#we will see the return of the messiah before i ever finish a piece

[jizskat]

*Smashes my two favourites together* chredwis time losers

[peterbarnes]

Legacy

Summary: Takes place in 1x04 of Hawkeye. You and Clint are trying to find his watch when someone in a mask attacks you. What will you do when you realize the girl you’re fighting is the girl you once loved and lost?

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist

You didn’t expect to like Clint. He appeared cold, sometimes even bland. Not like someone you’d ever want to work with. But with the tracksuit mafia plaguing Hell’s Kitchen, you had no choice. 

“Just until this is over,” he told you on the 6 train, pointing a very aggressive finger at you. “Then I go back to my family and you go back to playing hero.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoffed, leaning back on the bright orange seat beneath you. “You’re literally an Avenger.”

“Not anymore.”

The squeaks of the train filled the tense silence between the two of you. Your hands fiddled with the black mask that sat comfortably on the upper half of your face. Your eyes flickered to the old man beside you whose expression was unreadable.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you not an Avenger anymore?”

Clint sighed, exasperated. His hands went up to his face, rubbing his eyes.

“Not now, [Y/N]-”

“But-”

“No.”

“Clint, I-”

“Being an Avenger lost me everything,” he snapped, slamming his hand against the seat and turning to you. Fire bloomed in his eyes in a way you’d never seen before. “You want this life? Fine. But it’s not what you think. It’ll break you in ways you didn’t know were possible.”

“Too late for that,” you retorted, glaring him down. “How do you think I got involved with this in the first place? I’m not some messiah who thinks they can save the whole world. I lost someone, I want them back- simple as that. The tracksuits and that boss of theirs have to know something, anything. They have underground ties deeper than we think, I know it.”

“Who…who’d you lose?” Clint, for once, sounded sincere. His voice was quieter and laced with empathy. As if he knew exactly what you were going through, which, of course, he did. 

“My girlfriend,” you whispered, trying to fight back the water that was building in the back of your eyes. You couldn’t say her name- you’d start crying if you did. 

I’m gonna get her back. Even if I have to kill every one of them to do it. 

He nodded and turned his eyes to the littered floor of the train car.

“I lost my wife and kids in the blip,” he admitted. 

“That’s the first time you’ve willingly given me a piece of information about yourself,” you joked. He returned it with a surprising chuckle.

“Don’t get used to it.”

-

You hated how cold the air got in New York City during the winter. It bit your nose and stung your cheeks, forcing you to rub your hands together for any sort of relief. 

“Right,” Clint started, walking toward the edge of the roof you two stood on. 

He held a pair of binoculars in his hand comfortably, putting it up to his eyes to spy on one of the apartments across the street. You couldn’t help but smile seeing that one of them had bright, multicolored Christmas lights wrapped around their terrace. 

“The watch is in that apartment,” he said, pointing to the apartment to the right of all the lights. It was completely dark, stale, void of any movement. “You be the lookout. Tell me if you see any movement while I’m in there.”

“Lookout?” You questioned, offense overcoming your tone. “Why am I the lookout?”

“‘Cause you’re the rookie-”

“Rookie?!”

“Look, we don’t have time for this-”

Before he could finish his sentence, someone’s heel flew into his face, sending him staggering back. It all happened so fast you could barely process that someone was actually attacking you. You whipped around to see someone in a black bodysuit. They wore a black mask as well, but unlike yours, it covered their entire face. The night vision goggles they donned lit up the rooftop a bright green, allowing you to see just how bad Clint was getting his ass kicked. 

You immediately jumped into action, running up to the attacker and kicking them right in the gut. They flew back a few feet from the impact, a groan escaping them as they landed on the harsh concrete. They took a few seconds to reset before kicking up from the ground, landing on their feet.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you whined in envy.

They obviously didn’t care about what you had to say because as soon as their feet hit the ground they charged at you. You blocked most of the brutal punches that were thrown at you, but a few landed right on your jaw, causing you to spit out blood. Your legs throbbed but you kept fighting anyway, sweeping your leg under the attacker. They fell onto the floor before sweeping their leg under yours. You were practically face to face now- or mask to mask. You immediately jumped up, climbing on top of them for leverage. Your legs straddled their waist, pinning them down before snapping your hand back to punch them. But before you could, you felt two legs wrap around your waist, pulling you backward toward the ground. You shut your eyes in pain as your head slammed against the floor, and when you opened them again, the attacker was on top of you, fist pulled back in a form identical to yours. You were at a loss- your legs were trapped under their weight and while your hands were free, the attacker wasn’t close enough for you to punch them in the face with enough force. So, instead, you stretched your hand forward as much as you could. You felt the pull of your limb as your fingers finally grazed the fabric of their mask. You felt them tense and immediately pulled the mask off their head before they could react. 

The first thing you saw was a strand of blonde hair. 

Blonde hair.

Blonde hair. 

“Yelena?”

The words left your mouth in a broken whisper. 

Her eyes widened slightly at the sound of her name, just enough for you to notice. Her fist loosened and her arm wavered, caught in an internal conflict over whether it should stay up or not. Eventually it fell but not to her side, it stopped right in front of your face. Her soft fingers touched your cheek hesitantly. You could see the inquiry in her eyes as she tried to determine if you were who she thought you were. Her hand slowly traveled up to your mask. She reached for the sides of it, carefully pulling it off your eyes and nose. 

You didn’t know what to expect right at that moment, but you didn’t think she’d start sobbing. Let alone as violently and hysterically as she was. She was still straddling you as you shot up from the ground and wrapped your arms around the girl in your lap. You could feel the fall of her tears as she buried her head into the crook of your neck. You squeezed her tightly, your heart aching at how clearly overwhelmed she was. 

You locked eyes with Clint over her shoulder. His eyes were furrowed as he studied the scene in front of him. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t move. He just watched.

“Lena,” you whispered into her hair, which was now falling out of its braid. “How- how are you here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you…I thought maybe…”

Your voice trailed off, the silence forming unsaid words. She tensed under your grasp before slowly taking her head out of your neck. Her eyes were bloodshot and riddled with tears.

“Honey,” you whispered as she desperately tried to wipe them away.

“I-I have a mission,” she said, more to herself than to you. Her tone became increasingly monotone.

“What?-”

She ripped herself out of your embrace, running over to Clint and holding up a dagger to his neck.

Where’d she get that dagger from?

“Yelena!” You called, running up next to them. Clint stood there stoically, still examining Yelena, unsure if he should fight back or not. “Put that dagger down, he’s with me!”

“He’s with you?” She whispered, and venom practically dripped from her lips. 

“Yes, he’s my partner-”

“-That’s a stretch,” Clint chimed in and you sent him a murderous glare.

You turned back to Yelena who looked as though someone had punched her in the gut. She stared at you so intensely, and with such pain, that you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Where you there?” She spat, closing in the dagger on Clint’s neck. The tip was prickling his skin and his breath hitched at the contact. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, putting your hands up and carefully reaching for the dagger. 

She moved it out of your reach, turning it to point its head at you. Your eyes widened at the burning anger radiating off of her.

“When he murdered my sister!” She screamed. It was a brutal scream, one that you know would hurt her throat later. It was filled with the perfect balance of rage and grief that you felt a piece of your heart chip off at the sound of it.

Clint, on the other hand, was frozen. But you could see the guilt creep up on him unexpectedly. He didn’t need to hear her name to know Yelena was talking about Natasha. And he was clearly biting the inside of his cheek to keep in his emotions. 

“Yelena,” you whispered, sniffling slightly at the weight of the situation. “He didn’t kill her.”

Her eyes bored into yours as she took a step forward, dagger raised. 

“Why would you lie to me?” She asked, her voice cracking. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” you asserted as a tear fell down your cheek. “I’m not lying, I swear, Yelena. He was her friend, her best friend. You’ve had to have heard her talk about him before.”

“Of course I have!” She shouted. “That’s why I’m here. She was betrayed by her best friend, and I’m here to avenge her…What do you have to say, huh?”

She turned to Clint and punched him with the handle of the dagger. He dropped to the floor and his hearing aid fell out of his ear a few feet away. You jumped toward it, salvaging it before it could be crushed. You heard a grunt and turned to see Yelena kicking Clint in the stomach while he was hunched over on the floor. 

Enough of this. 

You ran at Yelena, catching her by the waist and knocking her to the floor. You straddled her like before, but made sure to pin both her legs and arms under you. She squirmed under you, trying to break free, and she let out a frustrated scream.

“Yelena!” You yelled as she struggled. “Yelena! Stop!”

At the sheer volume of your voice and its final tone, her body went still, finally taking a beat of rest. You saw her bottom lip quiver as she truly looked at you for the first time since she’d last seen you years ago. 

“[Y/N],” she whimpered, tears leaking from her eyes.

“I know, my love, I know,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I promise I’m not lying. I made you a promise when we first met, right? That I would never lie to you like they did.”

She nodded weakly and bit her lip in contemplation.

“If he didn’t… then what happened?”

You slowly climbed off of her and turned to Clint who was now sitting up on the floor, like all of you. You grabbed the hearing aid from your pocket and threw it at him- he didn’t hesitate to put it back on.

“She wants to know what happened,” you explained carefully.

He nodded and gritted his teeth as if he knew it would come to this. As if he knew he would eventually have to retell one of the most traumatic moments of his life. 

“We had to get the soul stone if we wanted to complete the gauntlet and bring everyone back. It was on this planet- small, but had this huge mountain. We climbed to the top and there was a man, well, a ghost really. He guarded the stone and… and he said…he said one of us had to sacrifice ourselves. A soul for a soul.”

He clutched his side as if he was stabbed, but really it was just the pain of the words, of the memory, that was wearing him down. Weakening him until he looked like a crumpled piece of paper. 

“Why didn’t you jump?” Yelena asked. But it wasn’t snarky, it wasn’t accusatory. It was words from a girl trying to grasp onto something, anything to know how her sister died. 

“I tried,” Clint breathed out. “I tried. We were both hanging off the side of that cliff, but she hooked my suit to the rock so I wouldn’t fall. I remember holding her hand, trying so hard to pull her up, but I couldn’t. She told me to let go…and when I didn’t, couldn’t, she did.”

All three of you were in tears now. Natasha may not have been there, but her presence loomed, weighing down on all of you. A sister, a friend. 

“I’m sorry,” Clint broke down, looking right at Yelena. “I’m so sorry.”

Yelena sat on her knees, utterly defeated as she realized there would be no satisfying moment where she could avenge her sister. Where she could plunge a blade into someone’s side and not regret it. No one to take her grief out on. No one to help her cope. 

“So, that’s it? We’re just supposed to move on?” Yelena scoffed through her tears, looking up at the sky. “I-I can’t- I don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to forget her, Yelena,” you soothed, rubbing circles onto the back of her vest. “You remember her and you cherish the time that you had with her. You don’t need to kill someone to sustain her legacy- you’re her legacy. And she’d want you to be happy.”

Yelena leaned her head on you shoulder, her cheeks squished as she let out a whimper.

“I don’t know if happiness is possible for me.”

“It is,” you whispered into her hair. “Why don’t you stay with us? We can take care of each other. Try and be normal as much as we can after we take these tracksuit assholes down.”

“Tracksuits?”

“I know, right? They need a new schtick”

She chuckled and you could feel the vibrations on your shoulder. You peeked over to Clint who’s haunted look had somewhat passed. The gears were turning in his head, you could tell, but he was smiling at the two of you. And when he saw you look at him he winked. You’d been his partner- yes, partner- long enough for you to know that meant “good job, kid.”

You shot him back a warm smile before leaning into Yelena further, snuggling her.

“You probably need some sleep, Lena.”

“I need a beer,” she retorted.

“I have some back at the house,” Clint spoke, standing up from the floor with a groan. 

Yelena looked up at him cautiously, but you could see the tension slowly leaving her shoulders as she finally deconstructed the idea that he was a threat from her brain. She sighed before getting up and walking right in front of him, sticking out her small hand. Her face seemed stoic, all business, but the corner of her mouth quirked upwards into a slight smirk. 

No words were said. None were needed. Clint shook Yelena’s hand without hesitation, officially welcoming her to your team, your family. You came up behind her and wrapped a hand around her waist. She grabbed your hand that lay on her side and interlaced your fingers, rubbing her thumb softly over your skin.

“Welcome home, Yelena. Welcome home.”

[fericita-s]

Beginning After The End (Part 4)

Part 1   Part 2  Part 3

This concludes this story about Thea and Hubert falling in love after the deaths of Elias, Agnarr, and Iduna. Thank you @the-spaztic-fantastic​ for being the best beta ever and saying “YES MORE” when I said I wanted to think about these two and their lives after the events of WAIL. And for her many contributions including the idea of getting Henrik back with these two for some shenanigans and many of the gift ideas. Thea deserves good things!

Elias had shaved every day at home, lathering up with a soap with a distinct scent that Thea had come to associate with him.  She missed the smell of it.  He came home from expeditions with a beard that was coarse and full.  Its roughness against her face when they kissed hello was part of the homecoming ritual, as was watching him trim and then shave it off, the time spent apart measured in how long it was.  She would cup his smooth cheek with her hand and say “There you are!” when he finished and then together they began their favorite part of his homecoming. 

Hubert kept his beard short.  This was becoming a greater challenge now that the white hairs in it were growing faster than the brown.  He would turn to Thea from his dressing table with the mirror propped up and the scissors in his hand, exasperated and possibly wistful and say “Why are the old-man hairs the ones most intent on announcing their presence?” 

She found the best way to assuage this particular fear was to kiss him on the lips while her hands scratched at his bearded cheeks. “I like it.  It makes you look distinguished.  Very reliable for knowing the best way to introduce ice cars to the national railway.” Often the scissors would be abandoned as his hand found places to caress that elicited less verbal sounds of satisfaction from her.

***

Elias had presented her with gifts throughout their courtship and marriage through the imports his family was so involved in.  He paid attention to the latest fashions that his mother and Linnea followed closely and seemed to always be giving her a new bonnet or pair of gloves or piece of jewelry or box of books.  He bought her paints and pigments for her artwork and she exclaimed over the expense, grateful he knew how important it was to her.  She hadn’t packed any of those gifts in the trunks that came to Antwerp, though she had tucked her wedding ring into a pair of woolen socks, unwilling to part from it completely and yet wanting to try living without its constant presence on her hand.

Hubert was similarly generous with gifts.  For their first Christmas together, he had given all of the children their own horses and when Thea gently pointed out that perhaps the twins and Elias were too young for a horse, he bought them ponies as well.  Vadik had also received a pocket watch that Hubert had been gifted from his own father at the age of ten and a letter Elias had written to Hubert announcing Vadik’s birth.  Sasha had gasped when he presented her with a Stradivarius violin. They hadn’t seen her for the rest of the day, the pastoral symphony from Handel’s Messiah filling the house the only evidence of her presence and a testament to her delight.

To Thea, he had given his mother’s diamond ring, resized to fit her hand.  He had shrugged at the extravagance, saying only “Antwerp is known for diamonds and I never gave you a ring when we were wed.” But she had seen how pleased he was when she wore it, how his eyes looked at her hand and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  Later, Sara had hugged her tightly and whispered how glad she was to see her brother in love.

That night when the last carol had been sung and the last candle extinguished, Hubert lit one in the bedroom to tell her of another gift.

“I saved the letters Elias wrote to me over the years.  Yours too, but it’s his I think you might like to see. We started corresponding the year we were all at the Royal Sommerhus together,” he said as he crossed the room to the tall chest of drawers.  He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers tied neatly with a piece of string. 

“I should have told you about them before, but I wasn’t sure if they would cause joy or bereavement.  But I think either way, the decision is for you to make.” He was looking at the letter on top, and even with only candlelight Thea could see that it bore the creases of having been once folded as a letter.  Hubert didn’t raise his eyes to hers as he continued speaking.

“He loved you so much Thea.  And he said that so often in these letters.  Sometime casually, sometimes in grand declarations.  And they’re yours to read whenever you want to; alone or with me nearby.”

The diamond had spun on her finger and she twisted it back around as she answered him, careful to keep her voice even so he wouldn’t hear grief in her voice and regret this gift.  “Thank you, Hubert. I’ll read them another night.”

He returned the letters to the drawer and then got back in their bed.

“Thank you for all of the gifts.  The children and I - we’re so lucky to have you.” She hoped he could hear the sincerity in her voice, how much she meant it to be true.  Thinking about Elias was still a wound but it was more of a bruise now, not the gaping wound it had been before coming to Antwerp. And one she preferred, at least for now, to prod and examine by herself.

“I love giving you good things,” he said and she knew he was trying to say something else.

***

The night before Vadik was born, Thea had been so uncomfortably pregnant that she sent Elias to Hudson’s without her.  “Bring me back krumkake if there is any.  Or skolebrod.  Or both,” she’d said as he kissed her goodbye.  He’d returned with both.

When she was so heavily pregnant that only one dress fit and none of her shoes, she felt her stomach had no room for any food.  Hubert begged her to take one more sip of soup, one more bite of bread, and when her contractions began said he would go for the midwife himself and fetch Sasha from school until Thea told him she would rather he remain close by and to perhaps send a servant instead.  

“Try not to get drunk like Elias did when I labored with Sasha.  All will be well.  There’s nothing to fear,” she had said as he left the room.

Thea had cried out once when the midwife said “There’s another!”  Hubert rushed in and saw the birth of the second while clutching Thea’s hand, his mother’s diamond leaving a mark in his palm.

***

Elias had taken the children sailing and riding and swimming and hiking, sometimes with Thea and sometimes not.  He rolled to the very edge of the bed when Sasha and then later Vadik came into their room at the sound of thunder and needed to sleep pressed against their mother. He put a steady hand behind Thea as she carried their babies, pushed the pram or nursed.

Maybe because there were two at once, or because he was older when he became a father, or just because he was a different man, but Hubert held the babies at every opportunity.  They bought a second pram shortly after they realized the need for it, but the twins, Helen and Castor, were still small enough that they fit in one, tightly swaddled and fit neatly together as the family walked through De Zoologie and exclaimed over the animals.  Hubert pushed the pram and Thea would have thought that was the way of it in Antwerp except every other pram they passed was pushed by a nursemaid in uniform.  Hubert smiled and waved to those passing and Thea thought his pride in his family, in their family, was visible to even strangers.

***

“Three babies in two years; I know it’s been rare for you to have time to yourself,” Hubert said, with his hand on the doorknob.  Thea appreciated that he didn’t list the tragedies of those years, only the happy surprises: little Elias and Helen and Castor.  Little Elias was so big now that no one ever called him “the baby,” especially since the twins were currently taking up quite a bit of energy and attention, even spread as it was among Hubert, Thea, Sara, the nursemaids, and their older siblings.

It was their first anniversary, after all, and Thea was determined to have a happy day.  She had planned a menu with the cooks that would rival a royal wedding celebration.  Hubert’s friends and colleagues, who would probably have come to their wedding had it happened with any notice, were attending an anniversary dinner.  Even Henrik was coming. He was in the country to discuss the use of ice in train transport with Hubert and had promised to bring a few surprises of his own.  Thea had raised her eyebrows at this, but Hubert had been uncharacteristically unconcerned.

They were outside of a room Thea thought might be one of the sunrooms.  The Bonfrey family estate was large and she was still learning where everything was located a year into making it home.  The children seemed to learn it perfectly after one tour from Sara on the very first night.  But Thea would sometimes open several doors before ending up where she meant to, and wasn’t helped by the way the children were constantly leaving their books and playthings scattered in different places, a trail of unhelpful breadcrumbs like those from one of Hubert’s book of German fairy tales.

“Sara and Sasha helped me set this up the way they guessed you’d like,” said Hubert, and Thea was surprised to see a red flush on his cheeks, a nervous flexing in his hands.  They’d seen each other through so much this year - the grief of a funeral for beloved friends, a hellish trip across the sea, the birth of the twins - but she hadn’t seen him act like this before.  

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first and she did.  

“Oh Hubert!” 

The room Hubert had led her into had been a sunroom.  The floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light that displayed the contents of the room to full effect: paints and pigments, canvases stacked high, chalks and charcoals, several easels, hog bristle brushes, even a pantograph for reducing or enlarging sketches. On the wall were shelves that were mostly empty save for a handful of books. 

“They’re photo studies. Of statues, paintings.  Some landscapes and some models,” Hubert said as she stepped forward and traced the embossed titles along the book spines.

Thea moved about the room, her hands running along shelves and then on to the paintbrushes, experimentally brushing them against her palm.  

“I thought you could use a place to be by yourself, to think and to paint or even to just sit and read. I can move the letters from Elias in here if you’d like.”

Thea turned to him and nodded.  “I would like that.  I like all of this, Hubert. So much.”

“Sasha said you’d like those the best,” he said as she examined the canvas. “ And Sara suggested we paint the room white and take out most of the furniture so you can choose how to decorate it.  We left a chair and a stool for you, and the couch for whoever wants to pose.”

Vadik suddenly ran in the room with little Elias close behind and Hubert scooped him up before he collided with the glass jars standing at the ready for mixing.

“And the best part,” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a key, “is that you can lock it to keep out any unwelcome visitors.”

“Like who?” Vadik asked.  “Uncle Henrik? But he just got here and Aunt Sara told me to fetch you to greet him!”

Thea laughed and ruffled his hair. “No, sweet, Uncle Henrik is most welcome.  Come with me so he can exclaim over how tall you’ve grown.”  

***

The anniversary dinner party went so late into the evening that it was the early morning hours before any guests left for home.  Though Hubert gripped the table when Henrik gave a toast, it was entirely appropriate and never once mentioned Paris, for which Thea knew Hubert was extremely grateful.

When Hubert was walking the last of the guests to the door, Henrik revealed his surprise - paintings and sketches Thea had made and left in Arendelle.  She went through the neatly preserved stack and was delighted to see among them Sasha, age ten and playing her violin, Vadik as a baby sleeping in his crib, Elias in the pond by the Royal Sommerhus, teaching Sasha to swim. She had left them in Arendelle hoping to leave some evidence of her family behind in case they all sunk to the bottom of the sea. Looking at them now, she was surprised to feel only joy.

“Linnea brought them back on her last visit and asked me to deliver them to you personally,” Henrik said.  

He didn’t ask why she hadn’t brought them when she and the children moved here and she was grateful.  He reached for the portrait of Elias that she was now tracing with her hand - one of him in an Arendelle navy uniform, trying to look serious but his smile rendered fully in the watercolor. “Thea, you know he loved you.  And you know he would have wanted you to find love again.  To be cared for and to care for others. To not be closed off and grieving for the rest of your days.” He placed the painting back in the pile and squeezed her hand.  “He liked Hubert.  He would have liked this for you, even though he would never have liked to leave you so permanently.”

***

Hubert helped Thea arrange the paintings Henrik had brought from Linnea.  With each painting she felt a fragmented piece of herself realign and became part of the whole, like a dried out watercolor palette being worked over with water and blending brushes.  Hubert had his hand on the doorknob to leave, but she didn’t want him to go.

“Henrik asked again if I wanted him to pose for me.  Nude of course.”

Hubert laughed. “Again? Is this something he does often?”

“A handful of times.  I think usually it was just to bother Elias,” she said as she fiddled with the nearby paintbrushes and straightened the stack of canvases that were already in a very neat pile.  She picked up the lay figure and worked its arms and legs.  “Thankfully you’ve given me this so I can decline.”

“If you ever need a live model, I’d be happy to do it.  To spare you the sight of Henrik.” He said and took his hand off of the doorknob.  “It’s why the couch is here after all.”  

He sat down on it and then she did too.  

“Did I tell you about the time Elias offered himself for the same purpose?”

“No,” Hubert laughed.  

“I was very flustered - we weren’t yet engaged. I told him of my art classes and the sketches we would do, how both men and women had posed nude for us. I was trying to impress him with my worldliness.  And he said ‘I’d be very pleased to pose for you anytime you’d like.’” Thea glanced at Hubert who was smiling at her story, and smiled in response and in memory of her attempt to show off.

“I told him there was no need as I’d already seen more men naked than I could count, and then he said ‘Just wait until you see what I do with it.’” Thea reddened and put her hand over her mouth, laughing.  “I’m sorry; you don’t want to hear that!”

But Hubert was laughing too and reached for her hands to squeeze them in reassurance.  “You can tell me anything about him.  We can both remember him.”

“Thank you,” Thea said, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling like another piece of herself was connected and whole again.

***

She loved him. She wasn’t sure when it started. Probably long before she said it, probably when her heart didn’t know what to call it anymore.  He had been patient and allowed her to find her way to it, not demanding it of her even when he said it freely and showed her in a hundred different ways.  

“Ice liebe dich,” she said, and kissed him on one cheek and then the other.  “Je t’aime.” 

The space between their lips was so small that she could feel his words as he spoke them, warm as they fell across her lips.  

“I love you too.  So much,”  Hubert said as he gently rested his forehead against hers and put his hands on her shoulders.  He rested them lightly and she could feel them tremble.

“Ik hou van je,” she said.  She had saved that one for last.  

Hubert spoke German when he was in a nostalgic mood and French for everyday.  Flemish was his language for murmuring in her ear while in bed at night, his body surrounding hers and bringing them both pleasure.  He spoke words of affection in Flemish after moments of ecstasy that she guessed he didn’t know if she was ready to hear.  But now, she was. And she was ready to say them too.

“Is that right?” asked Hubert, and pulled back from her so she could see his face.  His was smiling and his eyes were full of such hope and tenderness she knew he meant it was all he wanted.  “You love me in three languages?”

“I love you in every language. And I’ll learn them all, too, to tell you.  You loved me back to life and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say thank you enough.”

Hubert’s smile faltered a little and his brow furrowed.  They were small tells, but she could see them.  Someone who loved him could see that he was bothered. 

“Saying ‘I love you’ is better than ‘thank you.’  As long as it’s not an obligation.  As long as you don't think you have to say it to stay here and be my beloved,” he said, speaking gently and patiently, like always. 

She answered and kept her eyes on his.  She wanted him to feel the truth in what she said.  “No, I feel free.  You’ve made me free to love again. And I love you.”

He smiled and she saw the relief he felt at her words, the joy.  He moved his hands to her waist and her cheek and pulled her towards him in language their bodies were familiar with. “Well then. Let’s love.”

[paytonspilgrimage]

My Nativity Scene is All Wrong

My grandma would be pissed, but I’m just going to say it:

My nativity scene is wrong. There, I said it. 

My grandma hand-painted each figure in the nativity that’s displayed on a window sill in my living room. Our Christmas tree sits beside it. The lights woven in & out of the tree’s branches illuminate the nativity scene at night, it’s quite lovely, actually. Festive, cutesy even. 

My great-grandpa, whom we called Tiger, built the stable that houses all the hand-painted nativity figures. It was a creative project shared between father & daughter, my great-grandpa & grandma. It’s an heirloom at this point. I adore it, truly, but it’s wrong.

It’s not because most of the figures are brimming with anglo-saxon features: a blonde, blue-eyed Jesus & Mary, even! Obviously that’s not accurate, but that’s not altogether why it’s wrong.

Conjure up the Christmas story in your head: what do you see, what do you remember? What have you been told? The Bethlehem Hilton was all out of rooms, not even Joseph’s Hilton Honors Rewards could get them a slubby single-bed room on the smoking floor. That led Mary & Joseph to some stable on the wayside to deliver a Savior; surrounded by whimsical farm animals. Oh, & then three guys showed up offering strange baby-shower gifts. 

Okay, I’m being facetious. But really, it wasn’t an inn, there was no stable! Tiger got it wrong. 

“The inn”, “no room at the inn”… The greek word used in the original translation of the Christmas Story for “The Inn” is kataluma.

 Kataluma simply means the upstairs level of a home where guests would stay. Mary & Joseph had relatives in Bethlehem, who would customarily offer up their kataluma (guest rooms) to family-members passing though, but with the census happening, & all the other relatives returning to Bethlehem, ALL AT ONCE, there wasn’t a guest room available. They were full. Big family. Tiny katalumas.

This is important, we’ll come back to it, promise.

So “the inn” wasn’t an inn, it was a house, a family member’s house. Oh, and the stable? Right. Didn’t exist. Not a thing, sorry, Tiger. 

Residential, middle-eastern architecture in the year of 4(ish) BC matters to the Christmas story. I know, it’s a niche subject-matter, but, there’s really just one thing we need to understand about the family-homes of Mary & Joseph’s relatives: the downstairs of a village home in this era served many functions. 

Often, it was used as a workshop during the day & at night (my grandma would love this part)... it was used to shelter the property owner’s frail animals. The able-bodied members of the flock were usually all left outdoors at night, but the ones needing extra attention were put downstairs.

You were right, Grandma. There very well could’ve been animals at Christ’s birth. You nailed it when you picked out little, dainty sheep & a skinny, tired-looking cow to paint & place throughout the nativity.

There might have been animals there that night, & surely there were animals there sometimes, but it wasn't a stable! This isn’t just semantics, this is… well, this is the gospel. Let me explain.

Let’s fast-forward in the Christmas story a little, shall we? Here is Luke 2:8-11:

“That night, in a field near Bethlehem, there were shepherds watching over their flocks. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared in radiant splendor before them, lighting up the field with the blazing glory of God, and the shepherds were terrified!  But the angel reassured them, saying, “Don’t be afraid. For I have come to bring you good news, the most joyous news the world has ever heard! And it is for everyone everywhere! For today in Bethlehem, a rescuer was born for you. He is the Lord Yahweh, the Messiah. You will recognize him by this miracle sign: You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a feeding trough!”

Seems like a strange miracle sign, no? & so specific… “A baby”, “Wrapped in strips of cloth”, “Laying in a feeding trough”, Huh. 

But it matters. A lot. Every part of the “miracle sign” matters.

We’ve got to revisit middle-eastern architecture in the year of 4(ish) BC for just a second. They really ought to make “Middle-Eastern Architecture in the Year of 4(ish) BC a “Jeopardy!” category. Studying the Christmas story has really given me a crash course on it. 

The Shepherds visited by angels that night were very possibly near a tower called “Migdal Eder” that night. It was a watchtower in Bethlehem. One used to watch over flocks of sheep (Migdal Eder means ‘flock tower’ in Hebrew). This tower is a big deal. It was on the lower floor of this watchtower where the Passover Lambs were birthed. The selected ewes (momma sheep) who were about to give birth were brought there. When the lambs were born, the priestly shepherds would wrap the lambs in cloth & lay them in managers. Mangers lined with soft hay so the lambs would not hurt themselves. Passover lambs were to be unblemished; no bruises, broken bones; spotless.

The “miracle sign” the angels had given the shepherds wasn’t random, oddly-specific nonsense to them. They knew that a baby boy lying in the lower level of a structure, wrapped in cloth & in a manger is where the passover lamb should be…

& there he was. The passover lamb. Perfect. Spotless, without blemish. Christ Jesus.

My nativity scene is all wrong. That’s okay, though. I fixed it…

It can look like a stable, that’s fine. Tiger did a great job on it, afterall. It’s so sturdy & has held up so well even though it was made before I was even born. But I’d argue, it is important we know that Jesus wasn’t born in a stable.

One, because passover lambs weren’t born in stables. They were born in set apart places, among the frail & weak. Jesus is the passover lamb, & he, too, was born among the frail & weak, only to make them strong. 

Two, because I promised we’d come back eventually to why big families & tiny katalumas matter. Because when baby Jesus grows up he makes it a big point to tell all of the disciples that his Father’s house has MANY rooms (John 14:2). If it wasn’t a stable, it was downstairs. If it was downstairs, it’s because the katalumas were filled up. Big family, tiny kataluma… but baby Jesus grows up to preach great news: God’s got a big family, & a really, realllllly big kataluma. If you were worried there wasn’t any place for you in God’s house, there is. 

My nativity scene is wrong! & it’s not the blonde/white Jesus, it’s not the stable (though Jesus wasn’t white & he wasn’t born in a stable)... it’s that it’s MISSING something. Something big, something major! 

Jesus is our passover lamb. A perfect sacrifice to show us that we’re covered-- any sins we commit, any misplacement of our identity, any bad decisions or bad intentions: they’re covered. The passover lamb rendered them unrelated to our worth & deservingness of God’s love. 

That’s great news, but it’s the full gospel.

Yes, Jesus is the passover lamb, but he’s also the Lion of Judah. 

Him being a lamb, it’s sufficient…  but him also being the lion is The Good News, The Best News, The Gospel. 

The Passover lamb renders us innocent. 

The Lion of Judah renders us victorious. 

The Passover lamb tells us we are pure.

The Lion of Judah rips the head off of anyone who lies & says we aren’t.

The moment that the passover lamb was swaddled in cloth & placed in his manger, frail, innocent, spotless… he also rose up like a vicious, victorious beast. The moment He arrived to die for our sins, he’d already stood over them -- licking his jowls, ready to defeat them. 

The Christmas Story is the Easter Story, and vise versa. 

The Lamb is the Lion, and vise versa. 

Here’s where I land the plane, I promise. 

We called my great grandpa “Tiger”. I can’t really tell you how it started. But we called him Tiger & he called all his grandkids Tiger, too. It was a universal nickname of sorts. Maybe it's because he had so many grandkids, it was easier to just call us all, “Tiger”. 

I sometimes like to call God, “Lion”. I’ve already told you how that started.

My nativity scene was all wrong, but I pulled a little lion figure from my son’s toy box. 

I fixed it. 

So, thank you, Grandma Becky & Great-Grandpa Tiger… for leaving a piece of the nativity for me to finish. Perhaps you did it on purpose all along.

[chicago-reeed]

PHCK ME - Reed900 Fic Rec List

Hello!!! You might not remember, but awhile back I mentioned I had the start of a fic rec list that I planned to post (which I never did). To celebrate all 1K+ of you, I thought I would finish the list for you! It is my duty as a loyal reed900 servant.

DISCLAIMER: This list of reccomendations was made purely out of personal opinion. I by no means want to discredit any other fics/authors. Some may not agree with my choices, and that’s totally understandable. I just wanted to share these fics because I personally enjoyed them <3

I didn’t include some fics because they haven’t been updated in a long time, or I didn’t remember them enough to give them accurate reviews. Also, I’m sure there are many more fics that I forgot to put on here (these are from my ao3 bookmarks). I might include them in a future update.

Anyways, all of my recs are under the cut! There are a lot!! I had eight pages worth of them in my documents haha

Mint Condition - by itsdefinitive - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 18/? - Reed could see what they were going for there -- the whole infallible super-soldier thing. ��A monument to testosterone made perfect, cast in steel within plastic.  It was actually really creepy.  Maybe that was on purpose.

The first reed900 fic I read, and it’s honestly what got me into the pairing itself.

Charon - by Vapewraith - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 20/20 - Gavin Reed, a mess of a human being, just wants to be left to his self destructive tendencies. RK900, an android designed by the most brilliant minds in the world to be the perfect machine, is desperate to grasp the full range of emotional freedom now afforded to him. The two will need to find an equilibrium before their incompatible personalities—and an eccentric serial killer with a dangerous piece of tech—swallow them whole.

I can’t even describe how much I love this fic. I’m a slut for horror, and there’s plenty of that in here. It might just be my favorite. Definitely recommend.

Two Sides of a Vaguely Similar Coin - by ZombiBird - Mature - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 13/? - RK900 is lost.

It’s been months since the Revolution and he’s still no closer to figuring out what the hell he’s supposed to be doing with himself. He feels like an outsider in his own body. Completely detached, nothing more than a quiet observer; like he’s looking down at the world through a layer of glass instead of fully living in it.

Gavin Reed is a temperamental asshole.

This isn’t news, okay? Gavin’s fully aware of what he is. He burns bridges instead of building them. Bites hands instead of shaking them. Would rather drown in a sea comprised of the consequences of his faults and misdeeds than try to change the way he is. Because people like him? Maybe they deserve to drown.

[Alternatively: Both lost in different ways, Gavin and RK900 try to figure their shit out and end up learning that, sometimes, it takes two people who have absolutely no idea what the hell they’re doing to get a goddamn clue.]

I don’t remember much about this fic, if I’m honest. Not that the story is forgettable, it’s just been awhile since I read it. However, the title definitely stood out to me so I know it was very good :P

Captcha Encryption - by Cerulaine - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 18/? - It's a little over a year after the android uprising and it's still the end of the fucking world.

Back in the day when things became shit he used to enjoy a drink or two. Or Five. It all depended on how long the shift ran. After 'The Accident' he can't even cough without Nines breathing down his neck anymore.

He just wishes everything would go back to normal, but if there's anything Gavin has learned it's that you can't unring a bell once it's been rung.

Or whatever. Fuck if he knows.

Similar situation to the last fic: I don’t remember much about it (my memory SUCKS), but I do remember thoroughly enjoying this one.

Daydreamer - by Pence - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 21/24 - Large purple bruises twined prettily around the corpse’s throat, every finger defined in perfect cruelty. His eyes tore away from the handprints as a cold finger traced the lightning strike scar across the center of his face—drawing his attention to a small, blue lipped smile.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave this town, Gavin?”

________

When a series of Detroit murders are linked as originating in his hometown, Gavin Reed is unwillingly assigned the case. Fowler insists that his history with the place and people will hugely benefit such an investigation.

He was fucking wrong. 

This fic is one big holy shit moment tbh. Really fantastic. Really makes you wonder why these authors aren’t paid to do this.

All Aboard the Underground Railroad - by Senjihae - No Rating - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 11/? - What starts as sticking it towards his half brother evolves into something with the potential to rewrite android history as he knows it. Gavin doesn't realize what he gets himself into until he is mistaken as the 'Android Messiah' of all things. It's not like he goes out of his way to help them, but his life gets a lot harder once Hank is assigned a shiny new boy toy ('sent by CyberLife').

Things only get worse when he's gifted a heap of metal of his own ('sent by Elijah Kamski').

(Yeah, fuck off Elijah)

Very interesting fic. Gavin is RA9 so that’s a thing. A nice slow burn!

Dragon Become Age - by errantwheat - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content Warnings - Chapters 11/? - Y’all wanted me to write dragon age!au so I did :)

YES! YES! YES! DRAGON AGE AU! YES! YES! YES! (it’s really gud)

Warmth - by TheRedPaladin101 - Teen and Up Audiences - No Warnings - Chapters 1/1 - Gavin frowned, the aching in his shoulder fading from his mind for a moment. “Then give me my jacket.”

“Your jacket is in no condition to keep you warm,” he stated. “For now, use mine and stay warm while we wait to head back to the station.”

----

Five times RK900 gave Gavin Reed his jacket, and one time Gavin gave his in return.

Very wholesome. Lives up to its title. Some good ole hurt/comfort!

Letifer - Terminallydepraved - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 19/19 - Gavin Reed is a DPD beat cop determined to make detective by any means possible, and putting an end to a string of murders looks like the quickest way to accomplishing that goal. Unfortunately for him, he fails to account for the real culprit— or the thought that perhaps he isn't the only one on the hunt for a killer.

(Now with cover art by Leetmorry!)

I love beat cop!gavin. It humbles him. And vampire!nines is scary and amazing. Love how the author wrote both of these characters (and the others too!). I definitely recommend this one!

A Strange and Beautiful Creature -  by LittleLalaith - General audiences - No warnings - Chapters 7/7 - Scientist Nines is called in to Amanda's lab to assist with a new discovery - a genuine Mermaid.

While Amanda is indifferent to the creature's circumstances, Nines builds an unlikely connection to the specimen and they grow a little closer than either of them expected.

(AKA Gavin is a sassy sea slug and Nines thrills in breaking the safety protocols)

Mermaid au! Nines wants to save mermaid Gavin, and it’s all very wholesome.

I Think You Do - by spotlightonmringenue - Teen and Up Audiences - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 16/? - “Son of a bitch, there’s another one. What the fuck is it doing,” Gavin says, grip going white on the gun as the android continues to stare at him without acknowledging Connor.

“RK900, my name is Connor. I’m part of a group called Jericho that recovered you from Cyberlife’s Production Center late yesterday. We are currently in the Detroit Police Department Central Station. Are you feeling okay?”

“It doesn’t feel shit,” Gavin mumbles, resisting the urge to step back as the RK900 takes a step closer. It holds out the cup, and Gavin’s eyes dart to it for only a second before flipping between Connor and his doppelganger.

“You requested coffee,” it says, and Hank sighs, leaning back against his desk while rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Quality ‘enemies to friends’ content. Nines is intimidating. Gavin is confused. Good times.

Flying with Crooked Wings - by UnCon - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 20/? - “Listen, kid,” Gavin started, cutting off the desolate child. Sure it was sad his dog had died but it wasn’t Gavin’s fault no one taught the little twerp chocolate was a dog’s kryptonite, “he’s in a better place, alright, so if you’d just stop asking for him to come back—it’d be much appreciated.”

“You promise?” the eight-year-old asked, his big brown eyes looking like glass—fragile and sparkly.

“Yeah,” Gavin lied, looking away as he did it—his halo going a bit crooked. To be honest, he wasn’t sure where dogs went after they died, only that he was tasked with calming the little boys and girls who despaired after them—at least until his punishment was up. “So just, you know, go to sleep and all that.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a world where angels and demons inhabit the same earth, both searching for a way to overthrow the other, both failing--Gavin sits right in the middle, with a crooked halo and a pair of wings to match. It's not enough to be a bit mischievous, however, he also has to get caught up in the demon brothers' scheme to take over heaven. Perfect.

Really good! This fic has the interesting dynamic of Gavin as an angel and Nines as a demon. Check it out!

The Red String Will Still Connect Us Ten Thousand Miles Apart (and to the moon and back) - by Jillflur - Teen and Up - Content warnings - Chapters 5/5 - Gavin, an ‘unlovable’ man without a Soulmate. He was used to it, never had one since he could remember. However, that little fact changes when he wakes up one day and realizes that he suddenly has a Red String connected to his ring finger. It only gets worse when months later, an android walks into the precinct who apparently is his new Soulmate!

Can androids even have Soulmates?!

To make everything even more complicated, a sudden new killer is on the Streets, and he murders people by cutting their Red Strings!

A soulmate fic by our very own jillflur! So good. Amazin. I love the red string trope so much. Yall should big read.

the prince & the reed - by Pence - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 2/? - "I wanted to marry you," the prince murmured, polished armor gleaming as he stared down at the injured man--icy eyes tinged with sadness. Regret.

A guttural scream ripped from the soldier's throat as a heel dug into his wound, arm coated crimson from his weeping shoulder.

The soldier's teeth were stained pink as he jerked his chin up to grin toothily at the other man, bloody fingers scrambling down his thigh in search of the dagger tucked into his boot.

"Then drop to your knees and ask me properly, Nines."

Okay this fic is only two chapters and hasn’t been updated in awhile but GOT DAMN do I love how the author set this medieval fic up. I’m a slut for the medieval au’s, so that’s just extra points.

Not a teacher but I can teach you a thing or two - by Adishailan - Teens and Up - No warnings - Chapters 20/20 - Gavin owed the walking hunk of plastic. He owed him. Ugh, Gavin hated owing people stuff. It gave him a horrible feeling in his stomach, like indigestion, except worse because it involved emotionsTM. This, coupled with the fact he was pumped up with drugs and suffering a concussion, was why he was about to make a terrible, terrible mistake.

“‘Kay. Fine. Thanks or whatever. Lemme know if you ever need anythin' prick.”

RK900’s LED went yellow at this, and this time Gavin was pretty sure he was doing the processing thing. It was still yellow even when he nodded in a serious way and said:

“That would be useful.”

Oh man this one is BIG CUTE! It’s so soft, and is a fantastic slow burn. I totally recommend this fic.

O May I Join the Choir Invisible - by BanishedOne - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 13/? - Gavin Reed was a new inmate at a prison where the infamous killer, R. Nathan Kearney, was on death row. Circumstances led to an unfortunate encounter.

Okay don’t quote me on this but I think you can find the rest of this fic on Twitter. It was posted in a bunch of seperate posts and it was really confusing but there was definitely extra chapters. You can find the post here (or at BanishedOne on twitter). Other than that, this is a really good fic! The boys get into a lot of trouble!

Neon Maps - by caffienefueledfeels - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 11/11 - Everyone has their limits. Gavin is about to discover several of his own.

He's broke, barely scraping along, and struggling to keep an aggressive black-mailer off his back. On top of that, the grey-eyed distraction in his bed is about to test his heart in more ways than one.

Cyberpunk fic!! Super interesting! Go check it out!

Computers Are Elaborate Cat Beds, Actually - by errantwheat - No Rating - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 6/? - “Marvelous find, Gavin. They’ll promote you for this, surely.”

Gavin pulled an exaggerated frown. He was awfully animated for a robot. “Jesus, What kind of human are you? I’m waving a fucking kitten in your face and you’re still a bitch.”

Really cute. I’m pretty sure there’s some art to go with this fic. Super duper cute reverse au!

More Than a Woman, More Than a Bride - by AvixiLynn91 - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Content warnings - Chapters 38/? - When Gavin’s life is threatened for the last time by a violent gang expanding the production of a new drug in Detroit, Captain Fowler must come up with a plan for his safety. Perhaps forcing a marriage between Nines and Gavin wasn’t the best solution he could come up with...

Oh man. This fic. Let me tell you. I’ve been with this fic since the beginning and it is one hell of a roller coaster XD. The author updates constantly, it’s really impressive.

More Like You - by Mooneye - Teen and Up - No warnings - Chapters 1/1 - “This next bit’s going to get awkward. I’m going to interface with you.”

At that he could feel the collective confusion in the room. His eyes darted up to look at Hank and then Nines. They both seemed eerily still and were possibly thinking that Gavin had surely lost his mind.

Gavin has kept his prosthetic arm, with good reason, a secret from humans and androids alike for as long as he’s had it. The prospect of losing Nines threatens to unravel everything, but perhaps it’s worth the cost.

The idea of Gavin (an android hater in-game) having a prosthetic-android arm is definitely interesting!

An Unforeseen Union - by AvixiLynn91 - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 16/16 - Gavin and Nines are sent undercover to investigate a slew of brutal murders at a gay counselling and therapy resort for androids and humans. They're forced to pose as a couple, but soon feel their relationship becoming more than an act as real feelings develop.

I loved the dramatic whodunnit vibes in this fic! It gets crazy :P

The Great DPD Kink-Off - by connorssock, LittleLalaith, Skye_Willows, Stujet9rainshine - Explicit: only suitable for adults - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 24/24 - It started out as a bit of rivalry and turned into a competition. Who was the kinkiest android in town?

If you like smut, then read this. That is all I will say.

The Black Nights, The Long Dark - by bvssbot - Explicit - Content warnings - Chapters 8/12 - translation of an amazing russian fic тёмные ночи, долгая тьма (the dark nights, the long darkness) into english

An unknown catastrophe was the reason Gavin ended up stranded alone on a godforsaken Canadian island. Having almost made peace with the thought of living in solitude for the rest of his days, he saves the life of a pilot named Richard, whose airplane crashed in the middle of his humanitarian mission.

Shit, I loved ‘The Long Dark’ and I love this fic. I don’t speak russian, unfortunately, so I must wait to read the end. But this is still amazing and you all should read it.

Detroit: Outlast - by Cardboardghost - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 1/? - Connor Upshur is a down on his luck reporter, who spends his nights getting drunk and passing out at home. A mysterious email calls him to Mount Massive Asylum, owned by the Cyberlife corporation. Armed with nothing but a camera and his wits, Connor must brave the asylum's horrors and find way to save the people Cyberlife stole from him.

Gavin Park is a beat cop looking for a more well paying job. So when an offer to work private security at the Cyberlife corporation all but falls into his lap, how could he refuse? Gavin quickly realizes things are not what they seem, and in an attempt to expose Cyberlife, he ends up further in their clutches. Now he and Connor must work together to claw their way out of the asylum's depths, and the familiar faces that wait inside those walls.

This fic only has onw chapter, but go check out Cardboardghost’s art if you finish reading this!! They have provided so much quality content for the Outlast/DBH crossover I didn’t know I needed.

Gin & Tonic - by limchi - Explicit - No warnings - Chapters 8/? - People didn’t like Gavin Reed. Gavin Reed didn’t like people. It went together like gin and tonic, you can’t have one without the other. Nines hated him and he hated Nines. Those were the rules they played by, the rules that couldn't be changed - until fate decided they could.

It turned Gavin into pretending to dislike and Nines into a dense idiot with a crush, unable to grasp the concept of love. Both in utter denial. The catch: gravity worked against them, pulled them together at a frightening pace. Push against and defy the rules of nature or go along the prevailing forces?

Your friendly neighborhood reed900 fic. Very epic slow burn and fluff (and a hint of angst tbh). I definitely recommend!

Bitter Half - by turnabout - Mature - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 5/5 - Gavin Reed was born unmarked, and had spent his entire life expecting to die like he lived - alone. It isn't until Tina points out the new serial number on his chest that he realizes everything is about to change. Whether that's for better or for worse is up to him.

I’m a sucker for soulmate fics and this one does not disappoint!

K-900 - by Serazimei - Teen and Up - No warnings - Chapters 3/3 - Gavin and Nines were a great team. Unfortunately they were both huge workaholics. That's why when Nines' body gets busted on a job and the needed parts aren't available yet chaos is inevitable. Needing to choose between waiting and potentially being of no use at work or participate in one of Kamskis experiments and transfer his mind into an Android dog the decision is easy to make.

Who knew being in a dog body could become such a hassle? Not Nines, that's for sure.

Nines is a pup!!! I don’t believe I’ve seen a fic like this yet, so it’s really cool!

Thanks I'm Hating It - by Lupo (LupoLight) - Explicit: only suitable for adults - No warnings - Chapters 4/4 - Gavin goes to a fast food burger joint and Nines judges him. Then he realizes that Gavin isn't as much of a dick as he used to be, except he is, but in a different way. He isn't sure how to react to this knowledge.

QUALITY reed900 content

Bloodstains - by DeviantAlicee - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 12/? - Nines is an interrogator & detective for the DPD with a dark past. His thick skin & smarts helping him to be one of the most valuable members of the department. He's cold & daunting.

GV200 is one of the first police android models who's partnered with a cruel beat cop who not only hates that his partner is an android but doesn't think GV can feel any of the cruel things he does or says to him. The android doesn't speak up due to the fear of being shut down.

Nines has no clue that the android he bumped into at a bar is in fact a police android. He just thinks that he might be somebody in need of some help. But, as time passes by & a new drug that can be used by androids begins to circulate, Nines begins to realise the situation is a whole lot more convoluted than he originally thought.

This is a really interesting reverse au! Check it out!

Team spirit - by ilse_writes - Mature - No warnings - Chapters 4/4 - Someone had the unholy idea to go camping with the department, all in the name of 'team building'. Gavin is not liking it very much. That tall instructor with his haughty manners and cool eyes... that one he likes very much.

I don’t think I’ve seen another au quite like this one. Very epic content, can we hit Gavin Reed?

Wake Up - by SkySquid22 - Mature - Content warnings - Chapters 6/? - “Gavin!”

GV200 slipped out of his stasis. He didn’t get a chance to open his eyes before a file came down on his face, smacking him.

“And here I thought tin cans didn’t sleep.”

Something was wrong.

Something was very very wrong.

DIS GOT ME  F U C K E D  U P!!! Bruh @skysquid200 really out here shaking my world with this fic. I was hollering while reading this like I got HYPED

Natural - by Erik_Heinrich - Teen and Up - Author chose not to warn for content - Chapters 1/? - They are all wing people.

Gavin gets partnered with Nines. As expected hes not too happy about it, but their partnership seems to be going well. That is until spring comes along. Nines wings seem a bit fidgety and Gavin is nesting. Nines doesn't realize he's been trying to court Gavin, and Gavin is just as oblivious.

or. They are both complete idiots the whole time

WING FIC WING FIC WING FIC!!!! Yall dont know how long I’ve looked for a reed900 wing fic. My homie @phckingusername out here doin God’s work <333

Thank you all so much for 1K!!! Being able to hop on Tumblr everyday and talk to you guys makes me so happy!! I really hope I didn't f up this rec list anywhere lol. Hope u guys like it!!

[madpanda75]

“As Long As You Love Me” Part Two

Part Two to my song fic for @thefanficfaerie‘s Backstreet’s Back Challenge

Thanks for all the comments and likes on Part One of this fic. As I was re-reading it, I definitely felt like I didn’t do this story justice and should have dragged this puppy on a little bit more. I’ll just save it for my next story 😉

Shoutout to @sass-and-suspenders my emotional support through this harrowing process. Who shares my love of procrastination, coffee, and Rafael’s nipples (which are sadly not featured in this fic...again saving it for the next story) ❤️

Warning: Mention of frosted tips and delicious boy bands

“Y/N, I’m home!” Rafael called out when he entered your shared apartment, excited to tell you about his day. “Y/N?” He called again, only to be met with silence. He set his briefcase down and walked over to the bedroom to find you folding laundry while listening to music on your headphones, shaking your head and snapping your fingers to whatever song was thumping in your ears.

“Hi baby. How was your day!?” You shouted.

Rafael chuckled, kissing you sweetly, reaching up to your ears to take out your headphones. “It was great. I won my case. Guilty on all counts,” he said, kicking off his shoes and collapsing on the bed next to you.

“Congratulations! I knew you could do it.” You leaned down and kissed him, playfully nipping at his bottom lip. “My brilliant boyfriend,” you purred before going back to your task.

Rafael smiled and started to help you fold, basking in domestic bliss after a long successful day. He glanced over at your headphones, the faint sound of music could still be heard from the buds. “What are you listening to?” He asked. Picking up your headphones, he placed them up to his ears, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Is that...N’Sync?”

“It is not,” you retorted, snatching your headphones back. “Although I’m impressed you know who N’Sync is. I’m listening to the Backstreet Boys.”

The ADA bit back a laugh, “Boy bands, huh? Is this your way of telling me to learn choreography and frost my tips?”

You playfully smacked his chest as he cracked up at his own joke, “Bite your tongue, Barba. Backstreet Boys were a huge part of my adolescent maturation.”

“Excuse me!” Rafael chortled. “Adolescent maturation!?”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him, “I beg your pardon, but the Backstreet Boys are more than just pretty faces and dance moves. They’re one of the best selling boy bands of all time. Their music, their talent, they’re timeless. Did you know the New York Post listed them as number two on their “Top Ten Boy Bands list?”

“Who was number one?”

“Jackson 5,” you replied. “But still they beat out N’Sync, Boyz II Men, and New Kids on the Block.” You threw a pair of bunched up socks at his head. “Don’t underestimate them or their music.”

Rafael’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Wow, I didn’t know you were such an aficionado on the topic.”

“Looks like you have a lot to learn about me,” you pushed the laundry basket aside and moved to straddle him, pretending your hand was a microphone. “I’d like to dedicate this song to my man, my Papi, the person responsible for my adult maturation,” you pointed to him and giggled before crooning at the top of your lungs the same song you had been listening to.  

I don't care who you are

Where you're from

What you did

As long as you love me

Rafael laughed, tugging you down and kissing you hard, silencing your off-key singing. Smiling against your lips, he rolled over on top of you, his tongue moving over yours. You hummed in contentment as you both slowly began to undress each other. Your life, that moment, everything was perfect.

***

“I’ve got a caramel macchiato for Y/N!” The barista shouted above the chaos of caffeine crazed customers. You shoved through the crowd to grab your drink.

It had been almost a week since Rafael left. He eventually returned your call, telling you he would be staying at Olivia’s until the trial. To say you were devastated was an understatement. For three days, you did nothing but stay in bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, the smell of his cologne still lingered on the fabric.

You didn’t understand why he was pushing you away. Didn’t he realize how much you loved him? How you wanted to be there by his side? You needed Rafael. Without him, it felt like a piece of you was missing. Grabbing your drink, you turned for the door, nearly bumping into Carmen and spilling your hot coffee.

“Hey, Y/N,” she pulled you into a tight hug. “How are you?”

“Fine. It’s good to see you,” you smiled, wondering if she knew about how Rafael had left you.

“I have an iced mocha and an americano for Carmen!” The barista called out behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing who that americano was for. It was Rafael’s drink of choice. She grabbed the coffees from behind you. Your eyes glanced down at the americano before looking up at her, the two of you sharing an awkward moment of silence.

“Well, I should get going,” you said. “But it was good to see you.” You walked out of the coffee shop, wiping away a few stray tears that had managed to slip out just as you heard Carmen shouting your name.

She walked as fast as she could to catch up with you while not spilling her drinks. “I know, Mr. Barba would kill me if I said this. But he’s not doing good. The trial is tomorrow and I think you should go. He needs you, just like you need him.”

You sniffled and nodded your head, “What time should I be there?”

***

The next morning you walked into the courtroom, slinking into a seat in the back of the gallery. Your breath hitched when you saw the back of his perfectly coiffed head. Although you couldn’t see his face, you knew how nervous and scared he was. You gripped the bench so hard, your knuckles turned white, willing yourself not to run to him. The sound of a gavel banging made you jump. The trial was about to start.

After Peter Stone finished questioning his last witness on the stand, the judge announced a short recess. Olivia spied you in the back of the courtroom, immediately walking up to you afterwards. “Y/N, I’m glad to see you’re here,” she softly said.

“I had to come. I couldn’t abandon Rafael now, even though I don’t think he wants me here,” you bit your lip, fighting back tears. “How is he?”

Olivia shook her head and sighed, “Hanging on by a thread.”

You looked down, studying your shoes for a moment, feeling heartbroken and helpless. How do you reach out to someone who keeps pushing you away. “If you see him, tell him...tell him I said hi and that I still love him,” you softly replied, your voice cracking.

Just as you were about to leave, she gently reached for your hand. “Why don’t you tell him yourself,” she softly smiled and led you down a side hallway. “Come with me.”

***

Rafael sat in a spare room with his head in his hands, mumbling a prayer in Spanish. The morning after the charity dinner, he woke up before you with a splitting headache, looking down to see you still sleeping, half on top of him, your leg hooked around his. You were so peaceful and perfect. It was then that he made the decision to leave. As much as it broke his heart, he couldn’t bear the idea of putting you through a trial, watching you suffer the consequences of his actions along with him.

Now as he waited in the same courthouse that he had given his heart and soul to for 21 years, all he could think of was you. If he could just see your face one more time, hold you one more time, then maybe he would be able to survive this. In an answer to his prayers, the door opened.

He looked up at the intrusion, his breath caught in his throat when he saw you standing before him. The one person he needed now more than ever. The person who would never quit him. The person who believed in him when it seemed like nobody, not even himself could.

You both stared at each other saying nothing for a long minute before running into each other’s arms. He held you so tight, you couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t care. Right then you needed Rafael more than you needed air. He closed his eyes tightly, inhaling deeply, the smell of your shampoo bringing him comfort. You tilted your head up, cupping his face and wiping a tear away from his cheek.

“You’re here,” he whispered. With a shaky hand, he ran a hand through your hair, needing to touch you, to prove that you were really there and not a figment of his imagination.

You softly smiled and nodded your head. A lump in your throat prevented you from speaking.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” he said in a shaky voice, fighting back a sob.

“Shhh, its ok. I’m here now. I’m here with you,” you leaned your forehead against his, placing a soft kiss on his lips just as Dworkin entered the room.

“Woah there, kids! Save it for when we win,” he said, glancing over at you. “Although I must say, Barba, you have good taste.” Rafael gave the lawyer his signature eye roll, gripping your hand tightly and walking back into the courtroom with you. A sense of peace washed over him now that he knew you were here.

***

Not guilty. The two most indescribably beautiful words you could have ever heard. Upon hearing those words, you swore the heavens opened up with angels singing Handel’s Messiah. You practically leapt over the gallery bench and into Rafael’s arms when the verdict was read, almost afraid the jury would come back and say they changed their minds. “You’re free, mi amor. It’s all over now,” you whispered through your tears.

After Rafael announced he was resigning from the D.A.’s office, you suggested going away for a few days while things died down and the city found another scandal to gossip about. Long overdue for a vacation, he agreed, the two of you deciding on a week away at St. Bart’s. When you arrived, he collapsed on the bed, utterly exhausted, sleeping for 12 hours straight. It was the first good sleep he had in months.

The rest of your time was spent relaxing on the beach or staying in bed all day worshipping each other’s bodies. You reconnected physically and emotionally, promising one another that you would always be there for each other no matter the circumstance.

On the morning of your last day, Rafael got up early to take a long walk. He strolled along the beach, watching the sunrise, the surf splashing against his bare feet. He felt reborn, life had just given him a second chance.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box. He held it in his hand, thinking about you and the life he wanted to share with you. When Jack McCoy asked him why he was leaving, he told the older man that he was going to do what he must and that was exactly what Rafael was about to do now.

Coming back into the bedroom, he softly smiled at your sleeping form. You were a vision with your tan skin, hair wild and fanned out. His cock twitched a bit when he noticed your nipples hardening from beneath the sheets, your pink lips still swollen from the night before. He laid next to you on the bed, moving a few tendrils away from your face. Leaning over, he placed featherlight kisses up your arm. His fingers tracing around the love bite he left on your shoulder before dropping a tender kiss on the spot.  

You hummed in contentment and opened your eyes, grinning up at him. “Good Morning,” you yawned and stretched a bit.

“Good Morning, cariño,” he softly said. His lips continued their fiery trail until his mouth brushed up against yours, kissing you with such passion it stole your breath away. You threaded your fingers in his hair, softly moaning as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. He pulled away, panting a bit, looking down at you while running his thumb across your bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, the intensity of his gaze causing you to blush.

“Can you wake me up like this every morning? This is so much better than my alarm clock,” you teased.

He chuckled, peppering your face with kisses. Sitting up on the bed, he pulled you up with him, his face suddenly becoming serious. “I’m so sorry for everything. I left because I thought I didn’t deserve you anymore. I was so afraid of how my consequences would affect your life.”

You reached out and caressed his cheek, feeling the scruff of his newly grown beard under your fingertips, “You forgot one important thing. It’s not my life anymore. It’s our life. What you did, it doesn’t change my feelings for you. I know the man you are. As long as you love me, that’s all I need. I love you with all my heart. Nothing will ever change that.”

He nodded his head, “I know that now. That’s why I have this.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the velvet box before moving to get down on one knee, which was a little awkward since he was still on the bed.

Upon opening the box, you saw a beautiful platinum engagement ring, tiny diamonds nestled along the band with a larger diamond in the center. He pulled the ring out, holding it in front of you where you could see that inside the ring was the inscription, “As Long as You Love Me.”

Your eyes went from Rafael to the ring, your heart beating fast. “Raf?” You whispered.

Rafael audibly swallowed, his hands slightly shaking as his nerves began to set in, “Y/N, you’re the light of my world. The love of my life. Being with you, I realize that all I need is for you to love me. I don’t want to spend another second without you by my side. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

A smile grew across your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. “Yes! Yes! Yes! With all of my heart, yes!” You shouted, bouncing up and down on the bed. He beamed, his own eyes glossy with tears as he placed the ring on your finger. You cried harder, pulling him down on top of you and kissing him deeply. “I love you,” you murmured against his lips.

“I love you too,” he said, sliding his hands beneath the mattress, holding you as close as humanly possible. Laying there in each other’s arms on that quiet peaceful morning, the loneliness, the fear, the insecurities, they all disappeared. With Rafael, you knew that as long as you had each other, your love could survive anything.

@thatesparzacrush @glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @eclecticminded @obfuscateyummy @katmstanton @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetcannolicarisi @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @amirightcounsellor @livxrafa @delia26

[one-twisted-sister]

A useless meeting 

"General Rozland?". A voice came from the opening of the large canvas tent Rozland was currently going over defensive strategies to keep the trolls of the region safe while Neriss threw her tantrum he had hope it would have been over by now but messiahs her and Meenah never back down from each other. Alternia was split into two parts  Alter and Neeah they were never  creative even as wrigglers and to make things even more complicated Meenah had changed the spelling.

Meenah ruled over the left side while Neriss ruled over the right at one point they were like sister but now that they had grown older they saw each other as competition especially over the Limeblood caste. "Yes what is it Kariee?". Rozland asked looking away from the table his hands slipping behind his back, always so noble in everything he did be it even walking to the little messenger. "Um, the Empress Neriss is calling a meeting of all the blooded Generals and their captains, the note says it's urgent". The page was lifted up to the purpleblood whom accepted it his eyes just glancing over the page once before his attention when back to the messenger. "Is this all young one?". When he received a nod he placed a gold piece into the trolls hand, a tip. "Careful on your way back to the palace".  Kariee smiled up at the male giving a nod before scurrying off. Muldun stood from his seat his own hands slipping behind his back. 

"Sir?". "It's a bunch of mumbo jumbo wording, it would have been easier if she had just called over the radio".  Rozland pinched the bridge of his nose. "Muldun tell the group that we will be heading out let the men and woman know that Yonten is in charge until our return they are calling the annual meeting early this time". Rozlan answered  as he grabbed his coat that had been hung on the back of one of the chair that surrounded the table.

In minutes the Generals and Captain's steed were ready for the travel.  "Easy boy". Roz cooed to the hoofbeast as his gloved hand pat it's nose, he always had a way of calming the beasts down everyone had always assumed it was an indigo thing but well Rozland had done proved that wrong, Muldun came closer to the second horse though he stopped in his tracks as it stomped it's hooves obviously not liking the fact that the purpleblood was so close to it. "Hold still you stupid..". "Everything aright?". "Ah- yes sir the  beast is just being a little difficult". He watched as Rozland only chuckled. "Well perhaps if you spoke more kindly to them they would like you better". Muldun was silent he never understood this man, he never seemed to get angry even on the battle field he kept his cool then again when ever they had been on the battle field it had always been about defense, it was always defense.

Defending the land and the useless live that lived inhabited it the man had so much power behind those base walls that Muldun was more than certain that Rozland could have easily torn apart the lowblood caste. The purpleblood saddle up on the not so happy steed and took off side by side with the General.  It didn't take long for them to reach the Hidden Colosseum a place that Neriss had the Indigo's build a fitting place if there ever was one, it was located within a large cavern much like the one that the Jadebloods occupied some say that this meeting hall was once a Jadeloods brooding cavern but with the rising water and the amount of traffic via the sea they had relocated the Mother Grub somewhere more quiet.   A water fall hid the entrance to the Hall  which is how it got it's name obviously , once they had arrived Rozland dismounted his steed his boots making small thuds against the stone below in the distance he could see two sea ships tied off bobbing up and down with the surf that told him that both the Cobalt and Violet Generals had already arrived atop a mountain sat two large ships made for traveling through space and galaxies. Muldun soon came to Rozlands side eyeing each ship.

"I see that Greely, Vahbiz are on time for once ". "Some nerve". Both purples turned to see the Violet General, Vahbiz walking free from the vegetation hands pulling the zipper of his trousers up apparently having gone to relieve himself he made his way over to the water squatting down to wash his hands. "So rude talking about me behind my back tsk tsk Mully figure your lusii taught you better".  Muldun growled and slapped his hands over his face. "I fucking told you to stop calling me that!, call by my proper name you finned buffoon". "Muldun relax don't start anything that you either don't intend on finishing or can't handle". Rozland scolded turning to face the Violetblood as his arm slipped around Rozlands. "You tell him Rozzy". The Viloletblood snickered a cheek being rested against the large Purples arm, he didn't seem to pay no mind and allowed the Violetblooded General to escort him behind the waterfall. "Now that you are the fun can begin". Vahbiz purred, though a loud frustrated growl echoed through the cavern, that growl belonging to none other than Meenah herself or as she now preferred The Condesce. "Sounds like the fun as already started". Rozland commented his voice having a fake tired tone to it. As the three entered the main hall both Neriss and The Condesce were standing glaring at each other though their eye's and everyone else for that matter turned to them, Vahbiz letting go of Rozlans arm making his way back over to Dulscar whom was the General of the Violetbloods beside him stood Darkleer and Greely.

"Bout' time brothers". Came a deep raspy voice Kurloz lumbered over to the two his walk was slow, almost as slow as the grin that appeared in his face showing off each and every razor sharp tooth he to went by other names one being 'Grand Highblood' of course Rozland didn't see anything 'gand' within the man he deemed himself a speaker for the messiahs that they spoke through him and deliver their messages to his brother's and sisters seems that every generation had their ideas and beliefs in their messiahs it almost made Rozlands heart ache he still followed the old ways of the messiahs, the true messiahs. They stood eye to eye as Kurloz offered a hand, of course Rozland didn't want to be rude so he accepted the hand the hold being firm the shake stiff. There wasn't bad blood between them they had known eachother or a decent amount of time in their youth Rozlan had tried several times to get Kurloz to reconsider his violent ways to seek help for his out bursts of rage but his efforts were fruitless the fact that he took the job of Meenah's enforcer only proved it. Letting go Rozland too to Neriss's side of the table standing along side her Violet and Indigo Generals Raahid and Pahara.

"Ladies, if we are done yelling at each other, may we know why you have gathered us here today?". Rozland asked his hands folding together behind his back. "Yes of course we can finish the previous discussion later, Meenah". "Condesce". The other corrected through clenched fangs her fins giving a little wiggle. "What ever". The Condesce cleared her throat stand up straight. "Okay listen, it seems that the Saint's council isn't gonna be joining forces wit us anytime soon, matter a fact seems Lime boi turned down Ner's advances". The Condesce couldn't help but laugh. "LIME BOI SHUT YO AS DOWN GURL!". Neriss growled  her face growing a dark maroon. "Oh put a sock in it bubbles!". She huffed  sinking down into her seat, Rozland even rolled his eyes he had almost forgotten how annoying the Neeah's people spoke or more importantly how annoying Meenah's voice was in general.  "Okay!, anyway since Limeboi ain't gonna be joining either of our sides and he is a potential threat he must die then me and Ner here got to thinkin what's keeping any of the other lime's from jumping up and taking his spot we already got that little candy red speck trying to rile the lowbloods up so we came to an agreement". The Condesce's eyes caught sight of a small beetle that was scurrying across the table, picking it up between her thumb and pointer holding it up, the little animals legs flailing about trying to find the ground before it was squished to death between her fingers. "Cull them all, first the Limebloods and then the lowbloods and mutants".

She rubbed her finger's together before she moved to wipe them clean on Kurloz pant leg, the man didn't even grimace or move one would guess that he was used to her wiping things on him. "So that's it?, this is why you called us out here?". Rozland spoke up his hands moving from behind himself so he could cross his arms, not at all pleased. "You want me to kill someone, no several castes just because they do not see eye to eye with you and have different beliefs?". The Condesce and Neriss exchanged looks before their attention was once again on Rozland and Muldun whom looked just as shocked, he thought it was a good plan of course.

"Well, yea pretty much". Neriss confirmed watching as he closed his eye's for a moment to keep his composer rolling his shoulder's. "Well then I'm done here". He turned on a heel heading to the Colosseum's door, Muldun looking back and forth obviously lost for words what the hell was Rozland doing?!, Neriess stood from her seat. "General if I were you I would stop right there and return to your spot". "Well you are not now are you? Neriss, I refuse to mindlessly slaughter the masses for what they and whom they believe in plus culling an entire caste just because one didn't want anything to do with you is pathetic". Neriss stared, everyone did none of them had ever heard Rozland speak ill of someone even The Condesce.  Kurloz was the first to approach Rozland  a hand being placed on his shoulder. "Brother come now, let's not be throwing around those vibes the Messiahs done told me that-". "Enough".  Rozland cut the other purple male off shaking his hand off before turning to him. "Your fake Messiahs have told you nothing". He held a glare, the normally calm, cool and collected Rozland glared at the other highblood, Kurloz stared at him with his lazed look no one could ever tell what was on the clowns mind or what he would do exactly why The Condesce had put him in charge she believed she had control over him or rather he let her believe that she had some control over him for the time being.

"All of you youth's out there have your ideas on what the mirthful ones want or what they say, you make your own visions of them twist them to make you feel right and that your acts are righteous in their eyes, well let me tell you Kurloz this is not what our messiahs would want, not how they are and deep down you damn well know it boy you are doing the Horror Terror's work here and I will have no part of it". He could see it, that soft glow of anger creeping into Kurloz eye's Rozland stood his ground. "Kurloz". Came The Condesce voice making the clown turn around and look at her.

"Let him leave, but be warned Rozland, if you leave and do not side with us then there will be no help from any of us". "Then let it be so". He spoke turning his back on the bunch. "Muldun let us go ". "Muldun". He spoke again a bit louder, he had been talking with Neriss softly, whispering before Rozlands voice broke his attention, it being taken from her. "Yes of course General".  Muldun gave an understanding look to Neriss a nod following it as he turned to leave with Rozlan.  All watched as the two vanished from sight before speaking. "You are a fool Rozland and you shall pay for your actions here today". The Condesce spoke before she turned back to Neriss allowing the meeting to continue without Neriss Purpleblood General and Captain.

[jira-chii]

Trance Masahito

Disclaimer: Alan hits all my bias requirements so I might give him more attention than he needs.

Also, nothing you say will convince me these two aren’t gay for each other.

Masahito and Alan are rival theatre actors. When Alan was relatively new, he openly challenged the famous star Masahito in an audition for the main character role of Napoleon. Alan lost to Masahito but his passion left an impression on the stand-offish actor. However, a family emergency caused Masahito to abandon the role and eventually his career altogether. Alan took over the Napoleon role, but he was bitter because it wasn’t a fair challenge. After forcing Masahito to see him on stage as Napoleon, Alan reignites Masahito’s passion for acting. 

It looks like I lost to you Alan. Now that I’ve seen your Napoleon, I really want to act again. 

Then Shoumetsu happened.

Now, the Emperor Napoleon play is to return to the stage once more, with the role of the main character Napoleon to be decided through public audition. And becoming tamashii won’t stop either of the two from throwing their hats in the ring again.

However, Alan suddenly comes to Takuya and Yuki with a request to investigate his rival. Alan claims Masahito has been behaving out-of-character lately. The stoic actor is usually too proud to show his weakness, but lately he has been acting very humble, seeking advice from those beneath him to improve his acting. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” enquires Yuki, but Alan thinks something is definitely up. Oh, but don’t tell him I asked you this. (I don’t want him thinking I’m worried about him or anything)..

We find Masahito, and Yuki sees his thoughts. While he was practicing his lines for the audition, he was approached by a mysterious man, who handed him an equally mysterious card… 

"What is this? The ‘Emperor’...tarot?" (note though that Takuya and Yuki don’t have any idea what the tarot cards are at this stage)

Alan sends them on a mission to find the man, but as the day of the audition draws near, they fail to even find a trace of him.

Alan’s busy though, so he hands them a memo with the audition location before leaving. Then suddenly, almost like a convenient coincidence, Yuki senses the mysterious man.

The man reveals his name is Shar (Sharu? Charles?) and he’s been under the care of a “previous acquaintance” of theirs. He reveals the card he handed Masahito is indeed very dangerous. It has the power to bend reality to reflect the user’s dreams, but just like the famous story of Urashima Taro, it comes at a cost. The card will use any means necessary to make the user’s wish a reality, it may drive them to death, and even affect other people. Suddenly, Masahito’s out-of-character actions to improve his acting make sense now. Takuya and Yuki head to the auditions right away.

"And now, the final piece is in place."

Just before the auditions, Alan reiterates both need to give the audition their all. This is the battle he’s been waiting for since before the Shoumetsu. There’s no way he wants Masahito to go easy on him.

Alan ends up presenting his best performance ever, to great acclaim from the judges. 

And now it is Masahito’s turn.

We see some of the past moments that led Masahito to this moment, such as his conversation with Airi. In terms of acting career, Masahito is years above the child actress, but he still asked her to help him. Despite being turned into a tamashii, Airi was able to use this to her advantage, to reach new heights in acting. Masahito wants to learn how to do the same. 

Airi comments that in the past, she never would have thought Masahito would do something like stoop to her level and ask for her advice, and Masahito agrees.

Then we see the interaction that led to Masahito accepting the tarot card. Shar explains that he is actually trying to destroy the tarot system. For that, he needs somebody befitting the Emperor tarot. But what Masahito wants to know is why Shar chose him, and not Alan. 

The truth is, Shar genuinely wants to see Masahito’s Napoleon over Alan’s. In other words, he is his fan.

Hearing those words immediately triggers a pivotal memory.

Alan wanted Masahito to see his Napoleon. Because he wanted to reignite Masahito’s passion for acting. He wanted Mashito to return to the stage. Because he is his fan.

 With a smile, Masahito agrees.

“I see, that’s the most convincing thing anyone could have said to me. I’ll play Napoleon, as you wish. But instead of using such an unappealing method, please, send me a fan letter next time.”

With a shout of “I am Napoleon!”, Masahito transforms. Literally.

Masahito engrosses himself entirely into his role, becoming the very image of Emperor Napoleon. He also completely loses awareness of everyone and everything around him.

But the tarot card is silent. Yuki realises he has managed to completely subdue it.

We beat Napoleon and he finishes his audition. Alan ‘graciously’ admits defeat.

"I can’t believe you would go so far as to transform into Napoleon on your own will. But, that really was your best performance. I’ll let you have the role for now. But mark my words, I’ll challenge you to take it back again, and again, and again and again and again."

Alan storms off, leaving Masahito with all sorts of good feelings. He monologues a message to his deceased mother.

“Mother, your son has marvellously made it all the way to Emperor. He’s been blessed with a noisy rival, and a strange fan. Please, rest easy. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

And what of the findings from Shar’s experiment? Quite important, actually. Thanks to Masahito, Shar has figured out that somebody more fitting to be Emperor than the Emperor tarot itself can completely destroy the Idea of the tarot, putting the card completely under his control. 

Shar also has a final message to somebody important to him:

“Hey Messiah, we had to part ways, but I’ve finally fulfilled my mission. Right now, you...no, I’m sure we will never be able to meet again.”

[ayearofpike]

The Last Vampire 5: Evil Thirst

Pocket Books, 1996 179 pages, 18 chapters ISBN 0-671-55050-0 LOC: CPB Box no. 654 vol. 9 OCLC: 34952388 Released June 4, 1996 (per B&N)

Sita has not heard from her new friend and her baby, and is worried that her daughter might have already carried out her evil scheme. There is a way she can find out, though: a local anthropologist claims to have a document written by a teacher in ancient Egypt that foretold the next coming of a Christ figure, to be born on the day that Sita’s friend had her baby. It adds fuel to the fire that this might be for real when Sita realizes the teacher was her friend, back when she first left India, and Sita knows of her abilities. Maybe together, Sita and the group that has formed around this ancient text can save the baby. Or maybe not.

For what should have been a straight-up  sequel, this book certainly throws in a new story all of a sudden. We’re following Kalika, we’re wondering what’s going to happen to this immaculate conception baby, and now there’s Egyptians. As per usual, it seems that Pike can’t ever leave a thread of research unexplored in multiple books. We got the Egypt thing in The Visitor and The Lost Mind, so I guess it was just something he was learning about and excited to share.

I remember, at the time, being excited that these last three Sita books were coming out in such quick succession. Finally, I said to myself, he’s got a plan of where to take this story and will finish it up and get on with his other work. And TLV4 certainly lived up to that promise. But I got to the end of this one and thought: OK, that’s wrapped this up. Where could he possibly take it from here? (Answer: we’ll find out next time.) Unpopular opinion: I thought The Hunger Games could have been done (and stronger) in one book. So I wasn’t super thrilled when Pike all but closed the story here and BUT WAIT there’s one more coming this fall!

That’s not to say that this was a bad story, necessarily. We start with Sita and Seymour (who of course isn’t leaving her again) in line for a lecture on this ancient text, three months after the confrontation with Kalika on the pier. You might remember that Sita had told her friend to call in a month, so naturally she’s upset and anxious that she hasn’t heard from her. She hasn’t told Seymour how she brought him back to life — as far as he’s concerned, he passed out in the cold water and woke up in the mountains. But they go in to the lecture, pausing to meet the anthropologist’s adult son, who gives Sita a ladyboner for only the second time in recent memory. 

The lecture is a lot like stuff we’ve seen. The anthropologist (whose last name is Seter; this will be important later) talks a little bit about how he found the document and what it says in regards to a messiah, but mostly he answers questions. Sita has a couple of pointed questions about the calendar system and the gods mentioned in the text, which has her intended effect of getting Doc and Son to meet with her after the lecture. She says she wants to see the whole thing, and to convince them to let her into its presence she claims to have another document written by this ancient teacher. Of course there is no such thing; Sita didn’t even know this one existed, and she hung out with the teacher literally the whole time she was a teacher. But she’s still a vampire, and so she’s able to hypnotize the boys into believing her and letting her follow them to their facility in Palm Springs, where the scroll is kept.

There are like 20 True Believers at the place, and Sita’s been eavesdropping across the traffic and knows they have weapons to protect the Next Coming from the Dark Mother. She also knows they are suspicious of her, so she tries not to alarm them. Though she does touch a five-thousand-year-old papyrus scroll with her bare hands while she reads her teacher’s handwriting. Yes, it looks real. She promises to show them her imaginary scroll later, then goes out to the desert and meditates on what she saw. This allows for a nifty device where Sita can remember how she met her teacher, some hundred years after she was turned, and how even before she started having visions and healing people Sita knew she was special.

She goes home in the morning and immediately the phone rings. Of course it’s Kalika, taunting Sita about her wild goose chase after this scroll and warning again that she won’t be stopped in her search for the baby. Sita picks up enough background audio to get an idea of where Kalika might be staying, and Seymour thinks maybe this was intentional. He saw Kalika open up B-Baller and wants to get the fuck out, but Sita knows that this might be an opportunity to get rid of her, if she can get the True Believer Militia to take her out. To get Seymour on board, she finally tells him the truth of his death and rebirth. But before they call in the heavy artillery, they have to find Kalika, so they track down buildings that match Sita’s audio clues and find Kalika living in the first one they check. Lucky? Or on purpose?

Sita and Seymour take off for San Francisco to corner Doc and Son after another lecture, with articles that show the danger of the Dark Mother. OK, so a lot of them are murders caused by Eddie, and there’s also the Matrix/Blade chase and the nuclear explosion. The only thing she has in her file that Kalika actually did is a story about a dead b-baller who had his throat ripped apart. Still, it’s enough for Doc and Son to believe that there’s a dangerous force in Los Angeles and they’d better try to take it out. They send a strike force into Kalika’s apartment, twenty people with assault rifles and body armor, in a pincer formation through the door and both balconies, but she murders them like so many ants. Sita races over to try and stop the carnage, but Kalika hits her with a still-dying body and chucks her off the eighteenth-story balcony into the pool, because Pike.

By the time she gets back to the observation window, it’s too late. Kalika has killed the snipers posted there, and basically made Doc shit his pants and give up everything about the ancient Egyptian document. (Lucky for Son, he wasn’t in the room.) They blast back to the True Believer facility, and sure enough the basement is a wreck and there are scraps of parchment everywhere. Sita reads about the coming strife in the early months of the Next Coming and where he’ll encounter it, about war between worshippers of Set and worshippers of Isis, and on a separate piece of papyrus (of a different texture) about the coming of the Dark Mother, Kali Ma. So everything she understands is true.

But she still doesn’t understand where this document came from. She meditates on her relationship with the teacher some more, and remembers how she didn’t cast Sita out upon discovering her vampiric nature. She thinks about how the teacher slowly turned into a miracle healer, with herbal remedies and some kind of auric repair service, before being discovered by the region’s queen and being asked to interpret a dream. The teacher interprets it to the queen’s satisfaction (and her high priest’s consternation) and is then kept on to work in the palace. Surely there will be no conflict of interest.

Sita next finds herself in B-Baller’s mom’s house again, where she learns that he was diagnosed with end-stage leukemia and given three months to live. New information that might change how she views her daughter’s nature. She still doesn’t know where to look for the next step, though, so she decides to check back at the ice-cream truck where she found Book 4′s deus ex machina, just in case there’s another one. And sure enough, the homeless dude is there, and he wants to play blackjack, which gives Sita just enough clues to go along with the ancient document and realize: New Friend and Baby are at Lake Tahoe. Yes, somehow this ancient Egyptian was able to predict that there would be a casino there, where you could play blackjack, and the storage and dealing device they’d use to hold cards at the tables would be called a “shoe.” Shhh, just go with it.

We get another flashback chapter, where Sita tells us about the queen going whole-hog in reversing the state religion from Set-worship to Isis-worship (as alluded to in the document), and Sita having to protect her teacher friend from countless assassination attempts. They happen as the high priest of Set is a master of Seedling, forcing others to do his will, and his will is to have minions go kill the usurper. (Which ... I fuckin’ told you, this is Cold One II.) This ultimately leads to Sita facing off against the high priest out in the desert. She feels like, hey, no sweat, I’ve been a vampire at least as long as Edward Cullen, I can take this dude. But what she didn’t realize is that the high priest has invoked an ancient lizard through the use of mind-melding and identical twins (which, like ... you know) and is stronger than she realizes. Plus he has power over the elements. He melts her sword, stabs her with a poisoned dagger, and manipulates the sand to lock around her limbs, then leaves her in the desert to be eaten by flies while he returns to town and takes over. At high noon, sure enough, there’s a massive earthquake that knocks Sita free of her bonds, and when she gets back to town ... there is no town. There’s just a hole. So she figured the high priest lost control and ended up killing everyone, including himself.

The remaining four Freedom Fighters drive to Tahoe and quickly triangulate on the house where New Friend is hiding. But they’re too late — Kalika has been there, and grabbed the baby, and is boating out across the lake with him. Sita manages to sink the boat, but Kalika and the baby make it to an island. She swims out there and corners them, but before she can make Kalika do anything Doc’s Son arrives to help. Or does he? Quick as anything he’s got a knife to Sita’s throat ... a knife that looks oddly familiar. 

Remember the last name and how I said it would be important? Seter. Set-er. Set worshipper. Now, I’ve left out the part about how this dude was adopted by Doc as an older teenager, which might throw a wrench into the foreshadowing of the name. Like, would a high school senior really change his name even if he was taken in by a caring old man? I’m not sure I’m all the way on board with this, even if it was needed to make him seem more connected to the cause by giving him the same name up front.

So he takes Sita’s gun and blasts the unholy fuck out of Kalika, then cuts Sita’s throat with the poisoned dagger and stabs it into her back, and then he boats off with the baby, who only now starts crying. Sita figures it’s all over, she misread the scroll and now humanity is totally fucked. Only Kalika works her way over to Sita and feeds her the blood pouring from her exposed heart, giving enough to heal her mother before she dies. When Sita makes it back to shore, she finds Doc dying of heart failure, unable to believe that his adopted son would have betrayed him so hard to the point of having a heart attack. She also finds Seymour bleeding out from a shotgun blast to the stomach. (I really don’t know if Pike knows how a shotgun works, if he thinks you can shoot one nine or ten times without reloading.) There’s no more Jeebus Baby blood, so she has to turn him. And that’s the last we hear from Seymour in this book.

Sita has more important things to do, like finding Jeebus Baby and Lizard Priest. And she thinks she knows where they’ll be: at the place where New Friend had relations with a giant blue star. She starts thinking about New Friend, which makes the star show up, and once more Sita is floating as a transparent ghost vampire or whatever the hell. She spots Lizard Priest below, and he’s waiting for someone: a spaceship full of lizards that is made of some kind of ethereal stuff. Sita realizes that her only chance is to go into the spaceship and possess one of the lizard aliens. She’s in the strongest and ugliest one when the ship lands and the aliens start taunting the baby. But Sita forces the alien to look into the baby’s eyes, and the mesmer of the baby protects her from being subjugated by Seedling, and she grabs the lizard’s knife and stabs Lizard Priest in the eye. And suddenly the spectral aliens disappear, and Sita has Lizard Priest’s knife embedded in his eye. She does the other one and grabs the baby, and then slits his throat for good measure. There’s a whoosh as the spectral aliens take off, and Sita and the baby start back to the car.

And that’s the end of The Last Vampire 5: Evil Thirst! So you see what I mean by ending the story? Sure, they have to drive back to Lake Tahoe or whatever and return the baby to his mom, and Seymour’s a vampire now at long last, but ... is any of it necessary? Is it even germane to the part of the story that will come next? I honestly don’t remember, but I think probably not? We’ll find out next time, as the Pocket editions of the Sita stories come to a close.

[jesusrevolutionchurch]

New Post has been published on

New Post has been published on http://www.jesusrevolution.church/betrayed/

Betrayed

Have you ever been betrayed by someone you loved and trusted? If so, you understand the enormous hurt, devastation, and suffering human deception and betrayal can generate, especially when it comes from someone you believed was truthful and trustworthy. Or maybe you are the one, who has betrayed and deceived someone who loved and trusted in you, and as a result of your duplicity, you now carry a load of remorse and guilt.

At the end of His earthly journey, Jesus the Son of Man was betrayed by two of his chosen, familiar disciples – Judas Iscariot and Simon Peter. Even though Jesus already knew beforehand the when and where of his betrayals and how things would end -still the experience of betrayal pierced his heart and the Anointed Messiah’s profound suffering love prayed for those who betrayed him. Although, both Judas and Peter sinned by betraying our Lord, their outcome and destiny ended totally different- as far as darkness is from light.

Let’s first look at the life of Judas Iscariot. Jesus chose Judas; in fact, Jesus already knew from the beginning that his traitor would be this man. Judas most likely misunderstood the purposes of Jesus’ life, and followed the Lord in hopes that the Messiah would set up an earthly kingdom that would be beneficial to his financial well-being!

Because Judas was in the treasurer for Jesus’ earthly ministry, he questioned the value of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet with extremely rare and costly perfume. The betrayer spoke up and said, “What a waste! We could have sold this perfume for a fortune and given the money to the poor!” But in reality Judas had no heart for the poor. He only said this because he was a thief and in charge of the money case. He would steal money whenever he wanted from the funds given to support Jesus’ ministry (John 12: 3-6).

Because of the love of money and power that was living in his heart, Judas had yielded himself to Satan many times; the more he yielded the more influence Satan had over him. At the last supper, when Jesus handed Judas the bread, the scripture states – “Satan entered” Judas and took control (John 13:27). Then Judas went to the leading priests and said, “How much are you willing to pay me to betray Jesus into your hands?” They agreed to pay him thirty silver coins. Then Judas busied himself, schemed, and looked for an opportunity to betray Jesus (Matthew26:14-16).

When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane praying, Judas, his once-trusted disciple, appeared with men armed with swords and clubs. Then Judas, the traitor, stepped up to Jesus and said, “Shalom, Rabbi,” and then he betrayed him with a kiss, and Jesus was taken away to be condemned by the religious leaders. Now, when Judas, the betrayer, saw that Jesus had been sentenced to death, remorse filled his heart. He returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and religious leaders, saying, “I have betrayed an innocent man”. They replied, “Why are you bothering us? That’s your problem. Then Judas flung the silver coins inside the temple and went out and hanged himself (Matthew27:3-5). Such a sad picture of how Satan works in the lives of those he conquers! He sets-up, lures, tempts, and uses people, only to condemn and throw them away when he is finished getting what he wants from them. Condemnation from the enemy brought about his self-destruction and kept Judas from seeking forgiveness for his enormous sin. Do you believe Jesus Christ would have forgiven a repentant Judas? I do!

Now let’s touch on the life of the disciple Simon Peter, who denied even knowing the Lord! When Jesus chose Peter the fisherman to be his disciple, He gave him a miracle catch of fish, and Peter was awestruck over this miracle and surrendered himself by leaving everything behind and following Jesus(Luke5:4-11).

Peter was an outspoken man, and his personality was quite a bit impulsive! Jesus had told the disciples to go in their boat to the other side of the lake. When the disciples were in the middle of the lake, they ran into trouble, for their boat was tossed about by high winds and heavy seas. At about four o’clock in the morning, Jesus came to them, walking on the waves! The disciples were terrified and screamed, “A ghost”. Jesus said, “Be brave and don’t be afraid, I am here!” The outspoken, impulsive Peter shouted out, “Lord, if it’s really you, then have me join you on the water!” “Come and join me,” Jesus replied. So Peter stepped out onto the water and began to walk toward Jesus. But when he realized how high the waves were he became frightened and started to sink. “Save me, Lord!” he cried out. Jesus immediately stretched out his hand and lifted him up (Matthew 14:22-31).

Jesus asks his disciples-“who do say that I am?”- Simon Peter spoke up and said, “You are the Anointed One, the Son of the living God!” Jesus replied that the Father in heaven supernaturally revealed this to Simon, and Jesus prophesied about God’s future plans for Peter in the church (Matthew 16:16). Then soon after this great spiritual proclamation Simon Peter made, Jesus was prophesying about His suffering, death, and resurrection to the disciples. Peter took him aside to correct him privately, He reprimanded Jesus over and over saying to him, “God forbid, Master, Spare yourself. You must never let this happen to you!” Jesus turned to Peter and said, “Get out of my way, you are talking like Satan! You are an offense to me, because your thoughts are only filled with man’s viewpoints and not with the ways of God” (Matthew16:22-23). Peter was a man full of duplicity!

When Jesus prophesied the betrayal of Peter’s denial, He said, “Peter, my dear friend, listen to what I’m about to tell you. Satan has demanded to come and sift you like wheat and test your faith. But I have prayed for you, Peter that you would stay faithful to me no matter what comes. Remember this: after you have turned back to me and have been restored, make it your life mission to strengthen the faith of your brothers.” “But Lord,” Peter blurted out, “I am ready to stand with you to the very end, even if it means prison or death!” Jesus looked at him and prophesied, “Before the rooster crows in the morning, you will deny three times that you even know me” (Luke22:31-34).

When the religious leaders seized Jesus, Peter followed from a safe distance. Someone had built a fire in the courtyard, so Peter inched closer and sat down to stay warm. A girl noticed Peter sitting in the firelight. Staring at him, she pointed him out and said, “This man is one of Jesus’ disciples! “Peter flatly denied it saying, “What are you talking about, girl? I don’t know him!” A while later, someone else spotted Peter and said, “I recognize you. You’re one of his, I know it!” Peter again said, “I’m not one of his disciples.” About an hour later, someone else identified Peter and insisted he was a disciple of Jesus, saying, “Look at him! He’s from Galilee, just like Jesus. I know he’s one of them.” But Peter was adamant. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you understand? I don’t even know him.” While the words were still in his mouth, the rooster crowed. At that moment, the Lord who was being led through the courtyard by his captors, turned around and gazed at Peter. All at once Peter remembered the words Jesus had prophesied over him, and he burst into tears, ran off from the crowd, and wept bitterly (Luke 22:54-62). Seeing the Savior whom he had sinned against, brought Peter to a place of sorrow for his sin, repentance (turning back to Jesus), and restoration (accepting forgiveness) from the Anointed Messiah, the Lord Jesus Christ. No matter how many times there is failure-There is always hope through Jesus, it is never too late to receive forgiveness, restoration, and be given a life of success and purpose in the Kingdom of God.

            addthis_url = ''; addthis_title = ''; addthis_pub = '';

[aion-rsa]

Upcoming Movies in February 2021: Streaming, VOD, and Theaters

https://ift.tt/3jnSsFr

2021 is now in full swing, and film distributors are beginning to feel out what the new normal actually is. Given the latest news about COVID variants, movie theaters remain a tenuous bet—although some films are still releasing there—while streaming at home becomes evermore enticing with one of Warner Bros.’ Oscar contenders set to premiere simultaneously in theaters and on HBO Max. This month also marks the theatrical and/or streaming release of some of last year’s best films.

So for film lovers, the choice of what to watch (and how to view it) remains more varied than ever. Here’s a guide to what’s coming up in February:

A Glitch in the Matrix

February 5

After chronicling the oddest of oddball theories regarding Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining in the documentary Room 237, filmmaker Rodney Ascher is back to take on sci-fi classic The Matrix. In truth, the idea of there being a “glitch in the Matrix” predates the Wachowskis’ 1999 movie, but the duo mainstreamed the idea that we all live in a simulation. So with his new film, Ascher explores that philosophical idea (and fringe conspiracy theory) that nothing is real, and therefore everything is permitted.

With the rise of conspiracy theories and magical thinking in recent years, this could be timely stuff—or unnecessary based on some of the mixed reaction this film has thus far received out of Sundance.

Malcolm & Marie

February 5

This Netflix release has awards buzz around it as well as eye-popping marquee value with its depiction of a love story between John David Washington (BlacKkKlansman, Tenet) and Zendaya (Euphoria, Spider-Man). The film is from the mind of Euphoria creator Sam Levinson and is his third feature, following Assassination Nation.

Shot in black and white, Malcolm & Marie is a visibly personal project, with its depiction of a romance on the edge of evolution or despair. Washington’s Malcolm is a movie director in the story, and he’s on the verge of superstardom after the premiere of his first feature. Clearly his life is about to change, but his girlfriend Marie suspects those changes don’t include her. After his big night, all the things left unspoken are about to be uttered.

Falling

February 5 (U.S. Release, Playing Now in the UK)

Viggo Mortensen makes his directorial debut in what is reported to be a quiet and revelatory affair. Like several other filmmakers this year, Mortensen is tackling the subject of parents and adult children being placed under the strain of dementia. Yet there’s long been a tension between Willis (Lance Henriksen) and his son John (Mortensen) in this movie, even before early stages of dementia.

Uncomfortable with the fact John is gay and living openly with his partner and a young daughter, Willis is reluctant to visit his son’s family. But as the aging process sets in, both generations are going to have to make peace with a lot of things.

Judas and the Black Messiah

February 12 (U.S. Only, UK TBC)

As the next Warner Bros. film set to premiere on HBO Max the same day it opens in theaters, a lot of attention is gathered around Judas and the Black Messiah, not least of all because it is very good. As a film with Oscar aspirations—Daniel Kaluuya has already been nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Golden Globes and SAG Awards—Judas gives a hard-edged study of the life and times of Fred Hampton, the Black Panther Party chairman who was executed by police in 1969.

Told from the perspective of William O’Neal (a jittery LaKeith Stanfield), the FBI informant who spied on Hampton and the Panthers for law enforcement, it’s a unique approach to a biopic that finally shines mainstream Hollywood light on the struggles of the Panthers and the demand for Black Power. It’s brutal and, ultimately, haunting.

Minari

February 12 (March 19 in the UK)

Another major awards contender, and easily one of the best films of the last year, is Lee Isaac Chang’s intimate and visibly personal passion project, Minari. Loosely inspired by Chang’s own childhood, the film chronicles a family of Korean-Americans who immigrated to the U.S. in the 1970s, and after a decade of scraping by in the dead end of industrial farming, they’re making a go of it with their own small farm in rural 1980s Arkansas.

Presented as a multigenerational tapestry, the film is an achingly beautiful piece told from the vantage of a young boy, his put-upon and distancing parents (Steven Yeun and Yeri Han), and his grandmother (Youn Yuh-jung), who’s visit from Seoul is intended to save the family. It really is something special and all-American, despite its occasional categorization as a “foreign language film” by awards bodies. See it in theaters on Feb. 12 or wait for its VOD release on Feb. 26.

To All the Boys I Love: Always and Forever

February 12

If you’re looking for something a little more romantic this Valentine’s Day season, Netflix is completing its To All the Boys I Love trilogy—or at least finishing its film adaptations of the so-far published Jenny Han YA novels—with Too All the Boys I Love: Always and Forever. In the movie, Lana Condor returns as Lara Jean, the once gawkish high school girl with a series of crushes who is now coming into her own as she spends her spring break on a whirlwind vacation that sends her to South Korea, New York City, and around the world. (So clearly this is set before 2020.) It’s a romance for all ages, and one that could be sweet in our current age.

French Exit

February 12 (March 26 in the UK)

Michelle Pfeiffer is one of those rare performers who can make even the most venomous line readings sing with playful amusement—or turn the screws. She indulges both skills in French Exit, a dry comedy with exceeding detachment and apparently perfect casting. In the Azazel Jacobs film, Pfeiffer plays Frances Price, a Manhattan socialite of a certain age who’s lived long enough to see the invitations to high society dry up. Worse, she’s also run out of the inheritance she’d been living off for decades.

So Frances moves in with her peculiar son Malcolm (Lucas Hedges) in a tiny Parisian apartment. Slow boiling mayhem ensues. Well-regarded for Pfeiffer’s performance on the festival circuit, this is one to keep an eye on.

Land

February 12 (April 9 in the UK)

Robin Wright has had a remarkable career in film and television, time and again showing us new dimensions onscreen. But with Land, she makes her directorial feature debut behind the camera after helming several episodes of House of Cards. In the film, Wright plays Edee, a bereaved woman who attempts to start over in the wilderness of Wyoming. Even with its wide open landscapes, it’s admittedly a narrowly framed tale. Yet there be gold up in them hills.

I Care a Lot

February 19

One of our personal favorites out of the Toronto International Film Festival last year, Netflix’s I Care a Lot is a clever, knotty, and incredibly sardonic dark comedy. Framed around the bottomless ambition and avarice of Marla Grayson (Rosamund Pike), it’s the story of a woman who makes her wealth by convincing the government to lock up senior citizens with large bank accounts, leaving her in charge of their finances.

Read more

Movies

Upcoming Must-See Movies in 2021

By David Crow and 1 other

Movies

Toronto International Film Festival 2020 Movie Round-Up

By David Crow

It’s a hell of a con until one nice little old lady (Dianne Wiest) whom Marla preys upon turns out to have connections to a crime boss (Peter Dinklage). This is wicked entertainment, with Pike at her most devilish since Gone Girl, and Dinklage also playing sharply against type. They and the rest of the ensemble, which includes Eiza González, are brutally funny in this grim satire of modern American capitalism run rotten. The J Blakeson who made The Disappearance of Alice Creed is back.

The Mauritanian

February 19 (February 26 in the UK)

Kevin Macdonald continues his career of hard hitting political dramas based on true events with The Mauritanian, a new awards contender which documents the real legal case of Mohamedou Ould Salahi, a Mauritanian detained without a charge by the U.S. government in 2002. For 14 years, he remained in custody at Guantanamo Bay until he had his day in court.

Macdonald’s film documents that legal fight with a large ensemble which includes Jodie Foster and Shailene Woodley as the lawyers representing Salahi, and Benedict Cumberbatch as an American officer who suffers a crisis of conscience. Most of all though, the film has gotten attention for Tahar Rahim as Salahi in a performance that has already garnered him a Golden Globe nomination.

Nomadland

February 19 (March 19 in the UK)

Chloé Zhao’s Best Picture contender is finally having a major streaming release, and on Hulu at that. Produced by Searchlight Pictures, Nomadland is a remarkable achievement that blends the acuity of narrative filmmaking with the sobering authenticity of documentaries. Focused on the real life culture of American Nomads in the modern American West, the film was made within the community while telling the story of how it came to be. Thus enters Frances McDormand as Fern, a woman who in 2010 has been left with nothing once the Great Recession literally erased her hometown from the map.

Read more

Movies

The New Sci-Fi Dracula Western Could Unearth Themes Buried in Bram Stoker’s Novel

By David Crow

Movies

Upcoming Marvel Movies Release Dates: MCU Phase 4 Schedule, Cast, and Story Details

By Mike Cecchini and 1 other

Now the middle-aged widow lives in a van on the open road, estranged from the idea of living at one address, and at peace with her new community of fellow travelers, who we see gather, commiserate, and grieve. It’s a powerful piece of filmmaking that may be a frontrunner for the Best Picture Oscar, which is fairly odd to consider when one realizes Zhao’s next movie is Marvel’s Eternals.

Tom & Jerry

February 26 (March 19 in the UK)

It looks like someone remembered they have beloved (and relatively ancient) intellectual property just sitting in mothballs, because Tom & Jerry is back. Yay? Looking like a leftover from the mid-00s craze of inserting CGI Smurfs into a sitcom-y New York, Tom & Jerry follows a familiar formula, but at least does so with sophisticated computer cel-shaded animation. That’s pretty nice.

The premise of this HBO Max-bound release is Jerry has set up shop as a mouse in a Manhattan hotel when junior management (Chloe Grace Moretz) introduces a cat to take him out. Unfortunately, for her, the cat is Tom. The two old foes immediately resort to their old ways, destroying the swanky establishment just before a high-profile wedding. Maybe she should have called the Ghostbusters?

Cherry

February 26 (March 12 in the UK)

Tom Holland and the Russo Brothers are a long way from the Marvel Cinematic Universe now. Indeed, after helming the highest grossing movie in history, Joe and Anthony Russo are turning their attention to the opioid epidemic in the U.S. by offering a stylish depiction of an Army vet who falls into addiction and a career of fourth wall-breaking bank robberies. Holland is clearly trying to step away from his goofy Spider-Man image, and the picture is of high pedigree for Apple TV+. The movie also stars Ciara Bravo and Jack Reynor.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday

February 26

This upcoming Hulu release is a passion project for Lee Daniels (Precious, The Butler), and one that aims to provide new dramatic light on the life of Billie Holiday. One of the great jazz and swing singers of the 1940s and ‘50s, Holiday had a singular voice and talent that was commodified by the music industry at the time due to her Blackness, and then hindered further the more political she became. While Holiday did have a drug problem, it’s interesting how the industry seemed to conspire to exacerbate it, as opposed to urging her to get clean.

A traditional biopic, The United States vs. Billie Holiday is now getting awards notice, with Andra Day’s starring turn as Billie already netting her a Golden Globe nomination. Not bad for an actor in her first starring role.

The Father

February 26 (March 12 in the UK)

It’s one of the most powerful movies of 2020… and one of the most depressing. In a role that’s already netted him Golden Globe and SAG nominations, Anthony Hopkins plays Anthony, an elderly man who’s been living alone for years since his wife passed. But with dementia setting in and his daughter (Olivia Colman) wishing to move to Paris, some tough decisions are going to be made about Anthony’s care.

Read more

Movies

Anthony Hopkins to Star as Mike Tyson’s Trainer in Drama Cus and Mike

By Joseph Baxter

Movies

The Silence of the Lambs: A Thinking Person’s Monster Movie

By Ryan Lambie

Yet what makes Florian Zeller’s The Father so effective is it’s told entirely from the perspective of Anthony’s deteriorating mind, and as it goes along, it becomes unclear how much of what you’re seeing can be believed as happening—or if it might’ve happened years ago. Hallways in his London flat change, doors are replaced, and the countenance of his daughter’s boyfriend shifts or vanishes depending on the day. It becomes debilitating, and ultimately heartbreaking, stuff.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The post Upcoming Movies in February 2021: Streaming, VOD, and Theaters appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3jmvf6E

[dfroza]

A simple “hello”

is seen at the conclusion of Paul’s Letter of Romans that was sent to his friends.

[Chapter 16]

Be sure to welcome our friend Phoebe in the way of the Master, with all the generous hospitality we Christians are famous for. I heartily endorse both her and her work. She’s a key representative of the church at Cenchrea. Help her out in whatever she asks. She deserves anything you can do for her. She’s helped many a person, including me.

Say hello to Priscilla and Aquila, who have worked hand in hand with me in serving Jesus. They once put their lives on the line for me. And I’m not the only one grateful to them. All the non-Jewish gatherings of believers also owe them plenty, to say nothing of the church that meets in their house.

Hello to my dear friend Epenetus. He was the very first follower of Jesus in the province of Asia.

Hello to Mary. What a worker she has turned out to be!

Hello to my cousins Andronicus and Junias. We once shared a jail cell. They were believers in Christ before I was. Both of them are outstanding leaders.

Hello to Ampliatus, my good friend in the family of God.

Hello to Urbanus, our companion in Christ’s work, and my good friend Stachys.

Hello to Apelles, a tried-and-true veteran in following Christ.

Hello to the family of Aristobulus.

Hello to my cousin Herodion.

Hello to those who belong to the Lord from the family of Narcissus.

Hello to Tryphena and Tryphosa—such diligent women in serving the Master.

Hello to Persis, a dear friend and hard worker in Christ.

Hello to Rufus—a good choice by the Master!—and his mother. She has also been a dear mother to me.

Hello to Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas, and also to all of their families.

Hello to Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas—and all the followers of Jesus who live with them.

Holy embraces all around! All the churches of Christ send their warmest greetings!

One final word of counsel, friends. Keep a sharp eye out for those who take bits and pieces of the teaching that you learned and then use them to make trouble. Give these people a wide berth. They have no intention of living for our Master Christ. They’re only in this for what they can get out of it, and aren’t above using pious sweet talk to dupe unsuspecting innocents.

And so while there has never been any question about your honesty in these matters—I couldn’t be more proud of you!—I want you also to be smart, making sure every “good” thing is the real thing. Don’t be gullible in regard to smooth-talking evil. Stay alert like this, and before you know it the God of peace will come down on Satan with both feet, stomping him into the dirt. Enjoy the best of Jesus!

And here are some more greetings from our end. Timothy, my partner in this work, Lucius, and my cousins Jason and Sosipater all said to tell you hello.

I, Tertius, who wrote this letter at Paul’s dictation, send you my personal greetings.

Gaius, who is host here to both me and the whole church, wants to be remembered to you.

Erastus, the city treasurer, and our good friend Quartus send their greetings.

All of our praise rises to the One who is strong enough to make you strong, exactly as preached in Jesus Christ, precisely as revealed in the mystery kept secret for so long but now an open book through the prophetic Scriptures. All the nations of the world can now know the truth and be brought into obedient belief, carrying out the orders of God, who got all this started, down to the very last letter.

All our praise is focused through Jesus on this incomparably wise God! Yes!

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 16 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is chapter 6 of 2nd Samuel where David recovers the sacred Ark of the Covenant to the sound of music:

Once again David gathered the elite soldiers of Israel, some 30,000, and they went down to Baale-judah to bring back the covenant chest of the True God, called by the Name: the Eternal One, Commander of heavenly armies, who sits enthroned above the winged creatures who protect the chest.

They carried the covenant chest of the True God on a new cart from the house of Abinadab on the hill where it had rested, and Abinadab’s sons Uzzah and Ahio directed the new cart, with Ahio walking in front of the chest. David and all the Israelites were joyous before the Eternal; and they were accompanied by wooden lyres and harps, tambourines, castanets, and cymbals.

When they came alongside the threshing floor of Nacon, the oxen stumbled, and Uzzah put out his hand to steady the covenant chest. The Eternal burned with anger against Uzzah, and the True God struck Uzzah dead on the spot for daring to touch the covenant chest.

David was angry that the Eternal One had broken through to strike Uzzah, so the place was named Perez-uzzah, meaning “Breech against Uzzah,” to remember that act. David was also frightened of the Eternal that day.

David: How can I be responsible for the covenant chest of the Eternal One?

So he decided he did not want to take the chest of the Eternal into the city of David, and he left it there in the care of Obed-edom, a man from the Philistine city Gath. The covenant chest of the Eternal One remained there for three months; and in that time, the Eternal One blessed the household and farms of Obed-edom the Gittite.

When news was taken to King David that the Eternal had blessed Obed-edom and all his household because of the covenant chest of God, the king went down and brought the chest from Obed-edom’s house up to the city of David, again accompanying it with rejoicing and ceremony. When the people carrying the chest of the Eternal had gone six steps, David sacrificed an ox and a fattened calf; and he danced before the Eternal One with all his might, clad in a priestly vest.

So David and the house of Israel carried the covenant chest of the Eternal One up to the city of David with shouts and the sounding of the trumpet. When Michal, the daughter of Saul, looked out the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Eternal without thought for how he looked, she hated him.

They carried the covenant chest of the Eternal One to its place inside the tent David had pitched to house it, and the king offered burnt sacrifices and peace offerings to the Eternal. When he had finished with the sacrifices and peace offerings, he spoke a priestly blessing over the people in the name of the Eternal One, the Commander of heavenly armies; and he gave all of the Israelites—every man and woman—a loaf of bread, a date roll, and a raisin cake. Then they all returned to their homes.

On David’s return, he wanted to bestow good favor on his household, but Michal, the daughter of Saul, came out to meet him.

Michal (sarcastically): The king has distinguished himself today in front of his servants’ maids. He revealed quite a lot, just as the lowest of the low might expose himself.

David: It was for the Eternal One that I danced. The Lord chose me in place of your father Saul and all his descendants; He appointed me to rule over Israel, the Eternal’s people. I will lower myself even further—maybe I will even shame myself in my own eyes—but in the eyes of those maidservants of whom you speak, I will receive honor.

And to her dying day, Michal, the daughter of Saul, was humbled before God and did not bear a child. Therefore no descendant of Saul ever regained the throne of Israel.

The Book of 2nd Samuel, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, October 26 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A post by John Parsons about this week’s reading of the Torah by Jews around the world:

Shavuah tov, chaverim. Last week's Torah portion (i.e., parashat Noach) introduced us to Abram (אַבְרָם), the descendant of Noah's son Shem, who was the great-grandson of the patriarch Methuselah - a man who who personally knew Adam and Eve and upheld the original promise of redemption given in the Garden of Eden. Just as there were ten generations from Adam to Noah, so there were also ten generations from Noah to Abram (see Gen. 11:10-32). And just as Noah became the father of 70 nations, so Abram (through Shem) would become the father of the Jewish people, through whom the Promised Seed - the Messiah and Savior of the world - would eventually come.

In our Torah portion for this week (Lekh-Lekha), we read that Abram was 75 years old, married to (his half-sister) Sarai, and guardian of his nephew Lot (his deceased brother Haran’s son) when he received the promise of divine inheritance: “And the LORD said to Abram, "Go from (i.e., lekh-lekha: לך־לך) your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you. In Hebrew, the phrase lekh lekha means "go for yourself" (lit. “walk [הָלַךְ] for yourself [לְךָ]”), though it can be interpreted it to mean "go to yourself," that is, "look within yourself" in order to begin walking out your own journey into the promises. The realm of divine promise is only attained when we venture out in faith. Like our father Abraham, we are called to "cross over," leave everything behind, and take hold of God's glorious promise for our lives. [Hebrew for Christians]

10.25.20 • Facebook

A message from the Institute for Creation Research:

October 25, 2020

Christian Metaphors

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27)

Christian believers and their characteristics are described in terms of many colorful metaphors in the Bible. In our text, Christ calls us “my sheep” and has also said: “I am the good shepherd,...and I lay down my life for the sheep” (John 10:14-15). If we are truly His sheep, then we will surely follow Him, receiving safety, peace, and nourishment.

He has also said: “Ye are the salt of the earth:...Ye are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:13-14). We are therefore expected to bring the salt of preservation and joy to a bland, tasteless, and otherwise decaying world, and the light of salvation to a dark, sinful world.

In another beautiful metaphor, the Lord Jesus has likened us to fruitful branches: “I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit” (John 15:5).

The apostle Paul compares us variously to soldiers, to athletes, and to farmers: “Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ....if a man also strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned, except he strive lawfully. The husbandman that laboreth must be first partaker of the fruits” (2 Timothy 2:3, 5-6).

With regard to our Christian life and witness, Christ said we must be “wise as serpents, and harmless as doves” (Matthew 10:16). The apostle Paul compares us to individual members in a great body (1 Corinthians 12:27). Peter says we, “as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house,” and also are like “a royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:5, 9) to offer up spiritual sacrifices.

There are many other beautiful and meaningful figures of speech in the New Testament, all of which help us to appreciate the richness and fruitfulness of the Christian life. HMM

[placetobenation]

Whither the WWE Draft. A double-edged sword it has always been for the WWE, especially this year.

On one hand, it’s an awesome way to generate a two-night event on both RAW and SmackDown and an even better way to reset the roster. After all, we can all agree that RAW could use a breath of fresh air after the past month or two of SmackDown kicking its ass week after week.

Yet, on the other hand, this year’s draft comes in the midst of the build-up to the Hell in a Cell PPV in two weeks. Moving superstars around before the PPV might signal a way for feuds to end or for storylines to just disappear. It looks like that even though draft choices are announced, they don’t go into full effect until after the PPV. So there, it’s good news and bad news in some cases. We’ll break down night one below in our SmackDown recap. Still, we’ll get more over social media over the weekend and then on night two on Monday Night RAW.

Overall, for night one, here’s how it went down as The Draft takes our Star of the Week spot this week.

Round 1:

Round 1 of the 2020 #WWEDraft is in the books!

#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/AzFPo5TAoS

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

Round 2:

Some BIG MOVES just went down in Round 2 of the 2020 #WWEDraft!

#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/HMfdmRhYvH

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

Round 3:

Round 3⃣ of the 2020 #WWEDraft

#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/aeBMwrUekX

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

Round 4:

Round 4 of the #WWEDraft is a SHOCKER.

#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/ARVkJ5n1oH

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

RAW

RESULTS

Asuka, Mandy Rose & Dana Brooke defeated Natalya, Lana & Zelina Vega

Seth Rollins & Murphy defeated Dominik Mysterio & Humberto Carrillo

Exhibition Match: Braun Strowman vs. Keith Lee ended in double count-out

24/7 Championship: Drew Gulak defeated R-Truth / R-Truth defeated Drew Gulak

Bobby Lashley & Shelton Benjamin defeated Ricochet & Apollo Crews

WWE Tag Team Championship Match: Shayna Baszler & Nia Jax defeated The Riott Squad

Randy Orton, Dolph Ziggler defeated Drew McIntyre & The Street Profits

Overall:

Is that a smile on @RandyOrton's face? You better believe it, because #TheViper just PINNED #WWEChampion @DMcIntyreWWE! #WWERaw pic.twitter.com/CgBOnN0t6a

— WWE (@WWE) October 6, 2020

There were some bright spots, but for what seems like every Monday night for a month, RAW is disjointed and not clicking on all cylinders like its NXT and SmackDown counterparts. The main event was very good, as it should be with the talent in it. But, most did not. The two women’s tag team matches did little to impress. A good idea with Lee vs. Strowman was poorly executed. And, do we really need more 24/7 title changes between the same three guys? At least, Mustafa Ali got a spotlight!

Finally:

Disciple no more?! The budding tension between @WWE_Murphy and @WWERollins has finally come to a head! #WWERaw pic.twitter.com/Akv8ozTayY

— WWE (@WWE) October 6, 2020

Disciple, I am not – Thankfully, we’ve finally gotten to the stage of the Seth Rollins and Murphy relationship where Murphy has decided to not take The Monday Night Messiah’s message any longer. Now, with Aalyah Mysterio by his side, he’s ready to take Rollins down. Got to wonder who Seth will get now to replace him. After all, the Messiah needs his minions. BTW: What is the WWE’s fascination with kendo sticks?

Interesting:

Some dreams die so others can live. pic.twitter.com/lxlpms4vX7

— Mustafa Ali / Adeel Alam (@AliWWE) October 6, 2020

Ali, the leader – RETRIBUTION has a leader now and his name is Mustafa Ali. A curious decision by WWE to have Ali, who’s been blowing in the wind the past few months with no real direction, but this one puts him squarely out front of one of their bigger angles. We know he has the skills in the ring, does he have them on the mic as the leader? I’m interested enough to find out and that’s a good thing considering RETRIBUTION was a laughing stock just two weeks ago.

Huh:

Rematch, please.#WWERaw @RealKeithLee @BraunStrowman pic.twitter.com/NwaCpr6eS8

— WWE (@WWE) October 6, 2020

Lee vs. Strowman – An exhibition match? WTF is that?! What a waste of our time. Especially with the draft starting this Friday on SmackDown, it makes no sense to do things like this and worse yet, end them in double count-outs. This only solidifies that Lee or Strowman are moving to move this feud along. Now, having said all that, the spot off the ramp was pretty cool.

NXT

RESULTS

Tommaso Ciampa defeated KUSHIDA by DQ

Drake Maverick & Killian Dain defeated Ever-Rise

Austin Theory defeated Leon Ruff

Dexter Lumis defeated Austin Theory

Ridge Holland defeated Danny Burch

Shotzi Blackheart defeated Xia Li

Ember Moon & Rhea Ripley defeated Dakota Kai & Raquel Gonzalez

LOVED IT:

Capitol Wrestling Center – Triple H was right, this is a game changer! Getting NXT out of Full Sail and into the revamped Performance Center complete with a combination of live fans and the Thunderdome experience is an absolutely home run. Looks amazing. Sounds real, loud and LIVE. Well done!

Three’s a crowd:

RAGE. #WWENXT @NXTCiampa @KUSHIDA_0904 pic.twitter.com/8EA5ivz8UV

— WWE (@WWE) October 8, 2020

KUSHIDA vs. Ciampa – Loved the opening match between KUSHIDA and Tommaso Ciampa! That is up until the point where The Velveteen Dream needlessly interfered. I get it, their feuding, but let’s not bow down to the lowest common denominator. Have him attach AFTER the match. DQ finishes are lazy, especially in this day and age. The new attitude of KUSHIDA is really awesome to watch and I’m looking forward to a rematch between these two or if they want a triple threat with a clean finish. Even the new look works for KUSHIDA with the jeans. Gives him an EDGE.

Ready to Fight:

NOW HOLD ON A MINUTE!@RealKingRegal has made the following tag team match official for TONIGHT on #WWENXT: @RheaRipley_WWE & @WWEEmberMoon vs. @DakotaKai_WWE & @RaquelWWE TONIGHT! pic.twitter.com/1ZK2OJYWHc

— WWE (@WWE) October 8, 2020

E

C

L

I

P

S

E To say we "missed" this move is an UNDERSTATEMENT. @WWEEmberMoon secures the victory for herself & @RheaRipley_WWE on #WWENXT! @DakotaKai_WWE @RaquelWWE pic.twitter.com/dp90sHCLeW

— WWE (@WWE) October 8, 2020

Ember vs. Io: What’s better than Io Shirai getting ready to take on the returning Ember Moon? Well, how about adding Rhea Ripley and Dakota Kai to the mix! And speaking of additions. That was a pretty sweet video re-introduction of Toni Storm to the NXT American audience. Things are looking up for the women’s division in NXT, a division that was already one of the best going in the biz! A welcome sight to see Moon getting over in the main event too after battling all the back, missing over a year, from that Achilles injury. There’s a good moon a rising folks!

Bad asses:

Wishing you a speedy recovery, @RidgeWWE. #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/FqFwtSCsbA

— WWE (@WWE) October 8, 2020

Dexter & Ridge – It seems like we got a pair of NXT bad asses, one good, one bad. Dexter Lumis and Ridge Holland are taking no prisoners these days. Holland has his sights set a bit higher after his attack on Adam Cole at NXT:TakeOver 31. Or should we say HAD his sights set on Adam Cole. After trying to catch Danny Burch from his over the top rope leap after their match, Holland got stretchered out with ankle, knee and tendon injuries. Tough break there for a guy who was about to get a big break. It would’ve been nice to see Holland and Lumis team up at Halloween Havoc in a spin the wheel, make the deal match. 

Hated it:

Short stuff – What’s up all the short matches? Austin Theory with a pair of them, plus Holland, Lumis and Shotzi Blackheart all went less than four minutes. Seems like a bit of forced stuff trying to get everyone in there instead of quantity.

Planting seeds:

.@JohnnyGargano & @CandiceLeRae are really starting to like @indi_hartwell. Bright future… 𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/4DT14PwsIT

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) October 8, 2020

Indi & Xia – Nice piece of work by Indi Hartwell, sending the Garganos a big screen tv so they can watch her helping out Candice LeRae during the #1 Contenders Battle Royale. Looks like Candice may have a new pet. As for Xia, what was in that letter from Boa? Hmmmmmm….. sure seemed upset.

SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

Falls Count Anywhere Match: Big E defeated Sheamus

Jeff Hardy & Matt Riddle defeated The Miz & John Morrison

SmackDown Women’s Championship Match: Sasha Banks defeated Bayley by DQ; Bayley retains title

SmackDown Tag Team Championship Match: The New Day defeated Cesaro & Shinsuke Nakamura to win the titles

The Fiend defeated Kevin Owens

LOVED IT:

No disqualifications, no count-outs, 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚! It’s #FallsCountAnywhere rules in this heated battle between @WWEBigE and @WWESheamus! #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/duv4lFoKKy

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

DAMN – That Falls Count Anywhere match between Big E and Sheamus was everything I wanted it to be. Physical as hell. Fun and messy. Weapons-filled with kendo sticks (of course), duct tape, cars, flour & eggs and cars (of course). Plus, the right guy went over! And how about the welts and the marks and the blood left all over Sheamus’ pale white body. Felt that even through the TV!

“It didn’t have to be like this.”@WWERomanReigns has officially challenged Jey @WWEUsos to an #IQuit Match inside Hell in a Cell! #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/KaHqROpqTa

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

Roman ups the stakes – Not only do we get Roman Reigns vs. Jey Uso, part 2 in a Hell in a Cell match, but this time, for the first time ever, it’ll be an I Quit match too! Roman is making sure that if he beats up his cousin again, he’ll have to say it to the Tribal Leader’s face.

…#SmackDown #TheFiend @AlexaBliss_WWE @WWEBrayWyatt pic.twitter.com/xz5GqgRJih

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

Fiendish Friday Night Fight – Kevin Owens against The Fiend in his first match on SmackDown was exactly what we expected. Two guys that don’t exactly look like they should be able to do what they do, but they do and giving us our money’s worth in a main event while they do it. Have to hope that these two, along with Alexa Bliss, end up on the same show after night 2 of the WWE Draft so we can see it again!  

The Draft, Night 1:

What they got right:

Seth Rollins moving to SmackDown – The Monday Night Messiah gig was getting old. Will it get new life on Friday night’s? Or will Rollins join up or take on old friend Roman Reigns and the Universal Championship?

The Miz & John Morrison to RAW – The Miz on USA Network makes perfect sense considering his two shows there including Miz & Mrs. that returns next month. Plus, the two were getting stale and becoming pushovers on Friday night.

Xavier Woods & Kofi Kingston to RAW – This will bring some new energy to Monday nights, along with some fun. They should’ve brought all 3 members of The New Day to RAW though.

What they got wrong:

AJ Styles – He must really not like Paul Heyman, right? Why trade him to SmackDown a few months ago only to draft him back? Makes little sense.

Rey & Dominik Mysterio to SmackDown – Once Seth Rollins said he was glad to not have to see the Mysterios again, you knew they were getting drafted to Friday nights. Too bad, the paternity storyline is tired! Murphy joins them too after a Saturday morning draft announcement.

BREAKING NEWS: The New Day has been split up due to the #WWEDraft! pic.twitter.com/gCsnWM93SR

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) October 10, 2020

Breaking up The New Day – Hated it. For obvious reasons, the trio of Big E, Xavier Woods and Kofi Kingston should stay together on the same show. Sometimes, you just don’t have to change things. And oh yeah, what about those new titles that Woods & Kingston just won? They said titles go with the superstars, so….??? Makes me think The Street Profits are headed to Friday night and a switch of champions could be in the offing.

Broetry in motion:

@LarsSWWE is HERE!! #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/NNJCryF7YC

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

Jeff & Matt together again – No, it’s not a Hardy Boys reunion, but Riddle & Hardy looking good with a win over The Miz & Morrison before a returning Lars Sullivan beat up both teams. The Friday night Freak is back to terrorize the WWE. Here’s hoping he stays for a bit longer this time. We’ll have to wait until Monday night to see where he gets drafted to on night two of the WWE Draft.

Champion’s advantage:

Bayley – Brilliant move by Bayley, getting herself disqualified in order to keep her title against Sasha Banks. The aftermath was better than the match as the two former besties tried to get the best of each other with that vaunted chair. Up next, Hell in a Cell for these BFFs.

Welcome back, it’s a New Day!

#AndNEW!!!!! #SmackDown @TrueKofi @AustinCreedWins @WWEBigE pic.twitter.com/l6y8Lq7nF7

— WWE (@WWE) October 10, 2020

Woods & Kofi return – Xavier Woods missed almost a year with an Achilles tendon injury. Kofi Kingston missed almost three months with undisclosed injuries at Extreme Rules: Horror Show. Both are back to take over the tag team division and it was oh so good to see the Dynamic Duo back together while Big E takes out Sheamus. Kinda cool to see them get right back at it with a title victory over the SmackDown Champs, Cesaro & Shinsuke Nakamura. Can you say 9-time Champs!

Parting Shots:

I love having Halloween Havoc to return on NXT the Wednesday before Halloween. I love even more that it will be hosted by Shotzi Blackheart. Now, just give me a night of Spin the Wheel, Make the Deal and I’ll be ecstatic!

Hell in a Cell PPV – Updated Card:

WWE Championship Hell in a Cell Match: Drew McIntyre vs. Randy Orton

Universal Championship Hell in a Cell I Quit Match: Roman Reigns vs. Jey Uso

SmackDown Women’s Championship Hell in a Cell Match: Bayley vs. Sasha Banks

Coming up this week:

RAW: WWE Superstar Draft – Night 2

NXT: TBD

SMACKDOWN: Season premiere Universal Championship Match: Roman Reigns vs. Braun Strowman The New Day’s Farewell Match: The New Day vs. Sheamus, Cesaro & Shinsuke Nakamura

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at jcrowe567@gmail.com. We’d love to hear your comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics and Bruins fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND

[tumelo-mabuya-writer]

Desperate Enough

Unclean.

That’s what they called me for twelve years. Never to my face though. Nobody would ever be caught talking to someone, something, as impure and vile as me. Over forty-three hundred days of nonstop bleeding and pulled be away from everyone I knew and loved. More than a hundred and forty months since I had last touched anybody. And nobody wanted to approach me anymore. Even in all the layers of clothing I wore, it was difficult to mask the stench of constant blood. I reeked of it in this heat. After twelve years the odour had permanently become a part of me no matter how much I scrubbed my clothes and washed myself. I missed being near others. I missed my father’s smile. I’ve almost forgotten what an embrace feels like. When was the last time Mother hugged me? The pit in my heart always felt deeper each year I thought about it.

“He’s over there!”

“He’s coming this way!”

“The Rabbi!”

The crowds in the main street in front of me got larger as people shoved each other aside all moving in the direction of Galilee. Parents carried children on their shoulders. Carts and wagons were hastily pulled out of the street as the crowd knocked over tables and stalls as they struggled forward.

“I’m telling, He’s got to be John the Baptist raised from the dead!”

“Pffft! Two denarii says he’s Elijah! We know he went up to Heaven by chariot. He must have returned to us!”

There was an excitement in the air. An energy. An urgency. Only one man could cause this much commotion in town. Yeshua, the prophet from Nazareth, had returned. He was all the people ever talked about. No one had spoken to me in years but about the carpenter turned rabbi but talk about Him still reached me. The chatter about Him was often loud.

“I heard He’s single!”

“Girl, did you see His arms when He was in Simon’s boat?”

“Those years of carpentry have been good to Him! Lord have mercy!”

“Amen to that!”

Some of the ladies neatened their robes and straightened their head coverings as they pushed their way through the crowd. Would I be acting like those silly girls were it not for my condition? I certainly hope not. I hadn’t thought much of Yeshua myself in the beginning when all the chatter started. There had been a lot of chatter about that Baptist at the Jordan River as well. Despite the fact that he ate locusts he had been quite popular. People had even begun calling him the Messiah.  But that all died down once he was arrested and beheaded by King Herod. But this man, Yeshua, was different. The very mention of His name divided people. Even the Pharisees were divided. Many people believed He was the Prince of Demons. But many more said He was the Messiah. I remember how I shook my head to myself the first time people said that. A Messiah from Nazareth? Impossible! Nothing good comes from there! But then word of many miracles started spreading whenever Yeshua was in town. The sick and injured were getting healed. The lame I had seen begging in the streets for years were walking and working (I swallowed a lot of bitterness the first time I saw that). Demons were getting cast out of people. I’d heard even that Magdalene girl had been delivered. There was even talk of healed lepers re-entering their cities. It seemed too good to be true. And yet it was.

I doubled over in pain and twisted my robes in my hand. A wave of cramps, the sixth wave I’d had today, washed over me and focused on my lower stomach. The pain was so intense I dropped to my knees. The pain increased like a dozen knives, one after the other, were being driven into me. My eyes welled up with tears not for the first time today.

“Adonai... please... heal me...” I pleaded again like I had for the past twelve years.

Oh I hated this cursed body! Of all the women in the world who could have had this issue of blood, why did it have to be me? I kept the Law as best as I could. I honoured my parents. I always tried to do the right thing. Why was I being punished? Why didn’t Yahweh Rapha take this away from me? Why did He not show the many physicians visited how to help me? I took ever cure and remedy given to me, so why did I only get worse instead of better? Why must I suffer like this, in pain and untouchable, while others got to live their lives, be together, touch, get married and have children? It wasn’t fair! Living like this was not fair! Why must El Shaddai permit this?

The cramps persisted for a full minute before they passed. I realized I was lying on my side in the dirt. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. It probably wasn’t going to be the last. The cramps were one of the many things that afflicted me as my blood flowed endlessly like an endless stream from a crack between the rocks. I felt so uncomfortably wet. But that had become a normal constant. I let out a shaky breath and pushed myself up onto my knees. My lower back was killing me like someone stepped on it. Despite the heat my face was cold with my sweat. I wanted to cry but I held it back. That would have to wait for tonight as my weeping always did. I couldn’t waste that energy during the day.

The crowd in the street shifted a bit as their direction changed slightly. None of them had noticed me on the floor in pain. Or perhaps they did notice and didn’t care. Everyone kept their distance for fear of being ceremonially unclean and dying that way. I caught bits and pieces of what those nearest to me were saying.

“...He’s on the move...”

“...Who’s that with Him?”

“...I can’t see...”

“...I heard somebody say it’s Jairus the synagogue leader...”

Jairus. He was one of many religious leaders who had personally inspected me, and officially declared me unclean according to the Law. He had been kinder to me than most of the religious leaders, but thinking back to that day still made my stomach twist up uncomfortably and the pit in my heart burrow deeper. And now, if I heard correctly, Jairus was with Yeshuah. Yeshuah, who people said forgave a healed a paralyzed man and sent him home with his mat. Yeshua, who healed a man possessed by a legion of demons. What I would have given to be near Yeshua the Healer. I had thought of approaching Him many times but there was always a crowd around Him. Day or night, crowds surrounded Yeshua and any house He slept in. it was impossible to find Him alone to plead with Him. Not without touching people and making them unclean. Not that I hadn’t thought of doing that many times. If the Rabbi could heal me, what should it matter if I make people temporarily unclean? They can always just wash themselves and their clothes to be clean again. Nothing I do will ever make me clean. I’m living filth. Wet, smelly, living filth. I should be allowed to enter the crowd and just shove people aside to get near the Rabbi. But they’d never allow me to do that. People like me had been beaten away with sticks for trying. And I’m so weak most of the time, I’d never manage to get far even if they didn’t beat me. It wasn’t fair. Men never had to go through this. Why must we women suffer so much? It was becoming very hard to fight back the tears as I felt the lump form in my throat.

Then I saw it. A small dog was squeezing through the crowd, bobbing and weaving between everyone’s legs. Nobody paid it notice as it padded along. It managed to wiggle its way out of the street and entered the alley I was sitting in. It walked right up to me, face to face with me as I was still on my hands and knees. It stared at me with its big brown eyes a moment, sniffed me, sneezed and walked past me. I watched it go as it disappeared around the corner. I looked back the way it had come. Dare I crawl on my hands and knees like a dog? And at this time of day? I could feel the rags beneath my robes were becoming too damp. I needed to wash and change them before the blood flowed through my layers of robes. But if I could get near enough to the Rabbi to heal me, then I could wear new clothes and throw these rags away. I could be clean. My skin tingled with goose bumps at the thought.

Clean.

But what if the people noticed me? They may remove me from the Rabbi before I could finish making my request. No, I’m unclean. They would back away from me to avoid being touched. But what about the Rabbi? What if I told Him of my issue of blood and He refused to heal me? What if He refused to lay His hands on me because it would make me unclean? Would Yeshua show me mercy or would He follow the Law and demand I leave His presence? I wouldn’t blame Him. I’m disgusting.

I shuddered as I felt a drop of blood flow down my thigh. I really needed to change and wash myself. I should just go home and do just that.

“He’s your only chance,” I told myself. “You have to try. You’ve tried everything else and you’re only worse for it. Could doing this do anything worse to me? This Rabbi... I have seen the people He has healed. They were like me. Incurable. He has power, power beyond normal men. Perhaps such power flows into His clothes? Surely a man could not contain God’s power in His body alone. Perhaps it flows out of Him into everything He touches. Yes, I don’t need to speak to Him. He might reject me because I am unclean. Just get close enough to touch His clothes. Touch His garment. If God is with Him, that will be enough. If I can just touch His robe, I will be healed.”

I let out a shaky breath and began crawling. Then I stopped. What if someone looked down and recognized me? I opened my shawl more and wrapped it around my face as best as I could.  I gathered my robes around me as best as I could. I needed to move quickly before I began making a trail of blood. My arms were trembling. My sweat stung my eyes. I crawled forward.

It was chaos as I was in the crowd. I wasn’t the only one on the floor. Many people had been pushed or fallen over. Some even stepped on. People were shouting trying to get the Rabbi’s attention. Dust from all their stepping and stomping was in my face. It was hard enough seeing where I was going through all the legs and robes. I could vaguely smell the dust, sweat and body odour through my own putrid stench. Someone stepped on the hem of my robe but I was too weak to pull it out no matter how hard I yanked at it. Finally, he stepped off and I could crawl forward again. I slowly moved in the direction the crown was flocking to. I barely managed not to cry out when somebody stepped on my hand. Somebody else kicked me, maybe by accident or on purpose. It was hard to tell.

This was stupid. The people were becoming more frenzied the deeper I entered the crown. I was going to get myself killed. I’d be stampeded before I could get near enough.

Why waste your time? A voice in my head asked. You always get your hopes up anytime a physician or healer is around. What has that brought you? You have spent all your money trying to get better and only grew worse. What if approaching this Rabbi makes you even worse? You’re risking your life, risking everything, just to touch His clothes.

“I risk everything because I have none left to risk,” I told the voice. “I have nothing to live for.”

You have your family

“A family I cannot touch or be with.”

You have friends.

“Friends I haven’t seen in twelve years.”

You’re on the floor like a dog! It’s undignified!

“I left dignity behind long ago. I will crawl like the dogs to get what I want. I will swallow the dust and trail my blood behind me if it will close the flood.”

You are breaking the Law by letting these people touch you. You’re selfish.

“I have spent twelve years alone. Selfish is all I have.”

The people will stone you!

“I’ll risk it. I’m desperate enough.”

Someone kicked me in the face, nearly ripping off my shawl. I was knocked down on my side and shakily got up and pushed on.

“If I can just touch His robe, I will be healed. If I can touch His robe, I will be healed.”

My head was throbbing. I felt so dizzy. My arms shook like they wanted to buckle under me. Somebody stepped on my leg and fell on top of me. He swore and cursed as he pushed himself off of Me. I don’t even know if it was directed at me or not. I was in so much pain. Both my hands were bleeding and bruised from being stepped on repeatedly. I wanted to quit and return to my alley. But I had made it this far. I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t.

“If I can just touch His robe...”

And there He was. I caught only a glimpse of Him before someone stepped in front of me and blocked my view. I was so close. I crawled on. Slowly bobbing and weaving around legs as I got closer to the Rabbi. Yeshua came in and out of my view repeatedly. I could barely catch a glimpse of His face but I recognized His clothes. I had always observed Him from a distance as He preached to the people. I recognized Jairus walking ahead of Him hurriedly. I crawled faster, knocking into people and shaking it off as I pressed on.

If I could just touch His robe, I could be healed.

“If I can just touch His robe...”

I was so close. I could return to my family. I could embrace them again. I could kiss my nephew for the first time. I could get work. I could marry.

“...I will be healed.”

The throbbing in my head increased. I could feel the cramps returning. The pain in my back was almost unbearable. I stretched out my hand, straining. He was right in front of me but moving away. I managed to grip the hem of His robe between my thumb and forefinger for a second before it pulled out as He walked.

“Oh, Lord... my God. My Mighty God...”

I felt it. One second my blood was flowing, like I couldn’t stop peeing; a stream that flowed without end. A cursed sensation that had become a part of my life. Then it just stopped completely. My rags and inner robes were still soaking wet and uncomfortable, but the bleeding had stopped. The cramps, headache and back ache subsided with it. I even felt... stronger.

“Who touched My robe?”

It was the Rabbi. I realized that the crowd had stopped moving. Everyone was standing still but the crowd was still loud. He was scanning the crowd. He couldn’t be looking for me, could He? How could He know?

Somebody, probably one of His disciples, spoke to Him. “Master, look at this crowd pressing around You. How can you ask, ‘Who touched Me?’”

But the Rabbi kept looking around, scanning the faces around Him. “Someone deliberately touched Me, for I felt healing power go out from Me.”

Oh no. No, no, no! He was looking for me! He knows I’m unclean! I stole power for myself without asking. I would be stoned. Perhaps I could crawl away. Perhaps I could run. But if He could feel the power to heal me leave Him, perhaps He could track it. Better to face Him now and face the consequences than be caught and suffer worse fates.

I slowly stood up. What if He took the power back and I started bleeding again? What if He returned the illness to me a hundred fold? Yeshua clearly had power.

“Who touched Me?” the Rabbi repeated.

I stepped forward through the crowd and fell forward on my knees in front of the Rabbi and began sobbing. I was shaking uncontrollably. I was sweating, bawling and absolutely hysterical. He was going to take the power back! I just knew it!

“Oh, Y-Y-Y-eshua, Lord, I am S-s-s-o s-sorry!” I sobbed and stared at His toes. “I-I-I was selfish, My Lord! I had an issue of b-b-blood! I s-suffered for t-t-t-twelve long years of constant bleeding and g-g-grew only worse after visiting many physicians. Y-y-you can even ask Jairus. I spent all I h-h-had to get better. I d-d-didn’t think You would h-h-heal me. So I th-thought to myself, ‘If I can just touch His robe, I will be healed’ and s-s-s-o I crawled on the floor l-l-like a d-d-dog j-j-just to touch Your robe. And I did and I was immediately healed! You are powerful! So powerful! God is truly with You! I took power from You without asking! I’m sorry! I am so, s-s-s-so sorry! Son of David, have mercy on me! Please understand I was so desperate to be well again!”

I fell on my face and sobbed. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt longer. Like the twelve years I had suffered was washing out of me.

“Daughter,” the Rabbi said gently.

I sniffed loudly, took a deep breath and looked up at Him.

The way He looked at me was... unexpected. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t offense. It wasn’t even the disgust I had been accustomed to. It was joy, absolute joy. And kindness I had never seen. And love. Not even my parents had looked at me with such affection. He looked at Me like He knew me. There was so much understanding in His eyes like He had seen me my whole life was so relieved to be near me. He smiled at me in a way that warmed my heart and sent a tingle through my body through my toes.

“Your faith has made you well,” The Rabbi said and stretched out His hand to me.

He wanted to touch me? Me?

I took His hand and He lifted me up. I knew I still reeked but He didn’t seem to care. His hands covered my bruised and bloodied hands so tenderly. Despite the crowd, He kept His eyes on me like I was the only person in the world. He looked so pleased to see me. How was that possible.

“Go in peace,” those were His last words to me before He turned to address Jairus, who looked very distressed. I stared at Yeshua for a long time as He and Jairus went on. Eventually the crowd dispersed with Him. Many stared at me in amazement as they passed. Many congratulated me as they passed. I realized I had lost my shawl at some point so they could all see my face. They recognized me but didn’t ridicule me.

I felt so strong, so whole. So light. I felt my feet carry me and it was a while before I realized I was walking home to my parents. First I was walking slowly. Then briskly. Then I was running. I was running for the first time in years. I was finally strong enough. Like I had been when I was younger.

“Thank you Yeshua,” I whispered as tears flowed down my face and my grin grew wider. “Thank You, Messiah, Ben Elohim, Son of God.”

[fadekhat-blog]

Prompt for you! While out in the Hissing Wastes, our band (non-mage Lavellan, Solas, and any two others of your choosing) tangles with the Venatori. The Inquisitor gets separated from the rest and spirited away. While captured, she's forced asleep and a Venatori dreamer goes about trying to break her mind in the Fade (in whatever way you choose). Unpleasantness ensues. There's a daring rescue. Then recovery. Or something. I'm never sure if I'm doing prompts right! Cheers!

That prompt is incredible, thank you! I’ve never written a non-mage Lavellan, so I’ll use my original Inquisitor Revanelan (Elana) sans magic as a stand in - let’s say she’s an archer. Not having magic definitely adds something to the scenario… This might be more than you signed up for, but I got pretty into it XD @dadrunkwriting

“Such a pity. To think, the elven empire was once impenetrable.  Your people possessed magic beyond our wildest imaginations, immortality they say, and you are reduced to this. Sticks and stones will not save you,” the woman said, gesturing to my quiver of arrows with disdain.

She didn’t have to introduce herself. It was Mythal, I simply knew. Whatever doubts I once had fled my mind in an instant. My vallaslin, her vallaslin, seemed to dance upon my skin.

The all mother was beautiful - not in a covetous way, though every mother has a sensuous side, but in a way that was love given form. Her face was the face of everyone who had ever touched my heart, a shifting, flickering mirage of familiarity.

Every part of me wanted to please her, to make her sacrifice worthwhile.

“They can do more than you would think,” I said into my chest, explaining myself.

“And yet what do you have, really? Who are you, really? An elf from the wilds who mouths the words of the Chantry’s god. Your lies are written on your face. Do you think you’re human? A person rather?”

“I, what? No.” I said, my tongue unsure which question to answer. “I’m just trying to help them. The breach endangers us all. Mythal’enaste.”

I bowed my head, moving my hands in a clumsy sign of reverence as my keeper once taught me, but Mythal struck out at me, shattering my gesture of piety with a single blow.

“You will get no such thing,” she said with a sneer. “Not when you serve shemlen gods. Wear their colors, live in their halls.”

The slur sounded wrong on her tongue, but I couldn’t say why. My cheeks burned beneath the gnarled scar across my brow and my mouth moved wordlessly.

Suddenly every piece of my red and gold armor felt like an accusation.

“I don’t serve their Maker! I’m only trying to help,” I cried out, anger at myself and at them sparking in my chest.

“But you don’t serve me either,” she said, swooping in so that her perfect nose nearly brushed mine. “You don’t even believe in me.”

“That - that’s not true.”

“I don’t deserve it,’ you think. ‘What goddess would let her people suffer like this,’ you think. ‘One that is either impotent or indifferent.”

Her fingers traced the curve of my jaw as she spoke, and it seemed as if my thoughts echoed around us.

Well aren’t you?

How do I even know this is real? You’ve never bothered speaking to us before now.

I gasped, as if to inhale my words, but I couldn’t stop them. They came not from my lips but from my mind itself.

“Ah, but you forget you were gifted the freedom with which to fail yourselves. It is you that has failed me, child.”

Suddenly I was on my knees. She loomed over me, at once a goddess and a horror, a parent and an executioner.

“I haven’t…” I said. Part of me strained to turn away, to run, but I found myself enveloped in the sticky slowness of dreams. My will was not enough for my body, and I couldn’t bare to look at her any longer.

“Where is your clan?”

“In the Free Marches.”

“Where in the Free Marches?”

“Wy-Wycombe.”

“Why?”

“Because we sent them there. To protect the people - and the city elves. They would’ve been slaughtered without our intervention.”

Her slap rang out like a thunderclap, and suddenly I was thrown up against the ruins of a wall. The remains of an old temple hung around us, the leafless tree of Mythal depicted in colored glass at its center.

“The tree of your people is dying. You are but a lifeless leaf, an arcane warrior born without magic. A single spasm in the death throes of your kind. But you may still serve me.”

I stared into the broken stones that littered the ground, unable to focus on even a single blade of grass, but my mind answered for me.

How?

“Set. Them. Free.”

Her voice was all around me, formless.

“Rip the breach open, let the Fade rain from the sky. Allow Thedas to be realm of true magic once again. There, even you will not be worthless.”

I struggled to speak, to breath. My logic was slow, otherwordly. Her words wound through my mind like muck through a dead river.

“Slave,” she hissed.

There was a flash of pain and light, and then I was running. Roots and branches flew past me, all that was beyond consumed with shadows as my feet carried me forward.

I fled not by moving my legs, but my wishing they’d move. It was small difference, but it was there.

Then I was in a clearing. I was small, and Arlathae was pinned beneath a bear of a man, her left leg crushed into a mass of bone and meat.

“Leave her alone,” I stuttered, but my bow fine longbow was gone. In its place was a silly thing of twisted wood and string, practically a child’s toy.

He didn’t hear me, or simply laughed, and yet the scene didn’t seem to move.

I had a single arrow, I realized in an instant. I grabbed it at the hilt, like a dagger, and plunged it into his neck. Then he was on me, and Arlathae was screaming with rage and pain and I stabbed him over and over again. My hands moved by their own will, a memory of what was already done.

A blade tore across my face, maiming me once, and then again. The moment seemed to skip and pass over itself - at once we were fighting him, but also we were slipping away from camp, and then we were looking down at a corpse, unable to put a name to what we had done.

We won’t return to camp until we have our first kill, we’d promised ourselves. We’d meant a deer.

I saw the arrow in his eyes, once, twice. The blood trailing down his cheek as he finally died beneath me.

“The Fade will fall on them,” a voice whispered from on high.

I rose to speak and the painful light flashed again.

I was on a battlefield, or what I once considered one. The charred corpse of a human militia simmered around me. I’d pushed her - it was Arlathae’s magic, and yet we had both watched them die. Willed it.

If anything, my only regret then was that I had not been able to flay them myself. That my clan had to flee yet again.

“But you will.”

“You will be something.”

“Not a puppet, not a tool.”

“A weapon, a messiah of your people.”

“They will burn, or you will.”

The voices came as if from within me, filling my head as a final flash of blistering light engulfed my vision, bathing me in fire.

And then I was fire. Without and within me, all I could see is flame. My companions stood around me in a circle, and beyond them the masses watched me burn.

“You’ve done all you could,” Cassandra said, “But heathens must be cleansed from this world.”

I screamed and screamed and felt my skin strip away until there was only anchor and bone.

“It will make a nice relic, I think,” Dorian said.

Their every word felt like a dagger beneath my nails. Not in a metaphorical sense - every syllable was punctuated by visceral pain. I wasn’t a person then, but a gaping wound. An unwanted feeling.

“It would be helping to end it,” Cole mused beneath his hat.

“Creatures like her do not deserve compassion, Cole,” Solas said, stepping into the circle with an air of cool certainly. “They know nothing of this world, or what came before.”

When he touched me, the world was at once made of ice.

“You are nothing,” he said into my lips.

Not you.

And then he was smoke, and a second Solas stepped through him.

We were in a windowless cell, somewhere deep underground. I sat up on a wooden bench and my feet brushed the body of a masked Venatori mage.

“Are you okay, ma vhenan?” He moved to touch my arm and I flinched away, the bright pain flashing in my mind.

He said something else, but I didn’t hear him. It was all coming back.

There hadn’t been many of them - just enough Venatori to take out our party with the element of surprise. I had been left standing amidst a circle of my fallen allies wishing, hardly for the first time, that I possessed the barest spark of magic necessary to heal another’s wounds.

Then there was darkness, and light, and darkness again as they pulled me in and out of consciousness, transporting me. There was pain, both real and imagined, and I was covered in scars I didn’t recognize.

Battered, but alive then.

“Are they gone?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“For now, yes,” Solas said, his eyes pained. “Did they say what they wanted?”

My hands shook, and I kept my distance, shifting over on the bench so he could join me.

“Well, the anchor, of course. He, they, whoever, said I should bring the sky down…”

“For the good of our people,” Solas finished, shifting closer.

“I, yes. But how did you know that?” I asked, a chill kissing my bones.

“It is no small thing to hold such power,” he mused. “I suppose you have never considered what else you might do with the anchor?”

“What else? There is nothing else. We close the breach.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he took my hand.

“That is one option. Imagine what we could do together, Elana. With the anchor, we are equals.”

Almost, hung in the air, an unspoken truth.

“You’ve never talked this before. Why is the fate of the elves suddenly so important to you?”

We’re not your people, remember?

He teeth glittered in the darkness as lazy haze of magic rose from his fingertips as he stroked my skin around the anchor. Once again, I was curiously unable, or unwilling, to move.

“Say you’ll do it, for me?”

“For you?” I repeated, in a trance.

“Say it.” His fingers dug into my palm, forcing their way into the strange in-between of the anchor. It flared, turning my arm into a shrieking claw.

“I…”

Was in a cave.

Cole was hunched before me, his form faint, quivering.

“I found you,” he said weakly. “I ran ahead. I felt you crying. Your mother dead, a bear in the woods… only it’s not really a bear, is it?”

“Cole,” I exhaled his name as I fell into him. “Cole, please, just get me out here.”

His arms encircled me, always cooler than you’d expect, as he spoke into my neck.

“But I need help now,” he said, voice hushed.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m unraveling, unbeing before your eyes. Can’t you see it? Will you help me? If the Fade is now, we will always be together. There will be someone who understands.”

“Say it.” His hands closed around my neck.

Blackwall in a tunnel.

Cassandra in a field.

The Iron Bull on a ship, Dorian by his side.

Sera in a back alley.

Varric in a forgotten bookshop.

Vivienne in an attic.

“Say it, dear.”

I tore into the next moment like a woman possessed. Perhaps I was.

The stars hung above us, distant and utterly imperious in every direction. A shadow stepped toward me, but I knew what was coming.

“I won’t say it. I won’t say it. I don’t care who you are. I won’t bring the sky down.”

The words flew from my lips like bile as I pressed my hands over my ears, blocking out their pleas. I felt them close in on me, a touch on my shoulder sending a lance of pain, or a memory of pain, coursing through me.

“Don’t touch me,” I barked, the spiky lip of a battlement pressing against my back. A fallen sword glittered in the periphery of my vision and I dove toward it, putting the blade between me and my attackers. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

There were three, Cassandra taking point with Solas and Dorian on either side. I was breathing wildly, so fast I could hardly think. The bursts of air through my nostrils nearly drowned out their words, but I could see their faces. Looks of worry masked with attempts at comforting concern.

“It is okay, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said, doing her best to sound soothing. “We’ve removed the Venatori. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

I scoffed, my eyes skittering away from their own.

“That’s what happened before, and that wasn’t real. Not ever,” Running my free hand through my short clipped hair. “Do whatever you want. I won’t say it.”

“Say what?” Dorian asked quietly, stepping closer.

“Nothing, shut up!” I shouted, swinging the sword to underline my point. He stumbled backward, eyes wide with fear layered with the seeds of pity.

“I - of course. It’s okay Elana, you don’t have to tell us anything. Let’s just go home, hm?”

Home, and suddenly I was reminded that they could hear my thoughts.

If I said it, I was theirs’. I could feel it in me, the power behind those words. But what if I only thought what they wanted? Was that enough? Could the Venatori possess me the way they had all those tranquil?

As I thought, I stepped back until my free arm was hooked over the wall. We were on a tower. I looked down onto the cliffs below, the sword always between us.

Could I make the jump?

Did it matter?

“Elana,” Solas said, his voice ever soft.

“You don’t call me that,” I snapped. “And don’t give me any of that shit about ‘our people,’ I know you don’t care. Not about ‘wildings’ anyway.”

“Inquisitor, then,” Solas said, his voice even despite my barrage of insults. “You are correct, what you saw before wasn’t real. The Venatori trapped you in your dreams, but they are not in control now. You’re free.”

“Free. You mean free until the next time I wake up,” I muttered.

“Pay attention to your body. To the way you move - not by will, but by action. That is distinction is unique to the physical world. You are not dreaming any longer, Inquisitor,” he said, as if it were any other conversation in his rotunda.

“Mm,” I said, loosening my grip on the sword. It fell to the ground, clattering harshly against the stone. “This is… real.”

“Exactly,” he said, guiding me forward with an arm that never quite touched my body. He seemed to understand that this was beyond me.

“Come Inquisitor, let us leave this vile place,” Cassandra said, leading us out of the tower.

I saw the corpse of the Venatori mage as we passed. I tried not to think how familiar it looked as we rode for the nearest Inquisition camp.

Instead, I focused on the majesty of the stars above and on the friends close at hand.

“I won’t say it,” I whispered into the wind.

Inspired by my very real and intense fear anytime someone pulls that “Wake up, Fakekhat, just wake up!” style prank - how can you know you’re not a brain in a jar (or a dreamer stuck in the Fade)? You can’t!

[drinkshaming-blog]

>Gamzee: Transport eggs.

You illuminate the path ahead of you, unwavering in your light as you gingerly carry a large, padded basket full of eggs towards one of the incubation caverns. Your bare feet pad softly against the rocky ground, dark stone tinted a hundred colors from sweeps of blood and paint running through the crevices. As you walk, you sing to the basket under your breath.

Ahead, the entry you remember is gone, as well as several of the murals that were beside it. You stop and frown. Your memory isn’t that bad, is it?

“Gamzee!” calls a voice from down the tunnel. “Ataki’e!”

You look up and wave in greeting. “Ataki’la, kenna.”

A troll a few sweeps older than you, Datayn, approaches you, carrying an armful of failed eggs. She nods to the wall where the entry should be. “Eylna te hariek’a juni pate, ah, saulo tog’una fabrei ne’gi, tellai.��� Her expression darkens momentarily. “Temai’e herum herei te taki’e kureti aue.”

Your eyebrows lift and you study the wall, or rather the unwieldy rubble that makes up the wall. It’s difficult to tell where there’s been a recent collapse because there are so many old collapses-- there’s an old saying that goes hariek’a hennei kala re’ue ni’a, or ‘every wall of the caverns is made of someone’s ruins’. Datayn says eight jades and forty eggs were lost to a collapse three nights ago. You turn your gaze back to Datayn with a soft smile. “Auwae. Malai, malai, kenna.”

She smiles back. “Malai, malai, tellai.”

“Reke’te aue hyeni’el keji keia unelli te orema?”

“Paela taei ke me’ei.”

“Fa’ele key te jyre’kl te haeme’ai saulo taki’e?”

“Ah, raenu keai ke’ea ne’a dayn, melliaku.”

“Ta, auwae. Kelli’a ieneta ue!” You carefully rotate one of the eggs in your basket.

“Ieneta ue,” she echoes, nodding towards the failed eggs in her arms. “Temai’ilee kaki morei, shereya, Gamzee.” She laughs at her own joke and allows you to adjust the rhododendron in her hair before she continues on her path and you alter yours, turning right at the next fork to make your way to another incubation cavern.

As you walk, you check your messages, scrolling through a couple notifications about various projects you’re collaborating on (and sighing softly at your conversations with Tavros and Karkat respectively) until you reach your conversation with your supervisor.

GAMZEE: no worries, motherfucker GAMZEE: youll get a chance to see these legs again sooner or later haha JAREED: |et’s aim for ‘sooner’. GAMZEE: sure thing :o) JAREED: you are hard at work, i assume? GAMZEE: be up and carrying some motherfucking eggs around right now actually JAREED: oh! are you, uh. |uminescent? GAMZEE: yeah haha i lights all up whenever shits dark GAMZEE: helps a brother get around easy JAREED: that’s pretty hot.

Your smile widens. Motherfuck, for all the respect he doesn’t have for you, this thing you’re doing with him feels pretty good.

GAMZEE: you think? JAREED: yeah, the who|e g|owing thing, as we|| as the makeup stuff you wear. JAREED: and you. you are beautifu|. GAMZEE: haha damn thanks GAMZEE: thats all some nice shit to hear from a motherfucker as you GAMZEE: which, here cant make no judgements cause i dont all talk to so many highbloods JAREED: you are the first jade i’ve spoken to as we||. GAMZEE: really? JAREED: yes. i have heard stories about friends of friends who have had… encounters with jades, of course, but it is difficu|t to discern how much of that is pure boasting. JAREED: i think most tro||s want to find out what it’s |ike. GAMZEE: wow GAMZEE: that mean a brother just got lucky or something? JAREED: yeah, i got to see you for myse|f. GAMZEE: all kinds of motherfucking good shit that be haha GAMZEE: this fucker getting to talk at ya such how, shades and looks and everything JAREED: nothing you say makes sense. it’s cute. GAMZEE: haha aight JAREED: it’s because you speak that backwards jade dia|ect, right? it’s very exotic.

Does he think you’re speaking in the mother tongue? Does he think that’s the mother tongue?

GAMZEE: sure GAMZEE: so this all you tryna make a story for ya friends friends to gossip at, if ya catch? JAREED: abso|utely. i want you.

Oh, man. This is obviously intensely objectifying, but fuck it’s nice to be wanted. Why don’t you fall in love with people who fetishize you like Jareed does, again? (Because you would and do choose real, all-consuming, unrequited love over someone fickle who actually wants you any night. Which is a miracle unto itself.)

GAMZEE: thanks :o) JAREED: i’|| try to find an excuse to visit the caverns soon. GAMZEE: oh aight JAREED: is the new diet for the mother grub working out? GAMZEE: yeah shit be going down right as rain yo

You hear singing and see flickering light ahead, and shut off your palmhusk, checking on the eggs instead of paying attention to the new message vibration. Before long, you find yourself cutting through an enormous cavern where rows of jades are hauling on lines and handling levers to move huge vats of genetic material (a job far too delicate for machines- one off-temper unit and the entire gene pool could be poisoned). You walk down one of the lines as they continue to sing, and stop beside one particular troll.

“Yo, Kerede,” you greet him.

The jagged scar on his face twists as he smiles up at you, continuing to haul in time with the song. “Hey, brother. How’s the night treating you?”

“Some fine shit, tellai. You?”

He shrugs as much as he can. “Got stuck hauling, but we having a good time here.” Something catches someone’s attention; they raise their hand and call for the others to stop. The motion pauses and several trolls hurry over to check out whatever’s wrong with the slurry. Kerede steps away from the line; you decaptchalogue a skein of water and hand it to him. “Thanks, man. You going to the festival this week, right?”

“Yeah, motherfucker just heard of all that,” you reply. “Gotta pay respects and shit. Been a while since the last big event, anyway.”

“True, shit’ll be nice.” Kerede carefully pours some water over the back of his neck. “Anyways, I’m near finished with the inseam on that hat for ya’ friend. Probably be done in a night or two, depending how busy I am. Having a nice time with it.” He finishes dousing himself in water and holds out his arms invitingly; you carefully hand your basket to him and stretch. 

“Damn, aight. Thanks. Anything a motherfucker can do back at ya?” you ask.

He thinks about that for a moment. “Oh, I been working on some fancy dress for my palemate’s wriggling day in a few perigees here, could use some patterned silk for a shawl kinda thing.”

You nod. It isn’t repayment for his services, that isn’t how things work down here; it’s a way to keep busy, to keep creating, to help a brother. And this sounds like something you’d enjoy in your free time. “What size you thinking? Might need to find some help getting dyes and all.”

“Well-” A call goes up for workers to return to their places. “Shit.” He hands your basket and water skein back to you and repositions himself beside the line. “I’ll message you the details, okay?”

“Sounds good, brother.” You smile at him. “See you.”

He returns your smile and you’re on your way again as the singing starts back up.

Some time later, you see seashells dotting the walls of the tunnel, most broken into a few pieces by centuries of pressure at least. A few jades are carefully digging some of the shells out of the stone. They must be on break. You watch them gently scrape at the insides of the shells, presumably to make sure they’re the type that can be used to make a certain rich fuchsia pigment. One of the trolls calls to you and asks if you’d like some dye from these once it’s been treated. You say yes, definitely, and thank him-- without stopping; you’ve wasted some time already and you don’t want these eggs to cool down too much.

A few minutes later, you’re humming softly to yourself and the eggs when a smaller troll, barely younger than you, falls in step beside you. There’s something strange about the shape of her torso, not distinctly noticeable but undeniably there; she herself was killed in a collapse not too long ago. She’s holding a basket of eggs as well, you notice as she amiably joins in with the words to your song. “Cover your crystal eyes, and let your colors bleed and blend with mine... Making, uh-- motherfuck, forgot the lyrics.”

You laugh. “‘Sup, Ellane?”

“Thirsty as shit,” she replies frankly.

“Mm, I feel ya. Should check in with Ya’alei? Motherfucker might got something to spare,” you suggest. Ellane nods. “Mine best friend got me all fed couple nights ago,” you add, some pride in your tone.

She cocks her head. “Who?”

“Karkat.”

Her eyes widen, a grin playing across her face. “The cute cerulean who was here like last week? He is, so. Oh.”

You give another soft laugh, keeping an eye on your basket. “He’s the only cerulean you ever met, sister.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen them in movies. He’s motherfucking cute. Have you ever met another cerulean, anyways?”

Shrug affably. “Nah, I ain’t. Got a good point.”

“Was he the one you went out with?” Her gaze traces the colorful shapes on the cavern walls as she moves past them.

“Yeah.” You smile at the memory.

“Sweet messiahs, that must have been so cool. How was that, anyways?”

“Some miracle shit. Brother took me to see some wildflowers and all, we sat around most the night. Hardly wanted to come back.” There’s probably some totally obvious note of disproportionate happiness in your voice.

She quirks an eyebrow. “So are you pale for him or what?”

“Yeah,” you reply simply. The two of you reach the entrance to the incubation cavern and head inside, navigating around clutches of eggs to find an open space. This area is tinged with the sulfurous smell of the hot air channeled up into this chamber from the boiling wells deep below. You step over one of the naturally occurring vents that line the wall of the cavern, feeling its intense heat on your legs-- it reminds you of the sweeps before the game, when you were the youngest troll in the caverns and your relatively diminutive size made you the perfect candidate to lower yourself down into the vents and locate blockages or problems. It reminds you of crawling for what felt like weeks through narrow winding tunnels, sometimes having to press your back and feet against the sides so you didn’t fall, of scraped shoulders and skinned knees and damp clothing, of a parched tongue that painfully juxtaposed the air so humid you thought you’d suffocate, of heat rashes and ambiguous chemical burns, of having to grope your way along the wall through total and inexhaustible darkness. 

Motherfuck, you wish you had your bioluminescence then. Maybe you’ll go back down there sometime. You smile and continue to follow Ellane, breaking your trance with “Sorry, what’d you motherfucking say?”

“Does he know?” she repeats.

“Don’t think so,” you say as she sets her basket down and lays a thick cover out in a wide, shallow depression in the cavern floor. “Ain’t trying to make it known, but ain’t tryna hide it neither.”

“Are you gonna make a move?”

“Nope. Motherfucker ain’t any way, like, available for that feelings shit, nor interested in a brother. Just friend shit.” You set down your own basket and start transferring the eggs to the cover.

She examines one of her eggs and then sets it aside with a little sigh. “And you’re happy with that?”

“Sure thing.” You smile down at the eggs. “I love him, ya know, don’t need nothing back. Brother knows I’m there for him, that’s the best I motherfuckin’ need.” You know if he knew how you feel, he’d try to cut ties with you; you know it’s bound to happen sometime. But he’s here for now, and you’re happy with that, and the little pining lump in the center of your chest just reminds you how good you felt when he was yours. And that’s not a bad thing. You squint at the ceiling, trying to fit words together. “It’s, uh. You know, tou’na leiva, for a motherfucker, like takalou na’e hekemai? Reke ali’i jeya fe’all, gaiye pala he works shit out. It all... hennai ali’e ta, last time. Kinda, um, ehuwei te’a. Miracle shit.”

She gives a little nod. “Ah, I got you. Ca’ali te, brother.”

You adjust an egg in the clutch with a laugh. “Yeah, ca’ali te.” Ellane reaches over to you and wipes at what you assume is a spot of smudged paint near your jaw, starting to hum another song. You quickly check your messages again; before Kerede’s recent message about the shawl for his moirail is one from Tavros, which does hurt a little, as fresh wounds tend to do. You smile, at her in thanks and at yourself for being able to help Tavros out as well as you can.

The mineral deposits in the incubation cavern glimmer as you and Ellane make your way out, the light from your bodies reflecting against the crystals, and you take a moment to take in the huge murals that illuminate the walls nearly as much as your bioluminescence does. They bear lines of scripture, depict messiahs and cavern workers and flowering trees and moon cycles, scenes of violence and kindness.

The caverns are beautiful, you think for the hundred thousandth time over the course of your life, all decked out in centuries’ worth of paints and stardust stains in every color imaginable, all full of siblings in their own paints and flowers and stardust singing songs and performing ancient rites and lighting their paths with the radiance of their own bodies. Making inks and baskets and clothes purely for the love of making. No wildflowers could be this vibrant, you think. You work hard, all of you, scraped shoulders and blistered palms and crushed ribs, hands grasping blindly in the dark, purely for the sake of creating something good, and you have. Here, deep beneath the surface of Alternia, is the garden of the sun.

These caverns must have been a lifeless place before the Faith was born-- you can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for your people back when they were really slaves. And without the Faith, they still would be. Without the Faith, you can only imagine that these caverns, here beautiful, the garden of the sun, would be dark and empty.

You like to think that you’re like the caverns.