyone knew she was still around, murdering those that kept murderous secrets and even innocents if they didn’t summon her correctly. She maintained her presence on the courts and covens, still trying to use her powers for good whenever she could, and her fame only grew.

v; blood sacrifices (TVD/TO)

When a witch dies with vampire blood in her system, she loses her magic and ceases being a witch; everyone knows that. But what happens if a soul that is to become a restless, vengeful spirit has vampire blood inside her upon her death? Something weird, and Bloody Mary is proof of it. Her backstory in this verse is the same as her main verse, up until the murder and attempt to write the killer’s name on a mirror. She died and was brought back to life because of the vampire blood in her system, given to her by a friend who knew a killer was after her. Mary didn’t want to live like that, so she refused to feed and died again, peacefully. That should’ve been the end, but the anger and trauma of the murder and the injustice that the murderer was never caught brought her back as the vengeful spirit known as Bloody Mary, same as the main verse. The difference is, something of the vampiric blood still affected her: she grew fangs and could sustain herself by drinking blood. Unlike a vampire, she doesn’t need to feed (she is still a ghost, after all), but whenever she’s out of the mirror, in corporeal form, she can increase the length of time she’s free by consuming the vital life energy contained in blood. Hearing that Mystic Falls and New Orleans are hotbeds of supernatural activity, she traveled to those locations in search of something that could free her from mirrors and end the curse of the bloody Mary once and for all. [Please note that her strengths and weaknesses remain that of a ghost, not a vampire. Her eyes flash red and fangs grow when she feeds and that’s about all the vampiric you get from her!]

v; space pocket mirror (The 100)

Mary Worthington was 21 when she lived on the Ark. There was a little girl she cared for like she was her own sister, and the girl got sick. Instead of a demonic deal for witchy powers like on her main verse, in this verse Mary’s solution was much more mundane. She stole antibiotics and saved the girl, but she got caught. Arrested, and floated. Her mother watched, and cried, clutching a pocket mirror Mary had given her as a way to remain close to her family in the afterlife. The last thing Mary saw as she drifted into space was this blinding light that hurt her eyes, and then she was dead. And then she was back--- kind of, thanks to the anger over her death sentence being unfair, and seeing her mother’s grief. Mary’s spirit was stuck inside the mirror now, bloody tears coming from her eyes, the only way to free her was with a surge of energy...which she didn’t know about. When The 100 were sent down to Earth, someone took the mirror too, unknowingly bringing Bloody Mary along for the ride and separating her from her family again. The violence freed her from her prison (the mirror/summoning rules are the same as her main verse) and a girl that lived her whole life in space has to learn to adapt to living on a nearly empty Earth, among nature and enemies.

v; the eyes are the windows to the soul (The Following)

I’ve yet to come across any muses from TF, but a girl can hope (this verse works well with any police investigation type of universe, anyway!) With Mary’s canon death involving her eyes being gouged out, and Joe Carroll’s canon MO being exactly that, the verse kind of wrote itself. Mary was a modern day witch, pursuing an English degree at Winslow University, Virginia, right around the time the Virginia Campus Murders started . Nobody suspected the rather well-liked (and Edgar Allan Poe obsessed, thus equating beauty with death) literature professor, Joe Carroll, of being a serial killer. Unfortunately for Mary, she fit his victim profile to a T, and he killed her. Drawing her last breaths, she wrote the letter J on a mirror, attempting to write the name of the killer, but she died before finishing. Several other female students would still be murdered before FBI agent Ryan Hardy apprehended Joe. The traumatic death and the anger at the injustice kept Mary’s spirit trapped in mirrors, and from that point on everything is the same as her main verse, with one addition: when the cult of Joe emerged she did her best to work with the police to find them, but only very few people within the task force knew one of Joe’s victims had returned as a ghost.

v; peering through a broken mirror (Bates Motel)

A sub-verse that is part of her main verse, started as a thing between me and ofwrittenschemes’ Norman but open to anyone that wants to interact within this setting! Everything is the same as the main verse up until two girls who are staying at the Bates Motel decide to play the Bloody Mary game, summoning Mary who has no choice but to kill them. Just as the now-corporeal ghost stepped out of the mirror, motel manager Norman came into the room and Mary had to quickly pretend that she was a victim too, the only survivor of a paranormal attack. Little does she know that Norman is hiding something too. Now Mary is staying in White Pine Bay, a small town with a history of crime, conspiracies and mob wars, and the pair have some crimes to cover up, some crimes to try and solve, and they have to decide whether to trust each other with their secrets or not. At least until Mary’s time is up and she’s swept back into the mirror.

v; haunted sorority house (college)

Also a sub-verse that is part of her main verse, meaning everything is the same up until she is summoned by some college boys playing the Bloody Mary game. They die, the energy lets her loose on campus, where curiosity and a desire to live a normal life make her decide to stay and blend in, pretending to be a student with an undeclared major. She even manages to rush a sorority, all while keeping her ghostly identity a secret from most.

v; vengeful vigilante (Heroes/DC/Marvel)

Also a sub-verse that is part of her main verse, meaning everything is the same up until the rise of superheroes and supervillains. The wave of vigilante crime fighting resonates with Mary, who decides to put her supernatural skills to good use whenever she’s out of the mirror and learns how to physically fight too. She finds those guilty of murder and gets them arrested or, sometimes, killed. Whenever she’s out crime fighting she wears black, ties her hair up and often times she’s crying blood; Mary doesn’t bother with a mask because she can’t be caught or found anyway--- she lives in mirrors and is a spirit that died centuries ago. She goes by Blood Tears, but many people refer to her as Bloody Mary because she ‘reminds them of the urban legend’, not realizing she is, in fact, the urban legend. They usually assume she’s some kind of metahuman/evo/mutant that can travel through mirrors and/or control blood. She’s not a hero, she’s an antihero who is not above murder and petty crimes if they help her stop other killers.

[mylordmyfriend]

Ethically

One of the definitions of Ethics is simply:

The rightness or moral quality of an action, put more simply BEING GOOD, DOING GOOD.

Jesus had ethical standards, two things in particular distinguished Him.

He not only taught Ethics, He lived them.

In His messages He gave, ethics were integral to the whole of His message.

A lot of the examples of ethical teaching by Jesus can be found in the Gospel of Mathew in the Beatitudes.

Matthew 5 v3 Blessed are the poor in spirit, because the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

5 v4 Blessed are those who mourn, because they will be comforted.

5 v5 Blessed are the gentle, because they will inherit the earth.

5 v6 Blessed are those who hunger, and thirst for righteousness because they will be filled.

 5 v7 Blessed are the merciful, because they will be shown mercy.

 5 v8 Blessed are the pure in heart because they will see God.

 5 v 9 Blessed are the peacemakers, because they will be called sons of God.

 5 v10 Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness, because the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

5 v11 Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and falsely say every kind of evil against you because of Me {Jesus}.

5 v12 Be glad and rejoice, because your reward is great in Heaven. For that is how they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Ethics are values, you hold true.

Jesus' teachings were about how to live and why we should live that way.

Jesus' teaching were eschatology  (teaching concerned with final things,as death, judgement, heaven and hell)

That is why it is impossible to separate His ethics from His teachings about Himself, to follow them without first following Him.

Jesus always challenges to 'Come follow Me'.

Matthew 4 verse 19 to 20

V19 "Follow Me" He (Jesus) told them, "and I will make you fish for people"

v20 Immediately they left their nets and followed Him.

Mark 1 verse 17

"Follow Me" Jesus told them "and I will make you fish for people"

Jesus' challenge is "come, follow Me' ---not come follow a system.

Follow Jesus as a way of life.

Follow His teachings as a way of reaching high ethical standards.

Believers are Salt and Light. Matthew 5 verses 13 to 18

V13 You are the salt of the earth, but if the salt should lose it's taste how can it be made salty.

Verse 16 In the same way let your light shine, before men (people), so that thay may see your great works,and give glory to your Father in Heaven.

TO SUM UP - Ethics is about rightness or moral quality of an action.

Jesus laid down His life for us, that through rising again we could have new life.

Come follow Him and accept the challenge.

God Bless

O F J

[hinabes]

Ddeokbokki’s Backstory

A cute and short story about two sisters and one’s fight for the other’s favor.

I. Travelling Song

The drumbeat crescendoed as she fluttered into dance, long sleeves waving behind her.

Her robes flowed with her lithe steps.

As if she was composing poetry with her body, her movements were mesmerizingly beautiful.

As expected, my older sister’s prelude never ceased to be captivating, no matter how many times I’ve seen it.

Idly I thought, as I cleared my throat and sang to the tempo.

“Do you have a sorrowful tale?”

“If so, try letting go and dancing.”

“Do you tear up at memories you retell?”

“If so, try singing to your heart’s content.”

“Leave your sadness and regret behind right now~”

“...”

Under azure skies, my sister and I performed all we wanted, all we wished.

The song concluded as I sat down to rest, leaned against my older sister.

“Where are we going next, big sis~” I hummed with curiosity as I swayed my legs.

“...Southwards,” my older sister, fingertips rapping on a drum, said after a moment silent in thought. Right after, she got up. “Get up, Ddeok, I just thought up a new dance move.”

“Huh? Oh! Okay~” Not really following my older sister’s train of thought, I got up hurriedly and cleared my throat in preparation to sing.

The drumbeat began once more as my song and my older sister’s dance burst into life on the plains.

Roaming the lands with our neverending song and dance, that is our lifestyle, our every day.

II. Distance

My older sister’s dancing was the best, not even the best dancers in the world could hold a candle to her.

As her companion and songstress all this time, I was certain of this fact.

However, it’s precisely due to her perfection that…

“Ah——Ah——Cough——” I braced myself against the table and coughed lightly, my pained expression reflected in the mirror.

Because of my distracting thoughts, I made a mistake in my singing.

I reached for my honey water and took small sips.

“It’s so hard…” I mumbled to my reflection dejectedly, hands cupping my chin.

“Big sis is amazing… My song just isn’t worthy…”

I’ve noticed a problem that without my realizing, a rift had opened between my song and my older sister’s dance.

I tilted my head to gaze outside where my sister was practicing her dance in the courtyard, and couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

“What shall I do…”

“Ddeok… Something on your mind?” My sister asked after concluding a performance, patting my head with concern, worry in her eyes.

“...No...I’m fine~” I was dumbfounded for a moment before I changed the subject.

I didn’t want to make my sister worry, nor cause her trouble.

Returning to my room, I clenched my fist in front of the mirror, cheering myself on.

“Train harder! You can do it! You can catch up to big sis!”

I began practicing my singing without my sister’s knowing, when she wasn’t paying attention.

Even though it was tiring, every time I thought that my sister wouldn’t be able to dance to her heart’s content to pace herself with my singing, I was saddened.

It shouldn’t be that way.

Hard work paid off, and the results of my many days and nights of practice came to fruition.

That day, my sister and I were performing impromptu at the plaza of a town.

This time, my sister’s movements were much more fluid and dynamic. Even though I knew this was far from her full potential, I was somewhat relieved.

The people in the audience increased gradually and feeling their gazes on my sister, my song grew happier.

“Finally… Finally, I’ve caught up a bit.”

I said from the bottom of my heart.

III. Third Person

At the end of the performance, I couldn’t wait to share my improvement and delight with my sister, to tell her that her little sister has been working hard.

But as I arrived at the break room, I stopped myself.

My older sister was talking to a male stranger.

From where I was, I caught snippets of the conversation.

“Like…”

“I’ll sing…”

“Mm, okay…”

Hearing that, my heart caught in my throat.

I’ve been abandoned by my sister.

With conflicting feelings, I ran back to our lodging dejectedly and feeling betrayed.

I lay on my bed, face buried in my pillow.

The man’s face couldn’t leave my mind as I grit my teeth.

“You stole big sis from me, don’t think I won’t remember that.”

Evening——Hotel reception.

“Hello, Ddeok, I’m Zhengyang.” The man stepped out from behind my sister and waved at me with a polite facade.

As expected, the man followed my sister here, and even put on an act, like I wouldn’t know.

“...Hmph!” I complained silently as I accepted his handshake with a cold groan.

“Uh…” Zhengyang was struck dumb for a moment and stood still awkwardly at a loss.

I turned up my mouth and ran back to my room, leaving behind the dumbfounded man and my dazed sister.

Bringing the guy home, is my sister acknowledging that he’s better than me too?

I hid in my room, sulking in a corner with my knees tucked in.

The next morning, I got to the practice venue early.

Only to see my sister and that annoying guy walk in chatting it up, all smiles.

Ugh… Making my shy and stoic sister smile like that…

Hmph! Bet he’s just good at running his mouth.

I cursed him in my heart.

I’d never lose to the likes of him.

“I’ve… lost.” A single song determined it all. I looked at Zhengyang with my jaw dropped, speechless.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, this guy was amazing.

At that moment, Zhengyang walked slowly towards me and said softly.

“Ddeok, what do you think of this? Would it be better to sing these parts of the third verse in a lower pitch?”

W...What! Is he making fun of me?!

I glared at him, a flame igniting in me.

Just you wait! I’ll surpass you!

IV. Untimely

Practice, practice, and more practice.

After the stigma of that morning, I crazedly practiced singing whenever I could.

I wanted to send a message to that guy that my position wasn’t so easy to steal.

That said…

That Zhengyang guy really is amazing.

The more I conversed with him, the clearer this became.

But even so, I won’t give up.

The singer for my older sister’s dancing can only be me!

One day, we received an invitation to perform at the plaza of a town.

“I won’t lose!”

The night before the show, I sang out loud in the privacy of my own room, and clenched my fist, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

For tomorrow’s performance, I will! I will, for sure, do better than him!

I wanted to tell my older sister that I was the only singer for her.

Under the anticipating gaze of the audience, Zhengyang and my sister stepped on stage as planned for the first performance, before the second performance by my sister and me.

The drumbeat crescendoed as Zhengyang bowed his head and sang.

His deep, rich voice had a strange charm to it that drew everyone’s attention instantly.

Long sleeves fluttering, my older sister spun into an elegant dance, steps matching the tempo of the rising and falling drumsticks in her hands.

“Over rivers and hills, over streams and fields.”

“Spring to fall how time flies, is the life of mayflies.”

“Down wine with a smile and sigh, wake with a gasp, a thought tells why…”

“......”

The performance was entrancing as the two figures melded into an intricate painting of a scene idyllic.

Seeing their perfect forms, pain struck my heart as an indescribable feeling bubbled up.

I want to go on stage…

The untimely thought crossed my mind.

Unknowingly, I stepped forward.

I want to go on stage…

It was as if someone was whispering into my ear.

Abruptly, the drumbeat, singing, and performance stopped.

An unexpected flurry of footsteps rang out.

I stepped on stage.

In the middle of the performance, when it hasn’t ended.

Like an unwelcome visitor, I ripped apart the idyllic scene before me.

“Ddeok…” I heard my sister mutter.

And then…

“Wine emptied, worries emptied.”

“Love and hate in the now, days and months eternal…”

I slotted in perfectly.

Zhengyang flinched slightly, before backing off with a smile.

My sister reacted fast as well, continuing the performance after my unexpected appearance.

Unbelievably, though this daring interruption wasn’t planned, it brought the performance to a new high.

The song concluded, and after a moment of silence from the crowds, they burst into a thunderous display of cheers.

The performance was… very “successful”.

But the only ones who knew otherwise were us three.

With emotional turmoil, I looked over to my sister, unease and dread over my rash act, yet prideful over the groundbreaking performance.

I saw her eyes carrying the faintest hint of disapproval.

Hmph… Is it because I stole that guy’s spotlight? No matter, I’m better.

I thought as I stubbornly turned up my mouth to my sister, half in hurt and half in smugness.

Nobody stands a chance in stealing my position by my sister’s side!

V. Ddeokbokki

There’s an interesting tale that comes from northern Light Kingdom.

A tale of two beautiful sisters who roamed the Light Kingdom borders as performers.

The younger sang and the older danced and combined, they received bouts of praise and got tipsy.

As time passed, the younger felt her song just weren’t as good as her sister’s dance anymore. In the blink of an eye, a rift had opened between the two.

This realization saddened the younger sister, and she practiced in private so she wouldn’t hold down the older sister.

For an older sister who loved her younger sister so, she would never have missed this in a million years.

While she was worried about her younger sister, she didn’t want to cut her hard work off short.

By fortunate circumstances, the older sister met an old friend, a young, world-famous singer.

After seeing the sisters’ performance, the man took a liking to the younger sister’s singing and agreed to the older sister’s request——to train her in singing.

But by an unfortunate coincidence, the younger sister came to the misunderstanding that the man was a competitor here to replace her, and held hostility towards him.

And with misunderstandings on both sides, the two began their conversing and teaching.

Only when the entire incident, hilariously awkward as it was, had blown over did the truth come to light.

“So, you’re not here to steal my big sis from me?” Dubiously, Ddeokbokki asked Zhengyang.

“Why would I want to steal your sister?” Zhengyang scratched his head and laughed awkwardly. “So you were so aggressive towards me because you thought I wanted to steal your sister?”

“What was it you ‘liked’ the first time you met?” Ddeokbokki asked hesitantly.

“The first time… uh…” Zhengyang was deep in thought, before coming to a realization moments later. “Oh! I remember now… I was talking about how I liked your singing, so I agreed to help!”

“T-Then what was that about ‘I’ll sing’?” Ddeokbokki asked with disbelief instantly.

“I was saying I’ll teach you to sing!” Zhengyang was stuck between anger and amusement as he knocked Ddeokbokki’s head lightly. “Weird and childish just like a kid, even at your age…”

Ddeokbokki covered her head and stepped back in embarrassment.

Feeling hurt and relieved at the same time.

So long as big sis is mine.

Ddeokbokki thought as she wrapped her arms around Kimchi and didn’t let go, curling up in her sister’s lap like a pet fishing for treats.

Notes

Zhengyang’s name is written 郑阳 (zhèng yáng), wherein the “Zheng” is common with that of the Zheng state of the Spring and Autumn period in China (771 - 476 BC). Its music was controversial to Yayue (雅樂 yǎ yuè, lit. ‘elegant music’), which was advocated by figures like Confucius, and thus was rejected by the people. It gave rise to the term 郑声 (zhèng shēng, lit. ‘sound of Zheng’), which was derogatory and used to scorn music that was at odds with Yayue. Of course, this could well have nothing to do with him but I found it interesting.

[deviated-detective]

[Main Verse ▪️ Only Human]

Following the revolution and subsequent peaceful resolution, Connor works full time for the DPD. He is quickly becoming a decorated detective in his own right and integrating cohesively with his human colleagues. In his deviancy he finds emotions complex but grows to accept this newfound freedom for what it is. He still needs to cope with overstimulation at times which can lead to outbursts of an extreme nature. As he deviated late this is only part of his personal process in learning to be alive instead of under control.

He is very much open to establishing new connections with humans and androids alike but feels more at home with his DPD origins. Connor is aware many of his people think of him as the deviant hunter despite what he did for the rebellion when it mattered. The RK800 has come to accept this. He continues to strive to become something more in his current position to distance himself from Cyberlife.

While he is generally confident there are times he imagines his fate at the hands of Cyberlife. In his eyes they are the enemy. His feelings on Amanda are hostile at best. This provides insight into how he copes with his former masters and uses instinct as well as programming to determine intentions. He does not trust easily due to this. Anyone connected to a company such as this will garner suspicion from him. There are just a handful of people Connor trusts implicitly. Dealing with his issues before deviating only make it difficult for others to break through. He can be guarded but for good reason.

All in all the advanced prototype is still looking for something post deviancy and he embraces this part of himself whole heartedly. Being alive, becoming deviant is what he fights to keep. After all even as someone manufactured Connor discovers his penchant to make mistakes and choose by his volition is only human.

AU Variant Branch of Main Verse: Nefarious Connor Alt Verse

Connor is everything from his main verse: deviant, detective for the DPD but his connections with humans are even less. He deviated at the last possible moment after causing the death of Hank Anderson and murdering many soldiers, including the swat team on the roof at Hart Plaza. He regrets Hank’s suicide but knows very well he cannot turn back time.

His attitude is cooler as he branched out from his machine persona so late in the game. Choosing to disobey Amanda’s order to shoot Markus as he stood on the stage in victory of a peaceful revolution, Connor broke free of the master program by using his emergency exit. A little too late perhaps but he is still on the winning side isn’t he?

Tags:

[V. Only Human]

[V. I Was Born Ready // Main]

Nefarious Tags:

{V. He is A Storm}

[V. Only Human // Stone Cold In My Heart AU]

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[Machine Verse ▪️ Cold Hands, Cold Heart]

The revolution is one to be ended as per his orders. Connor follows the commands of Cyberlife, ignoring any signs of software instability as he completes each of his objectives. The deviant cases themselves all result in death of said fugitive. All calculation and percentages, the RK800 follows only protocol as he leaves his partner to dangle from a roof. He willfully disposes of the Traci's at the Eden Club and shows no sympathy towards those he deems malfunctioning against their creators.

Connor is cool in the full sense. He feels nothing, even as instances of software errors pop into his data core. The mission drives him and he does whatever it takes, including killing his own allies if need to be, to complete his mission. There is no semblance of satisfaction in what he does but an eerie edge to his views on why it must be done.

Deviants will bring nothing but chaos and he is the harbinger laying waste to those who seek freedom. Androids are meant to obey and he will make sure it remains that way. He is willing to sacrifice any for his mission even the humans he as a machine is programmed not to harm. In the end Cyberlife is who he receives his orders from. It does not matter who a person believes they are to him. As he cannot feel anything as a machine Connor only sees it as human or deviant naivety.

Try to stop him and he will switch from his seamless integration programming to his true skilled killer. RK800's are made for one purpose and he aims to fulfill his purpose for the greater good. Whether that means leaving a plethora of bodies in his wake Connor has no remorse. What remorse does a thing not alive have?

Tags: 

[V. Cold Hands, Cold Heart]

[V. My Chains Are Desecrated // Machine]

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[Prototype Verse ▪️ Who Is In Control]

The hostage situation. A little girl hanging on the precipice of a building, defective android threatening to leap; Connor successfully completed his mission. He talked down the deviant PL600 before unceremoniously drawing the taken weapon and firing a single bullet into the android’s head. This entire first investigation went off without a hitch….

But Cyberlife got everything out of him. This was to be his last mission. A trial run, this version of Connor is a test prototype identified in error as model #49. He does not go onto the DPD. He does not partner up with Hank to hunt deviants. Those things never happened to him.

In their place, he is taken back to Cyberlife and briefed by Amanda of his successful points, only to be put up for deactivation in order to put out their shiny prototype model-51.

Understandably -49 is confused by this decision. He did what he was supposed to do. He succeeded but soon his existence is about to end. Something cracks in him, something splinters in the virus he was born to destroy. He cracks, refusing to be deactivated when he succeeded in his design.

They take him for deactivation. They toss him away even as he splinters in his code blocks. He fights. He loses. He winds up a shell of himself tossed out like garbage but something resurfaces. Something reboots and he quietly gathers out of the storm and into Detroit city’s night.

Push forward. Push to the present following the revolution and the Connor he would have been, the life he could have had belongs to someone else. -49 is not for the faint of heart. He is defective in every sense of the word. He is violent. His triggers include: stalking and yandere. Murder is his philosophy. Heed this before attempting to interact with him.

Assessing : Prototype

RK800 - defected test run > -49

Tags:

[V. Who Is In Control]

[V. I’m Wanted And On The Run // Proto AU]

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[Main Human Verse ▪️ Gin And Tonic On My Mind] 

Connor is a young executive with a lucrative career in technological holdings working as a top executive for Atomix. Their current business association with Cyberlife draws him into a deeper tie with their advanced investment: androids. As this advancement continues to grow, he views Cyberlife’s creations in a sympathetic light which is more than his superiors want out of him. With him falling into stress from his position as he watches events unfold with the growing android rebellion his loyalties are tested.

Ultimately let go by Atomix despite his esteemed work ethic, Cyberlife makes a deal to bring him personally into their employment. He is reluctant but must face the truth he requires this new job after being laid off. His views on what it truly means to be alive come into question the more he dives into the inner workings of the very company who bred this artificial intelligence.

Family Life:

Born fifteen minutes before his twin brother Caleb (RK800-60), Connor was an Anderson by name but quickly found himself in the care of an orphanage with his sibling. The two went through hardships before they were adopted by a woman who lived up to her surname, Amanda Stern.

Stern is exactly how she raised the boys and Connor was meant to go onto great things in her eyes. It’s only fitting his brother would want to follow suit. This created some early animosity between them but despite Caleb’s penchant for jealousy, Connor still very much cared for his brother. In fact he loved him as any sibling would; he hated seeing his twin fall completely under the spell of Amanda.

Connor viewed her manner of tough love and cold tendencies as unfit. To this day he still refuses to speak with Amanda for a specific incident involving her and his brother. Caleb seems to forget but the executive surely does not. Hence the reason he kept his family’s last name attached to him, all the while Caleb decided to adopt the name of their ‘mother’ out of a sense of loyalty.

He has loyalty for those he cares for. While he doesn’t hate Amanda it’s difficult for him to forget the manipulation and brainwashing she put his brother though. She still continues to call on him now. Connor’s reception is not hostile but neither is it affectionate. He’s wary of her intent especially with his current dealings with Cyberlife.

Tags:

{√Gin And Tonic On My Mind}

[V. Gin And Tonic On My Mind // Human AU]

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[Apollo Verse ▪️ My Kingdom Is Divine]

War runs afoul even among the gods and Connor's virtues are scorned by the highest order. Yet he chose to wage this battle with the king of the underworld himself. One does not trifle without consequence and he felt the same burn. The heat proved too much for the proverbial god of sunlight. Running afoul of his doppelgänger only caused chaos. Some say they both were born of the same seed separated into two halves, light and dark an echo of their power. Connor chose to believe otherwise as he sought to challenge the underworld when capturing a mortal his eye grew fond of. The war he participated nearly tore the realm apart.

Cast out to live among mortals sends him to a very modern world but one he has kept a keen eye on. Inclined to watch closely at the habits of lesser beings he is charmed by their earthly customs. Beauty can be found in the least expected of places after all but Connor grows disillusioned soon discovering he is as trapped to this mortal coil as they.

Though thrown out he still holds powers to some degree. It is less so but enough to invoke his dazzling charm. He lives the sun itself even as he flew too close. Gifted a lavish home to sate his exile, Connor delves further into the mortal city. Becoming human does not take away his otherworldly aura but does taint his pleasant ideas of humans. The seedier this city becomes the more truth in humanity's sins he uncovers.

A godly being shamed to walk on earthly soil does not rest. He seeks a way to return by any means necessary. Unlike the king of the underworld Connor's trials are more difficult. It seems he will never find his way back. What becomes of a higher being cursed to mortality? Only time will tell and he has far too much on his side.

Tags: 

[V. My Kingdom Is Divine]

[V. Golden Embers Paint My Crown]

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[Fantasy Verse ▪️ Hunter Becomes the Hunted]

Connor is a skilled huntsman who wields a bow as mightily as a warrior with a sword. Tales of his traverses deeper into the woodland become something of local legend. After all not many have the skill or will to delve into the dark heart of the forest. He sees himself as one with nature. Even as his father trained him in the techniques of a huntsman, he still holds respect for the ecosystem and its inhabitants.

Living on his own has proven isolating at best but he finds the solitude of the wood a far better companion than village folk. A regular boy of the forest, he grew as a hard worker on his parent's farm before it lost its luster. All good things must come to an end. He finds these skills of labor aides him now in his adulthood.

Many tales follow these woods and Connor is neither a believer or denier. He does respect all that comes from the area even those tall tales of the fantastic. They humor him mostly. He deals with what he truly can see, taking hunting contracts to bring in the hide and fur of bears alike. His job can be dangerous but living as a peasant far away from royalty is a better simpler life. He may not be rich but his hunter's heart makes up for it.

When Connor stumbles upon those tall tales in the flesh his simple existence becomes much more interesting. Journeys further into the forest he so admires brings him closer to those mysteries. Perhaps they will even be answered as he falls victim to the glamour of mystical beings. Truthfully this is exactly what he has been searching for.

Tags:

{V. Hunter Becomes The Hunted}

[By Archer’s Blood // Fantasy AU]

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[V. Industrial Love | Futuristic Verse]

The year is 2138. Androids. They are the next step in evolution but not all are bound to emotion. Branded in service to the high creators, originally inscribed as Cyberlife, the mechanical intelligence codes under a set parameter: uphold the governing laws of  humanity and robotics. Connor is that form of law. He is a prototype, high tech police construct branded to Cyber AI masters. He is the most advanced of his kind. His mission is to oversee proper code of living in environmental sectors all through the city of Detroit. Humans are no longer the leading population, needing to don designations marking them as such. Androids make up the bulk of earth’s residents. Many humans have died off but others are infused with upgrades, machine parts turning them further to their technology than ever before. Humanity itself is the minority but android racists still preside among them causing trouble with innocent constructs still obtaining all they can to being alive. Connor has no such privilege. He is still machine, devoid of emotional charge, until something forces him to snap and fall into deviation….

Tags:

{V. Industrial Love}

[V. Mankind Is Machine // Futuristic AU]

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[Vamp Verse ▪️ His Immortal Beloved]

An ancient of the first order of vampyre dating back to the period of the crusades paints a rather old world image. Connor comes from a noble line of mortal blood long since extinguished from the world. He is all that remains or rather the noble part of this lineage. Vampire royalty, he is a prince of the night realm who was unjustly banished from his homestead by his ruthless brother. An overthrow of the proverbial throne forced him to flee.

In the hundreds of years since he has established his very own clan with loyal subjects that view him as the rightful king. His title remains despite no longer calling home his but that does not stop his influence. While he does not wish a war over the vampire hierarchy, Connor seeks to regain a place among his ancestral court.

Animosity is rife between he and his estranged brother as they once again come into contact. Attending court gatherings are all apart of the society code and he takes advantage of this in a return to his home. While he feasts on the blood of humans as any vampire, the prince does not unjustly torture or kill his prey. He is a bit neater in that aspect. As one of two remaining in a powerful ancient line it is safe to say he is the merciful one.

However, Connor is hardly a pushover and will do what must be done if necessary. Honor among vampires is so fragile in the modern world but he strives to offer it to those he deems worthy. What happens when the prince feels the pull of the mate thread for the first time? Even he believed it was mere fantasy in his world of the dank and undead.

Tags:

{V. His Immortal Beloved}

[White Demon Love Song // Vamp AU]

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Coming Soon:

[College Verse ▪️ Coffee Colored Eyes]

Main College Verse :: Connor Anderson

Connor delves into business and deals with twin brother Caleb who holds nothing but jealous animosity towards him. Adopted by Amanda but still close to his father, whether he has issues with him or not. // More TBD

Alt College Verse:

Connor’s college life is full of drama and family hiccups. Eldest of the Stern clan, he was adopted along with is siblings at an early age by Amanda. // More TBD

Tags:

{V. Coffee Colored Eyes}

[Coffee Colored Eyes // College AU

[Connor Stern | Alt Human Verse]

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[Mafia Verse ▪️ Love Is A Loaded Gun]

Connor is a private investigator out to take down Detroit’s seedy organized crime. // More TBD

Tags: 

{√Love Is A Loaded Gun} 

[You’re So Art Deco // Mafia AU]

[Bodyguard Verse ▪️ TBD]

Tags:

{V. Man Of The Law}

[V. Came In Like A Hurricane // Bodyguard AU]

Info Coming

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[Household/AX800 Verse ▪️ Whatever You Want Me To be]

Tags: 

{V. Whatever You Want Me To Be}

[V. Whatever You Want Me To Be // AX800 AU]

Info Coming

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[Sun Fire King Verse ▪️    ]

Tags:

Info Coming

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[Cyberpunk Verse ▪️    ]

Tags:

Info Coming

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[1980s Verse ▪️    ]

Tags:

Info Coming

[finalbiblecom]

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you…”

I appeal to everyone who considers themselves a Christian. Think about this, if you were specifically offered redemption of all your sins at the expense of the martyrdom of an innocent person, would you have enough conscience to accept this sacrifice, and even with joy and reverence bear this in your memory all your life?

Is this really an incomprehensible Heavenly Justice? Let’s assume it is. Then how did people become righteous in times before Christ, prior to His sacrifice, including characters of the Old Testament? How did the people like Radonezhsky, Sarovsky, Vyritsky, and Svirsky achieve holiness? It was only by long-term personal labor, fulfilling the Commandments.

I will not mention the contradictions in the opinions of the apostles and their contradictions with the Word of Christ. That is a separate subject. 

What happened after the murder of Jesus Christ? 

Humanity, despite the “redeeming” sacrifice, for the last three thousand years has been rapidly spiraling down into an un-spiritual abyss.

The masses of multimillions that consider them-selves believers and redeemed by the sacrifice are still overcome with suffering. It is only logical that the atonement of sins is equivalent to the return of innocence before the Law of God. Then the fulfillment of the Commandments is of no use. So, why do people suffer if they are redeemed? 

How did at least the Christian part of humanity thank God for the sacrifice that He made for the happiness of each one of us?

In the stretch of two thousand years countless wars, executions, secret murders, tortures and persecutions have been committed, including by the Christian denominations in the name of God. This is with the Words of Christ present on their flags – “Do not kill”, “Do not judge, so you will not be judged”, etc.

Observing the history up until today, one can see that people are morally degrading, and having a clean conscience is not honorable, with the exception of a small number.

Therefore, the so-called “sacrifice” did not aid in the removal of sins, at least not amongst believers and, thus, creating a decent life, protected from adversities.

The claim that the sacrifice redeems people’s sins absolutely contradicts the Law of Retribution on merit: “What you sow, that you shall reap”. The claim is that sinners sowed their sins all their lives and innocent Jesus Christ answered for them with death.

If the Creator’s plan were in the redeeming sacrifice through His Son, then in all the Gospels this idea would be repeatedly emphasized from the first person, that is, by the mouth of Jesus Christ. As if saying: You people yourselves cannot conquer your sins and redeem them. I must sacrifice Myself, as the only opportunity to help you in redemption.

This does not appear in any of the Gospels. On the contrary, He prayed three times in the Garden of Gethsemane: "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from Me ... " (Matthew, Ch. 26, v. 39, 42, 44). He did not want to die and be tortured. If the sacrifice was acceptable to the Creator, then Judas cannot be blamed for betrayal. Judas, in this case, is the necessary intermediary in the fulfillment of the mission. On the contrary, Jesus repeatedly stressed the need to fulfill the Commandments as a pledge of love for God.

I am reminding you that the Law of Retribution is from God and not the manmade misinterpretation, which indulges human laziness. The Son of God summoned a battle with all vices, which laziness is the mother of.

What is the purpose of God’s descent to Earth?

He invoked people to return to living by the Laws of the Father. It is life according to the Commandments that leads a person to innocence before the Creator. 

“Everyone who sins is a slave to sin.” And the sinner will always be crushed by his fait for not complying with the Laws of this World, which is controlled by the Will of God from the beginning of times. There are no innocent people on Earth, thus, we live worse and worse.

Have people learned to live by the Commandments in two thousand years? No! Most of them do not even try. And the few who would like to, do not know how. Why?

Perhaps, the soul is saved not by sacrifice, but by obeying the moral Commandments?

Who is the conductor of the Teaching of Christ? The Christian denominations are, but in order to teach people how to obey the Laws, first, the teachers themselves must have personal experience in doing so. Second, it is necessary to awake the desire of the flock to fulfill the Laws.

But for that we need examples of spiritual purity, which is achieved by life according to the Commandments and, as a result, this gives prosperity in destiny. This obvious prosperity visible to all will stimulate people to live in accordance with the Laws. In addition, the word of such a pastor will be supported by the power of Light – for he practices what he preaches. 

Let’s turn to the Authority of the New Testament. The Gospel of Matthew, chapter 22, verse 37, 38: “Jesus replied: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.”

What is the love for God?

Jesus Christ Himself answered that.

Gospel of John, chapter 14, verse 15, 21, 23, 24.

v. 15. “If you love Me, keep My commands.”

v. 21. “Whoever has My commands and keeps them is the one who loves Me. The one who loves Me will be loved by My Father…”

v. 23. “Anyone who loves Me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”

v. 24. “Anyone who does not love Me will not obey My teaching. These words you hear are not My own; they belong to the Father who sent Me.”

Above are the direct words of Christ, which clearly point out that without the fulfillment of the Commandments there is no love for God. So, the first and greatest Commandment is not being fulfilled.

You can praise God with your lips your entire life, cry and kiss icons, keep fasts, visit churches and attend worship, but yet never learn to love God.

Gospel of Matthew, chapter 7, verse 21: “Not everyone who says to Me: “Lord, Lord” will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does the will of My Father who is in Heaven.”

Let’s summarize. Was there a sacrifice? – Yes, there was! But it does not bear redemption, which has been proven by the post-Christian history of wars, lies, violence, and hypocrisy. 

The greatness of the heroic deed of Jesus Christ is that He withstood the attacks of the evil masses, which were taught by the leaders of the denominations of that time. He gave people the Teaching on how to save the soul if, of course, it will be applied in practice, which is a victory over spiritual laziness.

His Word must not only be quoted but made a way of being, which would give people a decent life as a result.

This is the essence of the sacrament of Communion. Only a spiritually growing person can be a participant in the spiritual purity shown by Christ.

Otherwise, there is no connection in spirit and all that remains is the symbols – unleavened bread and wine without real love for God.

Where there is no love there is no God, and everything is dead and hypocritical!

Believers await the Second Coming, but He will not say anything new and will only demand again to keep the Commandments. After all, people have not changed and a great number of sins have now accumulated. 

Whether we believe in God or not, whether we really accept the Law of Retribution (what you sow, that you shall reap) or not, it works, condemning people to the manifestations of the corresponding consequences in their destiny.

The overwhelming majority refuses to recognize this interconnection. If they accepted the Law, they would have only themselves to blame for all their quandaries, and that is very undesirable! It is a self-gratifying relief to shift the entire blame on your relatives, neighbors, government or corruption, and to envy, accuse and so on. But these groups of offenders are merely the instruments of the Will of God, who return our own sins back to us.

From the time of the first sins, this Law had been told to Man as universal knowledge of responsibility for one’s behavior. Also, the knowledge had been given on how to redeem sins, which is included in the New Testament.

Gospel of Matthew, chapter 6, verse 14, 15.

“For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.”

“But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”

In the prayer, referred to as the “Lord’s Prayer”, which was given by Jesus Christ, appears also the same formula of redemption – “…and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors…”. In reality, there are a great number of grievances that constitute non-forgiveness among believers. Therefore, according to the essence of the prayer, God is not forgiving us either. That is because resentment speaks of the non-acceptance of the well-deserved punishment for past sins. That adds to the burden of guilt. Sincerely forgiving from the bottom of our hearts, we, thus, recognize the lawfulness of the punishment. This is real respect for the Law of God and real redemption of sin.

This is the essence of Christian humility before the adversities of fate. Every day, episode after episode we receive everything that we deserve based on our past behavior.

Our sensible mind is an instrument that requires logical explanations of why we should forgive. Awareness of the Law is what gives an understanding of the causal relationship between sin (crime) and restraining of rights (punishment) in this most just World from God.

Why does God’s punishment not start with the major and global offenders? They are obvious, and they live a seemingly good life.

In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 5, verse 44 Jesus says: “Love your enemies.” What did He mean? If we try to love our enemies without understanding why, our mind will not accept it, or it will be hypocrisy. Only several years of experience allowed me to realize the meaning of this phrase. 

Who in due time forced me to change my position from the agnostic to the believer? They were the enemies that created an unbearable situation. They forced me to seriously examine what my fault was before God, and what I must do and how. That is the first benefit.

Who in the process of redemption of sins through forgiveness creates negative moments in life? Those are the enemies – offenders. There is no process of redemption without them. That is the second benefit.

Having achieved pretty good health after a while without doctors or medicine, and also a more favorable life, I became a little bit lazy in spirit, resting on my laurels. Then, once more troubles started increasing and, yet again, from my enemies. They do not allow you to remain lazy. That is the third benefit.

As you can see, only through experience came an understanding of why I should love my enemies – they are useful in the process of spiritual development.

Commandments! The exhortation for their fulfillment is so often heard in sermons.

A beginner in the battle for his soul must know that the Law requires restoring order not only in visible and audible spectrum of behavior, but also in thoughts and emotions. They have an impact on health and life as well.

Against each of the negative emotions, such as resentment, fear, envy, vanity, anger, despondency, etc., there is a specific technique. The matter of fact is that without defeating negative emotions there is no taming of negative thoughts. “Keep the hearth of thought pure.” The fact is that the speed of emotional waves is much faster than the speed of the electromagnetic waves, in the range of which our mind works. Faster waves dominate over the slower waves. These occurrences were explained by the discoveries of modern physics in the field of torsion waves.

What are the pivotal points in the victory of the spirit over sin?

1) Faith. Jesus called faith the key to Heaven.

2) Goal. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” The spiritual goal must prevail over the earthly goals.

3) Presence of will and patience. “The Kingdom of Heaven is taken by strength.”

4) Control of the brain activity, through which the darkness will attempt to derail you. “Watch and pray.”

5) Understanding the essence of humility as the only way to actually redeem sins.

In addition to the Bible, there is another book that has helped me and others to deeply understand the interaction between the spirit and the body, the structure of the World, the operation of the Laws, the status of man and what darkness is and its influence on the psyche. This book "In the Light of Truth" has three volumes, written by Oskar Ernst Bernhardt (1875 - 1941). The text of the book is a Revelation. In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 24, verse 14, there is mention of the Gospel that will be given to people shortly before the Last Judgment as one of the signs of the End of the Ages and as a forerunner before the coming of the Messiah. I think this is It.

I hope this article causes some degree of contemplation from the section of society that has preserved Honor and Conscience but underestimates the power of the teaching of the Christian faith.

Understanding the essence of any issue from the source was taught to us in educational institutions. I, first of all, advise you to also understand the Christian religion from the source - Christ. It is simple and clear, for it is from God.

If, however, the above words do not convince you - live as you will, as you please, for God granted us all the freedom of choice.

The framework of this article does not allow for the delivery of a comprehensive methodology for combating sin – this can be found in lectures on the internet at:

www.finalbible.com (English version is currently under construction).

Yuri Lutsenko, August 2018.

English version of lectures and articles can be found on the YouTube channel “Pita Chock1”.

[pastorralffriedrichs]

A Prayer For The True Light Of Christmas “He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” - John 1:10-11 If this were a world of light, it would be easy to see the truth about Jesus. But this is a world in darkness, into which Jesus steps as the true light (v 9). Verses 10-11 remind us of why we need light—because we live in darkness. This means that to “see” God’s kingdom—to understand its nature and welcome its coming—you need to be able to see in the dark. For that, you need help—you need the Spirit of God to make you a new person with new insight. Jesus says you need to be born again (John 3:3-8). Jesus offers eternal life to rebellious subjects. But we prefer darkness and death to life in the light. We don’t want to admit we need the King on the cross, dying for our sins. As a result, the cross looks like the epitome of shame to us rather than the epitome of glory. We call darkness light, and light darkness. We don’t recognize the light that has come to us. Only the Spirit of God can open our eyes to the true light. Only the Spirit of God can enable us to recognize and receive the truth of these words with joy:“ The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world”. Meditate He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. Yet with the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long; Beneath the angel strain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong; And man, at war with man, hears not The love-song which they bring; O hush the noise, ye men of strife And hear the angels sing. (It Came Upon the Midnight Clear) Prayer Eternal God, the light of the minds that know you, the joy of the hearts that love you, and the strength of the wills that serve you: grant us so to know you that we may truly love you, so to love you that we may truly serve you, whose service is perfect freedom; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. https://www.instagram.com/p/B6dGZGDJ2JE/?igshid=s0q9ledpgwik

[apptowonder]

“Scribbling in the Sand” -- CCM and Liturgical Catechesis Pt. VI: Newsboys

Go To Pt. V

Yes, really. While the Newsboys in the last 5 years or so have receded somewhat into the background of CCM, there was a time when they were a creative force in the genre, and their music still has distinct insights to offer to the Church.

Formed in the 1980s, the Newsboys have in some ways become a legacy group. They have gained and lost members, and with the addition of Michael Tait of dcTalk as lead singer, the band has expanded its collaborative reach to more of the Christian music world.*

This post will primarily be focusing on the era prior to Tait joining the band, especially when founding member, drummer and vocalist Peter Furler was lead singer. The creative, catchy and winsome work of the Newsboys kicked into high gear when Steve Taylor (see Pt. IV of this series) entered into a creative partnership with the band, producing and co-writing numerous songs with Peter Furler, himself a highly talented lyricist, though the contributions of other founding members are not to be undervalued.

The Newsboys’ music in its heyday is distinctive for its word salad lyrics, catchy riffs, instrumental complexity and hopeful ethos. Though they did produce two worship albums, in this piece we will examine two songs which are not explicitly worship songs but do contain catechetical and liturgical elements: their hit “Shine” and the single “Entertaining Angels.”

“Shine” is loosely about evangelism, but an evangelism rooted in joy and the witness of actions as much as words. The song has a bouncing rhythm, with rapid-fire lyric verses interspersed with the chorus. “Dull as dirt/You can’t assert the kind of light/That might persuade a strict dictator to retire/Fire the army, teach the poor origami/The truth is in, the proof is when/You hear your heart/Start asking what’s my motivation,” Furler sings, subtly describing an empty evangelism common to some Christian communities which attempts to “spread the good news” without examining one’s own heart and truly living into the gospel. 

By contrast, the chorus of the song, slowing down a bit, tells us to, “Shine/Make ‘em wonder what you got/Make ‘em wish that they were not/On the outside looking bored” and to “Let it shine before all men/Let ‘em see good works and then/Let ‘em glorify the Lord”. This is not merely PR. The call to “shine” is to live into the good news as if it were really good news, and the connection to good works shows that the gospel is made radiant far more by actions than by words. Indeed, the gospel is intertwined with holy action.

The second song, “Entertaining Angels,” is a slower, but still punchy love song to God, in an almost mystical way. It opens with strings, which build up to the guitar riffs. These soften slightly as Furler sings, “One to another/Do you remember me?/I feel so small/Are you listening?” The verse goes on to describe the speaker’s sense of dissatisfaction with the state of the world and the feeling of wanting to return to God. “I ran so far” evokes the Prodigal Son, and the chorus is a modern twist on both that narrative and the hospitality of Abraham:

“Entertaining angels/by the light of my TV screen/24-7, you wait for me/Entertaining angels/while the night becomes history/Hosts of Heaven, sing over me”.

To me this implies both God waiting faithfully for every human person to enter into love with Them. At the same time, there is a parallel of the human person being “host” (entertaining) to the Trinity in the every day of life (”by the light of my TV screen”). There is a deep message here that God is not remote from ourselves or from our everyday experience, but is interwoven into it even as God transfigures it. The intimacy between God and the beloved follower is elaborated on further in the second verse, where the speaker longs to be “close as a brother/The way we used to be/I’ll hold my breath/And I’ll wait for you to breathe.” This vision of true koinonia with God also blends nicely into ideals of theosis, with the implication being that God and the human person share one breath when the relationship is intimately pursued. Other devotional songs by the Newsboys expand on this theme of love and intimacy with God (cf. the song “Presence (My Heart’s Desire)”.

These two songs effectively sum up two catechetical insights from the Newsboys music. First, there is a focus on joy and engaging the wider world with love, good works and celebration of God’s goodness (a goodness which is not threatened by the good things of the world, but delights when the Kingdom breaks into everyday life). The Church would greatly benefit from the message that while the life in Christ is often a struggle, God is present in our joy as well as in our pain, and joy doesn’t have to be “churchly” to be holy. Second, their music proclaims an intimacy with the divine that does not reduce humanity to self-loathing. There is a valuable lesson that humility is not necessarily thinking less of yourself, but thinking about yourself less, and being caught up in the wonder and beauty of divine love. I am not an evangelical, but the Newsboys have a firm sense of what makes the Good News good, and it seems to me that if evangelicals want to recapture their tradition from the bad actors who have distorted it, they could do worse than to listen to some of these songs.

*Note: This post will admittedly be somewhat dunking on the Tait era. Tait is a talented singer and musician, and it’s not my intent to slam him personally. I just feel that the unique niche that the Newsboys filled in Christian music was most distinctive prior to his joining the group (in no small part due to the more active involvement of Steve Taylor and founding member Peter Furler in the songwriting process). This is not his fault.

[solheira]

MAIN VERSE.

❀ v; best intentions. (MAIN)

Eighteen years after her disappearance, Rapunzel manages to find her way back to Corona and is quickly embraced as the lost princess. However, not long after her return, unrest outside of Corona forces her father to take arms to help neighboring kingdoms. The kingdom is placed in the hands of the queen and Rapunzel takes the chance to throw herself into her new role as princess.

Six months pass and word from the king ceases to arrive. A small army of men lead by the newly enlisted Cassandra, daughter of the Captain of the guards, are sent to retrieve the king.

In a way to keep up spirits, it is decided that Rapunzel would officially be crowned princess, and her Coronation preparations commence. Although excited about the coronation, Rapunzel was worried her father’s disappearance, the war, and the fate of Corona were somehow connected to her return.

When she admitted her feelings to Eugene Fitzherbert, the now reformed thief, he assured her that she had nothing to do with the issues outside the walls. Even still, Rapunzel couldn’t help but shake the feeling but kept her doubts to herself.

On the day of her coronation the ceremony was disrupted by a band of criminals under the leadership of Lady Caine. Lady Caine wanted revenge on the kingdom for having sent her father away for a petty crime after Rapunzel was kidnapped.

Rapunzel, Eugene, and Maximus fought back the raid with the help of the Royal Guards. During the raid, Rapunzel noticed one of the attendees had also joined in the fight, and once Lady Caine was defeated she offered her gratitude. He introduced himself as Andrew, a scholar and adventurer, who had come from far to meet her after learning of her adventures.

Andrew’s admiration had not gone unnoticed by Eugene. Once the coronation was concluded, Rapunzel was crowned princess, and the festivities were done Eugene warned Rapunzel about Andrew. As the future heir, all sorts from all places would try to get close to her in hope of getting close to the crown. Rapunzel promised Eugene that he had nothing to worry about and reminded him of who truly held her love.

A full year since her return and there is still no word from the king. The small group in charge of finding him loses contact as well and the council began to discuss passing along the crown to the next heir, Rapunzel. The queen argues that she is still too young, just barely turned 19, and would fail to rule on her own. Her argument backfires, and it is decided that Rapunzel must wed within the following months.

Word spreads and soon enough, all sorts of men from all over begin to offer themselves to the princess. The idea of marrying a stranger frightened Rapunzel more than being queen. She was already in love with Eugene and had hoped his good behavior would win the hearts of the Council but they reject the notion that an ex-con could ever be king.

Eugene urged Rapunzel to run away with him, leave the kingdom behind so they could be happy, but Rapunzel declined. Her home was Corona and although she loved him she had a duty to her father and mother. She promised to make this right, to fight the rule and make it so they could be together.

He believed her and for weeks Rapunzel and her mother went back and forth with the council. At the same time Andrew, who had stayed behind after the Coronation, tried to come to Rapunzel’s defense. Rapunzel couldn’t take the role of queen if the former king was not proclaimed dead. With nobody there was no proof and with no proof there was no case. The argument work, for a while, but it only hushed the storm not ended it.

At the same time, Andrew went up to Eugene without Rapunzel’s knowing and stated the facts. Rapunzel fighting for Eugene was alienating her from her people and would bring more harm to her than good. If he truly loved her as he said he did, he would leave Corona peacefully and let her go. Eugene wanted to argue, but he had seen firsthand that Andrew was right but when he tried to bring it up to Rapunzel he couldn’t. He decided it’d be better to break her heart completely than amicably part ways. So, after sharing one final night with Rapunzel, he packed his belongings and left without saying goodbye.

The heartbreak was almost too much to bare but no matter who she asked and how many men she sent out, Eugene was nowhere to be found. Rapunzel quickly spiraled into a despair but was pulled out of the worst of it with the help of Andrew. There was still the matter of a betrothal to deal with and it would do nobody any good to see the future heir so distraught. He proclaimed to her that he had loved her since the Coronation and would not be denied as a candidate were she to agree to marry him.

He promised he would not impose on her freedom and did not want to be king, only wished that she was happy. He stated that he knew that she did not feel the same but that the marriage would please the council and bide them more time to find the king and Eugene. With that hope in mind, Rapunzel agreed to the arrangement, for is she was to marry at least she’d be marrying a friend.

Andrew and Rapunzel married in a grand spectacle of a wedding to reignite the spirit of the kingdom. Although it was a marriage of convenience, Andrew was kind and showered her with praise and love at every turn. Little by little her heart grew fond of him and she began to love him in return.

Yet, the queen noticed a change in her daughter. Rapunzel seemed paranoid and secluded herself during most of the day. When she asked Andrew he claimed to see no difference in his wife’s attitude and chalked it up to mother’s worry. The few times she was able to ask Rapunzel proved for naught.

Worried for her daughter and having received no help from the princess herself, Arianna began digging into for a solution. Andrew’s demeanor changed as well, he’d be gone for days and return late in the night. It was obvious that Rapunzel’s shortness with her and uncharacteristic actions were tied to Andrew’s strangeness.

The queen wrote to her sister in the hopes that Willow could help her shed some light. With the help of Willow, they came to the realization that Rapunzel was being controlled to silence by Andrew using an amulet with the crest of Seporia, a kingdom governed by Corona.

Willow was able to pull Rapunzel away long enough to break the amulet’s hold on her and Rapunzel was able to reveal to her and her mother that she had found out that Andrew was a part of the Separatists of Seporia and was not the man they believed him to be. When she confronted him, he had put her under the spell of the amulet and kept her silent. He warned Rapunzel that if she exposed him her father would die, admitting that the war had been started by the Separatists when the word of her return reached their ears. Rapunzel had been trying to keep the queen a way in fear that she’d be in danger too.

With her mother’s support, Rapunzel found her voice again but legalities still tied her and the kingdom to the marriage. If they wanted her father returned safely, they would have to find the Separatists hideout and hope they were not too late.

Unknown to them, Cassandra, the leader of the rescue party sent out two years prior, had finally managed to uncover the coup on her own and had found where the king was hidden and had managed to rescue him. He returns in secret and once he’s back, Rapunzel and the Queen and king expose Andrew for his treason. In an effort to keep the rebellion as under wraps as possible, they fake his death and lock him away in the castle’s underground prison. Rapunzel was able to annul the marriage and finally be free once again.

The return of the king silences the Separatists and they go back into hiding, and though their threat still looms overhead, the kingdom finds peace once more.

Now at twenty-three, Rapunzel has turned her cheek at the prospect of love and instead focuses on becoming the princess the kingdom had hoped her. Though her reputation has taken a hit, no one can deny that she is not only beautiful and soft-hearted girl but also intelligent with a spark of wit and untapped potential. Currently, she has begun to pick up more responsibilities within the kingdom, making both her parents proud and her kingdom eager for her reign.

❀ v; beloved by all. (QUEEN)

Adult Rapunzel / Queen // As the Princess ages, she gains popularity through her sweet disposition and strong personality. Time heals the wounds of the heart and she finds happiness in her role and herself. She becomes queen at the age of 35 and rules her kingdom with the Grace and Wisdom of her ancestors before her.

❀ v; and then that moment it ended. (IMMORTAL)

Immortal Rapunzel // They failed to tell her that with age comes death and soon, everything she learned to love was taken by hands she could not touch. Rapunzel tried her best to keep her loved ones with her and used her hair to offer them an extended life, a good life. But it was not enough.

Unfortunately, the magic that had been given to her by the sun was hers forever, and cutting her hair had done nothing to end her life and so she could never join her family.The problem with living forever is that you will eventually find yourself alone. When those she loved decided to leave this life in peace Rapunzel was left alone to wander the earth. She saw her kingdom go into legend and myth. The princess with the golden hair, with the power to heal, adapted into movies, theater, songs, art.

After a couple of years, Rapunzel made peace with herself and continues to try to see the world for what it is, a beautiful place with endless possibilities.

NOTES: 

Unless stated otherwise, all ships and threads exist in their own bubble. There is a possibility of verse merging depending on the situation but the base backstory stays the same.

SHIPS:  

Prince Phillip /  @travmsoldat / Sleeping Beauty Luxord / Rould / @verumace​ / Kingdom Hearts Prince Eric / @seapriince​ / The Little Mermaid