#instead of adding in flash backs in the Two Towers to try to justify him

[brunhielda]

I am currently watching through The Lord of the Rings again (as you do).

I love these movies. I will show them to my children (or nieces/nephews) and grand children and great grand children. There are quotes from these films that see me through dark days.

(Reason I can accept the flawed Hobbit films is that they too have quotes that stick around)

That said, as I watch with my parents and thier even older friend, I am listening to them react to Boromir the same way I did the first time I watched it. Knowing what I do now about the back ground of canonical Boromir, it hurts a little bit.

If you are a fan who has read the books, or even is involved with the online fandom- you know. Boromir is a good man- the best of men. He is supposed to be a shining example of the best of us, and his fall to the Ring is meant to show that it could happen to ANYONE. It is meant to be a message to us all that you are not your worst moment, or your worst fault.

And yet because of all the foreshadowing and arguing over choices to make during the quest, we the audience of the movie see him as someone just one step away from betraying everyone. His attempt to take the Ring is not a surprise, or even a tragedy, but a confirmation. The surprise is his redemption in death.

I think there is a version of “The Fellowship of the Rings” that I would have liked to see.

Indulge me:

Part of the problem is that Aragorn is falling into the spot Boromir could be filling. He’s just too epic to allow any other man next to him to look impressive. 🤴🏼

This not only does a disservice to Boromir, but to Aragorn himself, who could be having a much richer personal growth.

So, imagine this.

Strider leans more into his “Ranger in the Corner” persona. He is quiet, terse, filthy, mysterious, and comes across more like your traditional rogue than anything approaching Kingly.

Legolas is the only one to call him Aragorn, he does it exactly once when defending him to Boromir, and never again. Legolas himself is a little different- a few more sarcastic quips, more friendly and forward, the sunshine to Strider’s gloom. When they get to Lothlorian, the elves there acknowledge “Strider the Ranger” as someone known to them, but Legolas of the Woodland Realm does the negotiating. The vibe is “ah, yes… that human Elrond adopted. I suppose we should bid him welcome…” 🫤 (Obvious exception of Galadriel. She knows all. It just makes her seem more out there).

There are a couple less references to his lineage, and every time they do, the feeling from the audience should be- “Really? THAT guy?”

Arwen is clearly in a rebellious stage and looking for a bad boy. Him telling her to go very much has that angsty teen feel of “you could do better” and “I am poison to you.”

Elrond is clearly trying to get through to him, but do we think it is going to take? He remains quiet and moody. Was he the first to volunteer to go? Yes. But it was less a declaration and more of an ernest whisper meant for Frodo. Legolas’s immediate follow up is less “I am inspired” and more “My pet introvert will not survive without me, but I am so proud of you for asserting yourself.” 😂

Meanwhile- we have Boromir. Now, I love me some Sean Bean, but I need him at his most joyful. Most jovial. Give him a big old beard. Pad him out with thicker armor to give him a broader chest.

Boromir is supportive. Boromir is playful. Boromir is everyone’s big bro, ESPECIALLY the younger hobbits. I basically want every scene he has with Merry and Pippin expanded to everyone.

I want the sword drop to feel less like a stranger being disrespectful, and more like a himbo being clumsy.

I want him to talk about the path to Mordor of all the concern of the older sibling who has seen and been, and his dismissal of Aragorn to feel justified. “Yeah… sure, put that guy on the throne. Uh huh. I think we dodged an arrow there.” And I want the end of it to be a bit of a laugh and a clap on the back, and “no offense meant, Strider Ol’ chap, but you don’t seem the type!”

I want every disagreement with Gandalf or Gimli about which way to take to feel like him advocating for everyone’s safety.

I want him to slide into the role that Aragorn currently has, protecting everyone, especially Frodo, and to have Strider fall back into a quieter rear guard position, only to really speak up to sharply tell someone “don’t disturb the water” “Hide!” “get them up.”

Strider will speak on historical landmarks or lands we are entering, which always makes Legolas smile in support. “See, he knows cool things. I am telling you, you wanna be friends with my guy.”

Instead of Strider or Gandalf sending Gimli or Legolas chastising looks, we see Boromir, the peace keeper, laughing at both of them. “Come now master dwarf, the Elf will love trees as much as you love Rock, it is to be expected! I myself would be weary of being out in the open so often, and also loathe to spend as much time under ground as your kin, yet I have been known to be grateful for either tree or rock in a rough spot or two (chuckle) As I’m sure you would find the open forest or the dwellings of men far too open for your liking, but would not begrudge shelter in either when when the rain sets in. To each their own way, as my brother would say! You would like him (directed at Legolas) he speaks your poetry much better than I in any rate! (Aside to Gimli) I am more for the drinking songs myself. Speaking of, have you heard the hobbits tell you about their little place? Master Pippin- tell us, how do Hobbits live?” He just keeps cutting off rudeness with rambles about something his brother said or how the hobbits or men are like both of them, and really, do these fights between dwarves and elves matter when they have Sauron to face? Come! We are brothers in arms! There are moments they bask in it, and moments they are bonded by the annoyance of it. Either way he wins.

(In Lothlorien, they are bonded in grief, in appreciation of Galadriel, and in the strangeness of Boromir being too caught up in his own musings to try to fix them)

I want Galadriel’s speech to both Strider and Boromir to feel like a deepening of characters we are already starting to like, not confirmation of things we suspect. I want her to tell Frodo- “You know of who I speak” and have the audience to go “What?! WHO??? Who is this crazy woman talking about? Oh, she has those seer powers- what does she know?!”

I want every reference to Boromir starting to fall to the Ring to be less obvious foreshadowing, and more a sympathetic look behind the jovial curtain.

“What ails you Boromir?” “Oh- never mind me. My mind has gone back to my brother. I was meant to lead the armies you know.” Strained smile. “Now it falls on him. It is a heavy burden, but he is equal to the task. Probably better at it than me!” Laugh. “It will be well. When I see him again I will have to congratulate him on defending our people so well. And he will chastise me for being away so long to leave him to pick up the slack!”

Far away look. Any of the company gives him a questioning look. “We are not far from the borders of Gondor- she is just over that mountain.” Strained smile. “Forgive me, I have not before been so long from home. I did not realize I would yearn for it so. Perhaps that is why I keep trying to turn us that way- feet always point home, do they not?” (This would be poinant with Sam, Legolas, Gimli, or Strider)

At any of these moments, he glances at the ring. A glance. That is it.

If there are obvious moments of temptation, I want one for every single member of the Fellowship (the movie is long enough, there is room). Gimli admires its make, for all that it is wrought with evil. Dwarves know a thing or two about jewelry, you know. Very good craftsmen. Legolas speaks of the rings of the elves, How they never passed to his line- he isn’t surprised. Surprising bitter moment of saying his Father is one of the weakest of Elves. Gandalf interrupts his musing by talking about his ring. (Could be a moment of bonding with Gimli too) Strider tells Frodo he should preserve his strength- can he not put the Ring in a pocket or pass it to another hobbit? (He does not ask to take it, but music implies the question). Merry and Pippin keep talking about “I know it’s evil, but you have to admit, it has a nice shine to it, doesn’t it?” It is playful and flippant, but there none the less. Boromir might ONCE mention it’s use as a weapon, speaking of what Sauron was able to do with it “They say it was the Ring that allowed him to grow in size and strength- he could kill 8 warriors with one blow!” Only to back track when Strider or Gandalf give him a chastising look. “Forgive me,” he says with a laugh, “I am at heart a warrior, and see everything as a possible tactical advantage. Of course it would only do damage should anyone try to use it.” Gandalf turns away, mollified, Boromir whispers conspiratorially to Merry and Pippin “But imagine! Eight feet tall!” (Chuckles all around- foreshadowing to the two growing to be the tallest hobbits) The whole thing should be told around the fire at night like a good story- again, even in his weakness, we see him as an excellent big bro figure.

The point is, I want to get to Galadriel saying someone will take the Ring and the audience is suspicious of EVERYONE.

Then we arrive at the moment. We all have our suspicions. Strider has gone off to find Frodo. There are implications of everyone being out looking. We saw exactly one glance of Boromir’s shield. Out of everyone? The money is on the creepy mysterious Ranger who might have a heart under there but only seems to snap at people.

Then Boromir tries to take the Ring.

From this point on, EVERYTHING Is EXACTLY the AS THE ORIGINAL.

The context is wildly different.

The shock of Boromir taking the Ring has the gasp effect of Hans’ betrayal in Frozen.

Strider turning down the Ring has us all feeling guilty and weepy, because he’s just quiet and concerned damn it! He has always meant well!

Boromir suddenly realizing what he has done has us sobbing “He didn’t mean it! He didn’t mean it! It was the Ring!” And then he immediately turns to defend Merry and Pippin. There are no dry eyes.

We have seen Strider fight- he has precision and skill. But this fight suddenly feels like he is proving something. Like he is standing up for this man who cannot. That is Boromir, Prince of Gondor you struck down, and he is NOT undefended! Something has shifted. Strider is rising, and it shows in this fight against the leader of the Uruki.

Boromir’s final words to Strider, he calls him Aragorn. He calls him brother. He calls him king. It feels less like a shift in view to culminate a redemption, and more like placing a mantle, more like giving final support. Boromir would have been next to lead the people of Gondor- he is giving it to his friend. Vibes of : “You tried to hide, but I saw you. The elf was right. You will be a great King.” Even at the end, he is the Big Brother we all want.

The last moments of the movie when Legolas sees the hobbits across the river is a shift. “Aragorn!” He calls “they have reached the other side…. You mean not to follow them.” We suddenly realize that Legolas was never leading his quiet anxious introvert around, he was always (more subtly) following his lead. Aragorn (as he is called for the rest of the films) is standing tall, and assertive, and making a decision for the group. And they follow.

People rewatch the Fellowship 3 times its first week in theaters, just to catch the moments that warn us that Boromir will fall, and the moments that hint that Aragorn might rise. There are cries of “No spoilers! Let your friends and family find out for themselves!” People break scenes apart to analyze this dynamic for years to come.

Going forward:

Because of this shift in context in Fellowship, the rest of the Trilogy feels more like watching Aragorn come out of his shell and taking on bigger and bigger rolls.

Meeting the Rohiren is suddenly the first time Aragorn speaks for the group. He does so because these are men, and because his friends are being idiots. 😂

The rebuff of Eowyn’s affections feels like more of the same from his relationship with Arwen- he does not feel he deserves it, even now. She is a leader of her people, and he is not yet sure he can say the same. By the time he can, it is clear Arwen’s heart is with him and his with her. It also feels as if he is leaving Eowyn room to pursue her own destiny, to be a leader in her own right. Arwen is supportive, where Eowyn takes charge- perfect for a fully supportive Faramir. 👍

His approach to Theoden feels less like shrinking away, and more like feeling out when he should lead and when he should step back.

Disrespect from any character feels less like a fault of theirs and more like “I mean, I get it, he’s a bit grimy, but he knows what he’s talking about! You don’t know him! He could be a king!” Theoden’s refusal to listen to him feels more like a tragedy, because how else could it have gone?

The entire Two Towers plot becomes a discussion of leadership. Gandalf swoops in and out, and expects people to listen to him. Eomer is direct and aggressive, but only leads warriors, not a kingdom. Theoden has many under his protection, he must weigh risks and lean on older wisdoms. And then there is Aragorn, still figuring himself out, helping Eowyn to do the same. (With every step he takes, we wonder how Boromir would have fit into this discussion- would Eomer have recognized him? Would Theoden have listened more or less to the leader of Gondor’s armies? Would Boromir have stepped back as often? Would he have insisted, in his still jovial way, and would it have caused conflict? Would he inspire men in the same way? Would it have worked as well? We have no idea how he would have handled Eowyn, besides stepping in as a brother since her’s is out fighting. Suddenly this thought of Boromir is on Aragorn’s face with every decision) What Aragorn figures out is that he himself is honest, ernest, and relies on the support and help of others. The conclusion of The Two Towers is the understanding that Aragorn does not need to be a King to be a Leader. That has always been in him. Has he not lead his group this far? Does he not make friends everywhere he goes? Does he not inspire men and elves alike? (Gimli is but one dwarf, and we do not get further examples 😂) He is not Boromir, or Eomer, or Gandalf, or Theoden, but still, he leads.

The Return of the King is an obvious end to his journey, but it feels more fulfilling, since we have seen Aragorn come farther. The moment he claims his birthright with the ghosts under the mountain is a moment that elicits cheers. His speech at the Black Gate brings tears, not just because of his words, but because of how far he has come.

When he is crowned, his reunion with and acceptance of Arwen’s love means more. His moment of humility in front of the Hobbits make us all see how he HAD to be a Ranger to be the Great King he has become. Pride swells.

And we give credit to Aragorn’s growth to the leadership of Boromir in the first film.

We are also struck to the heart when Faramir announces himself as Boromir’s brother. THIS is the brother he spoke so highly of? Did Boromir that bias towards his own flesh and blood, to think THIS man, who captures hobbits and tortures Smeagle, is someone to be proud of? But by the end of Two Towers we are proud too.

At the end of Two Towers, Faramir has seen Frodo nearly fall to the Ring. Did he believe them when they said it drove Boromir mad? Of course not. We didn’t believe it. And we only had one movie with the guy. No one who knew him would buy that. But then there is Frodo, with a sword to Sam’s throat- “Don’t you recognize your Sam?” And there is a horrified recognition on Faramir’s face. Is it what he knows his Father may someday do with or without the Ring? Is it the recognition of how, even in the best of him, his brother could be like his Father? Is it a vision of himself in that position, his brother over him, because he came back with the Ring as their father asked? And does he admire Samwise that much more, because he handled the aftermath of that so much better than Faramir would in his place? (“Something worth fighting for” indeed- Boromir gave the speeches, not him. He must have LOVED this sunshiny little gardener)

When Sam tells him he is of the finest quality- it means more. They are passing on a message after all.

There may be another line from Frodo- “He spoke of you. He knew you would be a good commander. He was anxious to be home and congratulate you. I am sorry it is me here instead of him. He would be so proud.”

Maybe it is Pippin who mentions it. Maybe we get a flashback to another scene between the two of them. “You remind me of my brother- curious, adventurous, but educated, mannered. Much better mannered than I, as it has often been said!” Loud laughter. “The two of you would make for good friends, should you ever meet.”

“Don’t worry for him too much Merry. I have known one as curious as he. He just wanted to understand the world, as does your cousin. It has served him well- he out grew the recklessness of it, and there is no one I trust more.” “Your brother?” Laugh “How did you guess?”

I want us to love Faramir not only because he is good, but because Boromir loved him, and he loved Boromir. I want us to think of Boromir and what he would say to his brother every time he is on screen. I want us to see the love of Boromir direct all his actions.

The parallels of Eowyn and Faramir hint at thier future relationship more clearly in this version, because the connection between Boromir and Aragorn as different leaders of Gondor continues to shine through. Boromir’s brother could not defy his father’s wishes because he loved him and almost died for it. Aragorn’s student (she feels like a sister when he puts her to the side) does defy her father figure, again because she loves him, and is victorious in battle. Both thier fathers die in the battle. When we spot them together in the houses of healing it is not as much of a surprise. It feels right. They have much in common. Also… as Eowyn is seen to grown into a leader as Aragorn does, she also gets her supportive soft romantic partner.

I want Big Bro Boromir to be there in all but flesh throughout the entire thing. I want Boromir’s bracers on Aragorn’s arms to not only be the first thing we notice in Two Towers, but something to feel so right as to be obvious. I want “Then I shall die as one of them!” to feel like a chastisement to Legolas- “Boromir was human too, and he would want us here.” I want “Gondor will answer” to feel like a certainty, because Boromir would. I want Pippin’s rescue of Faramir to feel like a keeping of a promise to love Boromir’s brother as much as a rescue of a new friend. I want us to see the bracer on Aragorn’s arm as much as the sword in his hand when he says “I am Isildur’s Heir.” I want Theoden’s ride to Gondor to tie back not just to Aragorn, but further back to Boromir- a promise has been kept, and inspiration has come to bloom. I want us to see the white tree flags on the battle field of Mordor and feel like Boromir walked in after all. I want us to cry that Boromir is not there to greet Frodo as he wakes, as much as we cry for everyone else’s happy ending.

It’s just an image I had tonight. A beautiful image. Big Bro Jovial Boromir. Laughing down warmly at everyone from heaven. Making us proud to be of the race of men before Aragorn could.

Like I said- I love these movies. But ah, what could have been.

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - xii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: While Lord Rumlow is being tortured, his fellow disgraced comrade is found in another kingdom’s port. 

Warnings: underwhelming filler chapter, descriptions of torture, 

Word Count: 2.3k

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

The musical clattering of the coins in the cloaked man’s pouch were muffled beneath the several hollered orders. York’s docks were packed to brim with several ships that brought in various goods for the young prince’s name day. From what the man could make out, the king and queen were determined to make this the best name day the young boy had ever experienced. He was surprised to find out, it would be the young man’s last.

He overheard one sailor planning to ship off. Good. He thought. Put as much distance between me and Brooken. The man stopped the sailor, hailing him over and flashing him the pouch of coins. “Where to, old man?” the young sailor asked. The cloaked man scoffed, not used to being addressed in such a manner.

“Far.” The cloaked man answered, swallowing his pride. He thought his life was more valuable than a status or a label. “Wherever you’d take me, boy.”

The young sailor stared into the pouch. The coins shimmered under the hot sun’s rays. There were enough coins in the bag to help his aunt. He probably wouldn’t have to sail ever again. “I’m headed to the Old World, sir,” the young sailor explained. “I’m setting sail in a few hours or so.”

The older man grumbled a bit. He didn’t like the idea of staying in York for a few more hours. He remembered the advice he had told a young queen days before – the longer you wait, the slimmer the chances at escape became. But he was in no place to argue, and no other ship was leaving, so he agreed. “What’s your name, sir?” The young boy asked.

“Alex.”

As Anthony and his wife were busy with the name day arrangements, trumpets blared out a somber tune throughout the halls of Iron Tower. The king stopped midsentence, registering the meaning – a noble had died. An awful feeling bubbled in his chest as he began to think his son did not make it to his final name day.

Moments later, Ser James Rhodes pushed open the throne room doors. Anthony frowned when he saw the redhaired Natasha, who was supposed to be in Brooken at your side. It was her duty as one of your ladies in waiting.

“Your majesties,” Natasha bowed.

“What’s happened?” His wife asked with a similar confused frown that mirrored his own. “Is your queen with you?”

Natasha took a deep breath as she looked around the crowded throne room. All eyes bore into her, all wondering the same. They had all heard the low notes from the trumpet… Some had assumed it called for the death of their prince, but had Lady Natasha come to deliver the body of their princess, instead?

“No, your grace,” Natasha answered after long beats of silence. “My queen is safe in Brooken.” She wasn’t sure how true those words were, but after witnessing the pure desperation on King Steven’s face and voice as he tried to find you, she had a bit of hope.

“Then, why are you here?” Anthony asked the younger woman. “Why aren’t you with your queen?”

“She asked me to deliver the body of …” Natasha gulped. Saying her name made it all too real. “Lady… Lady Wanda, who recently …” She choked on her words, tears brimming in her green eyes. “Who recently passed.”

“Oh, dear god.” The queen gasped. She nervously clasped the pendent on her necklace.

The king’s frown did not relent. He stared down at the young woman. Her tears were justified – she had lost a friend after all – but her eyes spoke a different story. There was something more to the simple tale she spun. He waved off everyone in the room, dismissing them from the chamber.

“Tell me the truth, Lady Natasha,” he urged, “for I see a deeper sadness in your eyes.”

“Your grace,” Lady Natasha muttered. Under your orders, she was not to spread the story of Wanda’s assault. As gruesome and horrible as the events that lead to her death were, the mention of her losing her maidenhood before marriage would tarnish her reputation. York’s laws would call that she be buried in an unmarked grave alongside common criminals who had no family. “My queen has demanded my silence.”

“You may be my daughter’s lady, but you are in my court,” Anthony pushed. His tone menacing, but after being in Brooken’s court under the rule of the once hailed Cruel King Rogers, it did not phase her. “You can tell me yourself, or I can bring in someone who will force it out of you.”

“Tony.” Your mother scolded. She cast a look of pity to Natasha. “Please, Lady Natasha, speak freely.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The arrow whistled in the air as the arrowhead pierced through the massive wooden board. A loud thuck! echoed throughout the silent stables followed by a pathetic whimper. Three men watched in the sidelines as the queen pulled another arrow from her quiver.

“Do you think she’s taking this a bit far?” Lord Wilson, though thoroughly impressed with your archery skills, grew rather restless as his queen toyed with her prisoner. Another arrow sliced through the air and made a similar thuck sound.

“She hasn’t even hit him once,” Steven reasoned. He, too, was impressed with your skills though he was rather disappointed that you had yet to graze his cousin’s skin. “My love,” his voice echoed, “you can get much closer than that.”

“Is that a taunt?” You asked, readying another arrow. Your husband smirked and shrugged.

Rumlow, whose chin was previously tucked into his chest as he cowered in fear, raised his head and shot an angry glare at his cousin. “Steve, you son of a –“he gasped when an arrow flew right in front of his face, inches from his eyes.

“And before, you think you can run,” you called out. Rumlow didn’t even hear – nor see – you draw an arrow as he screamed out in agony. The pain shot through his body as his eyes found an arrow lodged into his knee. You lowered the bow and sent a smirk his way before walking off towards the castle. “Bring him back to his cage.” You ordered the two guards who were in charge of his imprisonment.

As they dragged the disgraced lord away, James sent a curious glance towards his king. “I’m worried about her.” James muttered.

“As am I,” Sam agreed.

“She’s angry,” Steven said. “Her anger is rather justified.”

“Rumlow should’ve already been executed for his crimes,” Sam reminded. “If you are keeping him alive to sate your queen’s vengeance, then I’m afraid you are the cruel king you’re painted out to be.” The men chuckled at his jest.

“We cannot execute a noble without a proper trial,” Steven sighed.

“You beheaded Sharon without – “

“She confessed to the king about her betrayals,” James explained. “Rumlow has not.”

Steven added, “(Y/N)’s merely trying to coax it out of him.”

“He’s a rather tough shell to crack.” Sam agreed. “How is she, really, Steve?”

The king sighed. He glanced to the castle to see that you had already disappeared within its walls. Steven could barely understand your grief nor your pain. In the days that followed Rumlow’s capture, he had expected it to be easier for you. You had the opportunity to lash out and torture his cousin, and, to his surprise, you gladly took it. Steven thought that after wreaking havoc on his cousin that you would finally open up to him and allow him to be there for you, but you barely spoke to him about the incidents that plagued your nightmares. In fact, you barely spoke to him at all.

“It’s as if I’ve married a ghost,” Steven shook his head. “She thrashes around at night. I fear she replays the terrors in her mind when her eyes close. I see it in her eyes. Beneath the anger, the rage… She’s … She’s broken.” He sighed and rubbed his chin, slightly missing the roughness of his beard. “Any word of Pierce’s whereabouts?”

“Some say he’s hidden within the ranks of Thanos’s army. Others say he’s fled on a boat, but we would’ve caught him by now if he had been…” James said.

“Has King Anthony been informed?” Steven asked.

“We sent word we were looking for him, yes, but I’m sure Nat would relay the current events that took place to him,” James sighed. “Perhaps, you should talk to your wife?”

Steven shook his head. He didn’t want to pressure you into reopening the wounds – though he wasn’t even sure if the wounds had healed, yet. He felt as if he were walking on thin ice around you. Too harsh of a step forward, the ice would snap, and he’d get lost in the cold. He didn’t want to lose you by pushing you too hard. He had to believe that you’d come back to him in your own time.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Steven slowly entered the bedchamber. He had expected you to be sitting on the bed or standing on the balcony – it had become one of your favorite places after the night with the lanterns. But you were nowhere to be found. The king began to worry about your absence when he heard sloshing of water coming from the bath.

He knocked on the door before he entered. “(Y/N)?”

“He has yet to confess,” you muttered. Your knees were pushed up against your chest with your head resting on top of them. You were growing increasingly annoyed by Brock’s resilience. You glanced up at your husband who had nothing but concern all over his face.

“He will eventually,” Steve whispered. “But I’m not concerned about his confession…”

“No,” you said. “You shouldn’t be. You should be preoccupied with finding Pierce.”

“I’ve sent men out to look for him.”

“They aren’t doing their job!” You snapped. “Pierce is a powerful man. He’ll bribe his way to safety! You have to –“

“(Y/N)…”

“No!” Steve’s tongue grazed the back of his teeth as he watched you thrash about in the water. “We can’t… I can’t… I can’t just sit and wait while he – they – get away with this.” Your voice shook as you took your head in your hands. “I … I don’t – I can’t.” He watched as the rage slowly receded as the grief took over.

Instinctively, your husband rushed to your side and wrapped himself around you. He didn’t mind his clothes getting wet – he was just concerned for you. He rubbed your back as he tried to soothe you, allowing you to cry into his chest.

“I want him dead, Steve,” you whispered, voice muffled into his clothes. “I want them both dead.” The words frightened you. You would’ve never wished death upon anyone, but the two men deserved it.

“As do I,” he nodded. “But we cannot execute him without a confession.”

“He will not confess.” You repeated.

“I will make him confess,” Steve promised.

“Is it awful that I want to be the one to swing the ax?”

Steve shook his head. “No. You deserve to be the one to put him into his grave.” He kissed the top of your head.

“I want him to look me in the eyes and tell me everything,” you muttered. “I want him to confess.”

“He’ll crack.” Steve promised. “You will make him crack.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Boy!” Pierce called for the young sailor – Peter was his name. “Boy!”

“What, old man?” Peter snapped as he loaded the cargo onto the ship. Peter grew rather annoyed with the man’s incessant complaints. If he got off his lazy ass and helped, maybe I’ll load these faster, Peter thought as he rolled his eyes.

“What’s taking so long?”

The sailor sighed as he looked over to see kingsguard searching every boat. Peter shrugged. “Can’t leave, yet.”

“And why not?”

“You hidin’ from somethin’?” Peter asked, arching an eyebrow at the cloaked man. He wondered why “Alex” wore a cloak… The sun was blistering hot.

“I’m just not fond of boats,” Pierce waved his hand. “Just want to get the travel over with.”

Peter sighed as the kingsguard approached. “Well, I think the king’s looking for something… or someone. He’s got kingsguard searching boats.”

“What?” Pierce’s eyes widened.

“You!” Ser James Rhodes stalked up to the young sailor. “Have you seen any strangers recently?”

Peter shrugged. “Just him.” He said, pointing to the cloaked man who was huddled up in the corner of the boat. “He’s just hitching a ride with me. What are you men looking for?”

The knight paid no attention to the young man’s question. His attention focused on the man in the cloak. “Odd choice of clothing on this hot day, sir,” Rhodes told the man. The boat rocked beneath his feet as he stepped onto it.

“You’re the one in a metal suit.” Pierce faked an accent.

Peter’s face scrunched in confusion. The man hadn’t spoken like that before.

“Well, you’re the one hiding behind a thick cloak,” Rhodes chided, faking a laugh. He took another step towards the boat. His hand clutched the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it if needed. “Please do reveal yourself, sir.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“I’m afraid I must insist.” Another step. Another.

The cloaked man suddenly leapt up, a short dagger in his hand. He swung at the knight, who brought his sword up, deflecting the older man’s attack with ease. His sword cut through the man’s wrist. Pierce groaned in agony as his free hand shot up to grab at the bleeding stump. Rhodes grabbed Pierce by the cloak and hauled him off the boat.

“I believe the Brooken King has been searching for you, Lord Pierce,” Rhodes said. “But my king wants a few words.” He walked past Peter. “Thank you, kid. The crown appreciates it,” he told him. “Sorry ‘bout the boat.”

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 31: The Very Secret Diary

Remus felt a deep pull on his core, one he instantly recognized that had nothing to do with once again blinking into new surroundings they had not been in moments ago. Moonlight glinted in through the arched windows of the Gryffindor dormitory, but he cared not what or who he stumbled over as he lurched to the ledge and peered out helplessly beyond. The clouds were wispy, the moon bright and high in the sky, but not full. Two, perhaps one day tops.

He pressed his sweating brow to the glass with gratitude, already sensing the others getting much more slowly to their feet and recognizing Sirius placing his hand on his shoulder before he even looked over to check.

"You have got to be kidding me!" James began loudly causing a distraction. "We get blocked from entering the Slytherin's dorms, but we just get plopped into ours! Who's controlling this mess, I demand a refund!"

"I wasn't aware you were paying for this ride," Peter huffed as he rubbed his forehead against the offending trunk it had crashed against. "Mind if I get my share back?"

"Urgh, I don't know how on Earth we're going to find the book in this mess," Alice scowled about the place as she brushed a sock from her head.

"Charming little place," Frank agreed, having half landed under a bed and getting the joy of a toad leaping away from his face in surprise. Trevor, if he recalled correctly.

"Don't know what you lot are complaining about, we've finally got some beds!" Black cheered, pulling his friend away from the window and collapsing on the nearest one with an exhausted look in place that, to be fair, likely was not faked.

"How long have we been at this?" Potter agreed, flouncing on the floor and yanking the blankets off of the perch his friends had claimed. "I say we don't even bother looking for the next part of this mess until morning and get some shut eye!"

"Well I'm glad you lot can get comfortable," Lily sighed, staying where she'd landed at the foot of the available mattresses, eyeing it as if fearing it was going to consume her in her sleep. Even in the familiarity of being back up in her tower, if not the girls portion, she could not shake the feeling this castle seemed to be clutching even without the mass of students present. There was something going on she'd never had to fear even in her own time.

Regulus watched silently as, to his surprise, Potter actually ignored her and kept chatting up his three friends in their one space. Alice and Frank blushed scarlet at the sudden implications before them and went to separate beds, Regulus stayed where his was nearest the door, and Evans realized after a moment she was going to be ignored and tentatively began trying to organize the blankets into a more suitable position. Regulus found it quite clever. The last thing Potter could have done to force Evans to sleep in a bed was going all chivalrous and making a space for her. Now she was settling into one with orange drapings all along it silently while just as thoroughly ignoring him.

He decided to take the suggestion himself and stretched out on the last one, the canopy of which had shamrocks dancing along the perimeter and a few pictures of a sandy haired bloke and a tall black kid laughing. He didn't know which was the beds owner, and he didn't care as he closed his eyes and rolled over, trying to get comfortable. It took quite some time to fall off to sleep, though he was surprised Sirius still whispering incomprehensibly was helping. It reminded him of home, where he could often hear Kreacher going about the place at all hours, and the portraits whispering, the wind ripping through the old house.

It didn't take that long before Peter decided to risk it, transforming into Wormtail and creeping along to each bed and checking carefully to see all others asleep. He went so far as to give their noses little licks, but the worst reaction was Longbottom tossing violently over in his sleep and muttering, his snores nearly knocking Wormtail off the bed. Then Peter popped back over to his friends, who all had heavy lidded eyes themselves, but were grateful to stop whispering about Quidditch statistics for once upon his nod.

"This is getting too close guys!" Remus managed hoarsely. He couldn't even pretend to not be holding painfully tight to Sirius' arm, he desperately needed some anchor to those around him instead of the death threat hanging just outside this window in the night.

"Relax Moony, I told you I had a plan," James promised, the others having to almost read his lips in the poor light. They wished they'd had this conversation back out in the zoo where no one had been around, but they'd been too afraid of risking their conversation being carried through magic. Regulus hadn't once questioned what all had transpired when they'd been out of sight, so they'd just have to run on the assumption they'd have to watch every word they said no matter the location. They may not get another chance like this for awhile.

"And what, pray tell, would you lot have done in such a confined area if I'd transformed and began trying to kill everything in sight?!" Remus' voice only restrained from screaming by doing the opposite, the words horribly jumbled together and barely intelligible to those around him.

"Easy, we pin you down, Peter would get through the chapter like all our lives depended on it. Then, when we flashed out of here, we'd just have to erase their memories of what happened, reread the chapter they all missed, and poof, problem solved!"

Remus wondered how long his friend had been certifiable without him noticing. Possibly back when they'd decided to keep hanging around after learning his secret and he'd ignored it.

"That is the stupidest thing I've heard in my life." Peter thankfully agreed with him.

"I'm not hearing you two come up with any better ideas," Sirius snipped, but the uneasy frown on his face told enough, he was no more sold on this.

"Prongs, remember when you got electrocuted at the Dursleys?" Remus tried to remind him, straining not to inflect in his voice how idiotic his friend was.

James clearly did as he flexed the digits uncomfortably. His hand still hadn't seemed to fully heal from the event, even if he did seem to have it back in working order. It was mending, slowly.

"The words from the book vanished until you came back around. Merlin knows what would happen to it if one of us died, we'd probably be stuck in that spot forever! I don't think erasing knowledge of the book will help anything!"

"We wouldn't be erasing knowledge from the book, I told you we'd reread the chapter and give it back, just not certain unavoidable events that happened," James insisted with confidence.

Remus licked his lips and again looked nervously out the window.

"Thankfully, time still seems to be on our side and it hasn't been a problem yet," Sirius said with just a touch more confidence. "At least we have a starting point for a plan. Let's get some shut-eye while we can."

Remus slumped against the headboard, knowing even as exhausted as he was he wasn't going to sleep a wink. He felt colder every second, helped nothing by Sirius sliding off the bed and joining the other two in a sort of pile along the floor.

His stomach kept twisting into painful knots, and every single time he managed to unravel just a bit by the reminder his friends wouldn't let anything happen to the innocent people around him, it only went even more taught at the idea he'd kill one of them in the process. He curled into himself and kept looking blearily out the window, the reflective surface tormenting him as it grew brighter every second.

"Moony?"

It had to have been hours later, he'd watched the slow process as it trickled across the sky in his mind's eye, but he couldn't so much as let one finger free of the cramped position he'd set himself in. Sirius slid up on the bed beside him again, wriggling his fingers in until he'd unfastened both his hands and then finally pulled those apart. Remus finally rolled his head around to see the dark silver of his eyes. They were nothing like the bright color he so feared.

"I decided to take Prongs' advice and have a chat with you while we could," Sirius crawled up and laid along his back, so that he was whispering in his ear, one hand still gripping his to make sure he couldn't pull himself back away. "Don't worry, they're both asleep. I'd say I'd know after nearly five years." He added on when Remus didn't respond.

"What did you want to talk about?" He muttered back, his own voice sounding like a strangers it dragged so badly.

"Don't know," he admitted. "Just couldn't sleep."

Well that was a lie, otherwise he wouldn't have 'wanted a chat' when the other two were out. Remus kept himself quiet and let Sirius build up whatever was on his mind. When he finally got it, it wasn't quite what he was expecting.

"I think Peter knows."

"Eh?"

"Hmm," was his only mutter for a moment, before he kept going in a soft whisper right into his ear, "he's been watching us. Course, he watches everything, but still."

"If this is your idea of pillow talk, it's lacking," was all he could think to say.

"Remus, I mean it," Sirius muttered, trying to draw his legs up to him but instead just knocking them into Remus' knees. He kept them there instead, Sirius now entirely along his back as much as he could.

"You want to tell them?" He finally asked. If Sirius had been trying to give him something else to think about, it had worked.

"I don't like keeping things from either of them. I get the feeling they're going to know sooner rather than later, and we should tell them before that."

"We haven't even told each other what we've been doing." He huffed as a get around. He flashed back to the moment he'd started this by kissing Sirius back. He'd justified it to himself at the time as a way to draw Sirius back to him and find some way to stop the fighting, the panicked look across his mates face when he'd first done it clearly meaning he hadn't any more to go on. Now he was worried he'd jumped the gun on the right way to do that, even if he couldn't regret it as he finally started to relax along the warm body. "Can't we at least wait until we get out of this crazy mess?" He asked more quietly still, worried Sirius had nodded off in the silence as he went through his mind for an answer.

"Yeah, yeah that's fair. This has got to stop eventually. As much as I'm not enjoying living through Prongs' sons crazy life and all."

Remus snorted quietly in agreement to that. "Think there's really some monster running around this castle?"

"I'm thinking it more likely with every passing event in this kids life. I just can't put my finger on what."

Remus hadn't let himself think on it himself, so invested in everything else going on. He finally let himself fall into a fit of uneasy sleep as the silvery moon finally faded behind his heavy eyes. Sirius smiled, and slowly as he was capable of, inched himself away from Remus until he slid back between James and Peter on the floor. Remus still slept on.

Alice had suffered quite a few abrupt awakenings. One when her cousin came over for the summer and thrown her things all over Alice's bed in welcoming, another as her dorm-mates cat pissed on her, but none quite so memorable as Frank kissing her good morning. She smiled up at him and curled tighter into her warm bed as he brushed at her hair before some part of conciseness returned and she murmured, "what are you doing in here?"

"I'm pretty sure we've yet been able to fully answer that," Frank reminded her kindly. She blinked the haze away and finally realized she was not in her own dorm, but still up in Gryffindor tower. There was water running somewhere in the background, she realized as she sat up slowly. She found the Marauders all awake and moving about, much quieter than she would have given them credit for, though still being their usual selves and going through all the available school trunks. Pettigrew was at the foot of hers and tossing things around, a football of all things bouncing against the opposite wall.* It was noticeable they all had slightly damp hair, and their clothes looked just a bit less worn.

She looked properly around her own setting for the first time, some glimmers of unease still present she'd slept in a stranger's bed. This boy was either a muggle-born or had a clear love for them, as he had a poster of one of their sports up that wasn't even moving, though a few pictures scattered around of a tall, dark skinned lad and a sandy-haired boy in someone's backyard messing around with the same football that had just been tossed around.

"They claim to be looking for that," Frank stage whispered as he gestured to the book that was sitting clearly on the bedside table of the bed Frank had been sleeping in.

She stretched as she got out from under the covers and went over to it, sitting down there instead as they'd clearly already been through this place, in far too much detail. There was a pair of pants with all the pockets turned inside out right near the foot of the bed. Frank followed and put another easy arm around her, gesturing before she could grab the book, "had you been wondering what Neville looked like?"

She had, admittedly, and was just as pleased as she was shocked when Frank reached into the bedside cabinet and pulled out a moving picture. It was a family portrait. Frank began pointing out people clearly from his side of the family, but she couldn't spare a glance for any of them, even her future mother in law with a vulture for a hat. Her son, the youngest by far, was standing half behind her in the photo, his little face only peaking out every few seconds the brightest spot.

At first she thought her son had inherited all of his fathers looks along with just his family, with that light blond hair and kind brown eyes. It wasn't until he peaked out again she could spot her own face inlaid with her child's, the kindness she felt pouring from him.

Smiling with pride and very carefully keeping the picture in her grasp as she moved to take the book, she vowed to keep this with her as long as she could get away with. First she couldn't help but stop and look around herself once more with an uneasy feeling. This bed then, her sons, was the only one without any sort of defining marker. She locked eyes with Frank, the worry passing between them as real as Potter flinging textbooks about with abound.

"Aren't all diary's very secret?" The elder Black laughed as he strolled by, checking carefully under each bed for something that was beyond both of them.

"Shouldn't you wait for Regulus to get out?" Pettigrew called over.

In answer, the water stopped, and the younger Black stepped out, toweling his hair and straightening his shirt.

Alice and Frank looked relieved, and Lily reluctant, but they all took turns in the second years boys bathroom. It was simple enough, everything done up in silver and gold of course, with lions embroidered into all the linen. Thankfully the plumbing was working just fine, the settings for the taps were the same in their respective bathrooms, and the laundry shoot still magicked their clean clothes back to them by the time they were all freshened up.

"I'm not surprised the school would think Hermione got attacked," Evans said as she came over to sit beside them on the edge of the bed, taking a brush to her long locks, finally. It was amazing how relaxed they all felt after a little hot water, and the schools magic still somehow managed to know what products each of them used.

"I'm just hoping it makes all those kids realize how stupid it is to think Harry's the one doing this, attacking his friend." Potter seemed to agree with her, stopping his shenanigans of tossing bed sheets around to smile winningly over at her.

She turned away, not taking notice of the water dripping upon the bed, but her nose didn't go quite as high in the air as usual when he talked to her.

"I still don't find it a particularly brilliant idea for Harry to be back around that bathroom," Remus muttered as he sorted through the third trunk.

"Hasn't done anyone any harm," Sirius shrugged as he passed by, tapping his chin as he eyed a pair of trainers. He held one up to his foot, then tossed it away without satisfaction.

"It can't be coincidence this place now has two random events like this," Remus insisted, abandoning a magazine over Great Locations of Kenmare.

"Myrtle floods her bathroom a dozen times a year," Sirius continued trying to ignore him. "Just because Harry found a ruddy book in there some broad wanted to flush away shouldn't mean anything- Oi, Wormtail! Stop sniffing the damn Fudge Flies and come here!"

Peter left Ron's bedside and came over with a harassed expression in place. "Whatever you want to try out on me this time Sirius, the answer's no."

"Why do you always assume it's that?" Sirius asked innocently, then kept going before he could retaliate. "Nah, Moony thinks something's up with this book Harry found, and I want someone else over here laughing at him with me. Cause more of an impact."

"You two are horrible to each other," Peter told him pleasantly. "That wouldn't work anyways, because I'm on his side, listen," he insisted when the background noise of Harry's Valentines settled down and he realized something was odd about it.

James was still snickering about the Valentine his poor son had received, while Evans was looking mortified about the same and desperately wishing that book wasn't giving Potter ideas. Regulus had been spending the whole time in the windowsill, admittedly enjoying the high view. Everyone froze as Alice went on to describe the sentient book.

"Do you think it's in here? Now?" Alice hissed as if she feared it would hear her.

"No," Potter said at once with confidence, taking a cautious step away from Harry's part of the room anyways. "No, we've been looking through this stuff all morning, haven't seen a trace of it."

An awkward silence still hung as Smith forced herself to continue, which only grew worse when Harry was sucked right into the pages.

Everyone remained frozen until it became clear Harry was in no immediate danger, as no one in this odd memory from the diary could see him. Potter, clearly trying to act as always as if this were all casual news, went back over to his sons things and began looking around with even more vigor.

The rest of the Marauders seemed to decide this same tactic, while the three still on the bed drew closer to each other. Alice's voice only shook a bit at reading of something like this, and it only grew more confusing as she reached the end and this Riddle seemed on the verge of finding the true culprit.

"Aha!"

Alice looked over in surprise as Potter quickly stowed something out of sight with a sheepish expression, clearly regretting his outburst. He'd been spending an inordinate amount of time at Harry's trunk and around his bed, and she found it almost sweet if a little obnoxious that's how he was trying to learn about his kid instead of paying attention to the book about him.

"What was that?" Frank asked as politely as he could manage.

"I, ah, found one of Lockhart's signature books Harry got! Bet that's going to be worth a fortune, I'm going to nick it!"

She and Frank exchanged a look of how much they believed that, but Alice hoped this creepy memory was almost done with already and ignored them.

Sirius wasn't listening, he'd finally found a pair he was sure would fit.

"Here Reg, put these on," Sirius said while tossing a pair of boots at his head. Regulus caught one, the other landed on top of his bare foot. A pair of socks quickly followed the same pattern.

"I don't need your help," Regulus snapped as he pushed both away. "I could get some on my own if I wanted to."

Sirius scowled down at him. "You want to wind up back in the Forest or some nonsense barefoot, fine."

Peter watched Sirius strut away, as much as he could in such a small space, back over to James. The two started up a whispered conversation while James kept patting his pocket, and Peter rolled his eyes. He instead turned his attention to Regulus with a sympathetic smile. "He means well."

"I'm not going to bother responding to you if you're just going to defend your mate over there," he huffed.

"I'm just saying," Peter put his hands up defensively. "He bosses me around all the time to. Think that's how he shows he cares."

"And he claims he's nothing like our parents," Regulus rolled his eyes and looked back out the window without further comment.

Sirius had watched the whole thing, and blew a frustrated breath when Peter joined them. "Little idiots going to get a toe cut off or something and I'm just going to laugh at him."

"Souvenir?" Remus offered, before all four burst out laughing just as they were transported away again, none having the chance to realize just what exactly Alice had said before it was too late.

[whitewolfbumble]

Of Gods & Goddesses - Chapter Four

A Modern & Fluffy Greek Mythology AU with Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The connection was immediate and the mystery behind Bucky Barnes ran deeper and deadlier than you thought. Falling in love has never been this complicated, for a goddess or otherwise. A modern reimagining of Hades and Persephone, with Bucky the God of Spring and you the Goddess of the Underworld.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (aka God!Bucky x Goddess!Reader, Persephone!Bucky x Hades!Reader)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.5k

MY MASTERLIST // OF GODS & GODDESSES MASTERLIST // CHAPTER THREE

The city was long since in your rearview mirror with the dark green forest a wall on either side of you as you sped through.

He had been a little tense, arms and legs held together unmoving and stiff when the two of you had slid into the black car. Now, the further you had gotten towards your house, the more relaxed he had become and the more tightly wound you had become.

This is insane!, you thought to yourself, repeating it for the hundredth time and gripping the steering wheel all the harder. Never have you analyzed anything less in your entire existence or chosen to disrupt the balance of things in such a way.

What were you supposed to say when he asked why you weren’t there tonight? What were you doing here now? Why had you insisted on doing this?

You couldn’t just steal a god and take him back to your house. There were rules. There were reasons why this wasn’t done.

You glanced to him, eyes shooting over to the passenger side and held him in your gaze for a moment.

He was sitting here, hands folded easily in his lap now, a vision in the dark shadows of the night that veiled you both. But while you sunk into the shadows easily, he was somehow still full of colour and that glow of calm energy, deep jewel tones breaking through the darkness.

His eyes, watching out the window at the greenery speeding by, were a deep alexandrite blue with little flecks of icy beryl set into them. His hair in the darkness looked like onyx with flashes of chestnut and amber and carnelian. As always he had that almost invisible aura of glowing new life, pale and beautiful and small.

You saw another colour too, something light in shade below his eye, forming just under his skin. It was a tint darker than his lips, though you doubted it would stay so light for long.

“Nat told me a little about what happened tonight,” you said quietly, eyes back on the road and mouth as dry as you could ever remember it being. Gods, you could use a bottle or two of champagne right now. “Who did you get in a fight with?”

He pulled a bit of a face, shrugging as he looked down to his hands.

“T’Challa,” he started, stumbling through words laced with sadness, confusion, and embarrassment. “I guess I… well, he said I did somethings. Awful things. But I swear, I didn’t. At least, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I can’t exactly remember.”

“Hmm,” you mumbled through your teeth, trying to quell the cold fury inside you. That was a side you couldn’t let Bucky see yet. “He’s determined guy, I’m surprised you didn’t lose an eye.”

“Steve got him off me,” Bucky admitted. “But I don’t think he was quite done yet. Managed to break away to the balcony.”

“All the better reason to get you out of there,” you said more to yourself, grasping at any straw you could to justify you stealing a god away from his home. And not even one of your own gods working under you.

“Well, I’ve never been to the Underworld before, or your realm at all I guess,” he said, eyes looking somehow brighter. It was almost like he was looking forward to this?

A crooked grin cracked through on your face, a mixture of validation and amusement sprouting in you. You were happy from the distraction from your anger and self-doubt anyways.

“Well, you won’t be able to say that much longer…”

You faded out, the massive black gates and concrete fence looming just ahead. You nodded out the windshield to the structure that was stories high, dark, and intimidating. There was a veil or mist, slightly murky and shimmering just before the gates. You drove through without interruption, passing through the wobbly mist to the clarity of the other side, and officially into your realm.

“We’re now officially within the Underworld now. So welcome to my home, I guess,” you added, frown following. Gods, you desperately needed to brush up on your small talk and social interactions. You’d be cringing over that one later.

You curved around with the circular driveway, a black marble and gold detailed fountain in the middle of it, parking in front of steps up to the impressive front doors. Nothing about your home was ordinary, to be sure.

“It doesn’t have the height or grandeur of the Tower,” you said, feet crunching the gravel underfoot as you walked around to him. “Or as much plant-life as you would probably prefer, but it’s home.”

“I thought it…” he started before turning and walking in step with you up to the doors. “I thought it would be… I guess different.”

You weren’t exactly shocked at that reaction, giving him a smile as you opened the door, pushing it in to reveal the sprawling space inside.

“We’re in my realm, sure,” you said, throwing your keys into a gold bowl on a low white table. “But that back there was the South Gate. The Underworld you’re thinking of is just west of here, at the aptly described West Gate. Here it’s less dead souls and mist covered wastelands, and more minimalism with a cool colour pallet.”

You walked just a couple steps ahead of him, floor to ceiling of windows on your left and modern art decorating the grey concrete walls to your right. Bucky wandered behind you, taking it all in.

“I won’t go over a full geography lesson here,” you said. “But it’s important that you stay on these grounds, within this building. I won’t get into what lurks beyond them, but in here you’ll be just fine.”

You looked back hesitantly, wondering at what point he’d snap-to and demand to be returned. But he quickly nodded in understanding, eyes going back to peek into large rooms as he walked by of what were mostly art collections, sculptures, and rare jewels on display.

You ended up in your living room, with low and long leather couches, a lengthy fireplace set into the wall, and a stocked bar to one side.

“Kitchen is through there, and I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms,” You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had stayed in one actually. “If you need anything, I’m here. And Veronica, the A.I., of course.”

You briefly debated going through a tour of all the rooms; anything to keep from having an awkward conversation of questions from him you couldn’t answer yourself.

It was only you and him here though. It wasn’t like you could put off talking to him forever.

He was silent as you turned to him, fiddling with your hands under the silence that was fast turning tense, at least to you.

He only watched you softly though. Was he waiting for you explain why you had broken your promise to him? Why you had abandoned him to a party only to be attacked when he was looking for you?

In the mere minutes from when you first noticed, that mark under his eye had gotten darker. Oh gods, you had done that to him. You might as well have anyway. He wouldn’t have gotten into with another god if you had kept your promise.

He trusted you, believed you when you said you would be there. He had made himself vulnerable and you felt that in turn now.

Your face scrunched a little, sympathy pain stabbing in your soul. Reflexively your hand went up to touch the bruise just under his eyes, the colour already a plum-like purple now. Your fingertips didn’t touch him, hovering just over the spot.

“I’m so sorry,” you said morosely, your eyes glued to the injury but his locked to yours. “I feel responsible for this, I should have been there. I don’t really have an reason I can give. Nothing good enough to justify this anyways.”

You were snapped out of your misery by his hand taking your wrist. His skin was so warm compared to yours, the heat of spreading through you in a moment. Only then did you catch that look in his eyes, soft and intent at the same time. He moved your hand to rest on his face just like you had wanted too, the connection another jolt of heat through your body.

“You still came,” he said, voice low and quiet. “There’s nothing to forgive, Y/N.”

You held your breath as your fingertips moved gently and slowly on his cheek. Bucky did the opposite, not holding his but instead inhaling a deep contented breath, moving in closer and placing his forehead to yours. If his eyes were open he would have seen a kind of thrilled panic in your eyes.

How had you, the relatively brazen one, and the shifting man you met on the balcony switched places? Now you were the unsure one, breath rapid and mind racing, too afraid to move and break the delicate equilibrium of this moment.

How was he this comfortable with you? Why had he wanted you to touch him?

...But did it matter? At least in this moment you couldn’t believe it did, a haziness falling over your brain as that magnetism he exuded overwhelmed you. Combined with that floral, spring rain scent of his you were done for.

You had no choice under that sway but for your muscles to relax into him, his hands coming to your waist to steady you.

“I think…” he whispered, a gentle night breeze on your skin. “I think I missed you.”

You swallowed, another wave of dizzy hitting you. What was he saying?

“You don’t know me, Bucky,” you said, that heady floral smell filling every pocket of your lungs. It was as though you had been transported into a field thick with wildflowers and sun and rain. You could smell the beautiful florals, feel the heat of the sun, taste the mist of rain on your tongue.

“I know,” he agreed, swallowing. “But I still did.”

This was insane and you knew it, but you didn’t care. You had thought about him since you met him. You were losing sleep over him. Torturing yourself over trying not to think about him. Your heart broke when you refused to see him out of your own spiralling doubt. You snapped when you heard he was hurt. You stole him away in the middle of the night. You had him in your arms now and decidedly didn’t want to let go.

“If it helps,” you spoke, barely audible in the little space between you. “I think I did too.”

His reply was unspoken, just the feeling of his arms wrapping and tightening around you.

Yes it was insane, but it was true and in this moment it felt real.

“I think I-” you said, pulling away slightly and stopping short as you saw what was around you.

Mouth ajar you looked around, taking in the scene of your once clean-cut minimalistic living space.

The blue and grey space was filled to the brim now, transforming from a space you knew well into a full blown greenhouse of sorts. Vines had climbed up the walls, covering them in a thick leafy tangle. Green sprouted under foot, thick and lush grass and leaves covering the sealed concrete.

The most stunning were the flowers though. It practically stole your breath away. There were more varieties than you knew, blooming and growing everywhere. Blue and violet Floss Flowers, light peach Peruvian Lilies, white and butter yellow Windflowers, ruby red Persian Buttercups, bright turquoise Blue Himalayan Poppies, and so many more. They filled the once dark room with blooming, beautiful life.

“What is it?” Bucky asked. You looked back to him with a disbelieving scoff before realizing his eyes hadn’t left you.

“Your handiwork certainly brightens up the place,” you said with a grin, gesturing around you.

His eyes glanced to the side for a second before back to you. It took a moment, but his face pulled into one of confusion. Slowly this time he looked around the room and actually saw it now, eyebrows shooting up and eyes wide at the display all around him.

“Oh gods,” he said, instantly fighting within himself to either laugh at this or be embarrassed by it. To your delight he ended up smiling, a moonbeam bright look that made your soul hum in a contented way you swore you had never heard before. “I swear I didn’t mean too. I’ll fix it, I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, a warm smile on you lips. You put your hands back to cup his face, leaning him back down to you, as you had just been.

“Please don’t,” you said, quietly. “Not yet.”

The warmth in you smile matched his, growing as fast as the flowers had.

“Okay Y/N,” he hummed, settling easily into holding you again. Whatever hum your soul had made sounded exactly like the one he did just there.

You thought there maybe should be some awkwardness or shame or something nagging you. But there just wasn’t. Only the smell of spring and his warm arms around you. There wasn’t room for much else.

Your attention was was pulled just to the side of the pair of you, wrapped up together. You thought the movement would be more stunning flowers growing, but you found quickly you were quite wrong.

You didn’t blink and didn’t move, just spoke to Bucky with a clear and steady voice

“Bucky,” you started, voice a warning. “Don’t. Move.”

You felt him stiffen under you just as a distinct vibrating growl filled the room. The aggression in the sound was palpable, and you felt his hold on you tighten, pulling you deeper into him. Slowly he tried to turn his body and block you from whatever was making the noise

“Bucky, don’t,” you whispered, eyes moving to lock onto the large black figure just in the shadows.

“What is it?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. But at the sound of his voice the snarl grew louder and angrier, conjuring up visions of nightmares.

You lifted your hands off of his shoulder, raising them up slowly. Carefully and with deliberate movements, you reached down to Bucky’s hands at your sides and removed them. You held on to one wrist, moving so that at no point were you completely detached from him, but shifting your body so you were in front of him, facing the creature making the noise.

You felt more than a little resistance from Bucky, who was not all too pleased to be behind you, despite being unaware of the danger he was in.

“Bucky… this is Cerberus,” you said, calm and steady. The commanding tone was neutral and controlled, but the threat clearly wasn’t over yet. “Cerberus, this is Bucky, God of Spring. He’s welcome here, and you’ll treat him as such.”

At that there were three distinct clashes of teeth flashing the shadows, snarls and bellows ringing out like thunder. The fury behind them was not thinly veiled at all, murder and blood in every snap and rumble.

This time when you spoke your voice was lowered, sounding cold and deadly and spreading a chill through the room with a single word.

“Enough.”

Bucky couldn’t see it but your eyes were taken over by a glacial blue colour, clouding your irises, pupils, and whites of your eyes completely. It was death and ice and lightning held in your eyes, displaying pure power and directed solely at Cerberus before you.

In the darkness you saw three sets of purple eyes flash with that same icy look. After a moment the growling stopped, and the three set of eyes faded into one pair, melting back into their violet glow.

After that Cerberus stepped forward, looking rather displeased but not murderous at any rate, so that was a start.

You relaxed immediately, moving out from in front of Bucky, who was looking wide-eyed at the creature as Cerberus stepped into the light and jungle of a living room.

He was built like a wolf, long black hair and tail shining in the moonlight coming through the gaps in the vine-covered windows. You walked up to him easily, patting his side. Your head was about at his shoulder, with his sharp teeth and predator eyes looming just above you protectively.

“I know he’s a little dangerous looking, but if you give him space there’s no need t-”

When you turned to look at Bucky you didn’t find him across the room, but right up to Cerberus, both hands scratching the dogs chest and craning his neck up to look fondly at the black beast.

You swore both you and Cerberus had the same stunned and surprised expression on your faces watching Bucky, who had a rather goofy expression on his face.

“Who’s such a good protector, huh?” Bucky said, voice low and like he was talking to an infant. “Who’s a good protector?”

You watched as slowly Cerberus sat back on his hind legs, wary eyes on Bucky before stretching his neck up for Bucky to scratch more.

“Oh please,” you muttered to yourself, leaning against the dog’s fluffy side.

“Who’s such a god boy?” Bucky asked, and you felt a breeze on your legs. Looking back you saw a bit of a wag from your so-called murderous beast.

“Alright, I think it’s time you got back to work,” you said to Cerberus before speaking to Bucky. “And you got some rest.”

Bucky parted with the beast with a last scratch before you two began walking down to the hall to the bedrooms. You casted a glance back to Cerberus, who was hopefully off on his nightly patrol, slinking back silently into the shadows.

“I think he likes you,” you said, a little floored. Besides Cerberus loving you, you didn’t think that was possible.

“That’s great, I-”

“No, that’s definitively not great!” you said, laughing incredulously at the turn of events. “He’s supposed to protect this place, I can’t have him rolling over for complete strangers!”

“What about gods who are not so much strangers?” he asked, the smallest hint of mischief in his eyes.

“I mean I’m happy he didn’t tear you to shreds, Bucky,” you said. You slowed down and stopped in front of a bedroom door, Bucky following your lead and doing the same. “But I think I better have a talk with Cerberus in the morning all the same.”

“So he protects this place?” he said, conversationally with that look still in his eyes. You wondered if he was purposely lingering. If so, you didn’t really mind that at all. You weren’t sure you wanted to say goodnight just yet. “And you while in it, I assume?”

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s usually pretty good at both. The best, actually.”

“So,” Bucky started, taking a step closer to you. “If I were to hold you again, would he show up looking to kill me again?”

“I uh, I don’t know actually,” you said, a heat flushing your face. You didn’t get too many visitors keen on wanting to hold you, the Goddess of the Underworld, afterall.

“Okay,” Bucky said, taking another step closer, the length of his body practically pressed to yours now. If you didn’t know his any better his height and frame would seem intimidating, but your fluttering heart was not out of fear. “Can I try it, just to see?”

“If he does shred you before you can soften him up, you’ve been warned,” you said, trying to hide in sarcasm.

It wasn't exactly a "no" though and Bucky picked up on that with a grin.

Your fluttering heart felt as though it bloomed in your chest the moment his arms wrapped around your waist, pushing the pair of your closer together. Close enough to breath him in, feel his heat, hear his heartbeat.

That haze of intoxication filled you again, the connection in you so strong to be near. Now that you had him so close it overwhelmed you, thawing you out and filling you with a bubbly firey warmth. It was like he was turning your cold, wintered soul into spring again.

It could have been minutes or days he held you and you held him, but at some point Bucky brought you gently back to reality.

His lips found their way to your ear, gently brushing your skin as he spoke. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped back rather quickly, breath rapid in your lungs and that warm haze covering you. Again you saw Bucky, now with that same delicate white flower crown wrapped loosely around his head. Again it had bloomed in a quiet moment between you, a beautiful fragile thing, sitting gracefully on his brow.

“‘Night, Bucky.”

You didn’t know how you walked back to your room, or why you change out of your pajamas just to get into fresh ones. This night was not the one you expected to have in the least, your mind fuddled and heart thumping loudly.

When you entered your ensuite, running the tap and heating up the room with steam, you looked up and saw yourself in the mirror. Somehow, wrapped around your head in a small circle was a wreath of dark green stems with pale blue blooms. Unmoving in front of the mirror, you took in that wreath and it's ethereal glow, seeing those same small white flowers accompanying those little blue blossoms, matching the flowers Bucky had on his.

You still didn’t know what you were doing, but whatever it was you liked it.

_______

CHAPTER FIVE

_______

A/N: Hope you liked this one darling! Please let me know what you thought and if you want to be tagged in this! Thanks!

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[thosemultifandomwritings]

Ink Pt. 3 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Guns, violence, realized I used a lot of New York lingo so MET=Metropolitan Museum of Art and MoMA is Museum of Modern Art (can you tell I’m from NY lol)

Summary: Soulmate AU where everything you write or draw on your skin appears on your soulmate too

Part 1  …  Part 2  …  Part 3  ...  Part 4

What are your plans on this wonderful Saturday?

It was around ten in the morning and Peter sat at his kitchen table, spoonful of cereal in his mouth as he read the words sprawled on his arm. He took the pen that was currently tucked behind his ear and scribbled back to you.

Probably sleep some more, you?

Peter couldn’t help the yawn that escaped his mouth as he waited for your response. Ten was pretty early for Peter, usually he took the weekends to catch up on the very much needed sleep he lost throughout the week from swinging around New York City at all hours of the night.

I’m on the way to the MET or maybe the MoMA...haven’t quiet decided yet. The weather is great today P, go out and do something!

Peter smiled imagining you wandering around the various art museums and writing to him all about them. Peter felt an itch to get dressed and find himself at these museums, hoping to run into you and just know. Know it was you, that you were the one. But, would he know? Would he feel something? Anything? Or would he have to look around on people’s arms like a crazy person, hoping to see his own handwriting?

“Alright, spill,” Peter heard from behind him, causing him to choke on his cereal and pull his shirt down over his arm quickly. Turning around he was met by the face of his Aunt May, who by the looks of it, had also just woken up. While Peter continued to cough and catch his breath, she walked over to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup. Once Peter had calmed down, she took a sip of her coffee, her eyebrows raising over the brim.

“About what?” Peter questioned, his voice cracking slightly.

“Oh Peter please, you are not very subtle. I’ve been waiting for you to come to me but at this rate, who knows when that’ll be,” May said, raising her hands in the air in despair before placing a few slices of bread into the toaster. Peter continued to look at her in bewilderment causing May to chuckle a bit.

“Peter, no one smiles like a doofus while looking at their own arm. Plus, the amount of pens you have been leaving around the apartment is getting out of hand, I found one in the fridge the other day,” May said, Peter’s cheeks tinging pink, “so spill.”

“So...theres a distinct possibility...that I may have found out I have a soulmate?” Peter said, causing May to let out a small yell and embrace her nephew in a hug. Of course she had speculated and figured it out herself, but hearing her nephew say it out loud made it real, and she couldn’t be happier for him.

“So, tell me all about them,” May said excitedly, grabbing her toast and sitting down next to Peter at the table.

“Well I haven’t exactly...met them yet,” Peter said slowly, his arm stinging slightly as his aunt slapped him on the shoulder.

“And why the hell not?” May asked, looking at him over her glasses, staring him down.

“It’s complicated,” Peter mumbled, rubbing his arm. After getting a small lecture from May, mostly consisting of May calling Peter various forms of the word idiot, Peter retreated to his bedroom where he plopped down on his bed, exhaling loudly.

He wanted to meet you in person, like, really wanted too. Every day that went by, he felt closer to you. But he could only get so close to you without actually meeting you. Talking to you face to face, with words spoken, not written. Hearing your voice, hearing your laugh, hearing you say his name.

As noon rolled around, Peter decided to listen to your advice and get out of the apartment for the day. He didn’t really have a plan in mind, but as he walked by the bus station, he had a longing to jump on the next bus to Manhattan. He tried to justify it by saying that Avengers Tower was there, of course he could go train a bit or maybe bug Mr. Stark to help him improve his web shooters. But he couldn’t deny the tugging he felt throughout his body that he knew was all due to you.

Every since he had discovered he had a soulmate, he couldn’t ignore the ever present pull he felt that always happened to face northwest, towards Manhattan. It was so slight that it was easy to ignore, easy to brush off and get on with his everyday life. But today, it felt different. It was more present, stronger. It was this pull that made him duck into the nearest alleyway, the one that made him pull out his Spidey suit out of his bag and strip down. Before the logical part of his brain could reason with him, he was already swinging in between the two buildings, making his way uptown.

It was a wonderful day in New York City. The temperature was just right, allowing you to comfortably walk through the streets without breaking a sweat or worry about being cold. You took a small stroll through Central Park before you found yourself at the MET stairs. No matter how many times you found yourself at the giant building, it was always different. You had spent many weekends wandering the halls of the art museum and you still found new things to look at every time.

After a few hours of wandering the halls, you found yourself in one of the newer exhibits, one showcasing various beautiful jewelry pieces from around the world. There were necklaces that cost more than triple a year’s rent of your apartment and bracelets that could pay for your entire college tuition. They were all so gorgeous and you leaned in closer to admire an emerald necklace that sparkled in the light. 

Suddenly, you heard a thud followed by a clang of metal, making you stand up straight and turn towards the doorway. The first thing you saw was the guard who had previously been leaning against the wall nonchalantly, slumped on the floor. The next thing you saw was the man standing over him, black mask covering his face. Panic set in as various things were yelled all at once. More men had entered the second, and only other, entrance to the room, all of them brandishing small black pistols.

“Everyone! On the floor now!” The main man yelled, pointing the gun at the closest person to him, which happened to be an elderly lady. As you fell to your knees, you tried to count the people in the room. There were at least four attackers in the room, and counting yourself, nine other people who were now all on the floor. Your breath hitched in your chest as a gunshot rang throughout the room, causing screams to erupt from the various people around you.

You peered around the display case you were crouched behind, hoping and praying that what you were about to see wasn’t a victim. Instead, all you saw was smashed glass, looking up to see that the man had shot the camera down. The men yelled for everyone to throw their phones into the middle of the room, which was a difficult task seeing as your hands were shaking so much. Two men started smashing the glass of the display cases with the handle of their guns, causing various alarms to start blaring throughout the room.

Slowly, you instinctively reached into your pocket. Black pen gripped in your quivering hand, you moved it gradually across your wrist, not wanting to gain the attention of any of the men in the room.

P I’m so scared. I ju

“Where do you think you’re going?!” You heard a man yell, causing the pen to fall from your hands and roll across the floor. He grabbed a girl, who couldn’t have been any older than you, by her hair. She was on her hands and knees, looking as if she had been trying to crawl towards one of the discarded phones. The man dragged her in front of him, the girl hyperventilating as he gripped her hair harder, forcing her head to tilt back to look at him.

“Stop!”

The mans head whipped towards you as you realized your own voice was the one to scream. All around you men were screaming, alarms blaring, people crying, but as the man approached, the world became silent as he raised a gun towards you.

“Trying to play hero, eh?”

This was it. As the cold metal pressed into your temple, the only thought that raced through your brain was that you didn’t want to die. You couldn’t die here. You never even got to...Peter. You would never meet Peter. You would never get to actually see what he looked like. To meet him for the first time and hear his voice, hold his hand.

As you laid on your knees in the middle of the room, the man watching as his accomplices gathered up the jewelry, your first few tears silently fell. How would Peter find out? Would he be watching the news and see the story all about the sad casualty of the MET robbery? Would he write to you only for you to never answer? Or would he feel it? God, you hoped he didn’t feel it.

Your eyes flickered down to your hand, hoping to see something from him. Anything from him. But your arms remained bare, the only words to read were your own.

Suddenly glass shattered all around you, littering the floor with shards as a flash of red and blue somersaulted into the room.

It was him. It was Spider-Man. You had heard all about the crime-fighter who swung from buildings, even saw some videos on YouTube, but had never seen him in person. You saw his eyes flash around the room, his wrists jabbing towards the men spread around the room, webs flying out to wrap around the guns as they flew out of the assailants hands. You saw his eyes flick towards the man standing over you, moving his wrist as if to throw a web his way. But as his eyes met yours...he froze.

A/N: Let me know what you guys think! My ask box is always open for feedback and criticism. Also, requests!

If you would like to be added to the taglist for ‘Ink’ just let me know!

Taglist

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[stark-park]

Once Upon a Child (5/9)

Chapter: 5 - Eat Your Heart Out

Other Chapters: 1  2  3  4  6  7  8  9

Summary: With their daughter enjoying her happy beginning and their infant son still young, Snowing decide they need a hobby, or at least, a way to help Storybrooke in the ways they used to with their kingdom in the Enchanted Forest. Therefore they decide to help those most unfortunate: the orphaned and lost children at Misthaven Home for Children. But when one child is unlike the others, their hearts and their home go out to him in the hopes they can help.

Rating: PG, there's nothing too horrifying, mostly fluff

Disclaimer: Based on ABC's Once Upon A Time and I do not own any of their characters, plots or locations. I am but a loyal fan, loving of the show and simply borrowing the beautiful characters.

"Well?" Emma quizzed Dr Whale.

"You were right." He confirmed, "Kind of."

"Kind of?" Snow repeated, "Is he deaf or not?"

"Partially."

"That certainly explains a lot." David stated. It certainly did. Aside from being Ancient Greek, the poor boy struggled to even hear. No wonder he didn't communicate with anyone.

"Is there anything we can do for him?" Snow asked Whale.

"Well, judging from the degree of damage-"

"Damage?" David repeated.

"Yes, it looks as though there's been some physical trauma to the skull around, particularly his right ear but there's also trauma to the left one."

"Could someone have done this to him?" David asked, his mind spilling with various scenarios of what Ellion could have gone through before he arrived in Storybrooke.

"It's possible. It's also possible he was involved in a crash of some sort."

"So," Snow said, trying to steer the conversation away from this tangent, "Is there something we can do?"

"Right, yes, but how successful it will be, we won't know until we try. We can implant hearing aids to try relieve some of the pressure on the inner ear and allow for some, if any, sound waves to perforate the barrier the damage has created. It's more likely to work for the left ear as there is less trauma, but of course-"

"We won't know until we try." Emma finished.

The adults exited Dr Whale's office with more of an understanding about the boy, but there were still so many mysteries to be solved.

"Hi Love." Killian said. He sat in the waiting room with Ellion asleep across the chairs beside him. At the behest of his wife, he'd joined them at the hospital - without his hook, who knows what the child would have insinuated from that - to keep an eye on the boy whilst Emma, and her two thoroughly confused parents, tracked down some answers.

"Tad late for a bit of reading isn't it?" Killian observed, nodding at the storybook Snow had been holding since they left home.

"What? Oh! This, yes! Henry thinks he found what story Joe is from!" Snow explained.

"Really?" Emma said, "And you only thought to tell us now?"

"I'm sorry, our minds were on finding him and then you found out why he didn't talk and-"

"It's okay, I get it." Emma intervened, "So? Can we take a look?"

"Page 70." Charming noted as his wife flicked through the pages of Once Upon A Time Volume VII.

"Here it is," Snow declared. The trio occupied the three chairs adjacent to Killian.

"The story of Tristan and Yvaine." Snow read aloud.

"I recognise those names!" Emma cried.

"Dammit, I forgot where they're from." She huffed.

"It's okay, maybe it'll come to you while I keep reading." Snow suggested. "Tristan, in comparison to everyone else in this story, was rather normal. That is, until he journeyed through the wall into the kingdom of Stormhold-"

"Oh!" Emma cried, her hands frantically flapping about. "I know this story! I remember! It's Stardust!"

She grinned until she noticed the bewildered expressions of her family. "You haven't watched Stardust?"

"Cursed." Snow justified.

"Pirate." Killian added.

"Ugh." She grumbled, "You guys have missed so much."

"So, what happens in Stardust? Anything about a little boy?" Snow asked hopefully.

"No, not that I remember."

"Why don't you briefly tell us the story and maybe we'll have a better understanding?" Charming suggested.

"Well, this guy Tristan goes to Stormhold to find his mom with this magic candle but he starts thinking of his girlfriend instead, well, she's not really his girlfriend. She's a pretty horrible person actually, manipulative, materialistic-"

"Love," Killian paused her, "Is this maiden truly pertinent to the story?"

"Uh, no. Sorry." Emma blushed with embarrassment. "Okay so, he starts thinking of this fallen star him and his girlfriend saw and how she would marry him if he brought her the star. But it turns out that the star is actually a person, a woman, called Yvaine."

"How can a person be a star?" Snow asked.

"I... I don't know, magic I suppose? How can a daughter be the same age as her parents with her century-year old husband? Magic." Only when Emma said it out loud did it dawn on her that her bizarre explanation was in fact her current situation, and it was all thanks to magic.

"Okay, but does she look normal? Or is she, you know, shiny?" Charming pressed, still confused by the Stardust world.

"Um, I guess she's pretty normal looking. Pale skin, white blonde hair... oh and she's a star so she shines when she's happy."

Snow and Charming looked at each other, clearly questioning the same thing.

"You don't think?" He asked his wife, staring into her eyes for certainty.

"He might be." Snow admitted.

"Wait..." Emma knew when her parents had twigged something, it was only a matter of time before she too worked out their revelation.

"Seriously? You think Joe is a star?"

"For all we know, he could be." Snow whispered, as if unsure whether to fully commit to the possibility.

"Why not finish the tale love?" Killian offered, hoping the story would provide some more concrete answers.

“Okay. So Tristan and Yvaine meet but there’s people looking for her. There’s this witch, I don’t remember her name but she’s played by Michelle Pfeiffer, and she wants to cut out Yvaine’s heart and eat it so she can stay young.”

“That’s horrible!” Snow gasped, throwing her hands to her mouth. “Do you think that’s why he ran away?”

“What? No!” Emma rushed, cursing herself for sending her mother into panic, yet again. “Mom, that’s just the movie! I could be wrong. I probably am- I, uh...” She trailed off, looking to her father desperately in the hopes he could instrument a reasonable and calm plan.

“Snow, Honey, why don’t we read the rest of the book? Maybe that will shed more light. Movies are just fantasy, this book is what really happened.” Oh thank you so much! Emma’s eyes screamed.

“Alright.” Snow agreed, her head nodding less and less ferociously as the seconds passed.

Ellion, on the other hand, had been calm and peaceful all while he slept. His pirate guardian subconsciously patting the boy’s back softly as he dreamt.

*****

Lights danced amongst the darkness, their ambient shine getting lost as it travelled through the vacuums of space. Whirlpools of luminous serenity collided angelically with indistinct patches of obscurity; concealing the deepest secrets of this galaxy and the next. It was as if someone had taken the sky as their canvas, spilling over an array of blues, reds and golds into a mist of ivory and shadows. Flickering silver sparks captivated those who stared up at the night's sky, especially those that waltzed alluringly across it, becoming the pinnacles of their dreams and desires.

Ellion looked out at the myriad of pulsating lights, the humming of ancient songs, where beings fantasised over joining the stars, drifted softly through the atmosphere. Amongst the hushed lullabies, sung to aid those falling asleep beneath the night sky, was the whispering of others directly to Ellion.

"Tell them!" Urged the wise Altair.

"You are safe." Came the echo from one winking from afar amidst an ominous blackness.

"He could use the book!" Flashed another, providing Ellion with the crucial counsel he needed.

Just then, a peculiar sound arose, forcing Ellion - however unbearable it was - to leave his homeland. He slipped from the blinkering suns and swirling darkness back into the embodiment of the young boy.

*****

A piercing alarm sounded in the hospital, making Snow and Charming stand up instinctively, ready to be called upon for aid.

"Mom, Dad, it's okay, the doctors have got this." Emma reminded them, her hand pulling at the storybook Snow was still holding (the only thing she could reach from her laid back position in her chair). However, instead of sitting down Snow let the book leave her grasp and it dropped with a thud to the floor as Emma just failed to catch it.

"Do you think they need some help?" Snow asked her husband, both lost in a trance as they worried over the bustling nurses and doctors. While Emma pulled herself from her chair to wave unsuccessfully in front of her parents, Killian recovered the neglected storybook, flicking through to the star-eating witch story.

"Maybe we should just see-" Charming insisted, him and Snow creeping over to the reception desk with the intent on "helping". It was at this point the alarm was switched off and the snoozing child began awaking from his slumber.

"Hey, you're awake." Emma noted, her observation pulling her parents from their urge to involve themselves in the hospital's emergencies.

Ellion rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms. His gaze landed on the book Killian was holding, now showing the last pages of the story with a rather artistic drawing spreading across an entire page.

A lonely, winding path led the eye from the corner of the page into the fantastical world of Stormhold and onto the foot of a mountain. Engulfed in buildings; the top of the mountain was home to the monarchy with their impressive construction, resembling, somewhat, an ancient Greek colosseum. A magnificent tower, built into the rim, soared above the rest of the buildings, it's structure ablaze with golden lights as it depicted a celebration of sorts. A brightness paralleled only to that of the glistening stars above.

As soon as the little boy noticed the picture, he tapped his index finger upon the golden shapes replicating the stars, smiling at Killian as he did so, before pointing at Emma, then back to the stars in the picture.

The surrounding adults were held in amazement by the sudden change Ellion displayed. Not only was he engaging with them, trying to send a message, but he was glowing. Or as they would have described it: shining.

The little boy, apparently unaware of his highlighted body, continued his actions; tapping the book, pointing at Emma, then tapping the book again.

"Yeah, nice." She murmured eventually, her sarcasm lost on the deaf boy. She looked to her parents for help, hoping they would at least have an inkling at what he was trying to say. Alas, they were equally as puzzled.

From out of nowhere, Killian marvelled: "Awe, he thinks you're a star Love." His tone was tender, as if he already knew this to be true.

"Why?" Emma choked, her nose wrinkling at her husband's analysis.

Then Charming piped up, slightly aghast at the remark, "Because you are a star! And don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise!" Whoa, protective dad mode activated, Emma thought. A hint of a smile on her face let slip she secretly loved the overprotection.

The thought of denial crossed her mind, but Emma couldn't bring herself to shut down the little boy shining in front of her. Instead, she smiled and pointed at him, knowing full well what his answer would be by now, "Are you?"

A relieved grin spread across his face. To think, before tonight he'd been so cautious the entire time he'd lived in Storybrooke, just in case someone discovered he was a star. The adults weren't completely sure of why his nap had warranted such a reverse in behaviour, but they were thankful it had. They could finally begin to understand his anxious glances and mute responses, but more importantly, help him to overcome the obstacles he had faced alone.

A tear escaped Snow's eye as the boy not only smiled, but nodded in response to Emma's question.

"So," Dr Whale said, coming round the corner with a clipboard, "There's been a cancellation so I can fit the hearing aids tomorrow morning at 10:20. How does that sound?" He paused in horror, realising the poor choice in words before swiftly shrugging off the guilt.

"Tomorrow sounds great." Snow replied, apparently not cottoning on to the pun.

When it came time to leave, Emma and Killian parted ways with the three, leaving Ellion quietly upset. He clutched the storybook while Snow crouched to his level, "It's okay, we'll see them soon enough."

The pair were not the type to force something, so Charming gestured towards Ellion, walked his fingers in his direction then paused to himself and Snow, asking, "Do you, want to come home, with us?"

There was a pause while Ellion considered what they were asking, Charming and Snow meanwhile, were silently hopeful. The message was understood, and after a moment longer, he eventually took Charming's hand.

Other Chapters: 1  2  3  4  6  7  8  9

[samanthasroberts]

Jar Jar Binks, Watto and more most annoying things in the Star Wars universe

Jar Jar Binks

Image: starwars.com

Weve been through a lot together, Star Wars fans, from pod-racing to Kylo Rens lightsaber. We’ve dealt with Liam Neesons luxurious hair and Ewan McGregors luxurious hair and Harrison Fords luxurious hair and Adam Drivers luxurious hair.

While most of the journey has been an exciting trip to a world we wished we lived in, there are some notable pain points hate-inducing enough to make even the most loyal of fans curse George Lucas name. Whoose you thinksa Im talking aboutsa?

SEE ALSO: ‘Rogue One’ director justifies reshoots: ‘Star Wars has to be fantastic’

Below, 13 of the most annoying things about Star Wars.

13. Baby Boba Fett

This one tops a lot of lists of worst Star Wars characters, but it’s only because adult Boba Fett is so universally adored. Maybe its the unexciting revelation that he’s a clone of Jango Fett, the Mandalorian warrior who is also cloned for the aptly named Clone Army, that upsets people, or its that their favorite character is unveiled as a dumb kid who spends most of his scenes glaring and silently brooding. He might as well not have been there and maybe it would have been better that way. The mystery was one of the most alluring aspects of Boba Fett to begin with.

12. Ewoks

This is a touchy one. For the record, I do not have a problem with Ewoks. I also, since ceasing to be a 7-year-old kid, see how they could upset some people. Leia meets an animate teddy bear in the woods who threatens her and then immediately needs her help walking through the woods hes supposedly lived in his whole life. Its a stretch for us to believe that this species would have made it through the evolutionary wringer, let alone take down a legion of the most trained, feared and technologically advanced military in the galaxy.

SEE ALSO: Here’s how the ‘Star Wars’ droids could help you survive the holidays

11. Luke Skywalkers Maturity Level

When you watch A New Hope as a kid, Luke Skywalker is your hero. When you watch it again as an adult, you realize, Oh, wow, this guy is a kid.

At the storys beginning, Luke Skywalker is 16 and he acts like it, whining about chores and wishing he could instead go to Tosche station to get power converters. The first thing he does upon entering the Millennium Falcon is moan about what a piece of junk it is. He then interrupts the adults to scream, WHATS THAT FLASHING THING?! while trying to press all the blinking buttons on its dashboard like a spoiled toddler. Luckily for us, and the series, Luke grows up.

10. Nute Gunray

Image: starwars.com

The Neimoidian Viceroy of the Trade Federation and Separatist leader is cowardly, dumb and boring, all the while boasting an offensive Asian accent. Gunray is so bafflingly useless and obviously two-faced, the intelligence of all characters who trust him is immediately suspect. We would rejoice when Darth Sidious orders the newly named Darth Vader to do away with the Viceroy and his buds, but honestly we keep forgetting he exists each time he exits the screen.

9. Boss Nass

Gungans are already hard to love. So when their leader rolls in refusing to cooperate with our heroes and spraying saliva like a bad Richard Nixon impression, its especially hard to get on board. Maybe fans would have hated him less if the good Gungan name hadnt already been soured for so many by a certain Mr. Jar Jar of Binks.

8. Padawan Braid

Image: composite, all photos by starwars.com

George Lucas can call them Padawan braids, a symbol of rank in the Jedi training, but we all know what they are: rat-tails. Its tough to associate the single, long, skinny braid with the calm and enlightened Jedi order when so many of us associate it with that kid down the street who tried to steal beer out of peoples garages. Give us a bearded and long-haired Obi Wan, or No-bi Wan, please.

7. Sy Snootles and the Max Rebo Band

Barf. Barf. Barf. George Lucas claimed he always wished this musical interlude at Jabbas palace in Return of the Jedi could have been an extended sequence, and in 2000, the extreme hubris of the digitally remastered versions gave him his chance. The new CGI iteration of Sy Snootles, lead singer of the Max Rebo band, turned a strange but charming alien into an uncomfortably sexual one. It even threw in some anachronistic backup singers for good measure, along with a loud creature named Joh Yowza screaming in huttese directly into the camera. The tone is completely wrong for the setting, and frankly, its hard to watch. Even more cringe-worthy? The new song theyre singing is called Jedi Rocks. Woof.

6. Young Anakin

You know, maybe the character of Anakin Skywalker was doomed to fail. Maybe nothing could have ever matched our expectations. Darth Vader had been too perfect. He was the baddest baddie we had ever seen, how could his backstory ever have lived up to his future? Or maybe its that George Lucas has seemingly never interacted with a child, so for research, he watched Dennis the Menace and Leave it to Beaver and wrote down a few one-liners before calling it quits so he could spend more time planning Jar Jar Binks hijinks.

The resulting Little Ani is a cloyingly innocent 1950s cartoon character, practically on the verge of saying, Gee Whiz, Mister Qui-Gon! in every scene. Any evidence of his future capacity for deep emotion, any whispers of darkness that might be hidden in his heart, any foreshadowing of the towering villain he is to become is deafeningly absent.

When we saw Voldemorts childhood, we saw the events that led him to mature into an evil mass murderer and it enriched our fear of the villain, making it more confusing, more real. When we saw Darth Vaders childhood, we saw a bunch of lame jokes, a plain personality and pod-racing.

5. Jabba the Hutts Tongue

OH GOD. OH GOD NO. PUT IT BACK. PUT IT BACK IN YOUR MOUTH. I CANT LOOK. SOMEONE TELL ME WHEN ITS OVER. IM PUKING. IM PUKING RIGHT NOW.

4. Watto

Image: starwars.com

There is nothing to love about Watto. Hes a slave owner. He constantly flies around on flimsy wings that couldnt possibly support his bulbous, lazy body. Hes smarmy, arrogant and unintelligent. Oh, and hes a monstrously racist stereotype. Greedy, slimy, with a large nose and a middle-eastern accent, Watto feels like every false anti-semitic caricature come to life. The Toydarian junk-dealer takes up way too much space in The Phantom Menace, and honestly, his body looks so fragile its a shock that none of his slaves swatted him to finish him off. I know plenty of fans who are up to the job.

3. Cheesy Dialogue

Now that Im with you again, Im in agony. My heart is beating hoping that a kiss will not become a scar. Love wont save you, Padme. Only my new powers can do that. The Force runs strong in my family. My father has it. I have it. And… my sister has it. Yes. It’s you, Leia.

Groaaaaaan. Look. George Lucas. Its OK. We all need an editor. Use one.

2. Midi-chlorians

The biggest knife in the back to die-hard Star Wars fans? The introduction of midi-chlorians in The Phantom Menace, answering the enormous question that no one was asking: How does the Force work? Qui-Gon tells us that midi-chlorians are little, microscopic life forms, living inside of cells that are the conduit for the Force.

The thing is, we already had an explanation for the Force from Obi Wan in A New Hope. Retroactively adding details about microscopic life forms living in your body doesnt totally fit with Obi Wans explanation, making our image of the Force messier instead of clearer. Midi-chlorians reduce a beautiful cosmic connection to something physical and less cool. Instead of expanding the Force, they narrow it. People have been frozen in carbonite for less heinous crimes.

1. Jar Jar Binks

Image: starwars.com

While many of the above offenders may be worse than the most notorious Gungan, nobody could take home the gold without me receiving a flood of death threats, so here you go! The worst part about Star Wars is Jar Jar Binks.

Jar Jars biggest crime is over-exposure. Maybe a measured amount of meesa so dumb dumb moments, executed with surgical precision would have, in fact, been a welcome distraction from an otherwise boring plot. Unfortunately, well never know Jar Jar Binks as anything other than the bumbling moron who pretty much laid out the red carpet for Palpatine to take over the Senate.

Kids loved him. Adults wanted to rip their eyeballs out of their skulls and shove them deep into their eardrums to keep from ever hearing him again. Intended to be lovable, actually unbearable, Jar Jar Binks blows and thats all there is to it.

BONUS: ‘Rogue One: A Star Wars Story’ reimagined as a homemade trailer

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/04/jar-jar-binks-watto-and-more-most-annoying-things-in-the-star-wars-universe/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/04/jar-jar-binks-watto-and-more-most-annoying-things-in-the-star-wars-universe/

[adambstingus]

Jar Jar Binks, Watto and more most annoying things in the Star Wars universe

Jar Jar Binks

Image: starwars.com

Weve been through a lot together, Star Wars fans, from pod-racing to Kylo Rens lightsaber. We’ve dealt with Liam Neesons luxurious hair and Ewan McGregors luxurious hair and Harrison Fords luxurious hair and Adam Drivers luxurious hair.

While most of the journey has been an exciting trip to a world we wished we lived in, there are some notable pain points hate-inducing enough to make even the most loyal of fans curse George Lucas name. Whoose you thinksa Im talking aboutsa?

SEE ALSO: ‘Rogue One’ director justifies reshoots: ‘Star Wars has to be fantastic’

Below, 13 of the most annoying things about Star Wars.

13. Baby Boba Fett

This one tops a lot of lists of worst Star Wars characters, but it’s only because adult Boba Fett is so universally adored. Maybe its the unexciting revelation that he’s a clone of Jango Fett, the Mandalorian warrior who is also cloned for the aptly named Clone Army, that upsets people, or its that their favorite character is unveiled as a dumb kid who spends most of his scenes glaring and silently brooding. He might as well not have been there and maybe it would have been better that way. The mystery was one of the most alluring aspects of Boba Fett to begin with.

12. Ewoks

This is a touchy one. For the record, I do not have a problem with Ewoks. I also, since ceasing to be a 7-year-old kid, see how they could upset some people. Leia meets an animate teddy bear in the woods who threatens her and then immediately needs her help walking through the woods hes supposedly lived in his whole life. Its a stretch for us to believe that this species would have made it through the evolutionary wringer, let alone take down a legion of the most trained, feared and technologically advanced military in the galaxy.

SEE ALSO: Here’s how the ‘Star Wars’ droids could help you survive the holidays

11. Luke Skywalkers Maturity Level

When you watch A New Hope as a kid, Luke Skywalker is your hero. When you watch it again as an adult, you realize, Oh, wow, this guy is a kid.

At the storys beginning, Luke Skywalker is 16 and he acts like it, whining about chores and wishing he could instead go to Tosche station to get power converters. The first thing he does upon entering the Millennium Falcon is moan about what a piece of junk it is. He then interrupts the adults to scream, WHATS THAT FLASHING THING?! while trying to press all the blinking buttons on its dashboard like a spoiled toddler. Luckily for us, and the series, Luke grows up.

10. Nute Gunray

Image: starwars.com

The Neimoidian Viceroy of the Trade Federation and Separatist leader is cowardly, dumb and boring, all the while boasting an offensive Asian accent. Gunray is so bafflingly useless and obviously two-faced, the intelligence of all characters who trust him is immediately suspect. We would rejoice when Darth Sidious orders the newly named Darth Vader to do away with the Viceroy and his buds, but honestly we keep forgetting he exists each time he exits the screen.

9. Boss Nass

Gungans are already hard to love. So when their leader rolls in refusing to cooperate with our heroes and spraying saliva like a bad Richard Nixon impression, its especially hard to get on board. Maybe fans would have hated him less if the good Gungan name hadnt already been soured for so many by a certain Mr. Jar Jar of Binks.

8. Padawan Braid

Image: composite, all photos by starwars.com

George Lucas can call them Padawan braids, a symbol of rank in the Jedi training, but we all know what they are: rat-tails. Its tough to associate the single, long, skinny braid with the calm and enlightened Jedi order when so many of us associate it with that kid down the street who tried to steal beer out of peoples garages. Give us a bearded and long-haired Obi Wan, or No-bi Wan, please.

7. Sy Snootles and the Max Rebo Band

Barf. Barf. Barf. George Lucas claimed he always wished this musical interlude at Jabbas palace in Return of the Jedi could have been an extended sequence, and in 2000, the extreme hubris of the digitally remastered versions gave him his chance. The new CGI iteration of Sy Snootles, lead singer of the Max Rebo band, turned a strange but charming alien into an uncomfortably sexual one. It even threw in some anachronistic backup singers for good measure, along with a loud creature named Joh Yowza screaming in huttese directly into the camera. The tone is completely wrong for the setting, and frankly, its hard to watch. Even more cringe-worthy? The new song theyre singing is called Jedi Rocks. Woof.

6. Young Anakin

You know, maybe the character of Anakin Skywalker was doomed to fail. Maybe nothing could have ever matched our expectations. Darth Vader had been too perfect. He was the baddest baddie we had ever seen, how could his backstory ever have lived up to his future? Or maybe its that George Lucas has seemingly never interacted with a child, so for research, he watched Dennis the Menace and Leave it to Beaver and wrote down a few one-liners before calling it quits so he could spend more time planning Jar Jar Binks hijinks.

The resulting Little Ani is a cloyingly innocent 1950s cartoon character, practically on the verge of saying, Gee Whiz, Mister Qui-Gon! in every scene. Any evidence of his future capacity for deep emotion, any whispers of darkness that might be hidden in his heart, any foreshadowing of the towering villain he is to become is deafeningly absent.

When we saw Voldemorts childhood, we saw the events that led him to mature into an evil mass murderer and it enriched our fear of the villain, making it more confusing, more real. When we saw Darth Vaders childhood, we saw a bunch of lame jokes, a plain personality and pod-racing.

5. Jabba the Hutts Tongue

OH GOD. OH GOD NO. PUT IT BACK. PUT IT BACK IN YOUR MOUTH. I CANT LOOK. SOMEONE TELL ME WHEN ITS OVER. IM PUKING. IM PUKING RIGHT NOW.

4. Watto

Image: starwars.com

There is nothing to love about Watto. Hes a slave owner. He constantly flies around on flimsy wings that couldnt possibly support his bulbous, lazy body. Hes smarmy, arrogant and unintelligent. Oh, and hes a monstrously racist stereotype. Greedy, slimy, with a large nose and a middle-eastern accent, Watto feels like every false anti-semitic caricature come to life. The Toydarian junk-dealer takes up way too much space in The Phantom Menace, and honestly, his body looks so fragile its a shock that none of his slaves swatted him to finish him off. I know plenty of fans who are up to the job.

3. Cheesy Dialogue

Now that Im with you again, Im in agony. My heart is beating hoping that a kiss will not become a scar. Love wont save you, Padme. Only my new powers can do that. The Force runs strong in my family. My father has it. I have it. And… my sister has it. Yes. It’s you, Leia.

Groaaaaaan. Look. George Lucas. Its OK. We all need an editor. Use one.

2. Midi-chlorians

The biggest knife in the back to die-hard Star Wars fans? The introduction of midi-chlorians in The Phantom Menace, answering the enormous question that no one was asking: How does the Force work? Qui-Gon tells us that midi-chlorians are little, microscopic life forms, living inside of cells that are the conduit for the Force.

The thing is, we already had an explanation for the Force from Obi Wan in A New Hope. Retroactively adding details about microscopic life forms living in your body doesnt totally fit with Obi Wans explanation, making our image of the Force messier instead of clearer. Midi-chlorians reduce a beautiful cosmic connection to something physical and less cool. Instead of expanding the Force, they narrow it. People have been frozen in carbonite for less heinous crimes.

1. Jar Jar Binks

Image: starwars.com

While many of the above offenders may be worse than the most notorious Gungan, nobody could take home the gold without me receiving a flood of death threats, so here you go! The worst part about Star Wars is Jar Jar Binks.

Jar Jars biggest crime is over-exposure. Maybe a measured amount of meesa so dumb dumb moments, executed with surgical precision would have, in fact, been a welcome distraction from an otherwise boring plot. Unfortunately, well never know Jar Jar Binks as anything other than the bumbling moron who pretty much laid out the red carpet for Palpatine to take over the Senate.

Kids loved him. Adults wanted to rip their eyeballs out of their skulls and shove them deep into their eardrums to keep from ever hearing him again. Intended to be lovable, actually unbearable, Jar Jar Binks blows and thats all there is to it.

BONUS: ‘Rogue One: A Star Wars Story’ reimagined as a homemade trailer

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/04/jar-jar-binks-watto-and-more-most-annoying-things-in-the-star-wars-universe/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/168171128242

[allofbeercom]

Jar Jar Binks, Watto and more most annoying things in the Star Wars universe

Jar Jar Binks

Image: starwars.com

Weve been through a lot together, Star Wars fans, from pod-racing to Kylo Rens lightsaber. We’ve dealt with Liam Neesons luxurious hair and Ewan McGregors luxurious hair and Harrison Fords luxurious hair and Adam Drivers luxurious hair.

While most of the journey has been an exciting trip to a world we wished we lived in, there are some notable pain points hate-inducing enough to make even the most loyal of fans curse George Lucas name. Whoose you thinksa Im talking aboutsa?

SEE ALSO: ‘Rogue One’ director justifies reshoots: ‘Star Wars has to be fantastic’

Below, 13 of the most annoying things about Star Wars.

13. Baby Boba Fett

This one tops a lot of lists of worst Star Wars characters, but it’s only because adult Boba Fett is so universally adored. Maybe its the unexciting revelation that he’s a clone of Jango Fett, the Mandalorian warrior who is also cloned for the aptly named Clone Army, that upsets people, or its that their favorite character is unveiled as a dumb kid who spends most of his scenes glaring and silently brooding. He might as well not have been there and maybe it would have been better that way. The mystery was one of the most alluring aspects of Boba Fett to begin with.

12. Ewoks

This is a touchy one. For the record, I do not have a problem with Ewoks. I also, since ceasing to be a 7-year-old kid, see how they could upset some people. Leia meets an animate teddy bear in the woods who threatens her and then immediately needs her help walking through the woods hes supposedly lived in his whole life. Its a stretch for us to believe that this species would have made it through the evolutionary wringer, let alone take down a legion of the most trained, feared and technologically advanced military in the galaxy.

SEE ALSO: Here’s how the ‘Star Wars’ droids could help you survive the holidays

11. Luke Skywalkers Maturity Level

When you watch A New Hope as a kid, Luke Skywalker is your hero. When you watch it again as an adult, you realize, Oh, wow, this guy is a kid.

At the storys beginning, Luke Skywalker is 16 and he acts like it, whining about chores and wishing he could instead go to Tosche station to get power converters. The first thing he does upon entering the Millennium Falcon is moan about what a piece of junk it is. He then interrupts the adults to scream, WHATS THAT FLASHING THING?! while trying to press all the blinking buttons on its dashboard like a spoiled toddler. Luckily for us, and the series, Luke grows up.

10. Nute Gunray

Image: starwars.com

The Neimoidian Viceroy of the Trade Federation and Separatist leader is cowardly, dumb and boring, all the while boasting an offensive Asian accent. Gunray is so bafflingly useless and obviously two-faced, the intelligence of all characters who trust him is immediately suspect. We would rejoice when Darth Sidious orders the newly named Darth Vader to do away with the Viceroy and his buds, but honestly we keep forgetting he exists each time he exits the screen.

9. Boss Nass

Gungans are already hard to love. So when their leader rolls in refusing to cooperate with our heroes and spraying saliva like a bad Richard Nixon impression, its especially hard to get on board. Maybe fans would have hated him less if the good Gungan name hadnt already been soured for so many by a certain Mr. Jar Jar of Binks.

8. Padawan Braid

Image: composite, all photos by starwars.com

George Lucas can call them Padawan braids, a symbol of rank in the Jedi training, but we all know what they are: rat-tails. Its tough to associate the single, long, skinny braid with the calm and enlightened Jedi order when so many of us associate it with that kid down the street who tried to steal beer out of peoples garages. Give us a bearded and long-haired Obi Wan, or No-bi Wan, please.

7. Sy Snootles and the Max Rebo Band

Barf. Barf. Barf. George Lucas claimed he always wished this musical interlude at Jabbas palace in Return of the Jedi could have been an extended sequence, and in 2000, the extreme hubris of the digitally remastered versions gave him his chance. The new CGI iteration of Sy Snootles, lead singer of the Max Rebo band, turned a strange but charming alien into an uncomfortably sexual one. It even threw in some anachronistic backup singers for good measure, along with a loud creature named Joh Yowza screaming in huttese directly into the camera. The tone is completely wrong for the setting, and frankly, its hard to watch. Even more cringe-worthy? The new song theyre singing is called Jedi Rocks. Woof.

6. Young Anakin

You know, maybe the character of Anakin Skywalker was doomed to fail. Maybe nothing could have ever matched our expectations. Darth Vader had been too perfect. He was the baddest baddie we had ever seen, how could his backstory ever have lived up to his future? Or maybe its that George Lucas has seemingly never interacted with a child, so for research, he watched Dennis the Menace and Leave it to Beaver and wrote down a few one-liners before calling it quits so he could spend more time planning Jar Jar Binks hijinks.

The resulting Little Ani is a cloyingly innocent 1950s cartoon character, practically on the verge of saying, Gee Whiz, Mister Qui-Gon! in every scene. Any evidence of his future capacity for deep emotion, any whispers of darkness that might be hidden in his heart, any foreshadowing of the towering villain he is to become is deafeningly absent.

When we saw Voldemorts childhood, we saw the events that led him to mature into an evil mass murderer and it enriched our fear of the villain, making it more confusing, more real. When we saw Darth Vaders childhood, we saw a bunch of lame jokes, a plain personality and pod-racing.

5. Jabba the Hutts Tongue

OH GOD. OH GOD NO. PUT IT BACK. PUT IT BACK IN YOUR MOUTH. I CANT LOOK. SOMEONE TELL ME WHEN ITS OVER. IM PUKING. IM PUKING RIGHT NOW.

4. Watto

Image: starwars.com

There is nothing to love about Watto. Hes a slave owner. He constantly flies around on flimsy wings that couldnt possibly support his bulbous, lazy body. Hes smarmy, arrogant and unintelligent. Oh, and hes a monstrously racist stereotype. Greedy, slimy, with a large nose and a middle-eastern accent, Watto feels like every false anti-semitic caricature come to life. The Toydarian junk-dealer takes up way too much space in The Phantom Menace, and honestly, his body looks so fragile its a shock that none of his slaves swatted him to finish him off. I know plenty of fans who are up to the job.

3. Cheesy Dialogue

Now that Im with you again, Im in agony. My heart is beating hoping that a kiss will not become a scar. Love wont save you, Padme. Only my new powers can do that. The Force runs strong in my family. My father has it. I have it. And… my sister has it. Yes. It’s you, Leia.

Groaaaaaan. Look. George Lucas. Its OK. We all need an editor. Use one.

2. Midi-chlorians

The biggest knife in the back to die-hard Star Wars fans? The introduction of midi-chlorians in The Phantom Menace, answering the enormous question that no one was asking: How does the Force work? Qui-Gon tells us that midi-chlorians are little, microscopic life forms, living inside of cells that are the conduit for the Force.

The thing is, we already had an explanation for the Force from Obi Wan in A New Hope. Retroactively adding details about microscopic life forms living in your body doesnt totally fit with Obi Wans explanation, making our image of the Force messier instead of clearer. Midi-chlorians reduce a beautiful cosmic connection to something physical and less cool. Instead of expanding the Force, they narrow it. People have been frozen in carbonite for less heinous crimes.

1. Jar Jar Binks

Image: starwars.com

While many of the above offenders may be worse than the most notorious Gungan, nobody could take home the gold without me receiving a flood of death threats, so here you go! The worst part about Star Wars is Jar Jar Binks.

Jar Jars biggest crime is over-exposure. Maybe a measured amount of meesa so dumb dumb moments, executed with surgical precision would have, in fact, been a welcome distraction from an otherwise boring plot. Unfortunately, well never know Jar Jar Binks as anything other than the bumbling moron who pretty much laid out the red carpet for Palpatine to take over the Senate.

Kids loved him. Adults wanted to rip their eyeballs out of their skulls and shove them deep into their eardrums to keep from ever hearing him again. Intended to be lovable, actually unbearable, Jar Jar Binks blows and thats all there is to it.

BONUS: ‘Rogue One: A Star Wars Story’ reimagined as a homemade trailer

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/04/jar-jar-binks-watto-and-more-most-annoying-things-in-the-star-wars-universe/

[catholicwatertown]

Fifth Lenten Sermon of Fr. Cantalamessa to papal household: Full text

(Vatican Radio)  The Preacher of the Papal Household, Fr. Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap., gave his fifth Lenten Sermon to Pope Francis on Friday morning in the Redemptoris Mater Chapel.

The theme of the Lenten meditations is: “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord’, except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:3). This fifth iteration carried the title: 'The Righteousness of God has been Manifested: The Fifth Centenary of the Protestant Reformation, an Occasion of Grace and Reconciliation for the Whole Church.'

Please find below an English translation of the Sermon by Marsha Daigle Williamson:

Fifth Lenten Sermon 2017

“THE RIGHTEOUSNESS OF GOD HAS BEEN MANIFESTED”: The Fifth Centenary of the Protestant Reformation, an Occasion of Grace and Reconciliation for the Whole Church

1. The Origins of the Protestant Reformation

The Holy Spirit, who, as we saw in the preceding meditations, leads us into the fullness of truth about the person of Christ and his paschal mystery, also enlightens us on a crucial aspect of our faith in Christ, that is, on how we obtain in the Church today the salvation Christ accomplished for us. In other words, the Holy Spirit enlightens us on the important question of justification by faith for sinners. I believe that trying to shed light on history and on the current state of that discussion is the most useful way to make the anniversary of the Fifth Centenary of the Protestant Reformation an occasion of grace and reconciliation for the whole Church.

We cannot dispense with rereading the whole passage from the Letter to the Romans on which that discussion is centered. It says,

But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from law, although the law and the prophets bear witness to it, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction; since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, they are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as an expiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins; it was to prove at the present time that he himself is righteous and that he justifies him who has faith in Jesus. Then what becomes of our boasting? It is excluded. On what principle? On the principle of works? No, but on the principle of faith. For we hold that a man is justified by faith apart from works of law. (Rom 3:21-28)

How could it have happened that such a comforting and clear message became the bone of contention at the heart of western Christianity, splitting the Church and Europe into two different religious continents? Even today, for the average believer in certain countries in Northern Europe, that doctrine constitutes the dividing line between Catholicism and Protestantism. I myself have had faithful Lutheran lay people ask me, “Do you believe in justification by faith?” as the condition for them to hear what I had to say. This doctrine is defined by those who began the Reformation themselves as “the article by which the Church stands or falls” (articulus stantis et cadentis Ecclesiae).

We need to go back to Martin Luther’s famous “tower experience” that took place in 1511 or 1512. (It is referred to this way because it is thought to have occurred in a cell at the Augustinian monastery in Wittenberg called “the Tower”). Luther was in torment, almost to the point of desperation and resentment toward God, because all his religious and penitential observances did not succeed in making him feel accepted by God and at peace with him. It was here that suddenly Paul’s word in Romans 1:17 flashed through his mind: “The just shall live by faith.” It was a liberating experience. Recounting this experience himself when he was close to death, he wrote, “When I discovered this, I felt I was reborn, and it seemed that the doors of paradise opened up for me.”[1]

Some Lutheran historians rightly go back to this moment some years before 1517 as the real beginning of the Reformation. What transformed this inner experience into a real religious chain reaction was the issue of indulgences, which made Luther decide to nail his famous 95 theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg on October 31, 1517. It is important to note the historical succession of these facts. It tells us that the thesis of justification by faith and not by works was not the result of a polemic with the Church of his time but its cause. It was a genuine illumination from above, an “experience,” “Erlebnis,” as he himself  described it.

A question immediately arises: how do we explain the earthquake that was caused by the position Luther took? What was there about it that was so revolutionary? St. Augustine had given the same explanation for the expression “righteousness of God” many centuries earlier. “The righteousness of God [justitia Dei],” he wrote, “is the righteousness by which, through his grace, we become justified, exactly the way that the salvation of God [salus Dei] (Ps 3:9) is the salvation by which God saves us.”[2]

St. Gregory the Great had said, “We do not attain faith from virtue but virtue from faith.”[3] And St Bernard had said, “What I cannot obtain on my own, I confidently appropriate (usurpo!) from the pierced side of the Lord because he is full of mercy. . . . And what about my righteousness? O Lord, I will remember only your righteousness. In fact it is also mine because you became God’s justification for me (see 1 Cor 1:30).”[4] St. Thomas Aquinas went even further. Commenting on the Pauline saying that “the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (see 2 Cor 3:6), he writes that the “letter” also includes the moral precepts of the gospel, so “even the letter of the gospel would kill if the grace of faith that heals were not added to it.”[5]

The Council of Trent, convened in response to the Reformation, did not have any difficulty in reaffirming the primacy of faith and grace, while still maintaining (as would the branch of the Reformation that followed John Calvin) the necessity of works and the observance of the laws in the context of the whole process of salvation, according to the Pauline formula of “faith working through love” (“fides quae per caritatem operatur”) (Gal 5:6).[6] This explains how, in the context of the new climate of ecumenical dialogue, it was possible for the Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation to arrive at a joint declaration on justification by grace through faith that was signed on October 31, 1999, which acknowledges a fundamental, if not yet total, agreement on that doctrine.

So was the Protestant Reformation a case of “much ado about nothing?” The result of a misunderstanding? We need to answer with a firm “No”! It is true that the magisterium of the Church had never reversed any decisions made by preceding councils (especially against the Pelagians); it had never forgotten what Augustine, Gregory, Bernard, and Thomas Aquinas had written. Human revolutions do not break out, however, because of ideas or abstract theories but because of concrete historical situations, and unfortunately for a long time the praxis of the Church was not truly reflecting its official doctrine. Church life, catechesis, Christian piety, spiritual direction, not to mention popular preaching—all these things seemed to affirm just the opposite, that what really matters is in fact works, human effort. In addition, “good works” were not generally understood to mean the works listed by Jesus in Matthew 25, without which, he says, we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. Instead, “good works” meant pilgrimages, votive candles, novenas, and donations to the Church, and as compensation for doing these things, indulgences.

The phenomenon had deep roots common to all of Christianity and not just Latin Christianity. After Christianity became the state religion, faith was something that was absorbed instinctively through the family, school, and society. It was not as important to emphasize the moment in which faith was born and a person’s decision to become a believer as it was to emphasize the practical requirements of the faith, in other words, morals and behavior.

One revealing sign of this shift of focus is noted by Henri de Lubac in his Medieval Exegesis: The Four Senses of Scripture. In its most ancient phase, the sequence of the four senses was the literal historical sense, the christological or faith sense, the moral sense, and the eschatological sense.[7] However, that sequence was increaingly substituted by a different one in which the moral sense came before the christological or the faith sense. “What to do” came before “what to believe”; duty came first before gift. In spiritual life, people thought, first comes the path of purification then that of illumination and union.[8] Without realizing it, people ended up saying exactly the opposite of what Gregory the Great had written when he said, “We do not attain faith from virtue but virtue from faith.”

2. The Doctrine of Justification by Faith after Luther

After Luther and very soon after the two other great reformers, Calvin and Ulrich Zwigli, the doctrine of the free gift of justification by faith resulted, for those who lived by it, in an unquestionable improvement in the quality of Christian life, thanks to the circulation of the word of God in the vernacular, to numerous inspired hymns and songs, and to written aids made accessible to people by the recent invention of the printing press and distribution of printed materials.

On the external front, the thesis of justification only by faith became the dividing line between Catholicism and Protestantism. Very soon (and in part with Luther himself) this opposition broadened out to become an opposition between Christianity and Judaism as well, with Catholics representing, according to some, the continuation of Jewish legalism and ritualism, and Protestants representing the Christian innovation.

Anti-Catholic polemic was joined to anti-Jewish polemic that, for other reasons, was no less present in the Catholic world. According to this perspective, Christianity was formed in opposition to—and was not derived from—Judaism. Starting with Ferdinand Christian Baur (1792-1860), the  theory of two souls in early Christianity increasingly gained ground: Petrine Christianity, as expressed in the so-called “proto-catholicism “ (Frühkatholizismus), and Pauline Christianity that finds its more complete expression in Protestantism.

This belief led to distancing the Christian religion as far as possible from Judaism. People would try to explain the doctrines and Christian mysteries (including the title Kyrios, Lord, and the divine worship owed to Jesus) as the result of contact with Hellenism. The criterion used to judge the authenticity of a saying or a fact from the gospel was how different it was from what characterized the Jewish world of that time. Even if that approach was not the main reason for the tragic anti-Semitism that followed, it is certain that, together with the accusation of deicide, it  encouraged anti-Semitism by giving it a tacit religious covering.

Beginning in the 1970s, there was a radical reversal in this area of biblical studies. It is necessary to say something about it to clarify the current state of the Pauline and Lutheran doctrine of the free gift of justification through faith in Christ. The nature and the aim of my talk exempt me from citing the names of the modern writers engaged in this debate. Whoever is versed in this subject will not have difficulty identifying the authors of the theories alluded to here to, but for others, I think, it is not the names but the ideas that are of interest.

This reversal  involves the so-called “third quest of the historical Jesus.” (It is called “third” after the liberal quest of the 1800s and then that of Rudolf Bultmann and his followers in the 1900s). This new perspective recognizes  Judaism as the true matrix within which Christianity was formed, debunking the myth of the irreducible otherness of Christianity with respect to Judaism. The criterion used to assess the major or minor probability that a saying or fact about Jesus’ life is authentic is its compatibility with the Judaism of his time—not its incompatibility, as people at one time thought.

Certain advantages of this new approach are obvious. The continuity of revelation is recovered. Jesus is situated within the Jewish world in the line of biblical prophets. It also does more justice to the Judaism of Jesus’ time, demonstrating its richness and variety. The problem is that this approach went too far so that this gain was transformed into a loss. In many representatives of this third quest, Jesus ends up dissolving into the Jewish world completely, without any longer being distinct except through a few particular interpretations of the Torah. He is reduced to being one of the Hebrew prophets, an “itinerant charismatic,” “a Mediterranean Jewish peasant,” as someone has written. The continuity with Judaism has been recovered, but at the expense of the newness of the New Testament. The new historical quest has produced studies on a whole different level (for example, those of James D. G. Dunn, my favorite New Testament scholar), but what I have sketched out is the version that is most widely circulated on the popular level and has influenced public opinion.

The person who shed light on the misleading character of this approach for the purposes of serious dialogue between Judaism and Christianity was precisely a Jew, the American rabbi, Jacob Neusner.[9] Whoever has read Benedict XVI’s book on Jesus of Nazareth is already familiar with much of the thinking of this rabbi with whom he dialogues in one of the most fascinating chapters of his book. Jesus cannot be considered a Jew like other Jews, Neusner explains, given that he puts himself above Moses and proclaims that he is “Lord also of the Sabbath.”

But it is especially in regard to St. Paul that the “new perspective” demonstrates its inadequacy. According to one of its most famous representatives, the religion of works, against which the Apostle rails with such vehemence in his letters, does not exist in real life. Judaism, even in the time of Jesus, is a “covenantal nomism,” that is, a religion based on the free initiative of God and his love; the observance of his laws is the consequence of a relationship with God, not its cause. The law serves to help people remain in the covenant rather than to enter it. The Jewish religion continues to be that of the patriarchs and prophets, and its center is hesed, grace and divine benevolence.

Scholars then have to look for possible targets of Paul’s polemic: not the “Jews” but the “Jewish-Christians,” or a kind of “Zealot” Judaism that feels itself threatened by the pagan world around it and reacts in the manner of the Maccabees—in brief, the Judaism of Paul prior to his conversion that led him to persecute Hellenistic believers like Stephen. But these explanations appear immediately unsustainable and result in making the apostle’s thinking incomprehensible and contradictory. In the preceding part of his letter, the apostle formulates a indictment as universal as humanity itself: “There is no distinction; . . . all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3: 22-23). Three times in the first three chapters of this letter he returns to the wording “Jews and Greeks alike.” How can anyone think that to such a universal evil a remedy corresponds which is aimed at a very limited group of believers? 

3. Justification by Faith: A Doctrine of Paul or of Jesus?

The difficulty comes, in my opinion, from the fact that the exegesis of Paul is carried on at times as if the doctrine began with him and as if Jesus had said nothing on this matter. The doctrine of the free gift of justification by faith is not Paul’s invention but is the central message of the gospel of Christ, whether it was made known to Paul by a direct revelation from the Risen One or by the “tradition” that he says he received, which was certainly not limited to a few words about the kerygma (see 1 Cor 15:3). If this were not the case, then those who say that Paul, not Jesus, is the real founder of Christianity would be correct.

However, the core of this doctrine is already found in the word “gospel,” “good news,” that Paul certainly did not invent out of thin air. At the beginning of his ministry Jesus went around proclaiming, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel” (Mk 1:15). How could this proclamation be called “good news” if it were only an intimidating call to change one’s life? What Christ includes in the expression “kingdom of God”—that is, the salvific initiative by God, his offer of salvation to all humanity—St. Paul calls the “righteousness of God,” but it refers to the same fundamental reality. “The kingdom of God” and “the righteousness of God” are coupled together by Jesus himself when he says, “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness” (Mt 6:33).

When Jesus said, “repent, and believe the gospel,” he was thus already teaching justification by faith. Before him, “to repent” always meant “to turn back,” as indicated by the Hebrew word shub; it meant to turn back, through a renewed observance of the law, to the covenant that had been broken. “To repent,” consequently, had a meaning that was mainly ascetic, moral, and penitential, and it was implemented by changing one’s behavior. Repentance was seen as a condition for salvation; it meant “repent and you will be saved; repent and salvation will come to you.” This was the meaning of “repent” up to this point, including on the lips of John the Baptist.

When Jesus speaks of repentance, metanoia, its moral meaning moves into second place (at least at the beginning of his preaching) with respect to a new, previously unknown meaning.  Repenting no longer means turning back to the covenant and the observance of the law. It means instead taking a leap forward, entering into a new covenant, seizing this kingdom that has appeared, and entering into it. And entering it by faith. “Repent and believe” does not point to two different successive steps but to the same action: repent, that is, believe; repent by believing! Repenting does not signify “mending one’s ways” so much as “perceiving”  something new and thinking in a new way. The humanist Lorenzo Valla (1405-1457), in his Adnotations on the New Testament, had already highlighted this new meaning of the word metanoia in Mark’s text.

Innumerable sayings from the gospel, among the ones that most certainly go back to Jesus, confirm this interpretation. One is Jesus’ insistence on the necessity of becoming like children to enter the kingdom of heaven. A characteristic of children is that they have nothing to give and can only receive. They do not ask anything from their parents because they have earned it but simply because they know they are loved. They accept what is freely given.

The Pauline polemic against the claim to be saved by one’s own works also does not begin with him. We would need to exclude an endless number of texts to remove all the polemic references in the gospel to a number of “scribes, Pharisees, and doctors of the law.” We cannot fail to recognize in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector in the temple the two types of religiosity that St. Paul later contrasts: one man trusts in his own religious performance and the other trusts in the mercy of God and returns home “justified” (Lk 18:14).

It is not a temptation present only in one particular religion, but in every religion, including of course Christianity. (The Evangelists didn’t relate the sayings of Jesus to correct the Pharisees, but to warn the Christians!) If Paul takes aim at Judaism, it is because that is the religious context in which he and those to whom he is speaking live, but it involves a religious rather than an ethnic category. Jews, in this context, are those who, unlike the pagans, are in possession of revelation; they know God’s will and, emboldened by this fact, they feel themselves secure with God and can judge the rest of humanity. One indication that Paul was designating a religious category is that Origen was already saying in the third century that the target of the apostle’s words are now the “heads of the Church: bishops, presbyters, and deacons,” that is, the guides, the teachers of the people.[10]

The difficulty in reconciling the picture that Paul gives us of the Jewish religion and what we know about it from other sources is based on a fundamental error in methodology. Jesus and Paul are dealing with life as people lived it, with the heart; scholars deal instead with books and written testimonies. Oral and written statements tell us what people know they should be or would like to be, but not necessarily what they are. No one should be surprised to find in the Scripture and rabbinical sources of the time moving and sincere affirmations about grace, mercy, and the prevenient initiative of God. But it is one thing to say what Scripture says and leaders  teach and another thing to say what is in people’s hearts and what governs their actions.

What happened at the time of the Protestant Reformation helps us to understand this situation during the time of Jesus and Paul. At the time of the Reformation, if one looks at the doctrine taught in the schools of theology, at ancient definitions that were never disputed, at Augustine’s writings that were held in great honor, or even only at the Imitation of Christ that was daily reading for pious souls, one will find there the magnificent doctrine of grace and will not understand whom Luther was fighting against.  But if one looks at what was going on in real life in the Church, the result, as we have seen, is quite different.

4. How to Preach Justification by Faith Today

What can we conclude from this bird’s-eye view of the five centuries since the beginning of the Protestant Reformation? It is indeed vital that the centenary of the Reformation not be wasted, that it not remain a prisoner of the past and try to determine rights and wrongs, even if that is done in a more irenic tone than in the past. We need instead to take a leap forward, the way a river that finds itself blocked resumes its course at a higher level.

The situation has changed since then. The issues that brought about the separation between the Church of Rome and the Reformation were above all indulgences and how sinners are justified. But can we say that these are the problems on which people’s faith stands or falls today? I remember Cardinal Kasper on one occasion making this observation: For Luther the number one existential problem was how to overcome the sense of guilt and find a gracious God; today the problem is rather the opposite: how to restore to human beings a genuine sense of sin that they have completely lost.

This does not mean ignoring the enrichment brought by the Reformation and wanting to return to the situation before it. It means rather allowing all of Christianity to benefit from its many important achievements once they are freed from certain distortions and excesses due to the overheated climate of the moment and the need to correct major abuses.

Among the negative aspects resulting from the centuries-old emphasis on the issue of the justification of sinners, it seems to me one is having made western Christianity be a gloomy proclamation, completely focused on sin, that the secular culture ended up resisting and rejecting. The most important thing is not what Jesus, by his death, has removed from human beings—sin—but what he has given to them, that is, his Holy Spirit. Many exegetes today consider the third chapter of the letter to the Romans on justification by faith to be inseparable from the eighth chapter on the gift of the Spirit and to be one piece with it.

The free gift of justification through faith in Christ should be preached today by the whole Church and with more vigor than ever. Not, however, in contrast to the “works” the New Testament speaks of but in contrast to the claim of post-modern people of being able to save themselves with their science and technology or with an improvised, comforting spirituality. These are the “works” that modern human beings rely on. I am convinced that if Luther came back to life, this would be the way that he too would preach justification by faith today.

There is another thing that we all—Lutherans and Catholics—should learn from the man who initiated the Reformation. As we saw, for Luther the free gift of justification by faith was above all a lived experience and only later something about which to theorize. After him justification though faith became increasingly a theological thesis to defend or to oppose and less and less a personal, liberating experience to be lived out in one’s intimate relationship with God. The joint declaration of 1999 very appropriately points out that the consensus reached by Catholics and Lutherans on the fundamental truths of the doctrine of justification must take effect and be confirmed not just in the teaching of the Church but in people’s lives as well (no. 43).

We must never lose sight of the main point of the Pauline message. What the apostle wishes to affirm above all in Romans 3 is not that we are justified by faith but that we are justified by faith in Christ; we are not so much justified by grace as we are justified by the grace of Christ. Christ is the heart of the message, more so than grace and faith. Today he himself is the article by which the Church stands or falls: a person, not a doctrine.

We ought to rejoice because this is what is happening in the Church and to a greater extent than commonly realized. In recent months I was able to attend two conferences: one in Switzerland organized by Protestants  with the participation of Catholics, and the other in Germany organized by Catholics with the participation of Protestants. The latter conference, which took place in Augsburg this past January, seemed to me truly to be a sign of the times. There were 6,000 Catholics and 2,000 Lutherans, the majority of whom were young, who had come from all over Germany. Its title was “Holy Fascination.” What fascinated that crowd was Jesus of Nazareth, made present and almost tangible by the Holy Spirit. Behind this effort was a community of lay people and a house of prayer (Gebetshaus), which has been active for years and is in full communion with the local Catholic church.

It was not an easy ecumenism. There was a very Catholic Mass with lots of incense celebrated once by me and once by the auxiliary bishop of Augsburg; on another day, the Lord’s Supper was celebrated by a Lutheran pastor with full respect for each other’s liturgies. Worship, teachings, music: it was an atmosphere that only young people today are able to create and that could serve as a model for some special event during World Youth Day.

I once asked those in charge if they wanted me to speak about Christian unity. They answered, “No. We prefer to live that unity instead of talking about it.” They were right. These are signs of the direction in which the Spirit—and with him Pope Francis—invite us to go.

_______________________________

Translated from Italian by Marsha Daigle Williamson

[1] Martin Luther, “Preface to his Latin Works,” Weimar ed., vol. 54, p. 186.

[2] Augustine, On the Spirit and the Letter, 32, 56 (PL 44, 237).

[3] Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, 2, 7 (PL 76, 1018).

[4] Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons on the “Song of Songs,” 61, 4-5 (PL 183, 1072).

[5] Thomas Aquinas, Summa  theologiae, 1-IIae, q. 106, a.2.

[6] Council of Trent,  “Decretum de iustificatione,” 7, in Denziger and Schoenmetzer, Enchridion Symbolorum, ed. 34, n. 1531.

[7] The classical couplet that sets forth this sequence is “Littera gesta docet, quid credas allegoria. / Moralis quid agas; quo tendas anagogia”: “The literal sense proclaims the events, the allegorical sense what you should believe. / The moral sense what you should do, the anagogical sense where you are going.”

[8] See Henri de Lubac, Histoire de l’exégèse médiéval. Les quatre sens de l’Écriture (Paris, Aubier,1959), vol. 1, 1, pp. 139-157.

[9] Jacob Neusner, A Rabbi Talks with Jesus (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2000).

[10] Origen, Commentary on the “Letter to the Romans,” 2, 2 (PG 14, 873). 

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