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maxparkhurst · 4 years ago

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SHADOW’S WARMTH

It was cold outside. Winter’s frost fogged the stained-glass window and only shadows cast from the fragmented light broke the chamber’s monotonous sprawl. Despite all his layers, Augustine shivered. He adjusted the crate of potions in his arms, vials chiming in alarm, and followed his sister through the Cathedral’s entry arch. Their echoing footfalls heralded their path through the pews. His steps sounded far off, muted beneath the dull buzz in his head. Fatigue nestled itself in the space between his shoulder blades, sickly sweet as it pulled the muscles taut. It made his arms quake beneath the weight of their delivery. He wasn’t sure when this sudden case of shakes began or if it’d ever leave.

Augustine kept his gaze trained on the small of Max’s back. Unlike some, he found no solace in the home of the Light. If anything those cold, empty pews sent a shiver down his spine. To believe in fate written by a sole force was to revoke one’s own agency in the coming of destiny. If he were to believe in anything, he believed in their work and the help it’d provide to those less fortunate. Thus, instead of raising his eyes to the angelic depictions splayed on stained glass he turned to his mentor for guidance.

Max walked with the same composure she always possessed. Those unaccustomed to her measured smile and level voice found his sister to be enigmatic. They approached her with wary eyes and shifting feet. Such was the case with the deacon who met them half-way.

“Master Parkhurst.” He dipped his head to Max, wringing his hands within the trenches of his belled sleeves. A pleasant, albeit weary, smile touched his lips when he turned to Augustine. “And son?”

Augustine mustered a meager grin. He wondered if it looked as fake as it felt.

“Apprentice,” Max corrected. She inclined her head to the deacon as she breathed a laugh. There wasn’t any emotion placed in the gesture. As with most things, the laugh was for display only. Something to fill the silence and lighten the air. “It’s good to see you in good health, Brother Matthews.”

Brother Matthews shifted on his heels, sending ripples through the hem of his diaconal vestments. Augustine imagined those flowing robes should bring a modicum of comfort to his restless soul. Quite the contrary. The gentleman hardly filled them out. Only the knobs of his shoulders poked through the dense fabric. Everything else? Lost beneath yards of cloth.

The deacon doesn’t wear the robes, he drowns in them.

“As good as I can be in these troubling times,” Brother Matthews chittered, running his fingers through an already thinning hair line.

His scalp visible through wisps of hair startled Augustine. This deacon could only be a few years older than him. Yet here this gentleman stood with less hair than perhaps what he started with at the beginning of the year. Stress must’ve aged him. Augustine grimaced and stole a glance up at his own locks. Had he faith in some deity, he’d pray to keep his hair once everything finally settled.

“...the potions?”

Augustine blinked. In his tired stupor, he missed the deacon’s question. The beginnings of a crimson blush crept up his neck as he scrambled for an answer. Luckily, Max stepped in.

“Yes,” she mused, coaxing the crate from Augustine’s grip, “They are.” She adjusted it in her arms, rattling the vials inside, and dipped her head to Brother Matthews. “If you’ll lead the way, Brother?”

Brother Matthews looked between the siblings before obliging with a nod.The hem of his robes fluttered as he drifted down the row of pews, looking almost spectral in the waning light. He paused at a stairwell’s threshold and beckoned. “This way…” he murmured.

Max stole a glance up at Augustine. Concern glistened in her eye as they made their descent down into the church’s underbelly. He tried to dissuade her skepticism with a forced smile. It merited a quirked brow followed by humoring silence. She hastened to fall in step with the deacon, lowering her voice so that they may converse in private. It suited Augustine just fine. If anything, he appreciated the momentary solitude. It allowed his thoughts to settle for the first time in over a week.

Has it really only been a week?

Augustine hugged his shoulders. He felt as if he lived two life times while toiling through this whole mess. With the brisk shake of his head, he dismissed the thought. Instead, he focused his gaze on the cobble stone and counted each step down into the lower levels. Only the faint glow cast from torches illuminated the long stretch of shadows. Each step deeper in the darkened veil seemed to put the deacon on edge. His shoulders buckled. His steps quickened. And he wouldn’t stop stealing suspicious glances at them over his shoulders.

For someone as old as you, Augustine mused, You shouldn’t be so scared of the dark.

Augustine simply didn’t understand. He grew more at ease the further from the Light they traveled. Warmth from the torches’ flames started to seep into his chilled bones. His arms slid down to hug his stomach as he cocked his head back, feeling the cobblestone walls brush against his shoulders. Small and dark. He closed his swollen eyes and heaved a sigh. Memories, vague and diluted images, lapped against the foreground of his scattered thoughts. The touch of fire… Press of stone… Long, dark shadows… If he let it, the memory could wash over him. Swallow him whole and cast him far from this cold, hellish nightmare. Send him to a simpler time. A time when he was small. And all he had to worry about was the next page read from Max’s lips as they nestled in the corner of their father’s forge.

He could be there if he fed the memory. Let it grow and consume his waking thoughts. All he needed to do was stoke its flame.

But there was work to be done…

He pushed the memory aside and opened his eyes. The stairwell led down into a hewn stone chamber. Smaller than the Cathedral’s grand hall but bigger than their apartment. Perhaps at some point it housed their clergy’s tomes and relics. Now bedrolls dominated what little space was available. Families huddled atop these meager homes, each in a different stage of misery. Some were mourning. Some were frightened. And some simply watched him pass with a blank stare.

Augustine paused and canted his head. A voice lifted in song. His heart ached from how sweet it sounded. He tossed a way-ward glance over his shoulder, watching as the deacon joined Max in offloading vials onto a workman’s table. They’d be fine without him. He shuffled his way through the huddled masses, following that melodic voice through the winding desolace.

“We cannot thank you enough for your contribution.”

Brother Matthews voice. Spoken just a notch above a whisper. His quivering drawl broke the teen’s concentration for a split second. Augustine didn’t need to look at his sister to hear the cordial smile gracing her lips. She always spoke in the same tone; pleasant and unwavering.

“We’re only doing our part. Just as the church is doing theirs…”

Augustine allowed their conversation to fade into the background. Scanning the room, he listened for the voice. So sweet. It’d been days since he last heard another human being’s voice, much less hear one in song. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound of people. His heart yearned to hear child’s mirth and city bustle. To hear the town crier and to listen to the lady’s chitter. To feel warmth and life again in the city. For now, it’d settle for this voice. One so delicate...That it possessed him to follow it until he found its source.

“Awake, our souls; away with fears… … let every trembling thought be gone; Awake and run toward thy heavenly light, … And imbue me with cheerful courage.”

The girl’s hair glimmered in the torch’s dim light, glistening pale like silver thread. She bowed her head as she knelt on the cold stone. Dressed in nothing but a tattered dress, she shivered as she breathed each word. She spoke with a lyrical somberance which captivated Augustine. He watched her in awe until she caught sight of him. She balked, a hiccup catching in her throat.

Augustine bristled. “Y-your song!” he stammered, curling into himself, “It was… It was lovely.”

Her demur countenance darkened. “It’s not a song,” she murmured, “It’s a prayer.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m praying for courage…”

“Praying for courage?” he echoed.

“Yes.” The girl pursed her lips, turning her gaze back on Augustine. He felt his face warm as she searched him with wide, doe eyes. No shame resided in them, only resolve punctuated by the furrow of her brow. “The Prayer of Awakened Souls. Don’t you know it?”

Augustine shook his head. “I’m afraid not...”

“Why not?”

The question caught him off guard. A disquiet smile touched his lips as he tucked either hand in a pocket. He chewed on the question before shrugging. “The Light is viewed differently in Kul’tiras,” he professed, “There are Tidesages who blessed the ships and waters. As far as the Holy Light…” He averted his gaze. “Well. I figured it was only used by paladins…”

“By Paladins…” she echoed, flashing him a teasing smirk, “So they can smite their foes?”

Augustine bristled. He rubbed the nape of his neck. “M-maybe…”

The girl hummed with amusement. She scooted over on and beckoned Augustine to sit. “The Light,” she explained, settling back, “Is used for so much more. It can be wielded by anyone. You. Me. Even an infant. It grants those who believe in it strength.”

Augustine sat cross-legged and quirked a brow. “But the Light exists…It’s part of this world, just like arcane and nature magic. Believing or not, it’s an irrefutable fact.”

“There’s a difference…” She took his hands in her own. “Between believing in its existence and believing in it…” She pressed both their hands to his chest. “When you truly embrace it. Its warmth will fill you.”

In his palms, he held his chittering heart. He searched for such faith in each pulse. His smile softened. He found no Light in his chest. It only harbored the crackle of a still borne fire. “I think I understand now…”

Augustine nodded thoughtfully as turned to steal a glance over his shoulder. The conversation between Max and the deacon looked to have drawn to a close. Shadows danced off her lithe form as she crossed the chamber, coming to stop just before him. She looked between him and the girl.

“It’s time to go, Augustine.”

The girl released his hands and curled into herself. “Augustine,” she murmured, brushing back an errant lock of hair, “That’s a nice name.” She summoned a demur smile. “I will pray that the Light gives you strength.”

Such a strange sentiment that he found oddly comforting. Augustine returned the smile as he rose to his feet. “I appreciate it…” A twang of guilt touched his heart. He couldn’t offer words of comfort. Not in the way her expectant gaze asked.

For his gifts of strength came in the form of tiny vials and mason jars.

Previous Chapter: What We Can

#The Alchemists #Pre-patch stories #Act 1: Chapter 3 #| Shadow's Warmth |

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dreamingsnowflake2013 · 5 years ago

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It would be unrealistic if Type didn’t struggle the way he does - not only is it his first serious relationship but also a relationship with a man, which is something he previously thought to be impossible. Frankly, it’s inevitable that he fucks up many times. Even people who’s been married for decades do that, much less a 20 year old boy who learns to be loved and love in return for the first time in his life. Everything is new for him - all these complicated, messy emotions and situations he’s to deal with, particularly the way they expose his own flaws, must be overwhelming him. On the other hand, there is Tharn, so well-adjusted and fuctional with his supportive and accepting family, emotionally and sexually experienced, but first impressions can be often deceiving and even he has his sorrows and dark secrets; some hidden pain brewing right under the surface.

When Type confronts Tharn about San, Tharn tells him that whenever he tells him anything, he doesn’t listen. He deliberately uses the word “listen” because there is a huge different between hearing, remembering and actually listening. It’s not that Type doesn’t care, on the contrary. He actually remembers everything, every detail Tharn ever told him about himself in the past (his love for Western food (he thinks about it in the restaurant with Puifai), his family, the car Thorn drives, the way he lost his virginity when he was 14,...) and notices all these little things about him, like the different ways he smiles. Even Type’s father immediately notes how his sons spends 2 minutes describing Tharn, including the contours of his face and the shape of his nose, while he didn’t bother to talk about his other friends in the past. However, he doesn’t really ask much about Tharn. At first, he hadn’t because he’s stubborn to show any sort of interest in him and then, when they became true lovers, he was so happy to be with Tharn, in their little piece of heaven where it seemed nothing could touch them. But the world and reality always intervene. It’s like a bubble which bursts with the entrance of an intruder who makes Type face and acknowledge his own shortcomings. Type DOES CARE a lot about Tharn, but he fails at listening to him, that is, UNDERSTANDING AND RESPECTING HIS FEELINGS.

He’s grown too much accustomed that Tharn would do anything for him - accept his temper, change himself for him, agree to his ridiculous excuses and give in to his demands, including keeping their relationship a secret. Tharn’s been giving, while he’s been constantly receiving, growing so used to it, that he keeps pushing for more, imposing his self-centered needs on Tharn. TYPE’S LOVE IS SELFISH, at this point. He makes everything about himself, which is apparent from the frequent use of the 1st person singular: “I’m hurt”, “I hate it”, “it pains ME”... It’s not that Type isn’t curious about Tharn or that he doesn’t ask about him, but he doesn’t ask about Tharn’s feelings. Tharn has always respected his wishes and boundaries and now it’s Type’s turn to do the same in return.

The issue isn’t really Type’s lack of in Tharn’s faithfulness, but rather his insecurities of not being good enough, of not comparing to the other men Tharn had been with. The actual root behind Type’s jealousy is his intense fear that Tharn and his love can be taken away for him. Having no prior experience with serious relationship, Type is overhelmed by his emotions for Tharn and everything it entails - how he loves and desires him so wholly, wanting him only for himself. He never expected that he would end up loving Tharn so much. Type has never been afraid to lose anyone or jealousy of anyone - until Tharn entered his life and became indispensable and vital to him, just like air for breathing or water. He is in so deep that he can’t imagine losing him and being without him. Thus, when confronted with the possibility of losing him and he feels threatened by San, he panics and lashes out because that’s been Type’s M.O. since he’s 12 years old alone in the dark and no one came to save him.

The first signs of insecurity and jealousy appear when Type sees Tharn in a photo with a stranger standing next to him, holding his arm around Tharn’s neck by his side, on his birthday and at his home, but beside these two emotions he feels something else - regret. It should have been him on that photograph, smiling with Tharn and holding his hand. If only he weren’t stubborn, insecure and afraid to come when Tharn invited him. It’s truly a vicious circle. Later, when he finds San’s gift, the sting of jealousy grows stronger. The present is thoughtful and shows that the person truly knows Tharn. In that moment, Type feels like someone bested him and he hates that, and not even Tharn’s reassurance that he loves Type’s present can take away the hurt. When Type spots San walking by Tharn’s side, once again “stealing his place”, jealousy rears its ugly head even more and makes him blind to everything else, including how unfounded his insecurites and fears are. He only sees the person who could take Tharn away from him. So afraid is he of losing Tharn that he completely misses how Tharn forgets about San and starts smiling, beaming like a fool the moment he sees Type.

If looks could kill, San would be already dead. And I’m sure Techno would help Type bury the body the boy because he is so damn loyal to Type, it’s unreal. It’s another of those barely noticeable moments, but when San confronts Type and tells him that he’s Tharn’s first man, Type’s reactions is similar to how he reacts when there is a gay person near him - all tense and ready to fight - but this time he isn’t disgusted to be touched by a gay. It’s as if the fact that San’s a gay doesn’t matter at all; what matters that he has some sort of claim of Tharn and knows about him things Type doesn’t. Moreover, during the whole time he’s known San, Type doesn’t mention that San is gay even once, as if it were completely normal. It’s a sign that his homophobia is weakening even without him noticing. It’s important to realize that San’s immense knowledge is something he acquired over the span of 5 years, being the best friend of his brother and coming to their house regurlarly. In comparison, Type’s known Tharn for a relatively short time. Give him 4 more years, hell, after this, give him 1 months and he’ll be the biggest expert on Tharn throughout the known universe and until the end of time.

Type’s threats and forceful demands are nothing but desperate pleas which translate as: “I want to know everything about you. I want to know you like no one else does. I don’t want to feel like this ever again. I don’t want anyone else near you. I hate myself for not being good enough, for never treating you right.” While Tharn’s standing there, taking all that hurt of Type never caring about his feelings. The whole time, he’s trying so hard to control himself from saying something that could hurt Type, and with his heartfelt admission why he ate the sashimi, you realize that’s what he’s been doing since the moment he met Type (it all started when he kept from Type that he’s gay, resigning himself to a one-sided love so he wouldn’t impose his selfish desires on him), bottling everything up, taking himself out of the equation, never demanding anything and asking so very little from Type over the course of their relationship. That’s how much he’s afraid to lose him.

This is the first time, Tharn projects and reveals his own securities. Just like Type, he has his own trauma, his own skeleton in the closet - an immense fear of abandonment, born from the fact that all his previous relationships failed, including his first love. The word “break-up” alone is the most traumatic and painful word of them all and the unsuspecting Type uses exactly that very word and unwittingly drives a dagger through Tharn’s heart. That isn’t a word, you throw around carelessly because it means the end. No matter how angry you are, that is the line you should never cross unless you’re prepared for the consequences because there is no coming back from it.

Type regrets it the moment he says it. You can spot the flicker of panic when he realizes what he’s just did - in his blind fear and anger not to lose Tharn, he might have done just the very thing he’s been trying to prevent. Furthermore, he’s hurt Tharn again. However, for the first time since they were at an open war, Tharn gives as good as he gets and it takes Type suggesting that they break up to make him snap. While his lover uses angry tirades and thoughtless words, Tharn isn’t vicious or threatening, he hurts Type with brutal truth and honesty. And you can spot a second flicker in Type’s eyes, this time of sheer and utter terror that he just might have truly lost Tharn with his temper; and the terror he feels while watching Tharn as he’s walking away from him.

The following anger and frustration isn’t directed at Tharn or San, but at himself, for messing up again so badly, for hurting the person he loves the most in the world again. San’s appearance makes Type realizes how much he’s been lacking as Tharn’s boyfriend, fearing that he isn’t good enough and that insecurity gets the better of him. It’s something Type has to face and overcome.

But it takes two people to misunderstand each other and, to be fair, it isn’t everything Type’s fault. Tharn’s inherent fear of losing him prevents him from showing Type his worst and thus, he’s keeping a part of himself from Type. And Type can instictively feel it that he’s being deliberately kept in the dark by Tharn and that’s where part of his frustration is coming from because he’s shared with Tharn his deepest, darkest secrets and isn’t afraid of showing his true self no matter how ugly it is because he KNOWS Tharn can accept him unconditionally and wholly. So when Tharn withhelds that part of himself from him, refusing to trust him with it, it’s no wonder he feels insecure. However, at the end of the day, while their insecurities might come from a different place, Tharn and Type are afraid of the same thing - of losing each other.

Finally, the sheer epic symbolism of the little moment when Type, who claims to be uncaring and indifferent about Tharn’s feelings, even notices Tharn’s little button on the floor in the darkness! This self-centered man cares, HE CARES LIKE NO ONE ELSE DOES!

#tharntype #tharntype the series #mew suppasit #mewgulf #analysis #ttepisode8

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anneapocalypse · 5 years ago

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RWBY 7.01 - 7.02

There is so much to talk about here. Spoilers!

(Please note that I’m not currently a FIRST member, so please don’t spoil me, thanks!)

We’re in Altas now! I love the aesthetic of Mantle, and I like that they didn’t go for the kind of full-on steel-and-glass futuristic aesthetic you might expect for all of Atlas. Instead, it’s more of a Victorian-futuristic look, with brick buildings and cobblestones and narrow streets.

Qrow’s new voice actor is killing it. Jason Liebrecht delivers a performance that is virtually indistinguishable from old Qrow if you aren’t listening closely for it. akisawana pointed out to me that he’s emoting more, which I think tracks for his character growth, but his voice and inflection is spot-on Qrow.

Themes of distrust build immediately, with Qrow uncertain if they should take to Ironwood. Weiss is concerned about the increased military presence in Mantle. We see the face of Winter Schnee on a screen, apparently the public face of Atlas military, and perhaps despite Weiss’s confidence we wonder if our heroes can trust her.

There is a fair amount of talky exposition in these first two episodes and some of it is rather on the nose, as the story quickly tries to get us up to speed with the situation and the general atmosphere in Mantle. People don’t love the surveillance state—we see some children throw a rock at one of the camera bots. But people love Atlas, and they’re proud of their city, even if difficult times.

And we meet Giapetto—I meant Pietro! Something of a convenient character, as he’s both high up in Atlas security and living and working down among the common people; he knows Ironwood, and Maria Calavera, and of course, his daughter has told him all about Team RWBY.

And as many of us probably suspected as soon as we laid eyes on this man, our sweet Penny has returned! I loved it through and through. “I thought you were dead” is one of those tropes in fiction that just always gets me, so Ruby’s face when she realized her friend was a live, and Penny’s face when she saw Ruby and recognized her… I needed a minute. It was just a truly delightful moment, made even more so by Penny’s exuberant tackle-hug.

I’m curious how it is that flightless Grimm are getting into Atlas, since I would think part of the appeal of a floating city in the first place is to keep them out. It wouldn’t stop flying Grimm, of course, but these monsters weren’t flying. EDIT: They weren’t in the floating city, they were down in Mantle, that’s my bad. Anyway, it was a fun battle to watch, as Oscar has learned a few things, and Blake backing up Yang and giving her that little nod was very sweet.

I am still banking on Oscar becoming the official new leader of Team JNR, making them Team ORNJ. Oscar’s outfits even have orange in them, and for nothing directly to do with his name. It’s a sign, I tell you!

Sadly, Qrow’s optimism must never go unpunished! and our heroes are promptly taken captive by the Aesop’s—er, I mean, the Ace Ops. ;) This feels more for drama than anything else, and it’s kind of reminiscent of Wash, Donut, Sarge, and Lopez being taken captive by the Feds in season 12 of Red vs. Blue. But there’s a valid reason: the did steal a ship.

I love how Weiss says, “Ironwood’s Ace Operatives” like they’re a big deal, but as soon as someone else acts impressed by them, she’s like, “They’re not that big a deal.” Oh Weiss! Some things about her never change, and the way she throws shade is one of those things.

I also think it’s pretty obvious that Weiss is still influenced by her upbringing, both as an Atlesian and as a Schnee. “Tyranny” honestly isn’t that much of an reach from what Ironwood’s doing. It’s easy to sympathize with him, because he’s just so goshdarn likable and he make a sadface and we do kind of know his heart’s in the right place—but he’s misguided as hell and even the people close enough to give him the benefit of the doubt can see it. Ironwood puts his faith in technology, and when his tech failed him he only doubled down, trying to make it stronger. And now that we know who the leak is from Atlas security, we can pretty much assume it’s only going to backfire on him harder next time.

“Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses” sounds very intriguing, and I’m always excited to meet new female leader characters! I’m also thrilled to hear we have an old Winter Maiden, and I can’t wait to meet her. Really appreciating the introduction of cool old ladies in recent volumes.

I love Blake’s expression of trust in Ruby’s leadership, which seems representative of everyone present. Ruby really is the reason they’re all here—it was her journey to Haven with team JNR that brought them all to where they are. She is not just the leader of Team RWBY but the leader of this whole expedition, especially with Ozpin having lost the trust of so many of them, and now absent entirely. They all trust her.

Ruby, by contrast, is not sure if she can trust Ironwood. I really like this. I like Ruby learning to be cagey and not bestow her trust and optimism on everyone she meets. This feels more like character growth than frankly anything we’ve seen before, and I will take it!

Ironwood has brought Penny and Winter into the inner circle. That alone I don’t really question; they’re both loyal and responsible. What I do question is his decision to tell the Ace Ops, given that… well, I know they’re supposed to be the best, and they did capture our heroes, but it’s also been kind of hard to take them seriously thus far and I question that their discretion and judgment is up to the level required.

But Ironwood doesn’t just want to tell them. He wants to tell everyone. And this is where we’re reminded, not just of the constant threat of Grimm, but that they’re drawn by negative emotions. This is a world where fear brings literal monsters, and in a world like that… the rules are just different. It’s easier to understand Ironwood’s protective instincts, I think, in that context. Managing the emotions of the public is a question of national security. It doesn’t make him right, but… it’s important context.

And here we come back to Ironwood’s reliance on technology and military might. He believes the Atlas military can keep the Grimm at bay and keep people safe. I think he’s vastly underestimating how little anyone outside of Atlas trusts the Atlesian military anymore. They won’t feel safe under his protection, especially in Vale—they might even actively resist his aid. And the more afraid and angry they are, the more Grimm will come.

There is something comical about the fact that Ironwood’s grand plan is… to rebuild Amity Arena. Oh, with a comm tower. That latter part makes perfect sense! Why it needs to be attached to a colosseum, less so. Style points, I guess? Morale booster? Sure.

It’s also comical how much our heroes buried the lede on Oscar being the new Ozpin. And here, we get confirmation that Oz is still gone. Not present, not communicating with Oscar. I thought maybe they’d come to an understand, but… nope. He’s just gone. Which feels ominous, but also makes me wonder: what if Ozpin really is gone from Oscar? What if he’s in someone else? We’ve kind of assumed that couldn’t happen, but we don’t really know for sure. It’s a far out theory, and I don’t really think it’s true, but wouldn’t it be wild if he was now in Ruby—if Ozpin’s presence were at the heart of her reticence, her keeping Ozpin’s full story from Ironwood.

Of course, it’s probably better character development for Ruby if she just did that on her own.

But that leads me to another point, which is that it just kinda seems foreshadowed at this point that Ozpin will probably, somehow, be removed Oscar. Everyone’s been thinking of the aura transfer machine from volume 3, and at this point I’d say it’s likely that’s what the machine was always for in the first place: Ozpin, who after so many lives might be tired of having to inhabit the bodies of unwilling hosts. Ironwood, with Pietro’s help, was probably trying to find a way to free Oz from the cycle of death and rebirth, by transferring him permanently into a synthetic body. It seemed like a possible solution when Amber was attacked. But the machine had to have been in development before then.

When Ruby tells Ironwood that according to Ozpin, all the lamp’s questions were used up, Ironwood says “Right… right” in such a way that makes me think he either knows, or suspects, that this isn’t true. Probably suspects. He walks to the window and says thoughtfully, “Oz told us that too, a long time ago.”

So Ironwood no longer fully trusts Ozpin. And Ruby can’t fully trust Ironwood. Even Qrow is uncertain. I think Leo’s betrayal was a real blow to him.

But the moment that I think truly cements Ironwood’s character is that despite all that, he returns the relic to Ruby for safekeeping. It is a gesture of good faith that I think is pretty unlikely to be anything but genuine. I cannot imagine him parting with that relic if he truly only wanted power for himself.

The Ironwood and Qrow hug was beautiful. Whether friendship or romance, there is definitely some kind of deep connection between the two of them. Enough that Ironwood needed to tell Qrow, personally, that it was good to see him, and underscore his sincerity. And Qrow, when James hugs him… he smiles. He looks affectionate. It’s honestly really sweet.

Our heroes are about to get weapon upgrades! I do think it’s interesting the way Winter says this: “While assisting the military, we will provide you with the best equipment our scientists can devise.” And if they are no longer assisting the military…? Yeah, I do highly suspect our heroes will fall afoul of Atlas military again at some point.

This feels a strong opening to the new volume, and it’s laying out these themes of trust and distrust quite heavily, which I think will be very interesting to watch play out among all the characters involved. Most of all I’m looking forward to more of a character arc (read: any character arc) for Ruby, but there is a lot going on here in this new Atlas-centric part of the story. I’m excited to see more.

#rwby7 #rwby spoilers

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the-depressed-shiny-buneary · 5 years ago

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Bullies: Felix Hamilton

Felix comes from a religious family, his family worships Arceus as their lord and savior. Felix did worship Arceus when he was younger, but after doing some research he found out about Giratina and liked him even more than Arceus so he instead put his faith in Giratina instead of Arceus. His family was appalled by his change in belief, but Felix didn’t care about what they said to try and get him, in their words, ‘Back into the light’. He wanted to stay where he was and even started to wear a Giratina crest on his jacket. He met the bullies not long later and started hanging out with him. Nothing really seems to phase Felix, he’s always smiling even when he’s upset and it makes everyone around him uncomfortable and wondering if he ever isn’t smiling, it doesn’t help that his eyes look void of all emotions. No one knows if he was born with blank eyes or if something happened to make his eyes blank and if anyone asks, he just goes cryptic on the asker which raises more questions. The scar on his cheek was given to him by Takako, he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He has a crush on Lana. He has a lot of knowledge on curses, incantations and black magic no one knows if he can actually place curses on other people or if he can actually use black magic and they’re too scared to find out. When Felix was a baby, relatives from his father’s side died “mysteriously”. But soon, after meeting Renee, he found that his relatives were a part of Cipher. So he started doing research in secret and found that his relatives were suspects in the kidnapping of an infant. Felix, in turn, tries to keep an eye out for the infant that his relatives kidnapped.

His Pokemon:

Mismagius- Felix was given his Mismagius as a Misdreavus, back then she was a bit of a trouble maker. She would try to scare Felix anyway she knew how, but no matter what he would just smile and pat her head gently. She gained a small depression since she couldn’t scare her trainer but he helped her feel better by telling her to scare other people, they both took enjoyment in scaring others. Soon Felix gave her a Dusk stone and had her evolve. Now Mismagius scares people on a whole other level by whispering incantations and placing curses on others, she also goes in people’s dreams and at first, lets them dream of accomplishing their goals or desires and then having said goals and desires get ripped from their grasp and causing them all the biggest thing they fear. She also causes headaches and horrible visions to people if Felix tells her.

Caught in a Dusk Ball.

Ability is Levitate.

Moves are Mystical Fire, Power Gem, Lucky Chant, Calm Mind, Shadow Ball, Ominous Wind, Dream Eater, Hex, Will-O-Wisp, and Dazzling Gleam

Nickit- Nickit was given to Felix by a fellow Giratina worshipper from the Galar region. Nickit is a conniving little Pokemon, he enjoys sneaking around quietly and swiping anything that isn’t guarded by someone. He’s also a bit of a neat freak, always cleaning anything dirty with his tail he also uses his tail to wipe away any traces he leaves while he’s sneaking around and stealing things. When he’s near Felix, he’s a sweetheart but to anyone else, he’s their enemy.

Caught in a Pokeball.

Ability is Unburden.

Moves are Beat Up, Hone Claws, Snarl, Nasty Plot, Night Slash, Tail Slap, Thief, Fake Tears, Play Rough, and Swift.

Houndoom- Felix caught Houndoom after beating him in a battle, Houndoom was the leader of a pack of wild Houndour but after getting beaten he left willingly and started to hunt on his own. That’s when he met Felix and the two battled, once seeing how strong Houndoom was he caught him. At first, Houndoom wasn’t amused to have been caught by a human but soon he found himself enjoying being with Felix and now sees him as his master. Houndoom once met Ashley’s Houndour and fought him, he was impressed by his strength despite the fact he was still unevolved, it surprised him how his pre-evolved form almost beat him in a battle and thus he would go off from Felix and would train Ashley’s Houndour. Houndoom is a responsible Pokemon and has a strong amount of leadership, making him the leader of the team. He takes great pride in himself and he’s great at training his teammates, he sees himself in Ashley’s Houndour, the two actually get along despite what others might think. Felix doesn’t really mind, he lets Houndoom do what he wants.

Caught in an Ultra Ball.

Ability is Fire Flash.

Moves are Thunder Fang, Flamethrower, Crunch, Shadow Ball, Pursuit, Destiny Bond, Hyper Beam, Fire Fang, Hidden Power (Grass) and Sucker Punch.

#pokemon #my ocs #Bullies #Felix Hamilton

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selanaris · 6 years ago

Text

Wake Up a Vehicon Story(Pt.II)

I stood there in line preparing to go through the ground bridge. I wonder if this will be tame, or will we be attacked daily. I’ve heard the Autobots are ruthless when it comes to drones. At least I get to see the sky every once in a while when I get outside guard duty. Man, I wish I was a flyer, being a grounder sucks and-

“Are you listening!!!”, screeched the commander suddenly in my visor disturbing me from my thoughts. I look around to see the other vehicons already went through the ground bridge. Commander Starscream growled and hit me on my helm, as usual, and yelled at me to go. I ran through the bridge as fast as I can, faintly hearing the commander call me a defective grounder.

Before

“Hook!!” yelled the air commander to the construction medic. Entering the medbay with his trine in tow. “Where is our sparkling?!” the ship shakes from another attack from the Autobots siege.

Hook looks at them and sighs, “Do not worry. They are safe, I sent them off the ship with someone else an on ago, they should be getting their protoforms soon.”

Once the medic said this, the commander and his trine seemed to get angrier. “Where did you send them?!” growled the left wing surprisingly.

“I sent them to-” an explosion from an attack by the Autobots hits the side of the med bay causing the bay to collapse in on itself. When the debris settles, the room is completely destroyed.

“Doctor? Doctor?!” the right wing called out desperately, as his trine begins to look for the construction.

“Star…..TC…. look..” the youngest member shakenly says while pointing to a pile of debris. There lied the broken grey remains of the now former medic.

Shortly after…

An abandoned Decepticon pod floats through space heading to the broken metal planet below, crashing right outside a certain empurata’s lab….

Present…

We have been at this mine for a few earth lunar cycles, and so far nothing has happened. I run my patrols day and night, walking through the lower levels. I was hoping for the upper levels, so I could see the sky, but now I’m furthest from it. Nothing ever happens down here. It’s my job to guard and make sure the quota is being met, which is not due to the low amount of energon in the bottom levels.

Another mine collapse, I can hear it from here, the lower levels are the most dangerous. I ignored it, it means nothing to the Decepticon cause to lose the life of a few drones. Not like they would save me if something were to happen, I know they don’t like me, I report any and all activity to the higher-ups, even the casual activities of my fellow drones. They know we are not supposed to indulge in ourselves. No ideas, recreation, or opinions, they forget their purpose. Live and die for the Decepticon cause and Lord Megatron.

Again, I hear a mine collapse. What is going on over there, our superior’s are suppose to be arriving for collection and reports in the next cycle or two, and all the mine collapses are ruining our quota. I guess I must investigate and tell them to stop or I will report them. I turn the corner expecting to see several vehicons under a rock, but instead, I see at least a dozen offline vehicons and the Autobots stealing our mined energon through their own ground bridge.

Following standard protocol, I shot at them while sending a comm to the other guards requesting backup. I fired at them and they fired back. Simply put, I missed every shot, but they hit their mark. The blast hit me right in my chassis and I was down. I fell to the ground right as I saw the Autobots go through their ground bridge with our energon. Now we’ll never reach our quota, Lord Megatron will not be pleased.

Just as I thought this, the other vehicons entered the area, very late mind you, and started to search around the room for any signs of the already gone Autobots. Quickly as they came, all but two of them left. The remaining drones searching for witnesses and/or survivors. Eventually, they came to me. My systems were already starting to shut down from energon loss. One of them looked me over, amusement clear in his movements, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t D-8311, are you going to report this, or are you going to report us for laughing.” they laughed, glad to see me down. They are showing too much emotion.

“What is going on here?!”, screeched the voice that could only be the commander. The other drones went to defend themselves, but I didn’t hear them, nor did I care. I’m busy offlining at the moment from loss of energon. I move my head, which is very painful, to face the commander. I saw the commander’s legs along with two nearly identical pairs. The commander’s trine! I look pathetic in front of them, can’t even salute. I tried to look up, only for my eyes to glitch out and for me to go into forced stasis.

Earlier…

“Ah, it seems your faithful trine has arrived.”, the warlord sarcastically stated to his second in command, “Do remember what I told you, and take them with you to work, I have not the time nor the patience to deal with one idiotic seeker, let alone three.” he said over the shoulder as he left the deck.

Starscream frowned at his retreating lord’s form before turning back to the landing ship with his trinemates on boards, along with a few others of course. Starscream stood silently as each person walked off the ship, making a line in front of Starscream. As each one walked passed him he named them one by one in his head.

Ramjet. Dirge. Thus. Damn conehead trine. Nova Storm. Acid Storm. Fragging twins. Sunstorm. Their blasted trine leader. Nacelle. Hotlink. Slipstream. Pit spawned copies. Blitzwing. Him and his amazing personalities. Starscream glared at each of the lines, plus one. He looks back to the ship to see his trinemates walk out. “Took you long enough, I was tired at looking at idiots.” sneered the air commander ignoring the chorus of ‘Hey!’s from behind him as he walks to his trine.

His linemates, Thundercracker and Skywarp analyzed their leader, as if he was someone new. “It’s been awhile,” Thundercracker spoke first. He looked...nothing like his leader like some people think. Thundercracker was much bigger, in height and, most significantly, frame. His colors were blue and red, colorful compared to most other Decepticons. After all, seekers were all about flaunting, and colors were a huge part of their culture before the war, and that was something most refused to give up, unlike Starscream who quickly gave up his colors to win favor and move up in the Decepticon ranks.

“Screamer!!” yelled the youngest of the command trine, running up to his trine leader and giving him a surprise hug, much to the leader’s dismay.

Thundercracker felt how Starscream was getting uncomfortable through their trine bond and quickly shooed the other seekers off before they start getting any ideas. The youngest member of the group, Skywarp, was shorter than Starscream but had a thicker frame colored black and purple.

Once the seekers left to be assigned duties by Soundwave, Starscream relaxed a bit and sighed, “What have I said about calling me that in public?”

“To not do it…” shyed the youngest, “But we missed you so much, and now that we are back together we can go looking for our sparkling-”

“Do not speak of them!!!” Screeched the leader aggressively causing Skywarp to shrink down and Thundercracker to flinch. Starscream vented a few times collecting himself before speaking again, “Megatron has forbidden us from searching, and it’s a waste of time anyway, they are probably offline, permanently.” choked out the leader, speaking as if he was trying to convince himself.

“You know that isn’t true Star’” sighed the right wing putting his hand on Starscream’s shoulder for comfort, “We would have felt it in our bond.” Starscream shook his shoulder out of Thundercracker’s grip and walked off pretending to not listen to what he said.

“Our orders are to check up on one of the mines and to ensure the quotas are being met, let’s go and hopefully it will be a quick job.” sighed Starscream walking away from his trine as they looked at each other before following their leader to the ground bridge.

Shortly after, when they arrive at the mine…

“Finally, let’s get this over wi-” started Starscream before a mining drone ran up to him, venting quickly.

“Commander Starscream, Autobots on the lower levels stealing the energon, Sir!!” yelled the drone in a panic.

“Of course there is because you are all incompetent idiots!!” berated the commander before hitting the drone and looking to his trine, “Ready to beat some Autobots?”

“Just like old times.” reminisced the right wing.

“Oh yeah, some action on the first day!” cheered the left wing.

The command trine transformed and flew down to the lower levels as flying will always be quicker and superior to any of the ground pounders. Sadly for the youngest member, they were too late, the energon was gone and vehicons destroyed. There are two drones looking down at another drone on the ground, barely staying online.

“What is going on here?!”

#transformers #Transformers Prime #maccadam #starscream #skywarp #thundercracker #Seeker Trine #megatron #vehicons #wakeupfic

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satbiym · 6 years ago

Photo

Or Read it on AO3 Here

Chapter 3

They reached the stable in silence, the other man looking around wondrously, as if he had never seen the Palace he claimed to be the heir of.

Victor cleared his throat and attempted to do the same for his conscience.

“I believe the garments we can change into are there,” Victor said, pointing to the bags hidden behind the neighing line of horses.

At Victor voice the horses whinnied louder, peeping further out of their stalls to try and get a glimpse of Victor. Victor smiled, this time out of fondness.

“They know you.” The man said, a wondering tone, somehow his tone implied a query that didn’t ask for an answer; wanting them, but wanting to find them independent of outside influence.

Victor stalled. He could pretend he didn’t know them, forestalling the inevitable realization….

Victor’s mental machinations were cut off by a slobbery warmness that butted against his hand.

Victor sighed, but nonetheless patted his faithful steed who had given away his master’s strategy before it had even begun.

“Greetings my beautiful boy.” Victor crooned, patting the black head adorned with a white star.

A gasp filled the air.

Victor turned to look at the other man, who was staring wide-eyed at the horse currently nudging Victor’s pockets, probably looking for hidden apples.

“That - The star on his head, the blue eye, and the ox-head brand on his haunch… that’s Bucephalus.”

Victor laughed uncomfortably at the tone wrapped in shock and awe, wondering how he was going to talk himself out of this one; he decided to assess the information on the other side first, “Heard of him, have you?”

The way the man’s head shook incredulously would have been comical if his act wasn’t at the danger of being found out, as he stumbled out “Heard of - That’s the Megas Basileus’s horse! Even a fool living solely in the company of ants has heard of the most famous horse in history. ”

“You’re very, um, creative with your words.” Victor said weakly, mind still racing.

The man stepped forward in his eagerness, only to step back hurriedly when the previously docile horse snorted threateningly in his direction.

And damn if those brown eyes didn’t look so damn injured.

Victor bit back a sigh.

Mila was going to have his head for this.

Victor beckoned the man to stay where he was with his hands, saying, “It’s alright, Bucephalus is just… a tad testy around night time. It’s nothing against you, personally.”

The man settled back on the soles of his feet, now looking more enthused than hurt - thank Zeus for that - and rambled, “Of course! I should have known, silly me. Everyone knows the tale of how the Basileus tamed him. I was just being careless in my excitement, for you see, I have never seen a horse before him.”

Victor blinked, his keen instincts giving up in the face of such absurdity, never seen a horse before? Where had this man grown up, in a dungeon?

But, on seeing the earnest look in the other’s eyes, Victor decided to play along with the farce, saying, “Oh, then it’s your lucky day to have your first be someone as fine as Bucephalus here. His breeding is from the best Thessalian strain.”

The other man nodded eagerly, and said, “I am lucky. Both to have had the opportunity to meet Bucephalus, as well as a stable master as accomplished as yourself.”

Victor’s brain stalled.

“Pardon?” Victor said politely, despite his brain having decided to not participate in the conversation any longer. It wasn’t the other man’s fault Victor’s brain had misheard, phony or no, he deserved at the bare minimum, some politeness.

Only… the other man’s face was alight with sincerity, “That’s who you are, correct? For it is known that no one other than the Megas Basileus could seat Bucephalus. It would make sense for the only other person to be the Basileus’s stable master, and given how much he likes you… Have I offended you in some way?”

Victor smiled brightly, forcibly wiping away the incredulous face he must have been making. Gods, the lengths mortals will go to deceive themselves about something that is right in front of their very eyes.

But unknowing or not, the other man had just provided Victor’s cover for him.

The gods take, but the gods also give a way.

“No, none! I was merely impressed at your deduction skills.” Victor said brightly.

“Oh! That’s a relief, because for a moment you looked… no matter. I was right though, you are special! For no one else who works as closely with such magnificent animals could be anything but!” The man said happily, shooting longing looks at Bucephalus.

Victor clenched his fist in protest.

Oh, what does it matter now.

Victor said, gentler than before, “You said you know how the Basileus tamed Bucephalus, can you perchance recount it for me?”

The man - if it was possible - brightened even further, and with a tone of someone delivering a bedtime tale to a babe, said, “The Basileus noticed that Bucephalus was scared of shadows, and that was why he was so distressed. He first spoke soothingly to the horse, all the while turning him towards the sun until he could no longer see his own shadow, and divesting himself of his own cloak. Thus, Bucephalus, no longer afraid, was tamed by the Basileus, a feat no man had achieved before, which the Basileus succeeded at at the age of twelve.”

Victor fought the urge to redden at the admiring tone, and continued, just as gently, “Precisely. Move away from the light, your shadow is scaring Bucephalus. That’s why he snorted at you. Go towards the wall, where the light won’t hit you, and walk towards me.”

The air seemed to shimmer with the other man’s hope, as he quietly did as Victor instructed, flattening himself against the wall and walking towards Bucephalus and Victor, Bucephalus paying him no mind.

A hush fell as the man finally stood before a disinterested Bucephalus.

The man didn’t move, choosing to stare wide-eyed at the horse. Clearly unclear of his next move.

At the sight of the confusion, Victor carefully took the other man’s hands, repressing his initial surprise at their softness - like they had never held a sword - and placed it lightly upon Bucephalus’s head, right over the white star pattern.

Bucephalus snorted, this time with less hostility than before, and abandoned Victor to sniff at the other man’s pockets, drawing a (adorable) squeak from the man at the movement.

Victor felt warmth curl up in his heart as he watched the other man pet his favourite horse and childhood friend with non-covetous awe, watching the horse like someone laying eyes on the sunset for the first time.

“You know, in my head, I had always imagined horses to be huge, lumbering beasts of war. But he is quite remarkable, and beautiful, isn’t he? The Basileus must be gifted with extraordinary empathy to be able to recognize a creature in pain, when the rest of the world only saw danger.” The man whispered, still cradling Bucephalus’s head.

Aw, damnation.

Victor The Great, Megas Basileus, Warrior, Macedonian, and now apparently, Stable Master.

Oh, how Yakov would laugh when he heard of this absurd tale.

“You should really be getting out of those clothes, lest you catch a fever tomorrow.” Victor said stiltedly, unable to understand the emotions toiling within him.

The man laughed, a soft, marvelous thing, saying, “I will, in a moment. Just a moment more, if you please.”

Victor resisted the urge to tell him that he would be happy to stand here all night with him, if he wanted, and he stood with him in the quiet bubble they had found themselves in. Until, finally the man broke away with a musical laugh, stepping back.

“I’m ready now.”

Victor mentally shook himself, dispelling the fog that had sunk into his mind, and reached for the bag near Bucephalus, saying, “Fortunately for us, the Macedonians left their luggage here after the battle. This means we have garments to change into. Here. Take this one.”

The other man stepped back, looking alarmed, “But won’t they be upset at us stealing their clothes?”

“I imagine we need them more than they do at this point. The moral high ground is on our side, I assure you. Here.”

The man took the clothes, eyeing the ornate work on it. Victor stayed silent and firmly didn’t tell him that he was currently changing into the Basileus’s own clothes.

He instead pulled out another pair for himself.

Unashamed of their nudity, in true Greek fashion, they started undressing in front of the other.

Victor sighed as he was met with great difficulties trying to unclasp his robes, the water making the expensive garment heavier and cumbersome.

“Would you like some assistance?”

“How should a man be capable of grooming his own horse, or of furbishing his own spear and helmet, if he allows himself to become unaccustomed to tending even his own person, which is his most treasured belonging?” Victor said wryly.

The other man laughed, turning away, back to Victor, kindly looking away as Victor struggled to escape his threaded prison, and said, “If you say so, but help is near, if you find yourself undone by your clothes.”

Victor smiled at the imagery, shaking his head.

The man started pulling off his top.

Victor emerged victorious, and not to be undone in any battle, be it by sword or by tongue, quipped “Yes well, you will find that - ”

Victor stopped short, eyes catching on the birthmark of a wreath on the other man’s exposed right shoulder.

The man turned back askance, at the sudden silence, catching Victor’s wide eyes with his own.

Victor was very aware of his breathing.

“What? No answering quip. Have the cloths finally defeated you?”

Victor fought to keep his emotions out of his face, internally reeling, half-hearing what Yuuri - for this was Yuuri Katsuki, Heir to Hasetsu, of that he was now sure - had just said. He wondered what he should do next: kill Yuuri as he stood, vulnerable and alone, to strengthen his claim to Hasetsu, or…

The Basileus must be gifted with extraordinary empathy to be able to recognize a creature in pain, when the rest of the world only saw danger.

Victor smiled back.

“There are so many worlds and I have not yet conquered even one. Not even the one in the realm of silk and cotton.” Victor said.

Yuuri laughed, throwing his head back, exposing his throat, “I’m think a man like you could conquer anything he wished to conquer.” He said, amusement lacing his tone.

Victor raised an eyebrow, “You think?”

Those eyes warmed, leaving Victor feeling like he was being watched after by a benevolent sun, and Yuuri said, fondness and certainty mixed with emotions it was surely too soon to be feeling, “No, I know.”

They looked at each other, Victor content to not move and return to a place where they would no longer be able to exist unquestioned. Victor had always considered a world with questions to be the only one he wanted to live in, but now...

Bucephalus whinnied, the sound gently knocking at the door to the new world Victor had just been introduced to.

He emerged, different from who he had been before he had entered it.

“I hope I can borrow some of your courage, for I am to attempt some conquering myself.” Yuuri said softly, determinedly.

Victor, knowing just who Yuuri intended to conquer, just said, softly, truthfully, “I’m sure no one has the gall to refuse you anything, Beloved. If they do, come and find me, you’ll find that I’m a worthy ally to keep. Now, Let us conduct ourselves so that all men wish to be our friends and all fear to be our enemies.”

Yuuri smiled shyly, and ducking his head, said “Thank you for your support. I will carry it with me as I charge onto my personal battlefield.”

Victor smiled, knowing the moment of truth was very near, and said lightly, “You sound like you’re saying your farewells, Beloved.”

Yuuri looked back with determination and nodded, bowing, “I must take my leave, reluctant as it may be. I hope that you… I wish you the best of health. Be well.”

Victor echoed the farewell, softly, eyes trailing the boy as he walked away, towards the palace.

Victor wondered what Yuuri had been about to say before he changed his mind. He wondered if it meant Yuuri had, just for a moment, wanted to stay in an unquestioning world as well.

#victuuri #viktuuri #yoi #yuri on ice #alexander au #mypost #myfic

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shortandsatirical · 4 years ago

Text

Soul Snatched

Many people had claimed that somewhere in the village of Kelna, the devil lurked, trading for and in some cases stealing people’s souls. No one really knew who he was or what he looked like. He was constantly changing his form and identity. Sometimes, he’d appear as a beautiful young woman, or your sister. Other times, he could appear as a kind old man, probably your grandfather whose funeral you went to last month. Regardless, he knew how to get his hands on any soul, forcefully or other. It was only right that he learnt his lesson sooner or later.

I was a merchant, a fair and well respected one, or so I’d been told. I knew the exact value all of my goods held, and I traded for no more, but sometimes less. See, I had a strong sense of sympathy, and was willing to help out a man, or a woman, or a child in need. Fortunately, the people of Kelna were very kind, too, and did not take advantage of my own.

I never stayed in one place for long, often travelling from village to village and kingdom to kingdom. However, Kelna had come to be my favorite place after only two visits. Not only were the people lovely, but everything else was, too, from the buildings to the mere scent (usually of lavender). I have gotten to know many of the residents, including the very unique Thea.

Thea was only a child, but she was a very strange one. She did not live a fortunate life. Her mother had died when she was born, and her father as well, by no one’s hands but his own. Clearly, he was too selfish to undergo the emotional pain and raise the poor child on his own, but maybe that was for the best. She bounced between the homes of her relatives, until she ran away two years before this incident would occur.

Now, I didn’t exactly take her in, but I did make it a habit to visit her whenever I came to Kelna. I would save her a few of her favorite green apples and bring them to her, for free, or course. She promised to pay me back as soon as she was older, but she never did. I didn’t hold that against her, though; that would be rather cruel of me.

As for what made her strange, well… she was never your typical loud and energetic kid. In fact, she was a bit lazy and too much noise would make her cry for hours. (Because of this, I gifted her ear plugs on my third visit, but that is irrelevant.) Usually, quiet people loved to read, but she absolutely despised books. Whenever I saw her, she instead sat still, doing nothing at all. I questioned whether or not she knew how to breathe but seeing as she was still alive, she probably did. Needless to say, she was a strange kid.

Before going to see Thea, I had already been in the village for two days. The girl would move her sitting location every once in a while, and the village wasn’t exactly small. It took me two and a half days to find her, but I managed to before the apples rotted, and that was all that mattered.

She was sitting behind a building that was owned by a rich noble which was stranger than usual for her, because she was often found in plain sight. However, I did not question it at the time. Surely, she had her reasons…

I crouched down beside her and wordlessly handed her her apples. She nodded in content.

“Thank you, Mister Sigrid. Shall I pay you now?” she asked.

It was then that I realized this was not Thea but actually an impostor. I was sure of this. Firstly, Thea never thanked me nor did she call me mister. Secondly, she did not offer to pay. Thirdly, Thea never spoke in complete sentences; she had an abstract manner of speaking.

Just to further test my speculation, I nodded and said, “Why of course, Dear Thea, but maybe we should move to a better place. Its rather dark back here.”

The area I led her to was rather noisy, the type of place that would make the real Thea burst into tears. But this Thea did not. In fact, there was no shift in her at all. And thus, it was confirmed and i was able to conclude that this impostor was the clueless Devil.

You may be wondering how I knew it was the devil and not a very convincing look alike. Well, I’m actually wondering that, too. I must have had a lot of faith in my intuition.

I led the devil to an outdoor table and pulled out a parchment paper, quill, and bottle of ink. After scribbling out some sentences, I drew a line at the bottom of the paper and turned it to the fake across from me, handing him the quill already dipped in ink.

“I’m sure you’re used to this by now, Thea. This is simply the trust contract. You sign it every time. There’s nothing relevant on it; it’s just so I know my buyer trusts me. I don’t like doing business with someone who doesn’t.” I lied clean through my teeth.

This was a lie because I have never in my life sold to Thea or any other child, and I did not have trust contracts. Those were stupid and probably did not even exist. This was simply to trick the devil who knew none of this. I was sure he was so used to signing contracts as himself, that he’d mistakenly do it this time, too.

Alas, I was right.

He signed the contract and slid it over to me. I glanced at the signature and fell into a fit of giggles. He sent me a confused look.

“What’s so funny, Mister?” he asked.

“Read the contract, fool,” I said.

He did. By the end of it, he looked horrified. I went from giggles, to absolute hysterics.

“You came here to rob me of my soul, but it was you whose soul was robbed in the end! Who knew you had a soul in the first place? This was merely a gamble, and a gamble that I have won. Now, you’re just like all of your victims!” I exclaimed.

“Mister, please give it back,” he pleaded.

“Then swear to me that you will stop your thievish ways and return all the souls that you have stolen to whom they belong,” I said.

“No, never! They belong to me now, I took them!” he exclaimed.

“Come to me tomorrow, at this exact spot, after you have released them, and I will give you it back,” I said. “If you do not come tomorrow, I will give you another one, two, three days, but no more. On the third day, I must proceed to the next kingdom.”

I bid him farewell and skipped off in delight.

III

The next day, I sat at the table for almost three hours before the fake showed up.

After our encounter the previous day, I managed to track down the real Thea and gave her the apples. I did not tell her of the devil. She was too young to know of all that. Maybe I would tell her in a few years, but for the time being, I kept quiet.

“Have you set them free?” I asked.

“Yes, I have,” he said. “May I have my soul back now?”

“No, you have lied to me. I am taking off one day because of that. You have two more days.”

And then I left.

On the second day, It was he who waited for me at the table. I sat down across from him.

“Have you done it yet?” I asked.

“Yes, some of them,” he said. “May I have it back now?”

“No, because I said to release them all. I will not take off another day, but you only have tomorrow to do as I have told you,” I said.

He looked angered when he left.

On the third and final day, we arrived at the same time.

“No, I have not released all of the souls, only a few more of them. I tried to do them all, but I could not bring myself to do it. Please, Mister, give me my soul back, and in the afterlife I will repay you,” he begged. “Without my soul, however, I can not return.”

“I said to release them all, and under no other circumstances should I give it back to you. I took your soul, and therefore, it is mine now. You said you can not go back without it? Then I will go back in your place, and you can remain here, soulless. But because I am a kind man, I will allow you to impersonate me. In three years, I will come back, and in the meantime, I want you to take care of the little girl Thea, the one you are impersonating right now. If I see you have done a good job, I will return your soul to you,” I said.

In his place, I did go back, and I fixed up his kingdom. Only a month later, I found Thea had shown up, and after three years I returned, but I did not give him his soul back. He didn’t steal any souls in those three years, but he did a terrible job at watching Thea. I am sure he learned his lesson. If not, then that is completely his problem.

#satire #devil #merchant #soul #medieval #short story #shortandsatirical #writing

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nolimitsongrace · 4 years ago

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June 26: The Desire of the Holy Spirit

The Desire of the Holy SpiritJune 26, 2020

Do ye think that the scripture saith in vain, The spirit that dwelleth in us lusteth to envy? — James 4:5

Imagine the emotions of a young man who discovers someone else has captured the heart of his sweetheart. That’s the same feeling James was describing when he wrote, “The spirit that dwelleth in us lusteth to envy.” In the last two Sparkling Gems, we’ve seen how the Holy Spirit dwells in us and passionately yearns for us. But today, let’s look further at the word “envy” to see what it means in this particular verse.

This word “envy” comes from the Greek word phthonos, which was frequently used in literature from the New Testament period, thus enabling us to know precisely what it means. The word phthonos means jealousy — an emotion so strong that it tends toward taking vengeance upon someone. The young man who lost his lover feels jealous and has a deep desire for his former relationship to be restored. He also most likely bears some malice toward the romantic thief. He is envious of the relationship that has replaced the one he used to have with the one whom he loves and desires to have again.

*[If you started reading this from your email, begin reading here.]

This should make James 4:5 clear to us. The Holy Spirit is a Lover. He is preoccupied with us. He wants to possess us totally, and He passionately desires our affection to also be set on Him. When we walk and talk like unbelievers and give our lives to natural pursuits, the Holy Spirit feels like a lover who has been robbed. He feels jealous for His relationship with us to be restored. He has divine malice for the worldliness that has usurped His role in our lives. And He is filled with a godly envy to see things put back the way they should be.

When you put all three words together — dwelleth, lusteth, and envy — this paints quite a picture. The Holy Spirit is not a passive partner. He aggressively and actively pursues us. When we give a piece of ourselves to something or someone else’s control, He wants to seize it and bring it back under His divine control. He even has godly malice toward our preoccupation with other things.

With all of this in mind, James 4:5 could be read this way:

“The Spirit who has come to settle down, make His home, and permanently dwell in us is moved by an all-consuming, ever-growing, passionate desire to possess us — and He is envious and filled with malice toward anything or anyone who tries to take His place in our lives.”

We live in the world, work in the world, and function as human beings in the world. There is no way to get around that. Jesus didn’t pray that we would be removed from the world, but that we would be kept from the world (see John 17:15). There is nothing wrong with going to work, buying a house, purchasing a new car, or enjoying beautiful clothes. Those things are part of living an abundant life on this earth. They are not wrong unless they consume and preoccupy our thoughts.

Let’s not forget that all kinds of things can preoccupy our thinking. If we’re called to the ministry, even our ministerial responsibilities can so occupy our thoughts that we seldom think of the Holy Spirit or focus on cultivating our relationship with Him. Yes, that seems like a contradiction. However, it’s very possible to be so involved in good works that we hardly ever slow down long enough to spend time with the Lord, read His Word, and listen to what His Spirit wants to say to our hearts. Sometimes it’s just the cares of this life that pull us away from the Holy Spirit. We can get so busy and so committed to doing so many things, even good things, that our continual busyness deteriorates our spiritual life.

Amazing as it is, even good things, if taken to an extreme, become adulterous in the eyes of the Lord. Only He knows how to balance us, but we have to open our hearts and our spiritual ears to listen to His counsel. That’s why it’s so crucial to set aside time to spend with Him every day.

So don’t tell yourself that you have too much to do to spend time with the Lord each day. When it comes right down to it, you basically do what you want to do. If having communion with the Holy Spirit is a priority, you’ll make time for Him. If it’s not a priority, you won’t make that time. It’s that simple.

Perhaps you’re reading this today and thinking, I have so much to learn about the Holy Spirit. I didn’t know I was supposed to intentionally have communion with Him. I didn’t know I could depend on Him as my Comforter. I didn’t know I could grieve Him with my attitudes. I didn’t realize how important it is for me to develop a closer fellowship with the Holy Spirit!

If that is you, you’re in a great position today — standing at the threshold of a whole new realm of God in your life! His Word promises that if you draw closer to Him, He will draw closer to you (see James 4:8). I can’t help but wonder how many Christians die and go to Heaven — and then find out how much they missed because they never experience a real partnership with the Holy Spirit. Don’t let that be your story!

MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

Holy Spirit, there is so much for me to learn about You I never knew before. Today I open my heart — as wide as I know how — and I ask You to teach me about You and Your ministry to my life. I want to be a vessel You work through, so please help me become that vessel. Jesus sent You to be with me and to indwell me. You are preoccupied with me, and You passionately and rightfully desire my affection to also be set on You. I repent for the times I allowed the cares of life or desire for other things to steal my attention and affection away from You. For each and every time I’ve violated my relationship with You in any way, please forgive me and know that from this day forward, I am turning toward You with my whole heart and soul.

I pray this in Jesus’ name!

MY CONFESSION FOR TODAY

I boldly confess that I am going to pursue a deep, intimate relationship with the Holy Spirit, and I will not stop until I’ve attained it. He already lives inside me, but I want to know Him and the power He continually makes available to me. I’ve lived my Christian life largely in my own power, but from this point forward, I want to live it fully in the power of the Holy Spirit.

I declare this by faith in Jesus’ name!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER

Before you read today’s Sparkling Gem, did you know the Holy Spirit is envious and jealous over His relationship with you? How does that realization affect your understanding of His ministry to your life? In what ways will it change how You respond to the Holy Spirit in the future?

Is there an area of your life to which you’re more committed than to your relationship with the Holy Spirit? If so, just know He is going to go after that area and bring it back into balance. So why don’t you get started by making a list of those areas that fit in that category, and then invite the Holy Spirit to help you get those areas realigned according to His priorities?

Godly jealousy is a good thing — but have you ever considered that there is such a thing as godly malice that the Holy Spirit feels? What “reasons” have you used to justify giving more of your attention to those other things at the expense of your communion with Him? How will you begin to eliminate those excuses, starting today?

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nolimitsongrace · 5 years ago

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June 26: The Desire of the Holy Spirit

The Desire of the Holy SpiritJune 26, 2019

Do ye think that the scripture saith in vain, The spirit that dwelleth in us lusteth to envy? — James 4:5

*[If you started reading this from your email, begin reading here.]

With all of this in mind, James 4:5 could be read this way:

MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

I pray this in Jesus’ name!

MY CONFESSION FOR TODAY

I declare this by faith in Jesus’ name!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER

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