#they hate each other but have to partner up to overcome greater evils in all the dimensions they go to and learn to be a family again

[surrealcervidae]

Au where Stan gets sucked into the portal this, au where 30 year old Ford has to take care of 10 year old Stan that, where's the au where they both get sucked into the portal????

[sowk-fic-archive]

SOWK ch.31/35

Summary:

Agostino doesn't like what he hears...

Chapter 31 : désavoué

Matthew didn’t have any time to let the shock of becoming a father sink in. Rather, he didn’t have the choice, because as soon as the words fell from Adora’s lips, his own father emerged from the parlour before him. “They’re ready for you,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless as he stalked past them, not before throwing Matthew a hateful, disgusted look. Despite his father’s coarse attitude, despite everything that Agostino had done, Matthew’s throat began to sting. He had always craved his father’s approval and now there was no chance it was ever going to happen. Glancing over to see that Adora had already walked into the parlour without him, he followed her inside and closed the door behind him. Paix and Joie were sitting primly in their seats, hands clasped in their laps in a perfect mirror image. Joie lifted a hand and gestured to the opposite seats, lips pressed to a flat line. Matthew’s legs were unresponsive; heavy with dread, he moved slowly with his eyes on the floor. Adora passed him, one hand on her stomach, and Matthew’s eyes began to fill with tears. He blinked, shaking his head minutely as he eased down into his seat, Adora doing the same beside him. “Good afternoon,” Joie said quietly, her voice wavering as she spoke. Adora mumbled a greeting in response. Matthew said nothing. Paix gave Joie a questioning look; she simply shook her head, one hand now daintily over her mouth. With a quiet sigh, Paix began to speak. “Frankly,” he said, and his voice was emotionless, “there has never been a greater disappointment in my life than the pair of you. You have shown the Voix to be vulnerable. The glouglous think us weak. Matthew.” His voice rose sharply and Matthew looked up from his lap. “You disgust me. Your childish desires have led St. Pierre down a route it will be difficult to find our way back from. You have let your own lust overcome the true love and happiness you could have had with Adora. And as for you, Adora...” Matthew’s teeth gritted. It was fine, absolutely fine, for Paix to call him whatever he wanted, to make a fool out of him, to break him down. But Adora had done nothing wrong. He may not love her, no, but she was still someone he cared about. “You showed yourself at the Dévoilement. You made yourself out as someone to be pitied. The glouglous should not pity you. They should envy you.” “It’s not my fault I was upset,” Adora snapped suddenly. All eyes fell on her in surprise. Matthew knew she would never talk that way to an Ancien, but then again, he didn’t have pregnancy hormones surging around his body. “He broke my heart and left me alone. Did you honestly expect me to smile and carry on as if nothing had happened? Excuse me if I showed emotion, Paix! Excuse me if I did something that you seem utterly incapable of being able to do!” Paix remained impassive, his face a mask. “I shall excuse you for your petty words, fille, because I know of the life growing inside you.” Adora’s face was white with fear. “I...” she looked to Matthew beseechingly. “I don’t... How?” Joie spoke suddenly, in a tiny and reserved voice. “You show the glow of an expectant mother, Adora,” she said, giving the tiniest of smiles. Paix threw a look at his sister, jaw clenched. Perhaps, Matthew thought, they weren’t as seamless as they looked to be on the outside. “Regardless,” he said coolly, “we must take action. As such, any Unique duties that would have been undertaken by the both of you shall be cancelled, and you must pay penance for your crimes.” “What crimes?” Matthew mumbled. “All I did was love someone. That shouldn’t be against any law.” “You were supposed to love Adora,” Joie said loudly. “Nobody else should have mattered to you.” Matthew fell into silence, guilt washing over him. He felt Adora shift beside him, and he planned his words. She deserved to know. “I did love Adora.” “It doesn’t quite work like that,” Joie continued, her voice growing stronger as she went. “Love is a delightful but tricky thing. The secret to love that it is a two-way thing, and the pinnacle of that for Uniques is it must be reciprocal and romantic. Example numéro un,” she said, pointing one finger in the air. “A son may love his mother, and a mother may love his son. This is reciprocal love, but it is not romantic. Example numéro deux. A girl very much loves her boy romantically, but the boy only loves her as a friend.” Joie paused, letting Adora and Matthew glance at each other. “But, if the boy is in love with another person, then the boy will have found reciprocal love, albeit not from the same person. Sadly, the girl...” Joie’s clinical and detached voice broke as she let out a tiny sob. Matthew swallowed hard. “I just... I never... I...” Matthew faltered, looking defiantly at Paix and Joie before turning to Adora. “Adora. I’ve always loved you,” he said, and Adora started crying all over again. He took one of her hands, and to her credit she didn’t snatch it away, even when she had every right to. “I’ve always loved you and I always will. I’m going to live every day of my life wishing that I hadn’t hurt you like this. I’ll remember today, I’ll remember watching your heart break and I’ll carry that with me for the rest of my days. I’ve never deserved you, I never have. You deserve someone who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted and more. I couldn’t and now I can’t. All I’ve given you is a painful reminder of me for the next eighteen years.” Matthew had started crying too, and Adora’s free hand was shakily wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry it wasn’t you,” he whispered, a sob choking him. “Who was it, then?” Matthew and Adora jumped the the voice. Agostino was standing in the doorway; Matthew didn’t know how long he had been listening, or how much he’d seen. He hoped he’d seen the anguish he was feeling, but a small part of his mind told him that if Agostino was furious, then that wouldn’t matter. “Well?” he said, walking slowly towards where Matthew sat. Adora released his hands, and Paix and Joie watched, for the second time that day, the calm before the storm abruptly end. “Who was it, hmm? Did you plant your cursed seed in her too, ey? Do I have to go and shake her father’s hand or something?” “There’s no her,” Matthew said quietly, and the room fell silent for a moment as they processed this information. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Adora announced, fleeing from the room with one hand over her mouth and the other on her stomach. Matthew was half-relieved, because at least she’d escaped the worst of the news. “Wonderful!” Agostino exclaimed, pacing in front of the shocked Anciens and Matthew. “So my only son isn’t only not a Unique, but he’s not going to give me any children either?” “Father, I--” “Two hundred years, Matthew!” he roared, Joie jumping visibly. “Two hundred years of flawless lineage! Generation after generation of successful Voix. Ten Uniques, excluding you. And each and every one that wasn’t a Unique was in Les Voix du Monde. And now? Now?” Agostino laughed to himself, turning to the Anciens. Matthew felt a simmering rage settle in his stomach. Agostino wasn’t just angry, he was performing. “Now? All that comes to an end, and we don’t even have a Unique to thank for it.” “Agostino,” Paix said, and Matthew’s father, enraged as he was, at least had the respect to fall silent for a moment. “He is technically a Unique, although we need two for it to be an official title. Biologically, he is no longer simply a Voix. And, you must remember, if Matthew’s partner carries the gene, he could--” Agostino seethed, but nodded regardless. “Yes, yes, I understand,” he said, turning back to Matthew. “There’s hope, then, depending on whoever this man is,” he spat. “Tell me, what’s better, his genes or his voice?” Matthew closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he opened them again, he decided to meet Joie’s eyes; the lesser of three evils. “He can’t sing.” Agostino laughed nervously after a few moments of silence, bringing his hands together in front of him. Paix and Joie couldn’t see, but his fingers moved together to make a perfect chokehold in thin air. “What do you mean?” he said, his voice strained. “He can’t be that bad. No matter!” he shouted too quickly, stopping Matthew from doing any more damage and turning back to Paix and Joie. “I’ll speak with my son in private now. Calliope!” In an instant, Matthew’s mother entered the room. “Please show our guests out, dear?” he asked, Matthew beginning to shake. He’d never seen his father like this before. He knew things could only get worse. Calliope nodded, taking Paix and Joie to the door. Joie turned, eyes cast low as if she was thinking. Suddenly, she looked up and she nodded her head at Matthew. She hitched the outer skirt of her dress lightly and curtsied to Matthew. “Au revoir,” she said quietly, before leaving the room. Paix chose to simply spit on the carpet before following his sister out. Agostino remained perfectly still, watching for Calliope to direct Paix and Joie towards the front door before hurrying back into the room. Before the door had even clicked shut behind her, Agostino had spun around and was holding Matthew by the neck. “What. Were. You. Thinking?!” Agostino screamed, Matthew’s legs kicking in midair as his hands scrabbled at Agostino’s skin. Drawing blood, Matthew was thrown onto the floor, gasping for breath. “Who is it? Who is it?!” Matthew was crawling, scrambling on his hands and knees to get away from his father. He managed to get behind one of the sofas in the room, standing up and putting a couple of seconds between them. His father wasn’t in shape, and he wouldn’t try jumping over the sofa even if he was intent on murdering his son. Matthew was almost positive that he was. “Well?!” Agostino boomed, and Calliope gasped from the corner of the room, her hands thrown up to her face in shock. “I’m not going to tell you,” Matthew said defiantly. If he was going down, if today was his last day, then he was going to be killed with a sense of pride. He wasn’t going to tell the monster before him about the only person who could survive the wake his decisions and choices had left behind. “You are, you insolent little...” Agostino warned, not needing to finish the sentence to make Matthew’s Adam’s apple bob nervously. “No,” he said, teeth gritted in determination. “I won’t. I care far too much about him to reward you with such a prize. It’s probably not even who you think. It could be one of the hundreds of thousands around St Pierre. You’ll only find out over my cold, dead body,” Matthew said with a sudden bolt of confidence. Agostino’s lip curled, his eyes holding such hatred that for a moment, Matthew felt like a little boy, scolded because he had failed to reach a note. “If I must,” his father whispered, with a sense of finality that sent a shiver running down Matthew’s spine, and then he was terrified again, backing against the wall with wide eyes. Agostino advanced on him slowly. They were a hair’s breadth from one another when a terrified scream rang out. “No!” Calliope yelled. “No, Agostino! You don’t have to do this!” Her voice wavered, as if she was crying. “He’s just a silly little boy. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I told him to stay away from that glouglou boy, but--” Matthew’s eyes closed in resignation as his father turned abruptly towards his mother. “You knew?!” Agostino thundered. “You... you knew?” Calliope brought a hand to her mouth, eyes pleading as Agostino stalked towards her instead, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders. “P-please!” she stuttered. “Tino, let go of me...” “You betrayed me!” Agostino screamed, throwing her from his grasp. She landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, sobbing quietly as her husband towered over her. Matthew’s eyes flicked towards the scene, guilt overpowering him. Agostino wouldn’t dare harm Calliope. There was no chance that-- A loud crack filled the silence of the room. Agostino’s hand had made contact with Calliope’s cheek. Guilt quickly replaced with rage, Matthew picked up the nearest object to him: a heavy bronze statuette. Unsure of what exactly he was going to do with it, he nevertheless inched forwards towards his father. His heart was beating in his ears. But as he stepped closer, Agostino turned again. Their eyes met; the exact same blue was mirrored and for a second Matthew wanted to fall into his father’s arms and beg for forgiveness. As they stood there, staring at each other, Matthew dared to hope that his father would crumple, that he would realise that it was pointless to do what he was thinking of doing. But then Agostino batted the statuette from his hand; his fist swung through the air and connected sharply with Matthew’s cheek. Matthew fell back, clutching at his face and begging himself not to cry. He wanted to push back, to hurt his father, but Agostino suddenly had him in a fierce grip, one hand with a fistful of Matthew’s shirt, the other beating repeatedly against his face. Pain tore through Matthew’s body. This was nothing like his fight with Dominic: he felt completely vulnerable, assured in the knowledge that Agostino was going to kill him. He was dropped to the floor and, without thinking, he began to crawl away, nose bleeding profusely, but Agostino reached down and grabbed him by his left ankle. “No you don’t,” he growled, crouching on the floor beside his son and twisting until Matthew screamed in agony, kicking out of the grasp.. Their eyes met again, but this time Matthew was crying freely. Tears slid down his cheeks; every time he breathed in, a shot of pain rocketed up his nose to the centre of his forehead. “Daddy...” he gasped through bloodied lips. The first time he’d ever uttered that word. “Daddy, please.” “I am not your father,” Agostino said, his voice soft. “This is not your home.” “P-please...” Matthew whined, hands reaching out to touch his father’s chest. “Daddy, please...” Agostino brushed Matthew’s hands away as if they were infected with some deadly disease. “You are not my son,” he said. A choked sob tore from Matthew’s lips. “Papa, s’il vous plaît--” His words were cut off as Agostino kicked him sharply in the stomach. Matthew gasped for breath, rolling onto his back, his eyes streaming. “You were always going to be a disappointment to me,” Agostino said bitterly. “I should have realised this on the day you were born.” “Are you...” Matthew coughed, droplets of blood spraying onto the pristine white carpet. “Are you going to kill me?” “I would kill you. Oh, trust me,” he laughed bitterly, “I’m restraining myself from killing you at this very moment. I could so easily wrap my hands around your neck and watch you turn lifeless. Alas, some of us have a reputation to uphold.” He paused, and Matthew knew he was doing it for effect. “Get out of my sight, you cassé.” Matthew lay still for perhaps a second before practically crawling towards the door. Every inch of him ached, inside and out. He heaved himself to his feet, pushing the door open and making a staggering path towards Dominic’s office, whimpering each time his left foot touched the floor. He heard footsteps behind him. His heart began to thunder in his ears: Agostino had changed his mind, and Matthew was going to die. He turned back, terrified, but it wasn’t his father that met his eyes. It was Calliope. “Matthew, I--” She stopped abruptly. Agostino had followed her out and was gripping tightly to her wrist. “You dare follow him!” he seethed through gritted teeth. “You dare!” “He is my son!” Calliope yelled, wrenching her hand from Agostino’s grip. “But you are my wife!” Agostino bellowed. Calliope turned towards him, her hand slicing through the air and slapping him hard across the face. “Do not think that a bond of marriage is stronger than a bond of love between mother and son,” she said. “Go, Matthew. Go.” Matthew turned and ran, but faster than he anticipated, his father was standing at the entrance to the house, shaking his head slowly. He skidded to a halt, twisting quickly and running in the opposite direction. He didn’t know where he was going: corridors flashed by him, too blurred to be recognisable through his tears. Pain overtook his need to run for a moment, and he doubled over, vomiting blood into a pot plant. Heart rate fast, breaths hard, he continued, turning corners until he was sure he’d lost himself entirely in the house. He spotted a familiar door and leant against it, a lump in his throat. He had made a circle, and was now back where he had started, between the parlour and Dominic’s office. His father was nowhere to be seen. He pushed the door open to Dominic’s office and closed it behind him, breathing in the familiar smell. He could have easily hidden there forever, but he knew that Agostino would find him. Matthew lingered only to pick up Dominic’s forgotten hoodie, which was countless sizes too large for him. Slipping it on and zipping it up, he opened the door once more and stepped out into the open. Calliope was rushing towards him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Run, baby,” she whispered, holding his face in her hands and pressing a kiss to the tip of his broken nose. “I love you, and I will always love you, but please. Run. There are so many people who want your blood, and... and sadly, your father is one of  them,” she sobbed, running a blood splattered hand through his blood soaked hair. One of her cheeks was still bright red, and Matthew regretfully knew that it wasn’t the last of her injuries today. “I love you, Maman,” Matthew whispered. “I love you too, mon petit. I’ll see you soon.” She pushed him forwards slightly, and he stumbled, but picked himself up, sprinting as best as he could towards the unguarded door and stepping into the brisk evening air. Although it was the height of summer, Matthew shivered, thankful for the warm comfort of Dominic’s hoodie. He snuggled into it, breathing in the smell and exhaling quietly. It calmed him, and for a moment he forgot that his temperature would drop rapidly as night fell, especially with all the blood he was losing. He had no idea where Dominic lived, other than that it was in Sector 3. Bloodied and bruised, Matthew limped along the garden path and out into St. Pierre. At dusk, the city came alive; one of the many reasons Matthew was confined to the Voix side of St Pierre after hours. The Voix streets were deserted save for the lights flickering on in the mansions, all looking cold and loveless in the fading light. Matthew found himself wondering what Dominic’s house was like. It was probably more of a home than his own was. Used to be. Swallowing hard, Matthew carried on slowly, wincing each time he put weight on his left leg. The pavement gave away to a dirt road underfoot, and Matthew sighed with relief. His nose was still bleeding, and he found a tissue balled up in one of the pockets. He unravelled it with shaking hands, pressing it against his nose and trying to stop tears from streaming down his cheeks. Matthew couldn’t die from blood loss, but he’d instantly be identified as a Voix if they saw someone as bloody as him lingering in the glouglou streets. Then again, the figures passing him were looking increasingly injured. Why? As he came over the small crest of the hill that led into Sector 1, Matthew gasped. St Pierre was truly alive. Fires dotted the skyline in far flung sectors, thick smoke obscuring the dying rays of the pinkish sun. People in the next street down were bare knuckle fighting, and Matthew found himself feeling oddly detached when he realised it was Voix versus glouglou. He pulled his head up tightly around his face, not wanting to be seen at all. For the first time in his life, he wanted to disappear completely. Hunched inwards, eyes on the floor, he walked with purposeful movements - or at least what he hoped would appear purposeful - attempting to avoid passers-by at all costs. As he moved further into Sector 1, his ears picked up on hazy words being shouted into the night. Matthew braved a glance upwards. He was walking down an empty street he was sure he’d never been down before, but even as he stopped to find his bearings, three indistinct figures stumbled around the corner. They walked as a group, obscuring Matthew’s path; heart in his throat, he backed into the wall, hoping to appear invisible. Apparently, the gods were against him tonight. “Lads, would you just take a look at this?” a voice said: as they neared, Matthew recognized the three to be male glouglous. “This skinny bugger thinks he can walk around the streets at a time like this and get away with it. Don’t you, pretty boy?” Matthew kept his head down, shaking visibly. “N-no...” he replied in a tiny voice. “No?” the man leered closer, close enough for Matthew to be able to smell the alcohol on his breath. He coughed, twisting his head away, but the man caught it in rough, calloused fingers. Matthew felt himself being pulled towards the glouglou: he was going to be recognised, and then what would happen? Oh, God, they were going to kill him, weren’t they? “Hey...” the glouglou said slowly. “Aren’t you--?” “You tryna start a fight?” another male voice chimed in, and the glouglou stepped back from Matthew. “He was on his own,” the glouglou said innocently. “Pick on someone your own size. He ain’t worth fightin’.” “Yeah, ’cause you know all about fighting, don’t you, Voix?” Matthew cowered helplessly as the three glouglous and the one Voix traded insults. Eventually, to Matthew’s relief, the glouglous scuttled off, leaving Matthew and the other Voix alone. “What the bloody hell are you doin’ down here this time of night?” the Voix asked. “I mean, if you want a fix, I can set ya up good and easy, but you don’t come down this street. We clear?” Matthew looked over at the Voix, the accent familiar to him. “Lysander?” he whispered. A flare of light in the distance caught the Voix’s angular features and strong, prominent jaw. Matthew practically collapsed in equal parts relief and fear. “Matthew?” Lysander stepped briskly closer and circled a hand around Matthew’s wrist, leading him gently to the dim, flickering light of a nearby streetlamp. “Christ on a bike, what the hell happened to you?” “I...” Matthew’s lip wobbled. He tore his wrist from Lysander’s grip, shaking his head. “I need to see Dominic.” “Oh, yeah. That one. Your lover, eh?” Lysander gave a conspiratorial wink, grinning, though there was no humour in his eyes. “I... I just need somewhere to stay,” Matthew said. Lysander’s face was solemn and serious as he placed a comforting hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I’ll pop in tomorra if I can. There’s a story to tell, but for now, I’ll tell ya where he lives.” For reasons that Matthew couldn’t quite fathom - possibly because of the pain that sluiced uncomfortably through his body, possibly because of his desperation to see Dominic, possibly because it had simply been an incredibly long day - he flung himself into Lysander’s arms and mumbled, “thank you.” “No problem,” Lysander said, sounding more than a little nonplussed. “Go on. Hurry up, before someone else turns up. I ain’t gonna be around to protect ya forever.”

*

Annie heaved a sigh of relief, settling down on the sofa with a battered book of Nancy’s. She normally wasn’t one for reading, but she needed to take her mind off the day’s events. Nancy had only just gone to bed, after Annie finished applying a third round of remedy to her cheek which should last her through the night; it shouldn’t scar, but if it did, it would be quite a striking feature. Dominic had gone to bed a few hours before, when he burst out in tears at the dinner table. Annie helped him finish his stew, then she helped him up and into bed. He had been shaking non-stop all afternoon, terrified that something had happened to Matthew over the course of the day. Annie had soothed him, stroking his hair and lying to him that it would all be better in the morning. It had contented her son enough to lull him into an albeit restless sleep. She was just contemplating whether she should make herself a cup of tea when someone started knocking on the door loudly enough to possibly wake her children. “Alright!” she called as loudly as she could. The knocking didn’t cease. “Alright, I’m coming!” she said, heaving herself up from the sofa and padding over to the door, swinging it open. “Do you even know what ti--” A figure in a hoodie was standing at the door, head pointed towards the ground so Annie couldn’t recgonise them immediately. The hands were covered in blood as they moved upwards, and just as Annie was about to slam the door in their face and scream bloody murder, they quickly pulled their hood down and she was met with big blue eyes. “Matthew,” she said, a hand on her chest. Almost every square inch of his face was bloodied or bruised in some way, and dried blood had matted in his black hair. He was trembling and biting his bottom lip. She knew Matthew was wanted. Her neighbours wanted the highest of Voix society dead, the Voix wanted Matthew to pay for his sins. But in that moment, her mothering instinct took over and she put an arm around Matthew, pulling him inside quickly and shutting the door. “What happened, love?” she asked, and suddenly Matthew burst out crying. “Bloody typical, you and Dominic are an emotional pair, I tell you,” she laughed to herself, sitting Matthew down at the kitchen table. He managed to smile at that through his tears, but continued to sob and occasionally hiccup as he watched Annie gather bowls of water and herbs. “Alright, love, what’s the worst of it?” she asked, coming back towards Matthew. He shrugged off the bloody hoodie, weakly gesturing it towards Annie. “This is Dominic’s,” he said quietly, and she smiled weakly, taking it from his hands and placing it on the arm of the sofa. The smile quickly faded, though when she saw that his shirt was splattered with blood. “My nose,” he said, pointing at his nose as if Annie had never seen one before. “And... I think...” Matthew stood up, unbuttoning his shirt wordlessly. He opened it for Annie to see a large purple bruise blossoming across his belly. “What happened?” Annie said, almost whispering. She busied herself mixing together an ointment, that she soon began to daub onto the bruise. Matthew hissed but managed to stay upright, leaning heavily on the table to keep the weight off his back leg. “My father found out,” he mumbled, and that was all the explanation Annie needed. She spent the next hour treating Matthew’s wounds; binding Matthew’s stomach in case of internal bleeding, attempting to set Matthew’s nose correctly, washing away all the blood from his face and hands, applying a bandage to his left ankle and finally sealing over his cuts with a herbal wash. Matthew thanked her multiple times and assured her that his body would heal itself up within days, but Annie didn’t trust Voix biology and so stubbornly used her own methods. Finally, she had done all the work she could do. They were both sat with a hot chocolate, a speciality she served for the rarest of nights when thoughts of Fleck kept her awake, and she smiled when Matthew’s eyes began to droop. “Dom is asleep upstairs,” she explained, Matthew seeming to perk up a little when his lover’s name was mentioned. It warmed her heart. “You can have the sofa if you want, or I can kick Nancy out of bed, you choose.” Matthew laughed timidly. “She hates me enough, I’m lead to believe,” he replied, eyes focussed on the mug in his hands. “I’ll happily take the sofa, thank you. I’m surprised you haven’t cast me out on the street yet.” “There’s plenty of time for that still,” she said, Matthew paling before she winked and laughed. “Bless. I’ll get you some blankets, drink that up first.” Matthew obliged, and within minutes Annie had returned with a pile of threadbare blankets that almost obscured her vision. “I know it’s nothing like what you’re used to, but--” “It’s fine, really,” he said with a small nod. “In the single hour I’ve been here, it’s felt more of a home than the place where I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life.” Annie nodded slightly, biting her lip. “Right, then,” she said, clearing her throat and putting the blankets down on the sofa. “I also found a few pairs of Dom’s old pyjamas and underwear. I’m sure they should fit you but it’s better than nothing.” After Matthew mumbled another thank you, Annie nodded and headed upstairs for the night, allowing Matthew to get changed in peace. The clothes smelled like Dominic and that thought made him smile, wrapping himself up in the blankets and settling into the sofa as comfortably as his injuries allowed. For the first time since Dominic left him the morning after their fight, Matthew slept peacefully.

[abahwrites]

Cherie... Part III - I Just Want To Know Who I Was Before (2)

It was a cloudy and rainy morning for Lena and Widowmaker, awaken by a cry and a tight hug, Lena immediately clutch Widow back as if she really needs it after a breakup. Lena didn’t hesitate to do so, although Widow didn’t necessarily need it.

Lena knows she’s in big trouble.

The embrace lasts for three minutes, then Widow speaks up. “Lena… break me out from this cage, Lena… I beg you…” She cried with a muffled sobbing.

“It’s okay, Amé… It’s going to be alright.” Lena tried to calm her. “You can say anything about your nightmare to me, I had such nightmares before I even met you… before Overwatch and all.”

Then Widow spoke, with an ashamed voice. “I must forgive everyone who I hurt and those who hurt me,” she began to embrace Lena even tighter. “Lena, could you help me through this?”

“Don’t worry, Widow. All will be okay in the end, and you’ll get what you want.” Lena rubbed Widow’s back.

“Would I ever go back to where I was before, Lena? I’m tired, I’m sick of this all.” Widowmaker sobbed in anguish.

“Calm yourself, honey. Relax, this nightmare will end sooner than you thought.” Lena embraced her a little tighter, and it was the tightest embrace that she ever gave to her friends, especially Widowmaker. Lena dragged her slowly to the mirror in front of them, then pointed at Widowmaker’s heart. “Amélie Lacroix is still there, Widow. Waiting for someone to release her from the eternal prison of loneliness and despair. You can overcome this like you overcome your altered memories, psychological and biological needs.”

“I think this is taking too much time,” Widowmaker said to Lena while touching her heart.

“No, Widow. This is not taking too long if you’re stubborn enough to face the consequences.” Lena winked while straightening Widow’s hair and clothes. “Try to think and perceive the problem as me trying to fail your mission.”

To forgive and forget someone who had destroyed you or you broke their lives is hard. Even if you know, that’s not your problem at all, if they have a grudge against you indirectly and think that this is all your fault and it’s yours to blame, there will always be some way to end the forest fire. As Lena and Widowmaker walks and strolls through the Parisian street, Widow hands out red roses as an apology and only a few of them feel comfortable with that. Widow walks into the alleyway where she destroyed a pub, now a restored record store with the same owner. As Widow and Lena managed to get inside the record store, she saw the owner scared to death behind the counter, wielding a blade on his shaky hands, Widow approached him.

She lands a beautiful, subtle smile on the old man. “It’s alright, Old Man. I’m sick of killing people and vandalising properties that I shouldn’t vandalise.” Widowmaker said, taking the blade off his hands and hug him tight.

“That little British girl is your enlightenment, Sniper? My God, this is great news for everyone!” The Old Man cheered and taps Widowmaker’s shoulder, he backed up a little and lands an elderly slap on Widowmaker’s face. “What makes you like this, Widowmaker? Something’s going to happen in your life? Or a premature death?” He asked. It sounds so offensive that Widowmaker almost lost her control over the old man… almost destroying his record store… if angry available in her life, but she can’t release it anymore since the Dream.

“I’m… looking for my emotions and feelings, and to get it back and restore what I’ve been lost.” Widowmaker said, browsing the records available on the counter.

“My… it’s worst than premature death, I suppose,” He commented, feeling sorry for her to not experiencing feelings and emotions. “I’m sorry if my first words offended you, but the only thing I know for you is… I will always remember the day when you’re completely changed from an astonishingly scary assassin into the sweetest girl in Paris… regardless of your skin colour. I will always hold you dear in my heart.”

Widowmaker’s stunned with the old man’s words, she never believes that such person exists in this cruel world full of stereotype-driven hate, where everyone thinks that their superiority is far greater than togetherness. She couldn’t hold herself as she hugs the old man even tighter.

That is the most… memorable and emotional experience for Widowmaker, a newbie to feelings and emotions…and  to the so-called life that she never thinks about.

The Man gave Widowmaker an Amaryllis and a White Rose for Lena,  flowers that surpass supermodel’s beauty. It was fragrance and smells like royalty, but maintained its simplicity and elegance. They walked out from the store with a smile on their faces and went to the local canteen.

Lena experiencing a deeper story behind Widow’s personality, Lena often caught her writing on a small piece of paper and Lena never able to get a look at it. Now that they began to get closer and trusting each other more when they wait for their order to come, Lena asked. “What’s inside that paper, Widowmaker?”

Widowmaker couldn’t find a perfect word… she let it all out to make sure nothing’s buried inside her. “This is a list of my victims… I haven’t asked them for forgiveness, but with these roses, we bought earlier, at last, they could sleep peacefully… so I can rest without having a nightmare about them.”

“Wow… you’re such a remorseful fellow. I’m stunned, you know?” Lena laughed a bit to make Widowmaker feel a little better.

“I wasn’t this evil before, Lena. I am not Widowmaker. Like you said earlier at your dorm, I am Amélie, a part that buried so deep that the life itself gave up digging it up.” Widowmaker said, explaining why she’s remorseful by now.

“I told you so!” Lena shared her laugh with Widowmaker. Widowmaker still faking her laugh and smile, but soon she begins to… accustomed to it.

Across the canteen, there’s a lonely blonde who is sitting all by herself, and she notices Lena with her new companion. She began to worry that Lena’s partner, Widowmaker would harm her and endangered Lena’s life, but her wits said to stay and watch the French lady sips her tea and read a book.

The lonely blonde is Lena’s friend and the Head of Medical Research at Overwatch, Angela Ziegler. She watches Widowmaker sits elegantly on such simple chair, with her long hair and perfectly curved mascara and eyeliner. She’s beautiful… I hope she didn’t notice me. Angela hoped in the deepest parts of her heart. Angela tried to conceal her stalking abilities by eating her lunch one bite at a time, but it was too late. Widow saw her stalking and gave a faint, subtle smile – then a wink. It’s super efficient that Angela began to blush. Scheisse! Scheisse! Scheisse! That wink! Did she just wink at me? She thought to herself while toying with her blonde locks. Widowmaker immediately stood up from her chair and ask Lena’s permission to get some fresh air. Angela knows by staring at Widowmaker without her noticing is invading her comfort zone and as she began to lose hope…

“So the doctor staring me?” Widowmaker greeted Angela from behind and immediately sat beside her.

She startled. “That’s not what I meant… you know… you’re a beauty…” she’s flustered by Widowmaker’s inner beauty. “You’re a beauty woman, I tell you.”

“Angela, Merci beaucoup, chérie.” Widowmaker kissed her on the cheeks, Lena then followed her and take a seat beside Widowmaker.

“Bitte schön, Liebling,” Angela replied with a series of blush began to appear on her face. “Wish I am as beauty as you.”

“Beauty isn’t about your outside, it’s all about your inside, chérie.” Widowmaker.

“Yeah, I already knew that, dear,” Angela replied with a smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Widowmaker.”

“A pleasant sightseeing for me to see you again, Angela,” Widowmaker said. “Have I met you?” She questioned Angela.

“Haven’t I met you before?” Angela asked. “We meet somewhere, but I don’t seem to recall.”

“I don’t appear to remember, too,” Widowmaker nodded in agreement. “Where was it?” She asked Lena and Angela.

“I don’t think that I should say this, but it was at the Eiffel.” Lena chimed in.

“Yeah, that was the place.” Widowmaker and Angela chorused simultaneously.

“How in the heavens you know the place, Lena?” Angela asked Lena, shocked by her long-term memory… with a side of ADHD, in exchange of that.

“Well, I was looking at the Eiffel, and that’s the one place that popped out from my mind,” Lena answered. She eats a portion of Angela’s meal. “You know… France is… famous for its Eiffel.” She continued, munching her food while replying Angela’s question.

“Don’t you eat my meal, Lena!” Angela shouted at her and slaps Lena’s shoulder hard.

“Ow! You… bastard!” Lena choked and spill some of Angela’s food to the floor below, glad that no one watches her dropping her food. Widowmaker can’t help herself but to land a smile in between the two and enjoy her lunch, and a small, faint giggling can be heard.

“Widowmaker! I heard you giggling!” Lena shouted it was heard until the far eastern end of the canteen.

Widowmaker shushed Lena. “Shut up, Brit. Don’t make a scene or you’ll regret it someday.”

[strike-back-now-info]

This is one of the best speeches I ever heard  He spoke for America 1st which is all Americans you want to watch this video only 38 minutes long but it's good.

This is one of the best speeches I ever heard  He spoke for America 1st which is all Americans you want to watch this video only 38 minutes long but it's good.

 WATCH LIVE: Trump addresses the 2019 United Nations General Assembly

 https://youtu.be/eICiLRykTFg

  September 25, 2019

The speech they're trying to hide: President Trump's stellar UN speech

By Monica Showalter

Seems the mainstream media are desperate to keep President Trump's stellar United Nations speech out of the news.

On Tuesday, Trump delivered a far from throwaway speech articulating the vision of the voters who elected him, speaking of nationalism, globalism, and socialism, along with an added rundown of problem nations to condemn and props for others. 

RealClearPolitics has a video and transcript.

For starters, it was a zero apologies for America speech, which was a breath of fresh air, given the previous administration.

He drove a fine definition of nationalism in the American sense, not other countries, as a positive thing that benefits not just the U.S., but all nations.  And he exuded pride in the success the U.S. has seen as a result of recognizing this very reality:

If you want freedom, take pride in your country. If you want democracy, hold onto your sovereignty. And if you want peace, love your nation. Wise leaders always put the good of their own people and their own country first.

The future does not belong to globalists. The future belongs to patriots. The future belongs to sovereign and independent nations who protect their citizens, respect their neighbors, and honor the differences that make each country special and unique.

It is why we in the United States have embarked on an exciting program of national renewal. In everything we do, we are focused on empowering the dreams and aspirations of our citizens. Thanks to our pro-growth economic policies, our domestic unemployment rate reached its lowest level in over half a century.

Fueled by massive tax cuts and regulations cuts, jobs are being produced at a historic rate. Six million Americans have been added to the employment rolls in under three years. Last month, African-American, Hispanic American, and Asian American unemployment reached their lowest rates ever recorded.

We are marshaling our nations vast energy abundance and the United States is now the number one producer of oil and natural gas anywhere in the world. Wages are rising, incomes are soaring, and 2.5 million Americans have been lifted out of poverty in less than three years.

As we rebuild the unrivaled might of the American military, we are also revitalizing our alliances by making it very clear that all of our partners are expected to pay their fair share of the tremendous defense burden which the United States has borne in the past. At the center of our vision for national renewal is an ambitious campaign to reform international trade.

He returned to the subject with a rousing conclusion, too:

Love of our nations makes the world better for all nations. So, to all the leaders here today, join us in the most fulfilling mission a person could have. The most profound contribution anyone can make — lift up your nations, cherish your culture, honor your histories, treasure your citizens. Make your countries strong and prosperous and righteous. Honor the dignity of your people and nothing will be outside of your reach.

When our nations are greater the future will be brighter, our people be happier and our partnerships will be stronger. With God's help, together we will cast off the enemies of liberty and overcome the oppressors of dignity. We will set new standards of living and reach new heights of human achievement. We will rediscover all truths, unravel all mysteries and make thrilling new breakthroughs. And we will find more beautiful friendship and more harmony among nations than ever before.

So much for Trump being a Nazi for being a nationalist, as the Left claims.  This isn't Nazi talk.

Trump also summed up perfectly the problems that globalism has morphed into, including the problem of open borders, perfectly cutting through the kultursmog promoted by the left — exposing them as the real anti-humanitarians:

"Today, I have a message for those open border activists who cloak themselves in the rhetoric of social justice: Your policies are not just, your policies are cruel and evil," he said, accusing them of promoting human smuggling and the "erasure of national borders."

You are empowering criminal organizations that prey on innocent men, women and children. You put your own false sense of virtue before the lives and well-being of countless innocent people," he said. "When you undermine border security, you are undermining human rights and human dignity."

Wow.

He also blasted socialism as a real problem in itself, something no world leader has ever done, but all the world's victims of socialism had to be cheering about.  Trump broke that barrier.

One of the most serious challenges our countries face is the specter of socialism. It's the wrecker of nations and destroyer of societies. Events in Venezuela remind us all that socialism and communism are not about justice. They are not about equality. They are not about lifting up the poor. And they are certainly not about the good of the nation. Socialism and communism are about one thing only, power for the ruling class.

Today I repeat a message for the world that I have delivered at home. America will never be a socialist country. In the last century, socialism and communism killed 100 million people.

It not only put its finger on the world's primary problem, it was also a beautiful speech. Trump described how nationalism isn't a hateful sort of thing - it was precisely this appreciation for nationalism that enables citizens to appreciate one another's differences. Trump had lovely words in it for all cultures, and praised many nations, it wasn't the rah-rah me-alone sort of speech. It was nationalism with a friendly hand out, calling for common ground, because, left unsaid, there is common ground as nation after nation elsewhere comes to embrace their own versions of Trump, too. 

He also did something unprecedented for any president - he brought up the need for human rights for gay people, women, and unborn babies, a human rights manifesto if there ever was one. Zero apologies, and not even the left has tried this.

But rest assured, the groundbreaking speech got overshadowed, first by the press's own efforts and then by the shenanigans in Congress over impeachment.

First, the press focused on a supposed glaring incident with Swedish child activist Greta Thunberg at the UN, which was a nothingburger. (Why, exactly, should a head of state give any face time to an obviously manipulated foreign activist?) A non-story.

Then, following President Trump's paradigm-shifting speech before the United Nations General Assembly, they pointed to the lack of applause, which was about to be expected from this globalist crowd. What it signaled was that they were listening closely, given the lack of cursory applause they give to everyone else, including Iran's crazed leaders.

After that, they decided the speech was very, very 'sleepy.' This one got played a lot.

First, CNBC's nothingburger:

President Donald Trump's United Nations speech was a snooze — at least for Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross.

The 81-year-old Ross took a nap — a very long nap — as his boss addressed the U.N. General Assembly on Tuesday.

Television footage of Ross showed the wealthy businessman sleeping soundly as Trump talked about a possible trade deal with China — which is part of the Commerce chief's portfolio — and the U.S. stance on Iran.

Ross had his eyes firmly closed for as long as 15 minutes, video suggested, as Vice President Mike Pence and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo gave the impression of listening intently to Trump.

At one point, however, Ross's eyes opened. He still looked drowsy, though.

Boy, look at the microscopic attention to that. Ross later smacked them down with what looks like a pretty reasonable explanation:

"This is fake news," Ross said in a statement issued to CNBC by the Commerce Department, hours after this article first was published.

"I wear hearing aids and, during President Trump's inspiring speech, which covered in detail the entire range of significant issues facing the world, was concentrating on what was being said," Ross said.

Then they repeated it as a trope:

Esquire:

He sleepily accused Iran of all manner of international perfidy and gave China a few whacks. In what may have been an attempt to wake his audience up through sheer incoherence, he somnambulated his way through some anti-abortion rhetoric. It was at that point that I began to envy Wilbur Ross.

Daily Mirror:

Donald Trump sent a top ally to sleep with the 'low energy' and 'boring' tone of his speech to the UN General Assembly.

CNN:

And at the UN we watched as the leader of the free world delivered a sleepy, low-energy speech that zeroed in on one head-spinning conclusion: every nation should go at it alone.

It was anything but sleepy. Trump's quiet, deliberate tone was quite different from his rally tone, a wild off-the-cuff style of speaking, improvised plenty, but for that reason, it was far more significant.

Leave it up to the mass media to be unable to distinguish the two and imagine the improvised stuff is more important. Trump changed history with this speech and set new boundaries. No wonder the press is trying to obfuscate and distract.

Image credit: Twitter screen shot.

[yourgodmoments]

God’s Marital Wisdom

Last week we considered the wisdom that God imparted to Solomon and how important it is to have that same wisdom in our lives. Yet, having a head full of wisdom does not create a wise person. It is in the application of that wisdom in one’s life, that makes him or her wise. (James 1:22 - 25.)

Let’s consider the application of God’s wisdom in marriage; and as we do, we will find that He has woven that marital wisdom throughout the Bible, not just in the proverbs.

Marriage was the first institution God created after He formed Adam and Eve:

For this reason, a man shall leave his father and his mother, and shall be joined to his wife; and they shall become one flesh. Gn. 2:24 AMP

God is telling us that when a man and woman are wise enough to become husband and wife, something extraordinary happens: there comes a spiritual opportunity to transcend their individuality and become one.

He also tells us that He has another purpose for their union:

Did he not make them one, with a portion of the Spirit in their union? And what was the one God seeking? Godly offspring. So guard yourselves in your spirit, and let none of you be faithless to the wife of your youth. Mal. 2:15 ESV

God is trying to spread the love. He loves the husband and wife as one and desires the fruit of their loins to create other bundles of love, to amplify His efforts. You’ll also notice that this same scripture infers that marriage is a sanctified relationship - not to be breached by a lack of wisdom that leads to faithlessness.

Indeed, God says that it is wise for a man to find and keep a good wife:

An excellent wife is the crown of her husband… Pr. 12:4 NKJV

He who finds a [true and faithful] wife finds a good thing and obtains favor and approval from the LORD. Pr. 18:22 AMP

Moreover, God says that finding a good wife will also make for him an incomparable partner:

An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not harm all the days of her life…She perceives that her merchandise is profitable…Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Pr. 31:10 - 12, 18 & 25 - 28. ESV

That’s a woman worth having! Note that a man could strive for those characteristics as well, just saying.

God leaves nothing to chance. Because your marriage is so sacred to Him, He left you instructions for how to conduct yourself within it, so that your relationship will thrive:

Wives, submit to your own husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, as also Christ is the head of the church; and He is the Savior of the body. Therefore, just as the church is subject to Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything. Eph. 5:22 - 24. NKJV

Some ladies are prone to take exception to this scripture, so let’s break it down a little. First, like any verse of scripture, it must be taken in context. The two verses just prior to the above citation read thusly:

…giving thanks always for all the things to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, submitting to one another in the fear of God. Eph. 5:20, 21. NKJV

So, we are moving from a contextual former scripture that reveals our need to submit to one another within the family of God (if what we are submitting to is in alignment with God’s word), to a deeper and specific application within a godly marriage. Thus, the marital application infers that a ‘good husband’ should fill the role of making sure that God’s will (His wisdom) is carried out within the marriage, stating that the wife should defer to his leadership.

In addition, the scripture suggests that this marital command is especially important in spiritual matters - where the husband is primarily supposed to lead.

But what if hubby is being a little lax in his spiritual leadership? God’s got wisdom for that as well, telling us that the wife can step in and take the relationship to a higher level:

Wives, likewise be submissive to your husbands, that even if some do not obey the word, they, without a word, may be won by the conduct of their wives… 1 Pt. 3:1 NKJV

For my female readers, I want to stress that God is not being chauvinistic in any way. The husband too, has his own set of responsibilities within the marital relationship:

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her…so husbands ought to love their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the Lord does the church…let each of you so love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband. Eph. 5:25, 28, 29 & 33. NKJV

We see then, that the husband is to love his wife with a depth that commands he sacrifice his life for her. That is an attitude that is far from chauvinism. Also, the husband must love his wife as he loves himself. Why would God tell the men to do that? It’s because we cannot love anyone until we first know what love is; and the only way to know love is to first give it to ourselves.

Husbands must nurture that relationship - keeping it sweet and showing her honor and compassion:

Husbands, love your wives and do not be bitter toward them. Col. 3:19 NKJV

…husbands, love with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered. 1 Pt. 3:7 ESV

We must concede that in most cases, men possess greater physical strength than women. But that has no bearing on the spiritual side of marriage. In my opinion, man’s physical strength is complemented by the greater strength of the heart that the woman brings to the relationship.

Also note in the same scripture that marriage grants a spiritual oneness that connects the husband and wife - a oneness so precious to God that if either bring discord to than harmony, His love is cut off until that oneness is restored.

God takes a firm stand against anything that brings harm to the marital union:

“For I hate divorce,” says the LORD, the God of Israel, “and him who covers his garment with wrong and violence,” says the LORD of hosts. “Therefore keep watch on your spirit, that you do not deal treacherously [with your wife].” Mal. 2:16 AMP

It is extremely rare to find God expressing the word ‘hate’ is Scripture. So why is He using such a strong and negative expletive here? It’s because divorce thrusts violence upon the entire family. Everyone in the home begins to fear for the well-being of their spirit, soul and body; and because fear and love cannot coexist, the love is leeched out of the entire family.

Divorce is Satan’s greatest weapon. He steals the family’s love to weaken them for his purposes. Conversely, keeping a marriage together, making it work by living by God’s marital wisdom, keeps the love - the very thing the devil cannot overcome.

If you do not choose to seek the wisdom of God and apply it, there will be no love to buffer against discord (which comes whenever you put two humans together). Without love, bitterness sets in and is projected outwards:

A continual dripping on a rainy day and a quarrelsome wife are alike; to restrain her is to restrain the wind or to grasp oil in one’s right hand. Pr. 27:15, 16. ESV

(You could just as easily substitute the word ‘husband’ for ‘wife’ here.)

When bitterness takes root, somebody strays because they think the solution lies in ‘greener pastures.’ The fruit of this straying is often adultery:

Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched? So is he who goes into his neighbor’s wife; none who touches her will go unpunished. Pr. 6:27 - 29. ESV

Remember that two of the Ten Commandments expressly forbid adultery; and God pulls no punches about the seriousness of this transgression:

You shall not commit adultery. Ex. 20:14 NKJV

…you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife… Ex. 20:17 NKJV

Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous. Heb. 13:14 ESV

God loves you so much. He knows how much destruction is brought to your house when you seek solace in flesh outside the home:

For the commandment is a lamp, and the law a light; reproofs of instruction are the way of life, to keep you from the evil woman, from the flattering tongue of a seductress. Do not lust after her beauty in your heart, nor let her allure you with her eyelids. for by means of a harlot a man is reduced to a crust of bread; and an adulteress will prey upon his precious life. Pr. 6:23 - 26. NKJV

Adultery leads to divorce. Violence falls upon every member of the household in divorce - including the perpetrator, who loathes him or herself for their transgression. Even if the adulterer manages to carry on their illicit tryst undiscovered, they are already divorced in their heart, if not in the courts.

Adultery separates the perpetrator from the love of God, and should they remain impenitent, they run the danger of losing their eternal date with Him:

Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways, do not stray into her paths; for she cast down many wounded, and all who were slain by her were strong men. Her house is the way to hell, descending to the chambers of death. Pr. 7:25 - 27. NKJV

But thank God for His mercy! Even if you’ve fallen for this trap, if you return to Him with sincere confession and repentance, He will restore your relationship with Him.

Still, you must deal with the destructive aftermath and pray that your household can heal. Sin always has consequences.

Far better to let God direct your marriage. It is His wisdom that leads us into matrimony; and it is the same wisdom that shows us how to exercise love, respect, fidelity, kindness, benevolence, mutual submission and restraint (by keeping our affections at home). When you apply that wisdom, you’re completing your connection with God and living out His purposes, which always lead to your highest and best life.

Doesn’t that sound wise to you?

Goodnight and God bless.