#and you never get to see unless the patient is dead and gracious enough to donate their body

[silverspleen]

The aforementioned dead patient was something I had been wondering about for a while, the three kinds of death you run into at the hospital as a cardiac sonographer are -

They did not call to cancel the echo order, the nurse is not there to tell you not to go into the patient's room, and the patient is lying in their bed but they are actually just straight up dead and not hooked up to anything and it takes you a minute or two to go, "hold on a fucking second... this person is DEAD" and then you float around the entrance of the room until the nurse shows up to be like "don't go in there!! patient expired!!" and you get to be like "m-hm YEAH I KNOW. Cancel the order." And you are disgruntled at the team for a. wasting your time and b. interrupting the final sleep of some poor person where you were very nearly lightly disrespectful to a corpse (by trying to shake them gently awake and putting stickers on them, as you do to asleep patients)

They called you because there is literally a Code Blue crisis situation happening and there's twenty people in the room, possibly doing CPR or giving meds or giving blood, like a well-oiled machine where you are a massive interloper with your giant ass ultrasound machine being in the way and asking "when do you want pictures? what do you want to see?", and you either get to scan before, during, or after lifesaving procedures, and if you (not the patient, not the family, for this will be a tragedy) are very, very lucky you may get pictures after the patient's heart has stopped moving but before they call the end of the code (and declare the patient officially dead) which means you are there, in the room, not-so-gently (because those pictures are hard to get after CPR) smashing on someone's chest with a piece of plastic as they die and you get to see the heart stop and the blood clot up almost immediately, and it's funny to see something that moves so much not doing much of anything at all.

This patient is already considered braindead and literally being kept alive with machines and they need pictures for organ donation ASAP I hope you know how to burn a CD

And by wondering about I mean, wanted to experience, because I'm a morbid fucker who works in a hospital and wonders about death in a hospital and how it works and what it's like, because that's a crisis situation not many people get to experience in their lives and good news! These are all things I have actually experienced as a cardiac imaging tech in the hospital. Writing it down is funny because I did not expect the trajectory of my life to go in that direction even at all.

[altankatt]

Neal and Peter catch Keller

Neal knew Peter was likely going berserk but he had to reach there before Keller. He jumped into a cab, against the rules for how to transport himself on his own. He had no idea if Peter had sent his 'checked out' text to the Marshals or not. If he had, his anklet would be monitored and the speed of his transport would likely set off an alarm. It could not be helped.

"Manhattan Helicopters. FDR Drive," he told the cab driver. A convicted felon with an anklet going to a helicopter pad. He made a phone call to check what he already guessed. Then he called Peter.

"What the heck are you doing, Neal?" he almost yelled. "The Marshals called and—"

"I know. Keller is on his way to Manhattan Helicopters. So am I. Meet me there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You can check Sergei's flight plan yourself."

"Sergei himself?"

"The one and only. I have to go. I'm there now."

He ended the call, paid the driver and rushed out on the pier. There was no sight of Keller yet, but he probably waited inside the terminal, waiting for a call from Grace.

A black helicopter approached and Neal saw Keller exit the terminal and walk towards the pad. They met by the helicopter when it turned off its engine.

"Bravo, Keller."

"Seriously? Wow. So you came by to see me off, huh, Caffrey?" Keller grinned. "Who knew you were a gracious loser?"

"I have to admit using the real Ben Franklin bottle, did not see that coming," Neal said with honest admiration. "Stroke of genius, really."

"Thanks. That actually means a lot coming from you," Keller replied and for a second he looked like a little brother getting praise from his older, adored brother. "Only wish Kate was around to see it," he added to hide his emotions. "We both know she always loved a winner. Who knows? Maybe I'll look her up, see if she still does."

Neal looked back with a blank face. That was Keller. Always hiding his emotions by hitting at other's vulnerable spots. Sad, really.

"So I'm curious," Keller continued. "How'd you find me?"

"Checked Sergei's travel plans." The short version was just fine. "See he does it in style. I also hear he doesn't take it lightly when someone owes him money."

"Owed," Keller corrected. "As in past tense. Yeah, you see, our little go-around with the bottle cleared my debts. In fact, I just got a text from my broker. Bottle went for seven figures."

Neal hid his smile of triumph behind one of fake admiration.

"Wow," he expressed. "Wow, congratulations, man." Keller did not have a clue.

"Thank you. Thank you."

"So it was a two birds, one stone thing. Humiliate me, turn a hefty profit while you're at it?"

"See? Now you're catching on, Neal." Though Neal knew Keller wanted to hurt him it was painful to hear him say it. They had been friends once. "Listen, I'd love to chat, buddy. But unless you got anything else, I should get going. Be good."

For a second Neal thought about not saying a word and let Keller leave. Without money to pay Sergei with, he was likely to end up dead somewhere. One less killer in the world. One less trouble for him. But that was not how it was done. That made him like Keller. And if it was one thing Neal was proud of in his life it was his ability to care for people, even though he was a criminal. He was pretty sure that ability was one of the reasons that Peter had taken the deal.

He turned to Keller who had his hand on the door to the helicopter where Sergei was waiting.

"I haven't made my offer yet."

Keller glanced at his watch.

"This should be good."

"I'd like to offer you the opportunity to make a full confession for your crimes. The robbery of the Natural History Museum, the murder of Manuel Campos anything else you wanna add in."

"You know what? I was wrong. This isn't good. This is sad, man," Keller said, disappointed. "This is a moment I'll cherish. Seeing you at your most desperate." He turned back towards the chopper.

"The winner of the Franklin bottle it wouldn't happen to be bidder number 57, would it?"

This made him stop. Neal beamed at him and saw in Keller's eyes that he knew that he had lost.

"Why?"

"Now, this is just awkward, but I don't have a million dollars. The auction house said they'd give me a week to put the money together."

Neal heard people approaching from behind. He felt more than heard that it was Peter and his agents.

"A week, huh? You know what? A week's not that long. I can buy that." That, if something, was desperate. Clutching for straws. Neal smiled.

Peter drove out on the helicopter pier, waving his badge to the guard. He saw Neal with his back to him facing a black helicopter. And between the young con-man and the helicopter was Keller, leaving. Peter stopped and got out of the car.

"The winner of the Franklin bottle it wouldn't happen to be bidder number 57, would it?" he heard Neal say as he approached.

Keller stopped and faced Neal.

"Why?"

"Now, this is just awkward, but I don't have a million dollars. The auction house said they'd give me a week to put the money together."

Now Keller saw Peter and his team too. He was not about to give up yet.

"A week, huh? You know what? A week's not that long. I can buy that."

"Did you tell him I'm launching a federal investigation on the bottle?" Peter said.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. There's that too," the kid added with enthusiasm and Keller made a face. "How long can a federal investigation go on for?"

"Not sure," Peter said. "Years." It could, even it was rare.

"Oh, years, wow," Neal grinned.

Keller did not seem that excited about it all.

"Son of a bitch," he said to his opponent and Peter knew that Keller knew that he had lost.

"How patient are Sergei and your Russian friends?" the kid asked.

"You can take a helicopter ride and find out," Peter suggested. "Or you can come with us. Your choice."

He watched his pet convict and his enemy eye each other. There was no gloating.

"Well played," Keller said. He held out his arm and dropped his bag to the ground.

"Good game, Keller," Neal replied.

Keller grinned.

"The game ain't over."

"Help the gentleman into the car," Peter told his team and two agents stepped forward. Keller put his hands behind his back without a fuss.

"Looks that way to me," the kid said.

"Yeah?" Keller glanced at his rival as he got his hands cuffed. "I mean, you were locked up, broke out. Maybe it's my turn to accept a challenge. Best two out of three." Peter was not happy about that statement and could see on Neal's body language that he did not either.

"I'll see you around, Caffrey."

Neal took a step forward and told Keller something for his ears only. Then they led him away to the car.

"Poor Sergei's going home empty-handed," Neal smiled at Peter who bent down and picked up Keller's bag.

He felt so proud of the kid. There had never been a doubt about Neal's intentions. When the marshals called he had yelled at them not to worry even before checking with his convict what was going on. And seeing the kid out there on the helicopter pad, winning over his rival without mockery, it was such pleasure to see. Peter was a strong believer in fair treatment and no gloating when a suspect was arrested. Even a guy like Keller who was hardcore on the surface could be scared when being cuffed.

He pattered the kid on the shoulder on the way back to the car.

Neal remained where he was and Peter did not ask him to come along. He would not be involved in anything more concerning Keller. If the kid wanted to be alone as the adrenaline rush left him, it was his choice. Peter smiled. Neal would probably not be alone for long. He had a hunch a little bald fellow would turn up as soon as they left.

Neal enjoyed the temporary solitude. He watched the Statue of Liberty out in the bay and Brooklyn Heights on the other side of the river. He was outside his radius and Peter had let him remain there when they left. He took it as a gesture of trust. Still, Neal was pretty certain the moment he returned to his radius, Peter would send his text to the Marshals.

The imaginary freedom he felt down there by the water was worth a lot and he wanted to stay for a while.

Besides, he expected Mozzie to be around soon and was right.

"Did I miss Keller?" he heard his friend's voice. Neal barely needed to nod. The answer was obvious. "Damn. I wanted to see him do the perp walk."

"Sorry. Good news is he won't be bothering us for a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Maybe long enough to finish our chess game." Neal wished it was so.

"You think they have a prison that can hold him?" Moz asked.

"I don't know." He had broken out of one. Keller could probably do it too. Not with the same means, but if he wanted out he would get out. The question was if he wanted to, with an angry Russian mob breathing down his neck.

"Okay, so, what's the bad news?" Moz asked.

"You won't be drinking a million-dollar bottle of wine tonight."

Mozzie grinned

"I'll live."

Life was good. Right now at this moment, Neal had never been more certain that he would gladly spend the rest of his sentence working for Peter.

"You were right," he said and Mozzie glanced at him. "I could use one less mystery in my life."

"Oh, I rescind that comment," his friend said and Neal stared, not very thrilled of this new mystery. "There's suddenly been a lot of chatter about the music box. You need to talk to Alex."

"She won't tell me anything while I work for the FBI."

"Then… make it worth her while."

That was a challenge to Neal's liking.

Like this? Check out https://desnordlund.wixsite.com/altankatt

[kittymsmithwritesstuff]

Short fic - Balloons

Mirage x Wattson, a gift for @bamboozlingbritt . This ship needs more content honestly lmao 

ao3 link

I do commissions

Silly, fluffy dorks in love. 

---

“Elliott! Elliott? Oh, where is he?” Natalie hopped in the middle of the crowd, sending up a cloud of fine fair dust at her feet. She was somewhere in the food stall section, the most likely location for one Elliott Witt to go, but the crowd was like a school of fish, all so tightly together and moving so quickly, and for some reason everyone grew taller when she lost him. It was the second time that day and really, she would be more annoyed if she wasn’t concerned with finding the imbécile, since he was the one with all the money and their phones. She huffed and started squeezing her way through people, calling for him and cursing him in the same breath. Not at the fries stand, or the cotton candy, or the place that somehow deep-fried nachos.

“I am going to kill him,” she decided aloud, though she was looking directly at a child when she said this and quickly removed herself before said child’s tall scary papa could reach her. She came to the ticket vendor. “Pardone, have you seen m-“

“Hey, aren’t you a Legend?”

She puffed a stream of air from her lips, flipping her bangs, then put on a smile. “Oui, oui, mon ami. And I’m looking for-“

“Mirage?” The vendor was grinning. Elliott had mentioned how one of his favorite parts of being a Legend was that people were pretty much always happy to see you, and Natalie had been a little embarrassed to have not noticed, because people were rarely unhappy to see her.

“Yes, have you seen him?”

“Down that way,” he pointed to the right, the only thing in that direction being a large, bubble shaped building. “He signed my arm. Dudes pretty chill. Hey, would you…?”

“If you have a marker.”

The vendor grinned wider and pulled out a black marker. Natalie signed his arm, below Elliot’s scrawl, and then moved on towards the big bubble. On her way there she spotted a balloon vendor and got an idea, purchasing a yellow balloon and a blue one and then continuing into what turned out to be a big vendor convention of some type, with different sections dedicated to different crafts, like leatherwork, jewelry setting and local art. Elliott was found in the garden section, deep in a desert themed area full of cacti and succulents that Natalie was pretty sure made the balloons nervous. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he whirled around, grinning upon seeing her. “Nat! Babe! Lookit these little guys!” He held out his hands, small pots with a tiny cactus in each one. Natalie quickly tied the yellow balloon around his wrist, double knotting it. He stared. “Uh?”

“Stop running off!” She started tying the blue balloon to her own wrist while he stood, hands still out, baffled. He was so cute she hadn’t even sounded as perturbed as she was and maybe that was part of the problem, but oh well. He was too cute for either of their goods. “This is the second time I’ve lost you!”

“I, heh I’m sorry I just, well this guy gave me a pamphlet about this place and then I found plants.” He gestured weakly with the cacti; his balloon wobbling dangerously close to a saguaro. “I’ve always kinda wanted to, you know, try keeping something alive?”

She smiled slightly. “You barely keep yourself alive.” That was a lie, he was probably the healthiest of all the Legends, herself included. She’d spent the ages between 16 and 22 living off takeout and TV dinners, when she remembered to eat, but Elliott? He, like, cooked. He’d been horrified at the contents of her fridge the first time he came over.

“I know, but, they’re cute! They also have succa-suc-succ…soft water boys.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say, chou.”

“I don’t either.” He laughed at himself and then, having apparently decided he was going to purchase the cactuses, carefully navigated his balloon around the pokey pillars of death to the register. “Why’d you tie this to me, again?”

“So I can find you easier.” She lightly backhanded his side. “You’re no better than a toddler.”

He pouted. “You wound me.”

She smiled at him, taking the change from the vendor and shoving it in one of the pockets of Elliott’s fanny pack-blue with golden apples to compliment his outfit- while Elliot was handing over the cacti to be boxed. “This is terribly convenient, if very dorky.”

“It’s part of my charm.” He winked. “I think they call it “Dad Chic”.”

“You’re not a dad, though.”

“Excuse me, I have a beautiful wiener dog named Saucy and I resent the implication that he is anything but a loving son.” He thanked the rather amused clerk for the plants and held the bag in one hand, Natalie’s hand in the other.

She giggled. “Of course, my bad.”

They weaved through the crowd, balloons bobbing around them, the strings sometimes crossing so they hooked together, much like the couple’s hands. Natalie smiled when she thought of the fat little sausage dog who liked very much to sleep in the walkway and would wait, very patiently, for them to finish dinner so he could lick the plates. Elliott even had a set of steps so Saucy could climb into bed. She had a cat, Barbara, but she wasn’t nearly as charming unless you had chicken in hand.

Still, she found herself perusing a stall filled with custom knitted pet clothing, seriously considering a blue bonnet that Barbara would hate. Elliot leaned more towards a leatherworking stall, and she was thankful she bought the balloon, as she lost him twice more from there. They’d come to the fair for the rides and strange food, but Elliott was in a building with a whole square mile full of weird stuff to buy and armed with a credit card, so Natalie resigned herself to browsing and sometimes stopping Elliott’s strange purchases. (She didn’t stop him from buying the suit of armor, though, which made her wonder if they both needed an adult).

She stopped to look at a display of miniature tesla coils and only caught Elliott’s sleeve a moment before he vanished. “Hey!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” he stopped, and she opened up the fanny pack, digging around for her wallet.

“Goodness gracious, Elliott, if I knew you’d keep wandering like this I would have worn jeans with pockets!”

“Your jeans don’t have pockets?” He cocked his head, to any outsider looking like he was just staring at her crotch in the middle of the fair. She flicked the pocket, only the rim of it pulling out, not even enough to put a penny in. “Why did you buy them?”

“Because they’re cute,” she sighed, passing a fifty to the vendor. Sure, she could make the coils herself, but…no.

“But, but you don’t have pockets. Why would they make it without pockets?”

“To make women buy purses.”

He opened his mouth then paused, finger to his lip like a scientist who’d just had a breakthrough. “Oh my God.”

“You never thought of that before?”

“Never!”

She chuckled, taking the bag from the vendor and again walking with him. “Well, it’s a thing.”

“That’s so stupid.”

She laughed. “It is.”

They went about their day, exiting the big bubble building and wandering back out to the main part of the fair, the rides and food and games. Natalie kept having to run to Elliott’s fanny pack for her phone, or money when she spontaneously wanted even more cotton candy (“Seriously, how are you not dead?” He asked after her third trip) or the couple occasions she ran out of tickets while playing other games during Elliott’s quest for a giant wiener dog plush at the milk-bottle toss, or whatever the game was called.

Eventually Elliott seemed to tire of it, or at the very least got an idea, because when she returned from one of the more ridiculous stands with deep fried ice cream, he’d vanished from his spot near the ring toss. She looked around and didn’t spot his balloon and huffed. But he’d not wandered off the last few hours so she gave him a benefit of a doubt and stood where he had been, guessing (hoping) he had just gone to the bathroom. Of course, fifteen minutes meant otherwise, and by the time she saw his yellow balloon bobbing over the tops of the crowd, she was cross. At least he came back, she thought, hand on her hip. “Elliott, where the hell did you go?”

He jumped-she had that tone- and held up his hands defensively, small bag in hand. “I’m sorry, it took longer to find than I thought.”

“Find what?”

“This.” He handed her the bag and she looked at it suspiciously, passing him what once had been fried ice cream and was now bulbous, sloshing blobs of dough one pin prick away from becoming an unpleasant soup. “It’s kinda dumb,” he added as she began to reach into the bag. Then she pulled it out, and all at once her annoyance disappeared, replaced with a bubble of laughter. “Ha, yeah, it’s du-“

“Non, non, Elliott, I love it!” She said through her giggles, squeezing his arm reassuringly. She immediately fastened it around her waist, looked down and laughed again. It was blue, with electric yellow lightning bolts, almost matching Elliot’s gold apples. “Where on Earth did you find it?”

He was grinning like a doofus, pulling out her cash and phone, which she took and shoved into the pockets. “There’s a whole stall that just sells handmade fanny packs. I found it when I, heh, wandered earlier.”

She shook her head. “Only you could find something like this,” she said, getting on her toes and giving him a peck on the lips, making him laugh in relief, and thinking to herself that she would never have guessed she’d one day find a fanny pack romantic.

[coolksaposts]

4John, To the seven churches in the province of Asia: Grace and peace to you from Him who is and was and is to come, and from the sevenfold Spirit before His throne, 5and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. To Him who loves us and has released us from our sins by His blood,… Rev 1:4-5

Isaiah 11:2 The Spirit of the LORD will rest on Him--the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and strength, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.  

 All our highest and purest and best knowledge of God comes from the life and conduct and character  of Jesus Christ. 

All of you who have any familiarity with the language of Scripture will know that a characteristic of all the writings which are ascribed to the Apostle John, viz., his Gospel, his Epistles, and the book of the Revelation, is their free and remarkable use of that expression, ‘Witness.’ It runs through all of them, and is one of the many threads of connection which tie them all together, and which constitute a very strong argument for the common authorship of the three sets of writings, vehemently as that has of late been denied. But where did John get this word? According to his own teaching he got it from the lips of the Master, who began His career with these words, ‘We speak that we do know, and bear witness to that we have seen,’ and who all but ended it with these royal words, ‘Thou sayest that I am a King! For this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the Truth.’ Christ Himself, then, claimed to be in an eminent and special sense the witness to the world. The witness of what? What was the substance of His testimony? It was a testimony mainly about God. The words of my text substantially cover the same ground as His own words, ‘I have declared Thy name unto My brethren,’ and as those of the Apostle: ‘The only begotten Son which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him.’ And they involve the same ideas as lie in the great name by which He is called in John’s Gospel,’ the Word of God.’ That is to say, all our highest and purest and best knowledge of God comes from the life and conduct and character of Jesus Christ. His revelation is no mere revelation by words. Plenty of men have talked about God, and said noble and true and blessed things about Him. Scattered through the darkness of heathenism, and embedded in the sinfulness of every man’s heart, there are great and lofty and pure thoughts about Him, which to cleave to and follow out would bring strength and purity. It is one thing to speak about God in words, maxims, precepts; it is another thing to show us God in act and life. The one is theology, the other is gospel. The one is the work of man, the other is the exclusive prerogative of God manifested in the flesh. It is not Christ’s words only that make Him the ‘Amen,’ the ‘faithful and true Witness,’ but in addition to these, He witnesses by all His deeds of grace, and truth, and gentleness, and pity; by all His yearnings over wickedness, and sorrow, and sinfulness; by all His drawings of the profligate and the outcast and the guilty to Himself, His life of loneliness, His death of shame. In all these, He is showing us not only the sweetness of a perfect human character, but in the sweetness of a perfect human character, the sweeter sweetness of our Father, God. The substance of His testimony is the Name, the revelation of the character of His Father and our Father. This name of ‘witness’ bears likewise strongly upon the characteristic and remarkable manner of our Lord’s testimony. The task of a witness is to affirm; his business is to tell his story-not to argue about it, simply to state it. And there is nothing more characteristic of our Lord’s words than the way in which, without attempt at proof or argumentation, He makes them stand on their own evidence; or, rather, depend upon His veracity. All His teaching is characterized by what would be insane presumption in any of us, and would at once rule us out of court as unfit to be listened to on any grave subject, most of all on religious truth. For His method is this: ‘Verily, verily, I say to you! Take it on My word. You ask Me for proof of My saying: I am the proof of it; I assert it. That is enough for you! ‘Not so do men speak. So does the faithful Witness speak; and instead of the conscience and common-sense of the world rising up and saying, ‘This is the presumption of a religious madman and dictator,’ they have bowed before Him and said, ‘Thou art fairer than the children of men! Grace is poured into Thy lips.’ He is the ‘faithful Witness, who lays His own character and veracity as the basis of what He has to say, and has no mightier word by which to back His testimony than His own sovereign ‘Verily! verily!’ The name bears, too, on the ground of His testimony. A faithful witness is an eye-witness. And that is what Christ claims when He witnesses about God. ���‘We speak that we do know, we testify that we have seen.’ ‘I speak that which I have seen with My Father!’ There is nothing more remarkable about the oral portion of our Lord’s witness than the absence of any appearance, such as marks all the wisest words of great men, of having come to them as the result of patient thought. We never see Him in the act of arriving at a truth, nor detect any traces of the process of forming opinions in Him. He speaks as if He had seen, and His tone is that of one who is not thinking out truth or grasping at it, but simply narrating that which lies plain and clear ever before His eyes. I do not ask you what that involves, but I quote His own statement of what it involves: ‘No man hath ascended up into Heaven save He that came down from Heaven, even the Son of Man which is in Heaven.’ There have been plenty of great and gracious words about God, and there have been plenty of black and blasphemous thoughts of Him. They rise in our own hearts, and they come from our brothers’ tongues. Men have worshipped gods gracious, gods loving, gods angry, gods petulant, gods capricious; but God after the fashion of the God whom Jesus Christ avouches to us, we have nowhere else, a God of absolute love, who ‘so loved the world’-that is, you and me-’that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish.’ And now I ask, is there not grace and peace brought to us all from that faithful Witness, and from His credible testimony? Surely the one thing that the world wants is to have the question answered whether there really is a God in Heaven that cares anything about me, and to whom I can trust myself wholly; believing that He will lift me out of all my meannesses and sins, and make me clean and pure and blessed like Himself. Surely that is the deepest of all human needs, howsoever little men may know it. And sure I am that none of us can find the certitude of such a Father unless we give credence to the message of Jesus Christ our Lord. This day needs that witness as much as any other; sometimes in our unbelieving moments, we think more than any other. There is a wave-I believe it is only a wave-passing over the cultivated thought of Europe at present which will make short work of all belief in a God that does not grip fast to Jesus Christ. As far as I can read the signs of the times, and the tendency of modern thinking, it is this:-either an absolute Silence, a Heaven stretching above us, blue and clear, and cold, and far away, and dumb; or else a Christ that speaks-He or none! The Theism that has shaken itself loose from Him will be crushed; I am sure, in the encounter with the agnosticism and the materialism of this day. And the one refuge is to lay fast hold of the old truth:-’ The only begotten Son which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him.’ Oh! you orphan children that have forgotten your Father, and have turned prodigals and rebels; you that have begun to doubt if there is any one above this low earth that cares for you; you that have got bewildered and befogged amidst the manifold denials and controversies of this day; come back to the one voice that speaks to us in tones of confident certainty as from personal knowledge of a Father. ‘He that hath seen Me hath seen the Father,’ says Jesus to us all: ‘hearken unto Me, and know God, whom to know in Me is eternal life.’ Listen to Him. Without His testimony you will be the sport of fears, and doubts, and errors. With it in your hearts you •will be at rest. Grace and peace come from the faithful Witness.

MacLaren Exposition

THE GIFTS OF CHRIST AS WITNESS, RISEN AND CROWNED

https://biblehub.com/commentaries/maclaren/revelation/1.htm

[abigfatbug]

Adimyos, Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of Adimyos!  Link to Google Drive folder >>here<<, and link to the first part/prologue on tumblr >>here<< I still don’t personally like reading long stories directly on tumblr, but i’ll paste it in anyway.

Chapter 3: How To Proceed? After some deliberation, Tanos ended up selecting a modest guest room as close to his room as possible to be where Rivis would stay for the time being.  It seemed like a no-brainer of a choice, but it did actually come with a few concerns for Tanos, mainly revolving around how much he could actually trust the odd prisoner.  What if Rivis’ tears and mannerisms were all just excellent acting?  What if Rivis was planning to harm him in some way?  Or worse, his family? What if Rivis’ story was a lie?  What if he was planning to feed the whole kingdom of Adimyos false information to aid the Ensin?  They were definitely risks that couldn’t be ignored. Tanos briefly considered giving him something a bit less comfortable, like a repurposed closet or storage room, as a way of making it clear that he wasn’t exactly off the hook, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  If it turned out Rivis was being completely truthful, he did want to help Adimyos, and he was forced to work with the Ensin, Tanos would feel absolutely awful about it, even if he was only being paranoid for the good of his family and country.  Ultimately, he simply chose the option of having guards watch the guest room to make sure Rivis wouldn’t try anything, and he also made sure all the guards and servants in the castle and on the property knew the situation so they could keep an eye out for anything strange. Rivis eventually came back, escorted by the same guards who took him to get medical attention.  It wasn’t the finest possible care, but it was decent.  He’d been bandaged and treated with medicinal poultices where needed, and given a white padded eyepatch for his swollen eye, but he definitely still looked like he’d seen better days. As Tanos showed Rivis where he’d be staying, Rivis let out a small gasp, and actually walked through the room on his tiptoes, looking around cautiously as if he weren’t supposed to be there at all.  “Are you really fine with wasting such a good room on me?”  Rivis said disbelievingly. “Unless I am proven otherwise, I will treat you as someone worthy of respect.  But if you seem to be acting suspicious, there will be consequences.  Is that clear?” “Y-yes, of course, Your Highness…  I promise not to be ungrateful,” Rivis said. “Good.  But for the time being, you should freshen up and prepare for dinner,” Tanos said.  “Someone will be bringing it to you soon.  I’ll be doing the same now, if you’ll excuse me,” Rivis gave the briefest questioning glance towards Tanos’ soft, bulging stomach, as if a bit surprised he was going to be eating again when he already seemed so full, but all he did was nod in response. Tanos quickly went to freshen up and change into clean clothes, which weren’t much different from his previous ones, but his new top was a looser, flowing, translucent black silk that only covered his chest, still leaving his stomach completely exposed and unrestricted.   Once he went to the dining room, it was largely the same as before, with the exception of the family all briefly slowing their feasting to look at him.  It was honestly sort of incredible that they actually heard him coming over the sounds of constant chewing and gulping, but they definitely slowed down to look at him. Once he sat down, the questioning started right away, some of it a bit muffled because no one would entirely stop eating. “So, what’re you gonna do with the thief?”  Thrin asked with a sadistic grin.  “Hard labor?  Sleeping on the floor in the basement?  Killing giant rats?  Gross food in tiny portions?” “I’m going to treat him with respect, of course,” Tanos said simply, causing the whole table to look at him rather oddly.  “ “But… he was planng to do something bad to Majos, wasn’t he?” said a girl just slightly shorter and less incredibly obese than Honjya or Thrin, but still quite similar looking. “I know, Iyin, but… It’s just… He doesn’t seem like a bad person… He just seems desperate and afraid…”  Tanos said. “Last time I checked, that’s called ‘acting’…” Lamtu said dryly.  There were a few snickers from others, but restrained enough to not choke or spit out drinks. “I admit I could be wrong.  But for now, I don’t want to be too harsh on him if there’s no proof I should be.  He’s not Ensin.  He definitely doesn’t look like one, and he says he was forced to fight,” “He said so?  He speaks our language well enough to explain himself?” Lamtu asked. “Apparently,”  Tanos replied with a shrug.  When some of the others stared at him with raised eyebrows and small frowns, he pushed his chair back slightly and sunk down a bit lower in his seat.  “I know it all seems suspicious, but…  I just really don’t want him to suffer more than he has to,” Tanos said. “I know how you feel, but… We’re just worried about you, is all,”  Honjya said with a patient smile. “If he should try anything suspicious, he’ll pay dearly.  Those who would lie to royalty in order to endanger Adimyos must be punished harshly,” the king said coldly, somehow making Tanos a bit nervous by proxy.  Although he hardly knew anything about Rivis, he desperately hoped Rivis wasn’t lying.  Not only for the sake of his home and those he cared about, but for the sake of Rivis himself. Dinner progressed rather normally after that, as everyone became too engrossed in eating to bother talking.  Even Tanos managed to painstakingly match his lunchtime intake, but he made another plate anyway in order to bring it to Rivis, which only elicited stares and murmurs from the rest of his family, to the point that Thrin actually got up and began following him, in spite of her heavily bloated, hanging stomach weighing her down. “Alright, let me see what in the name of Feylya is apparently so special and innocent about this random criminal that you want to give him some of the best food there is…”  Thrin said with a scowl, although her threatening tone was diminished somewhat by a loud burp afterwards. Once they made their way to Rivis’ room, Rivis was there sitting on a bed that was rather awkwardly much too big for him.  Once he caught sight of Thrin looking so massive, heavily obese, extremely full, and yet clearly powerful, he could do little more than stare completely frozen with his mouth agape. “H-hello, Princess… Nice to meet you…  My name- my name is Rivis…”  Rivis forced out, although he was hardly even able to look at Thrin at all.  Thrin just sneered rather coldly, as Tanos gave him the plate of food. “I… I couldn’t possibly…”  Rivis started.  “I’m grateful, but this is far too much food!” Both Tanos and Thrin just exchanged side glances for a moment before Tanos spoke.  “…Too much?” “I-I do not mean to say it wasn’t an incredibly kind and gracious thing to do, Your Highness, but…  my people do not have such marvelous stomach capacities…” “Too bad.  Eat.  My little brother is being nice to your scrawny, bony ass, so eat!”  Thrin said, as she took a step forward and stomped the floor hard enough to make the whole room shake. “Right away!  My apologies!”  Rivis said, as he took the food and immediately took a huge bite out of some kind of large meatloaf coated in a thick gravy.  Immediately, Rivis’ one good eye went wide, even tearing up slightly.  He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he immediately stuffed another large bite into his mouth and let out a moan of pleasure.  As quickly as he could, he sampled everything on the plate, moaning with pleasure and slightly blushing the entire time. After a couple of minutes, he regained control of himself long enough to speak.  “This is incredible!  The food is every bit as amazing as I’ve heard!” “Yeah, yeah, all those pale ass skeletons hear we have better food and spices than them and they come running over here like a slavering pack of dogs,”  Thrin said irritably.  “And you came right with them.” “I was forced,” Rivis said quietly.  “I had no choice…  I’m sorry…  I-I never wanted to submit to the Ensin, I’m Lyphorian…” “…Lyphorian?  Aren’t they a bunch of nomads and healers?  I’ve heard you help the Ensin all the time of your own free will!”  Thrin said. “That’s… how it used to be.  But the Ensin just act like that’s how it still is…  Our situation is actually like yours.  They wanted our land and resources for a long time, but they had no choice but to respect our independence because we had people skilled in so many areas of magic, to the point where there were things they completely relied on our help for…  And our culture emphasizes helping others.  We even willingly let them buy a generous portion of our territory for much less than it was really worth, and yet they still wanted more.” “Pfft.  Then we’re not the same.  Our country would never let anyone have our territory, especially not on sale!”  Thrin replied with a laugh.  Tanos just listened closely… For just a moment, he thought he saw Rivis’ good eye glow slightly, while the odd black metal rings on his throat and upper arms seemed to constrict slightly… But just as soon as he thought he saw it, it was over.   “Yes.  But please understand, Princess.  Things have changed.  They… don’t need us like they used to.  Their magic advanced.  They learned, they got richer, and now…  Now they just use us however they please.  They… they took me when I was thirteen years old.  They took my little sister and I from a poor, remote, miserable village in the dead of winter, when we couldn’t possibly stand a chance against them…  And made me into a soldier.  Do you know how Lyphorian magic works, Princess?”  Rivis said. “The more life force sitting around in the air, the more power, or some shit like that…”  Thrin said. “Exactly.  That’s why, according to the Ensin, a Lyphorian makes for the perfect soldier to invade Adimyos…”  Rivis said. “Yeah, or you willingly handed yourself over for money and you’re just making you sister up to make this story seem sadder…”  Thrin replied with a smirk.  Once again, Rivis’ eye glowed, but this time for a couple of seconds, and with more intensity, making it easier to notice.  The thick black rings began to smoke slightly and noticeably tighten, enough to make Rivis flinch. “Her name was Pavmes.  Pavmes Sivir.  And she existed.  She existed, and she had dreams and struggles… and she only lasted two years…  Because of them, she didn’t even get to turn eleven!  They killed her!  How dare you make fun of that?!”  Rivis said, his voice becoming cold and low as his one good eye glowed brighter than ever.  The black rings began smoking more heavily, while constricting so much they were elaving new bruises and Rivis began clutching frantically at his neck before the glow in his eye finally waned, and he was able to breathe again… although his breaths quickly became ragged and shaky as he descended into quiet sobbing, despite how he’d been blissfully happy over his food just moments ago. “…You’re awful, you know that?”  Tanos said coldly to Thrin, who just looked away from them rather stiffly as she slowly backed away a bit. “You know he could’ve been making it up!” “Would it harm literally anything to just believe that he had a sister?  Are you proud of yourself, denying him even the absolute bare minimum of trust?”  Tanos asked scathingly, while glaring up at his big sister. “…I apologize,” Thrin said, just loudly enough to hear, before stiffly turning and leaving as abruptly as her massive frame would allow. “…She meant the apology,” Tanos said to Rivis rather awkwardly.  Rivis calmed himself after a moment and managed to sit up straight.   “…Of course she would think I’m lying.  There really are people who do what she said…  More than I’d care to admit… People who give themselves up for money…  People who give their kids up for money…  But… it’s…  that’s how it is!  Royalty like you wouldn’t understand!  You wouldn’t understand the desperation, the helplessness, the pain, the terror…  You just live here, eating heavenly food until you’re tight and round and not worrying about anything!”  Rivis cried. “…You’re right,” Tanos replied simply.  “I… I’m sorry I don’t understand that kind of life.  That kind of pain,” “…I… thank you…”  Rivis said. “You’re welcome…  But… your food is going to get cold.  And you still never explained how you can talk to us so easily.”  Tanos said. “It’s an extension of my magic.  There are a few minor things these limiters I wear don’t prevent, especially now that I’m in Adimyos.  I’m a bit connected with any lifeform near me.  Our energy automatically begins to exchange in a balanced cycle.  It’s only a weak sort of thing, but with some practice you can manipulate it enough to more easily understand someone’s thoughts and feelings, and it works the same for them.” “Definitely didn’t seem that way with Thrin or the guards…”  Tanos said. “Like I said, it’s weak.  It works much better when someone is actually open and cooperative like you,” Rivis explained.  “Negativity and distrust easily disrupts it, but at least everyone still understands my words, so I suppose I can live with it.”       “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally cleared that up.  Now… please try your best to finish your meal.   You look far too skinny,” Tanos said. “I was expecting I’d get even skinnier, honestly.  But the food I was given as a prisoner here was already much better than I was expecting.  Sometimes better than what I was already being fed before, actually.” “Really?  You were actually satisfied with such sad portions?” Tanos asked. “Probably the best part of being a prisoner here, honestly…”  Rivis said, which just made Tanos shake his head sadly. “Just finish your meal, please,” Tanos said.  Rivis happily obliged, but hit a wall in only about twenty minutes, as his body began to realize his stomach was at its limit… And yet, his stomach was bulging several times less than Tanos’, which would be much fuller even after a lengthy nap.  Overall, Rivis had probably eaten only about three pounds of the very rich food, for well over 3,000 calories. Tanos merely sat on the end of the bed the entire time, even though he realized he could simply leave.  “Is there anything I can change about it, next time?”  Tanos asked. “It was perfect just like it was… I’ve never had anything so good…”  Rivis said, as he gingerly laid down on the bed to get more comfortable.  “It’s a wonder you’re still only that big, eating so much of this perfect food every day…”  Rivis said. “It’s a difference in the bodies of my people.  There’s a certain stage we need to get past before we can get too enormous.  It’s called the Great Shift.  I’m hoping mine will be over soon, I’m quite overdue by now,” Tanos said. “I… uhm… I wish you luck with that, Prince,”  Rivis said with a small smile. “Thank you… But you must be getting tired now.  I’ll leave you to rest.  Someone will come get the plate for you,” Tanos said, returning the slight smile as he left the room.   Although it was a bit of a strange situation, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

[vanoodle]

Did you guys know? I write fanfictions. Like, every 100 years. And I can’t believe it but I actually managed to write a snippet today. It’s based around the idea of Tarn rescuing Pharma (listen, you gotta pry that fantasy from my cold dead hands) and bestowing him with new hands. Lots of new hands. A whole collection of new hands because Tarn is like “go hard or go home”. And this is even sfw. I’m amazed with myself. (though if I decide to write more that might change)

Anyway, should anyone want to read this, there you go:

Pharma took the freshly modified hand and attached it to his wrist with a firm press. He could feel as the wires connected and the clasps closed, holding the appendage in place and letting him move it as if it were his own. The hand as well as its twin had been a generous gift by his current benefactor. It was funny, really, he had always believed that no pair of hands could ever compare to his own but he never would have guessed that there would come a time where he got the chance to test that for himself.

He looked at the glass cabinets lining the wall of the medbay. Next to solvents and tools was his hand collection. All of them were gifts, gracious donations by those who had no further use for them. They were medic hands, mostly, since he had not much use for others, and Pharma had modified each pair as well as his wrists to fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, seamlessly and with just a click.

None of them were his hands. Those were gone from where they had gotten cut off and he already knew who had taken them with him. Pharma would find him and he would get them back. Until then, he made use of each pair of spares in a different way as they all possessed a variety of features and advantages, he had found.

The door opened and in stepped the mech he had to thank for all of this. The hands, his life, his downfall. Tarn prided himself on hating traitors but that seemed to only be the case if they were Decepticons. A hypocrite through and through but Pharma had already known that long before.

He also knew that he needed to be cautious, never let his guard down. Tarn acted like a gentlemech when he was in a good mood but he also had a quick temper when a sore spot was struck and he kept to his silly policies unless he decided to bend the rules for his own benefit.

Tarn eyed him, gaze wandering from his face to his new hands that still looked so foreign on his frame, purple and a bit too thin.

“So, what do you think?”

“You always ask me that.” Pharma started cleaning his tools and putting then away. Now came the fun part of testing the hands, painting them and then looking for a spot to put them. The cabinet was getting a little cramped. “And I always give you the same answer: they are not my hands but I will make use of them.”

“I really don’t get it, you know.” Tarn came closer and there was a small part of Pharma that still jumped at that, still remembered the time on Messatine when he had bent to Tarn’s every will, when he had harvested t-cogs until he had decided that this couldn’t go on forever, that someone would eventually find out, that he needed to do something about this. He had done something about this and look where he had ended. Rescued by the very same Decepticon who had gotten him into this mess.

Now he had decided to let Tarn court him. He had always declined before and Tarn, strangely enough, had not pushed. Now he took whatever the tank offered him, gave him a bit of attention in return. Effectively, he was using him to get what he wanted, which was revenge on Ratchet as well as his own hands back, but it was also a way of securing his own continued existence. Where would he even go once he had reached his goal? He could not go back to the Autobots, he would not go with any other Decepticons and he knew no one else who wasn’t already dead. Tarn seemed to know about Pharma's ulterior motives but didn’t seem to mind, on the contrary. It was as if he liked to let Pharma believe that he had some sort of control here when in fact he had none.

“Are those hands really that important to you? Just because you were forged with them?”

“I told you already-” Pharma looked up and turned to his right too late and found himself face to face with a broad chassis lined by biolights. They were still glowing calmly so Pharma knew he had nothing to fear right now. “The hands of a medic are special. And mine are exceptional. You can’t replace those.” Tarn hummed, amusement lacing his voice. It reached straight into Pharma's spark making it jolt and reminding him that too much complaining would land him a black mark. Oh how he loathed those. He wasn't even part the DJD for frag's sake. At least not really, not yet. He had no actual interest in becoming a member of this freakshow but he doubted he would be able to stave off Tarn's attempts to turn him into a Decepticon forever. Thankfully, Tarn seemed to be in more of a mood to tease than to reprimand, so he grabbed Pharma by the hips, lifting him up and setting him onto the workbench he had just been busy cleaning. Great. Pharma made sure to convey through his facial expression that he was not amused in the least by this. Tarn merely continued humming and settled between Pharma's knees, an action hinting at Tarn's ulterior motives, though he seemed to be more interested in Pharma's new hands for the moment. Fingers much larger than his held onto Pharma's wrist and to pulled it right in front of Tarn's mask. “So? What do these do?” “I was just about to find out. I have a vague idea based on what I saw when I modified them but...” Pharma started moving his hand, bending the fingers one by one and trying out different commands to see if they would do anything. It always took a bit for him to get used to a new pair but if he was completely honest with himself, that was what made it interesting. Tarn watched patiently, optics always wandering between the hand right in front of him and Pharma's face. They were completely drawn however when Pharma's fingers split apart. Each thin digit turned into two, then four. The joints were flexible and the tips thin, able to move individually and spread. Pharma wiggled them, just as fascinated as Tarn seemed. “They look like they could be useful for working on a console. Among other things.” Pharma reached up to Tarn's neck, thin digits easily fitting into seams and plucking on wires and cables. A pleased rumble emitted from deep within Tarn's chassis and Pharma took it as a cue to continue. Contrary to what Pharma had anticipated, Tarn was surprisingly pleasant to be with. His frame was warm, sturdy. His manners impeccable when he wanted them to be. His flirtations, while always a little extra and overly poetic, were endearing after you got over the initial embarrassment. And his voice... oh, his voice. Pharma had not known that danger and excitement could be compressed into sound quite like this. It did not matter what Tarn said as long as it echoed in his audio receptors and tingled inside his spark. Tarn tilted his helm, granting Pharma better access to his neck and the low purr increased in volume. Pharma found himself growing quite fond of that sound. It seemed like his new hands could be put to good use a lot sooner than anticipated.

[mary-tudor]

Shakespeare’s Lost Play: Edmund Ironside, Act I.

Scene I.I: Southampton

[Enter Canutus, Archbishop of Canterbury, Earl of Southampton, Edricus, Leofric, Turkillus, Uskataulf and Swetho. They sit at a table]

CANUTUS: Archbishop and you other English peers I hear how Ethelredus late your king my tributary, is departed life and how his son prince Edmund wears the crown without the notice of your free consent or homage unto me, his sovereign. Yourselves, lords spiritual and temporal, besides the due my father's conquest claims have chosen me, and by a universal sound decree ... [I.1.10] have solemnly throughout this little world proclaimed me heir-apparent to the crown when Ethelredus lived. Then let not this young upstart prince of prates [He riseth.] curb your proceedings with untutored words but finish boldly what you have begun: resist his private coronation and put not up this vild dishonor done unto you, chief commanders of the realm, as though you were not worth the sending-for. ... [I.1.20]

CANTERBURY: Indeed his rashness is unportable and merely nothing but a proud contempt against us of the clergy and the rest that have for public profit of the realm for peace, for quiet and utility elected prince Canutus for our king, whose valor we have proved unto our cost, whose love unto the church we need not doubt, whose care for all we may rely upon, and whose true bounty is so notable ... [I.1.30] that even his foes admire and honor him, when th' other what he is I need not tell 'tis too well known. I would I could say well; but this I say and swear -- were I myself [He riseth.] professed a soldier or a man at arms, as I am one deprived from the world and from my cradle called to serve the Lord, I would with lance approve his title naught and plead your coronation with my sword. 

CANUTUS: Stout-hearted bishop, spoken like a man! ... [I.1.40] Would all the English lords were of thy mind.

SOUTHAMPTON: Am I not ready to defend your right with force of arms as doth become a knight?

LEOFRIC: I ne'er was slack or hindmost of the rest, but ever first and foremost with the best.

EDRICUS: Had I not been a help unto your father whenas he first arrived in Albion, you ne'er had stood in question for the crown nor had your father's wars so prospered. 'Twas I that first did counsel Ethelred ... [I.1.50] to pay you tribute and to buy your league, whereby we emptied all the treasury; and had not gold failed, you had ne'er been king. I had a navy once (the time when 'twas in Ethelredus' days, your father living), with which I should have met you on the sea within the straits of England, and Iwis had then no little vantage on your ships; yet I as favoring your party most, gave way and let you land without resistance, ... [I.1.60] and for that fact rest foully scandalized. Was it not I that gave intelligence of all the councils of king Ethelred unto your father? Did not I, I pray, feign sickness, weakness, disadvantages whenas the king sent me to fight with him? Was I not causer of your good success in all your actions since your father's death, as namely in that battle lately fought between yourself and Edmund Ironside, ... [I.1.70] where I fled from him and did succor you? Then since the only ladder upon which your father climbed to get and you to hold this gotten kingdom was my diligence, I hope you will not [let] the least motion of an ill thought creep in to hinder me, nor do I think you used this speech by me.

CANUTUS: Why, what need all this repetition? Good faith, I meant no harm in saying so. Why should I doubt you? Wherefore should I fear? ... [I.1.80] You never yet deceived me. I cannot speak, but some or other straight misconsters me. Why, by my troth, my lord, I meant not you, but those that cleave to Edmund Ironside and hang in part against my government. Calm ye, therefore, and be not discontent.

SOUTHAMPTON: In token then, you mean as you have said: honor my castle with the name of court and take a subject's welcome from his heart ... [I.1.90] to signify you love my town and me. [Uskataulf whispereth in Canutus' ear.]

USKATAULF: Why, that's a trifle, mighty sovereign. Yield unto him in this petition. It will confirm the people's hearts to you and make him live and die to honor you.

CANUTUS: I willingly descend to your request and will this night be with you at your place.

SOUTHAMPTON: I'll go before, to countenance your grace. [Exit Southampton. Enter a company of countrymen naking a noise.]

COUNTRYMEN: Where is the king, that he may right our wrong?

CANUTUS: The king is here; who is it calls the king? ... [I.1.100] I am your king. Speak, gentle countrymen, what lawless hand hath done you injury?

1 COUNTRY: Renowned Canutus, we are all Danes by birth, the remnant of thy needy followers, who when thy father lived, lived here secure and dwelt among the fattest of this land. We then did yoke the Saxons and compelled their stubborn necks to ear the fallow fields. We then did force them honor us as lords and be our slaves, our drudges and our dogs. ... [I.1.110] But now (I know not what the cause should be unless the instigation of their prince, young Ironside, or else their stubborn nature) they all rebel and with conjoined force assault us manly, and from every part of this perturbed island banish us. We are not able to resist their powers, but fall like leaves before the northern wind. Huge heaps of us lie dead in every place, and we unless you help, shall all be slain. ... [I.1.120]

ALL: Help, help, Canutus, help and succor us!

CANUTUS: Good countrymen, Canutus will not see you wronged, for yet the spirit of my father Sveyn runs in these veins, which I will shed, even drop by drop, ere I will see you harmed. Go in, good friends, and pacify yourselves. Be confident in me, and if I live, I plant you in your former quiet states. Swetho, look to them; they shall be your care. [Exit Swetho with the poor Danes.] Now lords, let not this sudden rumor daunt ... [I.1.130] Your manly hearts. Though Edmund be so strong, we are as strong, and stronger far than he. Then tell me, shall we now assail him? Say, Uskataulf, what is to be done?

USKATAULF: You may, my lord, yet be remembered now against what nation you are bound to war, a generation like the chosen Jews: stubborn, unwieldy, fierce and wild to tame, scorning to be compelled against their wills, abhorring servitude as having felt ... [I.1.140] the overloading burden of the same.

EDRICUS: Indeed my countrymen are factious and must be reined with a marking-stall. Curb them, my lord, and bridle but their wills and you shall find them mild and tractable. If that you use them as your father did, they dare not, nay they will not look awry, but serve you as your slaves by conquest due. But if you lay the team upon their necks and let them have but any scope to run, ... [I.1.150] why then be sure they'll gad as they were galled and neither know themselves nor yet your grace, for lenity doth cause them to rebel 'cause they are ignorant of living well.

USKATAULF: List how this flattering mate soothes up the king and doth abuse his gracious sufferance. Base, vild, insinuating sycophant, degenerate bastard, falsely bred, foul mother-killing Viper, traitor, slave, the scum of vices, all the ill that may be. ... [I.1.160] Who would excite the king to tyranny against his countrymen but only he? I am a Dane, renowned sovereign: you have experience of my loyalty and that my counsel is not mercenary. If I were wise enough to give advice, you should not prove a tyrant but a king. A tyrant is abhorred of God and man, whenas a king loved and honored. Accomptest thou, Edricus, the Saxons fools ... [I.1.170] or rather hardy, wise and valorous? Their names discover what their natures are, more hard than stones, and yet not stones indeed. In fight, more than stones detesting flight; in peace, as soft as wax, wise, provident. Witness the many combats they have fought Denmark, our country's loss by them and theirs with many other witnesses of worth. How often they have driven us to our shifts and made us take the sea for our defense ... [I.1.180] when we in number have been three to one. Oh you deceive yourself and eke the king in wishing him so much against himself. Recall the former perils we have passed, whose dear-bought times are freshly yet in mind, the tyranny your father Sveynus used in tithing people, killing 9 of 10. What did ensue? Why loss of many holds, bloodshed and war, rebellion, sword and fire; for they are Englishmen, easy to rule ... [I.1.190] with lenity, so they be used like men: patient of right, impatient of wrong, brooking no tyranny in any sort, but hating and revenging it with death; therefore I counsel you, if it might stand, to win their hearts, not by severity but by your favor, love and lenity.

CANUTUS: Good Uskataulf, I allow your speech and praise your counsel by my own consent. I will endeavor to suppress my rage ... [I.1.200] and quench the burning choler of my heart, which sometimes so inflames my inward parts as I fall out with my best-loved friends. I will therefore so moderate myself as Englishmen shall think me English-born. I will be mild and gentle to my foes if gentleness can win their stubborn hearts. But let us hence, my lords, by this the earl expects us at Southampton; there we'll rest till we consult if peace or war be best. ... [I.1.210] [Exit omnes. Leofric pulls Turkillus by the sleeve as he is going and stays him.]

LEOFRIC: A word, my lord.

TURKILLUS: ~~~ So you use no blows.

LEOFRIC: I think you noble, virtuous, secret, wise; else would I not have opened my intent, which doth so much concern our private good, to you in private. So it is, my lord. I have oft noted your discontented gait, which measured by my own do well declare the mind that rules your body is not pleased; and since so sweet a symphony appears ... [I.1.220] betwixt our bodies' discontent, I judge our mind's disturbance to be only one caused from the sad neglect of these strange days. Oh what a grief is it to noble bloods to see each base-born groom promoted up, each dunghill brat arreared to dignity, each flatterer esteemed virtuous, when the true, noble, virtuous gentlemen are scorned, disgraced and held in obloquy. Base Edricus, a traitor to his king, ... [I.1.230] is held in honor: we two trusty subjects are feared, suspected, and have liberty only to live, yet not in liberty; for what is it but prisonment or worse whenas our children, blood of our own blood, are kept close prisoners, pledges for our faiths? King Edmund, who indeed is our true king, for good regard of merit and desert, for honor, fame and true nobility, is rightly termed mirror of majesty. ... [I.1.240] Canutus is a prudent, noble prince and loves to hear him called so, too, too much but I will tell you this: as long as we take part against our sovereign Ironside, we are but traitors, therefore --

TURKILLUS: Stay, noble Chester, for I spy your drift. To heap as many titles on your head as you have poured on mine, were but your due; yet to cut off such troiting thieves of time, I say 'Amen' to your intention, ... [I.1.250] which is to leave Canutus and his court and fly to Edmund, our true, lawful king; but lest you should suspect my secrecy by being won so soon to your device, I here assure you that this very plot hath long been hammering in my troubled brain; and had you not prevented my intent, I should ere long have moved you herein; but what shall then become of our two boys, who are our pledges? They shall surely die. ... [I.1.260]

LEOFRIC: Tut, 'tis no matter: if they die, they die. They cannot suffer in a better time, nor for a better cause, their country's good. We gave them life; for us they shed their blood.

TURKILLUS: He that sent them can send us more again. Then let us hence, delay of time is vain. [Exeunt.]

Scene I.2 [Enter Edricus solus.]

EDRICUS: What shall I think of him that means to beg and can thus finely live upon his wit? I was as mean as any basely born. Fie, say not so, it will discredit thee. Tut, no man hears me. Aye, but think not so, for it will make thy peacock's plumes fall down if one such abject thought possess thy mind. 'Tis strange to see how I am favored, possess my dukedom and Canutus' grace and am the chief of all his counselors; ... [I.2.10] whenas my betters are exiled the court, being discountenanced and out of grace. They cannot dissemble as I can: cloak, cozen, cog and flatter with the king; crouch and seem courteous; promise and protest; say much, do naught, in all things use deceit; tell troth to no man; carry tales abroad; whisper close secrets in the giddy air; be a news monger; feed the king with sooths; please all men's humors with humility ... [I.2.20] which he must do that is a courtier and minds to keep in favor with the king. He that had heard my story from the end: how many treasons I have practiced, how many vild things I have brought to pass and what great wonders have been compassed by this deep-reaching pate, would think Iwis I had been bound apprentice to deceit and from my birthday studied villainy. I understand Prince Edmund's up in arms, ... [I.2.30] lays hold upon occasion's sluggy lock; and whilst Canutus here securely sleeps, he wins with ease what we with pain have got. Mass, if he do, and fortune favor him, I will so work as I'll be in his grace and keep my living and myself unhurt; but if Canutus chance to gain again, then I am his, for I can gloze with all, and yet indeed, to say the very troth, rather of both I love Canutus best, ... [I.2.40] for Edmund's father first did raise me up and from a plowman's son promoted me to be a duke for all my villainy, and so as often as I look on him, I must remember what he did for me and whence I did descend and what I am, which thoughts abase my state most abjectly. Therefore I hate him and desire his death and will procure his end in what I can; but for Canutus, he doth honor me ... [I.2.50] because he knows not whence I did descend. Therefore of the two I love Canutus best; yet I can play an Ambodexter's part and swear I love, yet hate him with my heart. [Exit.]

Scene I.3 [Enter Edmund and Alfric the general under the king.]

EDMUND: Yet are ye sure, my lord, that all is fit? Are all my soldiers furnished for this war? What, have they meat and drink to their content? Do not the captains pince them of their pay?

ALFRIC: Assure your majesty, my care is such as I do daily oversee them all and cause the meanest soldier to be served and have his fill of meat and drink that's good without controlment, check or menaces; for th'only means to mar a soldier's fight -- ... [I.3.10] pinch him of meat and pay and pinch his might.

EDMUND: Then do ye well, for I am of this mind -- he that for private base commodity will starve his soldiers or keep back their pay; he that to deck himself in gorgeous 'tire will see his men go naked, die for cold, is a plain cutthroat to the commonwealth. A worthy captain, seeing a tall soldier march barefoot, halting, plucked off his own shoes and gave them to the soldier, saying 'Fellow, ... [I.3.20] when I want shoes, then give me these again.' But captains nowadays pluck off their soldiers' shoes, nay sell their lives to make them rich and gallant to the eye. [Enter Turkillus and Leofric.] But soft, what are yon two strangers?

TURKILLUS: We are rebellious traitors to your grace, [They kneel.] born Englishmen but strangers to ourselves, who in remorse of conscience, knowing well we have in taking part with Danish Canutus deserved death, come of our own free wills ... [I.3.30] either to suffer for our heinous facts [acts ?] or else embrace our pardons, which we crave even as hereafter we shall merit it.

EDMUND: Rise up, Turkillus; Leofric, arise. Give me your hands and with your hands your hearts. I more esteem the life of one true subject than the destruction of a thousand foes. One sheep that was lost I more rejoice to find than twenty other which I never missed. A friend of whose return I stood in doubt ... [I.3.40] is more welcome to me than forty other. Oh that when strangers cannot conquer us, we should conspire with them against ourselves! England, if ever war thy face doth spoil, thank not thy outward foe but inward friend; for thou shalt never perish till that day when thy right hand shall make thy heart away. Go in, brave lords: your sight doth me more joy than Agamemnon when he conquered Troy. [Exeunt omnes.]”

Source: http://www.elizabethanauthors.org/iron1.htm