Hey!!!! Dumb question but what exactly is the Iliad?
THE ILIAD: A SUMMARY
The Short Version: A yarn about blokes getting shitmixed in a war over Miss Hellenic Beauty Champion because some gods thought it would be a Lol.
The Long Version: A Homeric epic poem passed down through spoken word over generations that was penned down in about 800 BC. In the mythological timeline, it ends the Age of Heroes (by wasting them all). It covers the Greek seige of Troy, a whole lotta gods Messing With Shit, a Poseidon who needs anger management, a few hundred names and lots of General Epicness ft Diomedes and Patroklus. Sit back my buddy, let’s go through a quick summary of the books.
Book 1: Apollo ghettoblasts the Greeks with Pain because Agamemescunt kidnapped his priestess Chryseis. Being a douchebag, Agadouchebag Mr Steals Yo Girl from Achilles, which leads to
in͟ten̛şȩ ͟śul͜ki͢n̶g͡ . Achilles’ divine Ma brokers a deal with the Zeus goose (not literally thank goodness, although it’s a definite possibility) so that the Greeks won’t win until they realize how fucked they are without Achilles and go crawling back to him for help.
Book 2: Zeus messes with Agafuckface by telling him to attack Troy. Agamemhoe messes with Zeus by telling his entire army to fuck off back to Greece. Odysseus, with Athena’s help, pistol-whips Agaiceheart back into place with a stick. There are 31 paragraphs of names about Greeks and 16 paragraphs of names about Trojans going to war. The epic story continues.
Book 3: The armies meet. Memealaus (sorry, Menelaus) and Paris decide to have a 1v1 to end this shindig. Paris is saved by Aphrodite and a cloud because he is a Weak Bitch, so we gear up for another 9 years and 11 months of war. Helen tells Aphrodite to go fuck Paris herself if she likes him so much, but Aphrodite threatens Godly Bitch Revenge is Helen ever talks back to her like that again.
Book 4: Menelaus gets grazed by an arrow. Like a football player with a stubbed toe, this means war. He also apparently had ‘shapely thighs and fair ankles’. Watch out for the Zeus eagle, boi. Fighting commences. Diomedes appears. He is awesome, as usual. We continue to the next chapter.
Book 5: Pretty much an entire chapter about Diomedes being a son of a gun and killing fucking everything thanks to Athena. A dude called Sthenelus gets a rock hard boner watching all of this. Aeneas thinks it’s a good idea to take on Diomedes. Mistake. Big Mama Aphrodite has to save him, also with a cloud. Diomedes hasn’t quite reached Critical Awesome yet, so he stabs Ares and Aphrodite as well. Hera calls Ares a little bitch and we carry on.
Book 6: Just a lot of death really. Diomedes was going to kill a bloke, but they realize they are family friends, so just do a little swapsie of armour. Hector gives Paris a spray for being a cowardly little bitch, Paris agrees, and they set off for battle.
Book 7: Hector decides to 1v1 and get this over with. Menelaus tries to accept, but his wingmen Restrain Him. Ajax gets picked out of a hat to fight, but after a bit of a tussle it gets dark, so the fighting pair give each other presents and go home for the night. The next day, they all take a holiday from fighting and the Greeks build a wall. Poseidon is triggered. (reason here.)
Book 8: Due to Poseidon being triggered, Zeus forbids any godly interference on both sides of the war. Hera and Poseidon bitch about Zeus as the Greeks get casually wreckt by the Trojans, but decide not to act on it. Lucky for the Greeks, the Trojans decide sleeping is better than winning, so leave off for the night.
Book 9: The Greeks hit Fuck It and decide to grovel to Achilles for help. Before they do, Diomedes gives Agasaggytitnon a spray for being a douchebag, and everyone agrees that he is indeed a douchebag. Sthenelus probably pops another boner. Back in the tent with the power pair, Achilles and Patroklus, Patroklus tries to be the polite bf to the pleading Greeks, but Achilles is still thinks Agamoomoo called him a ‘vile tramp’ so refuses to help. The drama continues.
Book 10: Odysseus and BAMF Diomedes go on a sneak mission and heroically stab the Trojans in their sleep. They also heroically steal some horses. The epic heroism continues.
Book 11: Hector takes a leaf out of Diomedes’ book and decides to shitmix the Greeks. He successfully shitmixes the Greeks, giving Agamugface a well-deserved arm wound. Paris shoots Diomedes in the foot, but Diomedes literally does not give a shit. Some random dude gives Odysseus a bit of a stab, Ajax gets Confused By Zeus but survives, but things still look Grim. Sweetheart Patroklus sees the Grimness and decides to try and use his wiles to break Achilles out of his Uber Sulk.
Book 12: The Trojans continue to roadhaul the Greeks, which will come back to bite Hector, but we do meet a dude called Thootes. He doesn’t do shit, but his name is great. There is graphic violence, and the Trojans go to chuck a Greek ship on the barbie.
Book 13: Poseidon rises from the sea, back being a buddy to the Greeks now the his great enemy The Triggering Greek Wall has been overcome.There is a shit ton of fighting wherein the Greeks do well and Poseidon is happy because he’s getting vengeance for his other traumatic wall experience.
Book 14: Hera sees Poseidon disobeying Zeus and getting sweet wall vengeance and while probably thinking she married the wrong brother, decides to use Titty Distraction so that the Greeks don’t get chucked on the Trojan barbie. Titty Distraction predictably works A+ and the Trojans get slightly shat on with gratuitous eyeball violence. Hector gets hit by a rock and almost has the most anticlimactic death since Amycus, who suffered death by Elbow Punch.
Book 15: Zeus wakes, calls Hera a scurvy knave and tells Poseidon to Fight Him. Poseidon does not want to Fight Him, so melts back into the ocean and stops helping the Greeks. Apollo resurrects Hector from his rock to the face and the Trojans joyously return to their mission to barbeque the Greek ships.
Book 16: Honeyboo Patroklus (still on his way to Achilles since Book 11) sees Apollo and his Brojans on the warpath and breaks Achilles’ heart with Man Tears. While Achilles and Patbroklus have a very, very long, heartfelt conversation, the Trojans start to toast the Greek ships. Achilles gives (yes gives) Patroklus his armour and tells him to fuck shit up, but not to win without him. Fighting commences, we discover the word hurly-burly, Sarpedon dies in a shower of Zeus-induced blood rain and Patroklus becomes Diomedes 2.0 until he is gang bashed by Hector, Apollo, a literal god, and some awkward random called Euphorbus. Sasstroklus delivers a final fuck you, pulls the finger at all three of his killers and blazes it down to Hades.
Book 17: Hector takes Achilles’ armour off Patroklus, marking him as target #1 for the Sulk King. The Trojans and the Greeks spend an entire chapter having a tug of war with Patroklus’ body. Ajax and Menelaus comment mildly on how Zeus is helping out the Trojans, and the god shines a bit of sunlight in chagrin for being called out. The Greeks win the tug of war thanks to Double Ajax Tactics.
Book 18: In which Achilles goes nuts. Everybody has a cry because Patroklus was a Swell Guy (seriously,as swell as a Hawaiian surf that guy). Achilles goes and therapy-screams at the Trojans, who see the mad bloke and back the fuck off - rightfully so, as Achilles is planning some good old human sacrifice to his dead ‘rider’ Patroklus. Meanwhile, Hephaestus quick-smelts some smashing new armour for Achilles with his household robots.
Book 19: Achilles gets dolled up for battle. Agadickbutt and Odysseus try to placate the madman with gifts, including Briseis, the dame Agamemnope stole from Achilles, but Achilles’ quota of fucks has run out indefinitely. He saddles up and gets ready to fuck up his bae killer.
Book 20: Zeus
R͡ELE҉ASE͜S̵ ͝T̀H͜E͡ ́ǴO̷D͞S͝
and lets them play for whichever team they like, so long as Achilles doesn’t sack Troy just quite yet. It’s probably a friendly game similar to football in god terms. Athena invents the spear boomerang, Hera and Poseidon do some casual sunbathing, while Achilles paints the town red rather literally.
Book 21: Achilles finds men too weak and decides to take on a literal river (Scamander). Achilles realizes this was
A̴ B̸ad ̶I͜de͟a͡
and decides he’ll stick to men. We’re not sure whether Diomedes would have backed off from a river, but I guess we’ll never know. Apollo saves a dude called Agenor from Achilles molestation and in doing so also saves the Brojans. The epic story continues.
Book 22: Apollo says surprise Achilles, tricked ya into chasing me boi, I’m immortal. Achilles stares him dead in the eye for a full minute then says ‘fuck you’ and rides off back to Troy. Hector decides it’s time for another 1v1, but at the last minute considers that this idea was insane and fuckin legs it. Achilles chases Hector around the wall of Troy three times presumably to this soundtrack. Hector finally stops to fight, and thanks to the Athena Spear Boomerangᵀᴹ, Achilles avenges his Patroklus. Hector performs the minor miracle of talking whilst having a spear sticking out of his throat before he dies, then Troy’s hero gets roadhauled and everyone is Sad.
Book 23: Ghost Patroklus pays Achilles a visit, like a sexy Obi wan Kenobi and tells Achilles to bury him already. Patghostklus also beseeches that their bones be laid (ha) together when Achilles inevitably gets fucked on by Fate. Achilles says of course bby I was gonna do that anyway, and tries to make out with a ghost, but this isn’t a Whoopi Goldberg type deal, so Patroghost gets sent back down under. They put the fun in funeral by having games and giving out toasters and such as prizes.
Book 24 (The End): After ‘yearning after the might and manfulness of Patroklus’, Achilles continues to roadhaul Hector until Apollo gives his fam a spray about the dishonour of it. Hera says he’s only mortal scum so who gives a fuck and Zeus says chill wife and commands Achilles to
RE̵L͘E̡A̷S͢E ̴T́HȨ H̀ȨC̕T̵O̷R͡
(sorry I can’t help it). With Hermes as a bodyguard, Priam (Hector’s dad) goes to get the body back. Achilles and Priam have a man-cry bonding moment over Dead Loved Ones, Hector is whisked off to be buried and there ends the Iliad! There’s none of the ankle-shooting, wooden-horse-building shenanigans in there, they all come in later texts such as the Aeneid and Ovid, although I still can’t find the exact text where Achilles gets shot. If y’all know, send me the link ;) I fucking found it nvm
Anyhoo, that was…Jeez, that was The Iliad (aka the longest post in existence). Well, my retold, abridged more slightly less serious version.It’s definitely worth a read, if you can get past all the names!
Pick your top ten ships without looking at the questions…
3. Malec (Magnus/Alec,
4. Eremin (Eren/Armin,
6. Deamus (Dean/Seamus,
1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that
you first started shipping 6?
I actually started shipping
these two way after my first read through the series,, mostly because I was
very young when I did so. Only at my fourth or so reread, when I already was
deep into the whole fandom stuff, I noticed how in love they are. But if you go
after this, it was the third book.
2. Have you ever read a FanFiction about 2?
Have you read my .url? I’ve
read more than I can count.
3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen
saver/profile picture/tumblr avatar?
Yes, it has been my phone
background for quite a while.
4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what
would your reaction be?
I’d probably sit in a
corner and cry for a while. Then I’d remind myself that they’re just angsty
teenagers, and that they have literary the eternity to figure out they do in
fact still love each other.
5. Why is 1 so important?
a) It was the first canon gay relationship I came across in media.
b) Nico was my favorite character way before Will showed up, and it just makes
me so happy that he is happy.
6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?
For me it’s pretty serious
actually, but sadly there’s way not enough content of it out there on the
internetz, and most of it is in a funny style. Apparently no one craves the
angst that leos death inflicted as much as me.
7. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship
has the most chemistry?
I’d probably say
Spideypool. I’m just a hoe for this constant bickering and all the sexual
tension. These two characters go so good together because theoretically they shouldn’t
go together at all. And that’s what makes it so interesting.
8. Out of all of the ships, which ship has the
Romione and Deamus,
definitely. Both couples went through so much together and also grew up as
friends. They’re just years in front of everyone.
9. How many times have you read/watched 10’s
I’ve read the Heroes of
Olympus series 7 times.
10. Which ship has lasted the longest?
Romione, since it was my
second big ship (the first being James and Dana from Top Secret)
11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up?
Never, and they will stay
12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie
apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?
That’s hard bc both ships got a practically immortal being in
them. But if it comes hard on hard I’d say Destiel, because Cas is still an
angel after all.
7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason? I don’t think so. I think the most accepting
friends are still the gay hobo adoptive parents.
14. Is 4 still together?
Of Course they are. Not
even the inevitable death that comes with being a titan-shifter will separate them.
You’ve gotta ask uncle Rick
for that one. In my eyes, yes. Maybe in
later books, if Thalia is willing to give up her life with the hunters like the
two lovely ladies from the new toa book.
16. If all ten ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games,
which couple would win?
Once again I have to put my
money on Dean and Cas because, ya know, Angel and stuff, as well as Deans mad
fighting skills. Although I think Malec would have a pretty good chance aswell.
anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship?
Well, Lavender Brown and Victor
Krum tried, but thank god they didn’t succeed.
18. Which ship
would you defend to the death and beyond?
Valgrace and Deamus. I just wish
my poor gay babies would be appreciated more. Also, the angst. Don’t you dare
19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page?
Yes, I do. And I’m proud of
20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that
you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break
them all up forever, which ship would you sink?
Gods, my heart. But since the writers already do that enough, it won’t
make that big of an impact on Destiel anyways. I’m sorry guys.
Pick your top ten ships without looking at the questions.
1. Malec ( Magnus Bane x Alec Lightwood, Shadowhunters / Shadowhunter Chronicles )
2. Theyna ( Thalia Grace x Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, HoO)
3. Fierrochase ( Alex Fierro x Magnus Chase, MCGA )
4. Kierarktina ( Kieran of the Hunt x Mark Blackthorn x Cristina Rosales, The Dark Artifices )
5. Solangelo ( Will Solace x Nico di Angelo, HoO )
6. Deamus (Dean Thomas x Seamus Finnegan, HP )
7. Jaia ( Jace Herondale x Maia Roberts, Shadowhunters )
8. Jimon (Jace Herondale x Simon Lewis, Shadowhunters )
9. Wolfstar ( Remus Lupin x Sirius Black, HP )
10. Blitzstone ( Blitzen x Hearthstone, MCGA )
1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?
It wasn’t until I saw a fanfiction that had them as background that I started to ship it. Fanart, more fanfiction, and skimming the books for proof ….
2. Have you ever read a FanFiction about 2?
Like at least twenty. I think I wrote one, too, but never let anyone read it because I didn’t have an ao3 at that point. Maybe I’ll post it?
3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr avatar?
Nope, because it’s near impossible to find any fanart of them. If anyone can make me something cute of the three of them, I would love to have a kierarktina screen saver!
4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be?
I mean they were never really together, but if it happened … I wouldn’t be all that surprised? But I’d definitely throw a tantrum. And rant to my closest friend.
5. Why is 1 so important?
It was a canon same sex biracial relationship in a YA book/TV series, and it wasn’t forced or portrayed as something toxic or unhealthy. Malec has chemistry and they’re an absolutely gorgeous couple. Plus in TDA (books) we see them, a bisexual Indonesian man and a gay white man with two sons. Even better, they’re getting their own book series, with promised steaminess.
6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?
A bit of both. They’re all playful and cuddly and sweet with each other most of the time, but they quarrel a bunch. Also, side note: I have a headcanon that Sirius is trans and Remus is just the most accepting and amazing boyfriend ever oh my
7. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?
Oh lord. Um, maybe Malec or Kierarktina ? This may just be me really wanting positive polyamorous representation, but I feel like Kierarktina has really strong chemistry. It’s there in so many ways.
8. Out of all of the ships, which ship has the strongest bond?
Wolfstar. They’ve been sharing a dorm since they were eleven (or roughly fourteen, if we’re going with my trans!Sirius headcanon) and have seen each other through so many good and bad times.
9. How many times have you read/watched 10’s fandom?
I’ve read the first MCGA book eleven (?) times, and the second three.
10. Which ship has lasted the longest?
Theyna. I’ve shipped them since literally when Reyna was introduced. Before she had met Thalia.
11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up?
Okay so my headcanon is that they got together right after the Yule Ball ( so mid to late fourth year ) because Seamus was jealous and then broke up late sixth year because Dean’s parents were hella homophobic and then were both miserable over summer and then got back together like a week into seventh and have been going strong ever since.
12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?
Ooh. The Huntress and Praetor vs the Shadowhunter and Vampire. Um, I think both honestly, but if I had to pick one, Theyna.
13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?
They didn’t have to, but they did for a while. Mainly because Alec would want to know where this started from and then he’d be Very Disappointed.
14. Is 4 still together?
I mean I just want them to be canon. But I think after the books they’ll remain together, unless Cassie does something insane. Which, now that I think about it, she almost definitely will.
15. Is 10 canon?
I wish. Maybe by the next book!
16. If all ten ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?
Don’t make me choose ? Either Malec, Jaia, or Theyna. Working together, it’d be Malec or Theyna, because Jaia would fight too much. Helppp ? They’re both Major Power Couples.
17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship?
I mean, Gaea. But then Percy and Jason made sure that their first date went smoothly. It got out of hand. Eventually Piper and Annabeth locked them in the Poseidon cabin.
18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?
If I had to pick just one, Malec. But also Fierrochase, Kierarktina, and Theyna.
19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page?
Not every day, but yes. Consistently.
20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all up forever, which ship would you sink?
Oh s h i t no don’t do this ?? Ugh. Um, I guess Deamus ? Maybe ? Because I like them as a brotp almost as much as I like them as an otp. So … ugh I don’t like this
have a personal journal & a journal for every (major) writing
project that I work on. I color coordinate the corners of the pages
whether it’s based off of personal, ideas, descriptions, or research. My
personal notebook becomes rather neglected whenever I’m working on a
novel but I do think it’s important to have that free floating little
life raft of a journal/diary to release any steam or delve into any
personal issues within yourself so you don’t accidentally stow them away
for too long. I think it’s better to write with a clear conscious of
how you’re feeling, so try to get it all out.
17: What are your key writing tools?
live by the calendar system. YA novelist V.E. Schwab turned me on to
this concept. You buy a cheap calendar and make a key of daily goals:
mine are usually something like: 500 words written, 20 pages read, edit,
workout, etc. & for each goal I’ll use different coloured star
stickers to fill in the amount I accomplished every day. There’s
something about the visual representation of seeing your goals for the
month that’s really satisfying and validating. You also feel a sense of
guilt if you don’t receive your stars for the day. Doing something like
this has also allowed me to fix any bad trends in my writing routine and
make up for them on other days when I was feeling more productive.
Other than that, I use the Scrivener writing program which has an
innumerable amount of writing tools & helps me keep all my
characters & notes in one place—but save EVERYTHING guys. Have
duplicate copies of everything.
21: What are five pieces of writing advice you’d give to a new / insecure writer?
i. You have to be able to be willing to take/ listen criticism (and also praise) without letting it go too much to your head.
Set up a daily word quota to keep you in shape. Explore avenues of
yourself, your goals & who you hope to reach with your writing in
order to become more familiar with it.
iii. Pick a project and try
to stick with it (write down any other ideas that come up, but file
them away) if you spread yourself too thin, you may quit all together
because it’s frustrating never being able to finish something.
You can’t always write the perfect novel, or the perfect script without
some perspective, or advice from somebody who is qualified. Find worthy
beta writers or critique partners that are outside of your immediate
family/friend circle to give you feedback/ structural criticism. Know
that it’s not personal, it’s just about the craft.
v. If writing
isn’t something you’re 100% willing to devote yourself to when it comes
down to physical act of sitting down & writing, or if there’s
something else you would rather be doing—think about it long & hard
because making a career out of writing/ becoming successful/ or getting
published will not be easy. If you’re aware of the challenges and still
feel like writing a life/or death matter—then put everything you have
into it & it’ll be worth it to share your magic with the world.
22: What’s your writing process? (Do you brainstorm, outline, etc.)
of right now I’m fortunate to have a lot of free-time. So I’m usually
up early at the writing desk. I get my coffee and read through 1-2 pages
of what I wrote the previous day. If it’s a research day, I’ll write
down notes first and then start writing. If it’s an editing day, I’ll
sit down and edit a chapter or so—but more than anything else, I do
whatever I’m in the mood for & if I’m not feeling inspired with
where I’ve left off, I’ll write a future scene, or something else that
will get me into the creative flow for that day.
You all made it back to Sherlock’s flat where all the books were still stacked.
“They’ll be back in China by tomorrow.” John said as Sherlock took of his coat and scarf.
“No they won’t leave without what they came for. We need to find their hideout. A rendezvous. Somewhere in this message it must tell us.” Sherlock said, running his hand over the pictures on the wall.
“Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it.” Sarah said awkwardly
“No, you don’t have to go. You can stay.” John said at the same time as Sherlock said, “Yes, it’d be better if you left now.”
“He’s kidding please stay if you’d like.” John said, covering up for Sherlock’s behavior.
“Is it just me or is anyone else starving?” Sarah asked nicely.
“Oh, God.” Sherlock groaned. You stepped on his foot forcefully to shut him up. “Ow.” He whispered while giving you a dirty look. You glared back.
John went to the kitchen to look for some food. You knew there was never anything in that fridge but body parts. Sherlock sat down at his desk and began looking through all the evidence again. You stood next to him and did the same. Sarah was roaming around the sitting room, inspecting everything.
“So this is what you do. You solve puzzles for a living.” Sarah asked.
“Consulting detective.” Sherlock corrected her rudely.
“Oh. And you too.” She asked me.
“No, I actually work for Scotland Yard.” You said smiling.
“What are these squiggles?” Sarah asked, now standing on the other side of Sherlock, pointing down to the pictures.
“They’re numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect.” Sherlock said, his patience wearing thin.
“Oh, right. Well, of course I should have known that.” Sarah said. Sarah picked up one of the papers and Sherlock looked as if he was going to blow a gasket. You squeezed his arm highly and shook your head. Silently telling him to behave.
“So these numbers, it’s a cipher?” Sarah asked.
“Exactly.” Sherlock said through gritted teeth.
“And each pair of numbers is a word?” She said again. The two of you looked at her, extremely surprised.
“How did you know that?” You asked.
“Well. two words have already been translated, here.” She said pointing to the picture that we had brought to Soo Lin and Dimmock must have brought back from the museum.
“Soo Lin must have started to translate the code for us. We didn’t see it. ‘Nine’ ‘mill’.” He read.
“Nine million quid. For what?” You asked.
“We need to know the end of this sentence. Ugh the museum, the restoration room. We must have been staring right at it.” He groaned as he slipped on his coat.
“At what?” John asked, emerging from the kitchen.
“The book John, the book. The key to cracking the cipher. Soo Lin used it to do this. Whilst we were running around the gallery, getting shot at. She started to translate the code. It must be on her desk.” Sherlock yelled as he ran out of the flat.
“He’s certainly something else, isn’t he.” Sarah stated. You smiled and nodded.
Suddenly a phone buzzed and interrupted your thoughts. It was Sarah’s, she read it quickly.
“Oh hell. It’s the hospital. I’m so sorry, one of my patients has gone into labor.” She said, scurrying to get her things. After some goodbyes she left the flat.
“Are you hungry?” John asked.
“Actually yeah.” You answered.
“I’ll order takeaway.” He stated and walking into the kitchen to get the phone.
You tried to clear the table a little while John ordered some food. After a couple minutes you heard a knock at the door. You were taking off your jacket as John went downstairs to get it.You heard a bang downstairs.
“John, is everything okay?” You asked, standing up. The moment you turned around you saw him. Zhi Zhu. You made a move for your gun but he was too quick. He pulled his arm back and his gun made contact with your head, knocking you out cold.
You woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice, it was one you recognized. Your head was pounding and your wrists were burning.
“A book is like a magic garden, carried in your pocket.” She said, as your eyes focused in the dark room you recognized her to be the woman from the circus. To your right was John, tied to a chair just like you. But you had a gag in your mouth, he didn’t. The ropes were digging into your wrists and you groaned from the pain in your head. You could feel the blood dried to the side of your face from being pistol whipped.
“Chinese proverb Mr. Holmes.” She said to John. You were sure you heard her right, she called John by Sherlock’s name. He looked about as confused as you were.
“I’m not… I’m not Sherlock Holmes.” He argued.
“Forgive me if I do not take your word for it.” She said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket to get his wallet. He groaned in pain.
“Debit card, name of S Holmes.” You remembered Sherlock telling you a few days ago how John had gotten in a row with a machine at the store so he gave him his card.
“Yes, that’s not actually mine. He lent that to me.” John tried.
“And a check for 5,000 pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” She said. You were the one who gave that to John to look after.
“Yeah, he gave me that to look after.” John said.
“Tickets from the theatre collected by you, name of Holmes.” She said. Sherlock was the one who booked the tickets. This was all just a huge misunderstanding. But yet here we are, kidnapped in the Black Lotus hideout.
“ I realise what this looks like. But I’m not him.” John said.
“We heard it from your own mouth. I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone.” She said. They must have been following us. John said that, mocking Sherlock, when he left the two of us outside at Soo Lin’s flat.
“Did I really say that? I suppose there’s no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression.” John began until the woman pulled out a small gun and pointed it at his head.You tried to yell ‘Stop’ but it just came out as muffled noise.
“I am Shan.” She said, John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the gun was still pointed at his head. “Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin misses?” She said. ‘Misses!’ You tried to yell again. Hot metal slicing open your skin isn’t quite the same as missing. She smiled a creepy smile at you when she understood what you were trying to yell. She cocked her gun and slowly pulled the trigger. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, waiting for the sound, but it never came. The gun let out a quiet click, telling us it wasn’t loaded.
“It tells you that they’re not really trying.” She cooed. John and I let out a sigh of relief. She then proceeded to load the magazine into the gun. “Not blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive.Do you have it?
“Do I have what?” John asked, confused.
“The treasure.” She stated calmly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I would prefer to make certain..” This whole time you had been so worried about John that you neglected to look right in front of you. Then you did, that was your mistake. In front of you was the same large, wooden, crossbow seen in tonight’s show. When Shan unveiled it tears escaped your eyes. You tried to wiggle free but the robes wouldn’t budge.
“Everything in the West has its price. And the price for her life, information.” Shan said to John. Two men came and picked up your chair from the sides. They placed you right in front of the crossbow, so you were looking down the barrel, so to speak.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” John kept repeating as you cried and tried to yell.
“Where’s the hairpin? The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling?” Shan said. All you could think about was that arrow piercing through you.”We already had a buyer in the West, and then one of our people was greedy, he took it, brought it back to London, and you Mr. Holmes have been searching.”
“Please, please. Listen to me. I’m not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me I haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for .” John pleaded.
“I need a volunteer from the audience.” Shan yelled.
“No, please, please!” John yelled.
“Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you’ll do very nicely.” Shan said approaching you. You continued to wiggle, scream, and try to break free. All the while tears were streaming down your face. Shan pulled out her dagger and pierced the sandbag just as she had done in the show.
“Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes’ pretty companion in a death-defying act.”
“Please!” John yelled once more.
Shan pulled an origami Lotus out of her pocket and placed it onto your lap. It was the same one found at Soo Lin’s death, the same we pulled out of Van Coon’s throat. They all meant the same thing. Death.
“You’ve seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends.” Shan said, but all you wanted to do was ram your fist into her smug little face.
“I’m not Sherlock Holmes!” John yelled.
“I don’t believe you.” Shan yelled back.
“You should, you know.” A voice came from behind you as more tears spilled down your face.The weight was lowering closer and closer to the bowl, but you didn’t want him to see this.”Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?”
“Late…” John sighed.
“That’s a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over 1,000 metres per second. The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you.” Sherlock spoke.
You felt the robes at your back being tugged. Then you realized Sherlock was behind you trying to untie them. As you turned around to look at him you saw Zhi Zhu strangling Sherlock with the red silks from the show. You turned back to the crossbow to see John scooting his chair closer and closer to it. He was so close before he fell to his side. The weight was an inch from the bowl. You closed your eyes, knowing what was to come.
You heard the sound of the crossbow release.
You opened your eyes slowly to the scene around you. John was lying on his side, still tied to the chair. The crossbow was turned to the side. Zhi Zhu laid on the floor with the arrow deeply imbedded in him. Sherlock was behind you, trying to untangle himself from the silk. Shan was running down the corridor, never to be seen again.
As Sherlock threw the silks off of him he bent down to untie you. Your heart was pumping so hard.
“It’s all right. You’re going to be all right. It’s over now.” Sherlock said softly. He removed the gag from your mouth and moved in front of you to help you stand up. He grabbed both of your hands and gently lead you to your feet. You wrapped your arms around him and held on tight. When you released he brought his hands to your cheek to wipe your tears. While his hand still rested on your cheek, you boldly placed yours on the back of his head. You ran your fingers through his curls and pressed your lips to his. He seemed surprised at first, but after a second he kissed you back. You slowly pulled away.
“Thank you for saving my life.” You whispered. He smiled, his eyes full of compassion.
Sherlock called Dimmock and his team to tell him we had found the Black Lotus’ hideout. They were there within a few minutes. Sherlock took of his coat and placed it around your bare arms.
“We’ll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report.” Sherlock said to Dimmock.
“Mr. Holmes…” Dimmock began, but Sherlock cut him off.
“I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career.” Sherlock said, beginning to walk off.
“I go where you point me.” Dimmock said.
“Exactly.” Sherlock said, joining you.
When we made it to a cab Sherlock read us the cipher. Nine mill for jade pin, dragon den black tramway. He said it was instructions for all their London operatives. A message. What they were trying to reclaim. When the cabbie stopped in front of your flat, Sherlock insisted that he go in with you, just to make sure you’re okay.
You unlocked the door to your flat and had a strong urge to just fall into bed. You hadn’t slept in it for days. Some kind of vacation this was. You took off Sherlock’s large coat and hung it up on the rack next to the door.
“Would you like some tea?” You asked him.
“Sure.” He smiled.
“Great. There’s the kitchen.” You pointed and smirked. He laughed and got up and made two cups of tea.
“I’m going to take a quick shower. Make yourself at home, turn on the TV.” You suggested as you stepped into your room. After a quick shower you examined the wound on your head. You have never been pistol whipped before. Definitely wasn’t fun. You decided that it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, just a butterfly bandage would do. You could tell a bruise was starting to form under it, fun.
After slipping on some grey sweatpants like shorts and a pink tanktop you re joined Sherlock in the living room. He was shouting things abusively at the TV.
You smiled and sat next to him on the couch. He handed you your cup of tea, along with two pills.
“Take these. It will help with the pain,” He said, you thanked him and took the pills. You sat next to him for a few hours and watched TV. You laughed at how petty and uneducated they were. Keeping Up with the Kardashians seemed to be the only thing on, but it was fun to make fun of them. Soon you fell asleep on Sherlock’s shoulder. He lifted you off the couch and placed you in your bed. Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled the blankets over you.
“Sherlock…” You whispered as he was leaving the room, he turned around at the sound of your voice.
“Please stay,” you said, placing your hand on the open place on your king sized bed, “I just, don’t want to be alone tonight.”
He nodded, clearly he was tired too. He slipped off his shoes and crawled under the covers. You fell asleep only minutes later, but you felt safer with him by your side.
Hours had passed just fine, until you started to have a nightmare. You could see the weight lowering into the bowl, but this time, it wasn’t you in front of the crossbow, it was Sherlock. You were tied up across from him, Shan holding a gun to your head. As the weight hit the bowl and the arrow made contact with Sherlock’s body you jolted away, a scream escaped your lips. Your breathing was heavy and you noticed you had woken Sherlock up too.
“Hey, shh. It was just a dream. Everything’s fine. I’m right here.” Sherlock whispered, wrapping his arms around you as tears escaped your lips.
“Promise you’ll never leave me.” You cried.
“I promise. I could never leave you.” He said, rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled you down, your head resting on his chest. You fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you.
The next morning you woke up, alone in your bed. Your heart sunk until you heard clanging in the kitchen. You crawled out of bed and wrapped your robe around you. You saw Sherlock in the kitchen with his hair a mess and his sleeves rolled up. You smiled at the sight.
“Goodmorning.” You smiled as you saw him cooking.
“Ah, she lives.” He joked. He turned around the handed you a cup of tea.
“Thank you. I didn’t know you cooked.” You said.
“I don’t usually. My kitchen is a little messy.” He smiled.
“Of course. Now don’t get any ideas about sticking eyeballs in my microwave. I’d like to get my security deposit back someday. I don’t need you blowing things up in here.” You smirked and sipped your tea.
“We’ll have to go back to the bank today.” Sherlock stated. You nodded and ate your breakfast.
You slipped into a simple black sleeveless dress with white trim around the bottom. Accompanied with some small white heel you were ready to go. Luckily your wound was easily covered by your hair.
As you were walking out the door, you thanked Sherlock again for everything. For saving your life, for breakfast, for staying.
“Two operatives based in London.” Sherlock began as he helped you out of the cab. “They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something, a little hairpin.”
“Worth nine million pounds.” You added.
“Eddie Van Coon was the thief he stole the treasure when he was in China.” Sherlock said.
“How do you know it wasn’t Lukis? Even the killer didn’t know that.” You asked.
“Because of the soap.” Sherlock stated with a smile on his face.
We made it back up to the trading floor to see Van Coon’s secretary. Sherlock had come to see her before while you had gone to get Lukis’ journal from Dimmock.
“He brought you a present.” Sherlock said as we walked through the door.
“Oh, hello.” She said, remembering him.
“A little gift when he came back from China.”
“How do you know that?” She asked.
“You weren’t just his PA were you?” Sherlock asked.
“Someone’s been gossiping.” She said, annoyed.
“No.” sherlock stated.
“Then I don’t understand why…” Amanda, the PA, began.
“Scented hand soap in his apartment, 300 millilitres of it. Bottle almost finished.” Sherlock stated
“Sorry?” Amanda asked, confused.
“I don’t think Eddie Van Coon was the kind of chap to buy himself handsoap, not unless he had a lady coming over. And it’s the same brand as that hand cream there on your desk.” Sherlock said.
“Look, it wasn’t serious between us. It was over in a flash, it couldn’t last. He was my boss.” Amanda explained.
“What happened? Why did you end it?” You asked.
“I thought he didn’t appreciate me. Took me for granted. Stood me up once too often. We’d plan to go away for the weekend, and then he’d just leave. Fly off to China at a moment’s notice.”
“And he brought you a present from abroad to say sorry.” Sherlock said. You noticed the jade pin sticking out of her bun.
“Can I just have a look at it.” Sherlock asked, extending his hand.
“He said he bought it in a street market.” Amanda explained as she took it out of her hair.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. I think he pinched it.” Sherlock said.
“Yeah, that’s Eddie.” Amanda laughed.
“Didn’t know its value, just thought it would suit you.” Sherlock turned it around in his hand.
“What’s it worth?” Amanda asked curiously. Sherlock smiled, knowing his reply would shock her.
“Nine million pounds.” He said, and as expected Amanda freaked out.
“Oh my god, oh my god.” She said, standing up. “Nine million.” She nearly fainted.
You snuck out of the office to go talk to Sebastian, as instructed by Sherlock. He stood when you walked in the room and shook your hand.
“So did you two manage to figure out how he got in?” Sebastian asked.
“Of course. The balcony. “ You smiled.
He wrote out the check, annoyingly. The answer was so simple he was almost angry about all the money its cost him.
“He really climbed up onto the balcony?” He asked, placing the 20,000 pound check into an envelope.
“Nail a plank across the window and all your problems are over.” You answered with a smile.
He rolled his eyes and smiled slightly as he handed it to you. You thanked him and left to go join Sherlock in the lobby.
Sherlock hailed a taxi for the two of you to return to Baker Street. You told John about what had transpired at the bank.
“Over a thousand years old, and it’s sitting on her bedside table every night.” John said.
“He didn’t know its value. Didn’t know why they were chasing him.”Sherlock said.
“Should’ve just got her a lucky cat.” John said, causing you and Sherlock to smile.
“You mind don’t you.” John said, peaking both of your interests.
“What?” Sherlock asked.
“That she escaped. General Shan. It’s not enough that we got her two henchmen.”
“Must be a vast network, John. Thousands of operatives. We barely scratched the surface.” Sherlock said.
“You cracked the code though, Sherlock. And maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it.” John suggested.
“Sherlock cracked this code, but all the smugglers have to do is pick up another book.” You told him.
Sherlock sat at his desk, reading the paper. John sat opposite him doing the same. For once it seemed like Baker Street was calm. No murders, no gunfire, no explosions going on in the kitchen. It almost seemed too good to be true.
Today, Newt was just sight-seeing. New York was beautiful, modern, bustling with life. He passed by the Woolsworth building, not paying attention to where he was going when a scent made him stop dead in his tracks.
Young Dracula learned that at a very young age. His father never ceased to repeat it to him. He was power, he was darkness embodied, and others should fear him.
Especially humans. Humans, he was taught, were worth less than the dirt on his shoes. They were like ants, swarming the Earth, invading every corner, forcing honorable and powerful monsters like them to find more secluded places to retreat to, when they should be the ones ruling it all.
They enter the room, young little things with wide eyes and even bigger dreams. Graves hovers above the table, watching them trail in one after the other. They take seats on the two rows of uncomfortable chairs, and Graves knows their backs will hurt when they finally get up. He also knows they won’t care, not after what he has to say.
11. PAIN™ : the AU
“No,” he breathes, staring at Seraphina’s pained face. “No.”
“I’m so sorry, Perciv-”
“You’re lying,” he says. “They’re safe. Where are they? Where are my kids, Seraphina?”
“You’re upset,” the wizard murmured in his ear, and Percival flinched slightly.
“Somebody said something. What did they say? Tell me.”
“Do you think I’m a freak?” Percival asked. In the darkness of the alley, he couldn’t make out Grindelwald’s face, but he knew the other man was watching him intently, his focus entirely on Graves’ being.
He chains Graves to a bed. Chokes him until he opens his mouth, pours the liquid down his throat and forces him to swallow. Graves struggles vainly. He feels the potion trickling down his body, cold seeping through his veins and reaching his heart, drowning his protests.
He runs and runs, ignoring the ache in his side, ignoring how the rags he wears as clothes get caught in branches and brambles and slow down his course. He only needs to reach the edge of the forest, Grindelwald said. If he can live long enough to get there, he will be free.
He introduces himself as Newt Scamander, magizoologist, and simply opens the lid of his prison before taking him by the waist delicately and placing him in his hand. Graves wants to scream. Hours of frustration and magical energy wasted trying to break the glass, and all it took was the twist of a human hand to set him free.
Grindelwald kills Graves. Quickly, softly, his body hitting the ground before he has time to blink. No need to keep him prisoner. Grindelwald has all the information he needs after probing at Graves’ mind intensively, and prisoners need looking after and he has frankly much more interesting things to do.
“I’m sorry,” Graves choked out because it felt like the right thing to do. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, letting it all go. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry sorry sorry so-o-rry-” He drowned in his sorrow the more he talked, only mouthing the words by the end. Distantly, he was aware that he looked and sounded ridiculous, apologizing to the silence, bawling his heart out, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
“I’m going to be President,” Seraphina says to him one day, matter of factly. They’re sitting outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun after their last exams. Graves looks up from the book he is reading and stares at her.
“I know that.”
“I want you to be by my side, Percy,” she insists. “When I’m up there. I need someone to rely on, and I need that person to be you.”
Just a moment, please. I’d like to explain the title of this one, the last piece of the puzzle, the “grand finale of a life poorly spent”. Stop groaning.
I’ve never really touched on something I noticed about Dahmer’s life—it’s a cycle. I don’t just mean repeated actions, the same mistakes, same crimes, but a more thematic, fundamental aspect.
In a reblog from a while back, someone placed two prayers side by side, one from Dahmer’s childhood (his first prayer, actually) and one taken from Dark Journey Deep Grace. The words change, but the ideas are the same. As I commented, it came “full circle”.
Thus, I tried to follow that “rediscover his earliest self” bit from Shrine by way of recapturing some of the feel of the last two entries, especially the first. For example, in Part 1 there was “Cat’s in the Cradle”, which was about a father and son who don’t really connect. Here I have “Old Man”, another song from around the same time, with a similar tone and subject matter—but different. “Old Man” contains the thesis of A Father’s Story—“Old man, take a look at my life; I’m a lot like you.” Where there was no connection before, now there is a connection.
The same works with repeated artists; Alice Cooper, Oingo Boingo, Killing Joke, and Pink Floyd return here to explore the same matters further. Likewise, there are new artists with new themes, but in the same genre as the old. Part 1 was all about stalling the inevitable; Part 2 was a slow descent into an abyss. Now Part 3 is a rapid, unceasing ascension, one that you cannot stop and don’t particularly want to. I’m also predicting it will be the least popular of them for that very same reason. You guys love to revel in misery.
“Jeffrey Dahmer took a shower while there were two dead bodies in the bathtub, and he was sane. He drilled holes in the heads of living people to make them his unresisting companions, and he was sane. He ate a bicep which he had fried in a skillet, tenderised and sprinkled with salt, and he was sane. For hours he lay with corpses, hugging them, cherishing them, and he was sane. He kept eleven assorted heads and skulls and two complete skeletons for eventual use in a home-made temple, and he was sane.
The trouble was, in addition to all this, he was polite, diffident, deferential, obliging, just the sort of young man one could imagine weeding his grandmother’s garden.”
“Come on Jeff, tell us, you’ve been eating these guys, haven’t you?”
Dahmer pulled back in his chair and a look of terror came over him. He studied my face intensely as if he were a child waiting to be reprimanded. I deliberately tried to keep an air of acceptance and calm as I spoke.
“Jeff, it’s okay, we know. It’s going to be all right. Just be honest with us and tell the truth, that’s all we ask.”
Dahmer leaned forward in his chair, dropped his smoke to the floor and crushed it with his foot. With his head still lowered, he let out a barely audible response.
Murphy didn’t move and was still in Dahmer’s space.
“Jeff, what did you say? You’ve been eating them haven’t you?”
Dahmer again leaned back.
“Yes, I have, well, I mean, not all of them, just a few.”
“It was an incessant, never-ending desire to have someone at whatever cost. Someone nice looking, really nice looking. And it just filled my thoughts all day long. It doesn’t provide any long-lasting enjoyment.”
“One night he dreamt of an old man in a dark cape who came floating up from the pond at the house in Bath, Ohio, accusing him of stealing plywood which he was sawing. He put the saw down and left. Was this the grim reaper? Or Jeff Dahmer’s conscience? Or merely a troubled and turbulent mind?”
Only a lad/You really can’t blame him/Society made him/He’s our responsibility/Only a lad/He really couldn’t help it/He didn’t want to do it!/He’s underprivileged and abused/Perhaps a little bit confused?
“Lionel and Shari Dahmer sat stony-faced in their usual seats at the back. Immediately following the last verdict, they left. Lionel came to me one minute later, a shaken man. ‘It just doesn’t make sense,’ he mumbled. ‘It just doesn’t make sense.’ The sense that the verdicts implied was that Dr. Dahmer had sired a monster.”
“Odd as it seems to me now, as I sat in court and listened to all this— the terrible evidence both of my son’s insanity and the crimes that had flowed from it—I could see nothing but their grotesqueness and perversity. Certainly, I could not have begun to realize that these same needs and impulses had lived a shadowy half-life in me. But they had. They had been in me almost from the beginning of my life.”
“Five days before Jeffrey Dahmer was killed, he met with Roy Ratcliff, the minister who was his only visitor at the Columbia Correctional Institution, for their weekly Bible study session.
They were working their way through Revelation, the last book of the New Testament, because Dahmer, who confessed to murdering 17 young men and boys, was interested in Judgment Day. And within the chapters they read Wednesday is a verse that now seems particularly apt.
“In those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die,” according to Revelation 9:6. “And death shall flee from them.”
Dahmer had told his minister and his attorney that he wanted to die, and when he finally caught up with death in a prison bathroom Monday morning, perhaps the greatest surprise was that it had eluded him so long.”
So I am working on the assumption that you mean my biggest arguments against Catholicism from the viewpoint of Christianity. This entire post can be wrapped up in a phrase, “I am against false teachings; those things which are contrary to Biblical doctrine,” and there are a lot of false teachings in the Catholic faith. I will start with two and pile on as necessary.
On the Heretical Tradition of Apostolic Succession
Nowhere in Scripture did Jesus, the apostles, or any other New Testament writer set forth the idea of “apostolic succession.” Further, neither is Peter presented as “supreme” over the other apostles. The apostle Paul, in fact, rebukes Peter when Peter was leading others astray (Galatians 2:11-14). Yes, the apostle Peter had a prominent role. Yes, perhaps the apostle Peter was the leader of the apostles (although the book of Acts records the apostle Paul and Jesus’ brother James as also having prominent leadership roles). Whatever the case, Peter was not the “commander” or supreme authority over the other apostles. Even if apostolic succession could be demonstrated from Scripture, which it cannot, apostolic succession would not result in Peter’s successors being absolutely supreme over the other apostles’ successors.
Catholics point to Matthias being chosen to replace Judas as the twelfth apostle in Acts chapter 1 as an example of apostolic succession. While Matthias did indeed “succeed” Judas as an apostle, this is in no sense an argument for continuing apostolic succession. Matthias being chosen to replace Judas is only an argument for the church replacing ungodly and unfaithful leaders (such as Judas) with godly and faithful leaders (such as Matthias). Nowhere in the New Testament are any of the twelve apostles recorded as passing on their apostolic authority to successors. Nowhere do any of the apostles predict that they will pass on their apostolic authority. No, Jesus ordained the apostles to build the foundation of the church (Ephesians 2:20). What is the foundation of the church that the apostles built? The New Testament – the record of the deeds and teachings of the apostles. The church does not need apostolic successors. The church needs the teachings of the apostles accurately recorded and preserved. And that is exactly what God has provided in His Word (Ephesians 1:13; Colossians 1:5; 2 Timothy 2:15; 4:2).
In short, apostolic succession is not biblical. The concept of apostolic succession is never found in Scripture. What is found in Scripture is that the true church will teach what the Scriptures teach and will compare all doctrines and practices to Scripture in order to determine what is true and right. The Roman Catholic Church claims that a lack of ongoing apostolic authority results in doctrinal confusion and chaos. It is an unfortunate truth (that the apostles acknowledged) that false teachers would arise (2 Peter 2:1). Admittedly, the lack of “supreme authority” among non-Catholic churches results in many different interpretations of the Bible. However, these differences in interpretation are not the result of Scripture being unclear. Rather, they are the result of even non-Catholic Christians carrying on the Catholic tradition of interpreting Scripture in accordance with their own traditions. If Scripture is studied in its entirety and in its proper context, the truth can be easily determined. Doctrinal differences and denominational conflicts are a result of some Christians refusing to agree with what Scripture says – not a result of there being no “supreme authority” to interpret Scripture.
Alignment with scriptural teaching, not apostolic succession, is the determining factor of the trueness of a church. What is mentioned in Scripture is the idea that the Word of God was to be the guide that the church was to follow (Acts 20:32). It is Scripture that was to be the infallible measuring stick for teaching and practice (2 Timothy 3:16-17). It is the Scriptures that teachings are to be compared with (Acts 17:10-12). Apostolic authority was passed on through the writings of the apostles, not through apostolic succession.
On the Heretical Tradition of Salvation Through Works
Paul made it exceedingly clear that Salvation, being “born again”, is singularly and uniquely through faith alone.
1 What advantage, then, is there in being a Jew, or what value is there in circumcision? 2 Much in every way! First of all, the Jews have been entrusted with the very words of God.
3 What if some were unfaithful? Will their unfaithfulness nullify God’s faithfulness?4 Not at all! Let God be true, and every human being a liar. As it is written:
“So that you may be proved right when you speak and prevail when you judge.”
5 But if our unrighteousness brings out God’s righteousness more clearly,what shall we say? That God is unjust in bringing his wrath on us? (I am using a human argument.)6 Certainly not! If that were so, how could God judge the world?7 Someone might argue, “If my falsehood enhances God’s truthfulness and so increases his glory, why am I still condemned as a sinner?”8 Why not say—as some slanderously claim that we say—“Let us do evil that good may result”? Their condemnation is just!
No One Is Righteous
9 What shall we conclude then? Do we have any advantage? Not at all! For we have already made the charge that Jews and Gentiles alike are all under the power of sin.10 As it is written:
“There is no one righteous, not even one; 11 there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. 12 All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.” 13 “Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit.” “The poison of vipers is on their lips.” 14 “Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.” 15 “Their feet are swift to shed blood; 16 ruin and misery mark their ways, 17 and the way of peace they do not know.” 18 “There is no fear of God before their eyes.”
19 Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God.20 Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God’s sight by the works of the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin.
21 But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify.22 This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile,23 for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, 24 and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. 25 God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood—to be received by faith. He did this to demonstrate his righteousness, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished— 26 he did it to demonstrate his righteousness at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus.
27 Where, then, is boasting? It is excluded. Because of what law? The law that requires works? No, because of the law that requires faith. 28 For we maintain that a person is justified by faith apart from the works of the law.29 Or is God the God of Jews only? Is he not the God of Gentiles too? Yes, of Gentiles too,30 since there is only one God, who will justify the circumcised by faith and the uncircumcised through that same faith.31 Do we, then, nullify the law by this faith? Not at all! Rather, we uphold the law.
4 What then shall we say that Abraham, our forefather according to the flesh, discovered in this matter? 2 If, in fact, Abraham was justified by works, he had something to boast about—but not before God.3 What does Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.”
4 Now to the one who works, wages are not credited as a gift but as an obligation. 5 However, to the one who does not work but trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness.6 David says the same thing when he speaks of the blessedness of the one to whom God credits righteousness apart from works:
7 “Blessed are those whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. 8 Blessed is the one whose sin the Lord will never count against them.”
9 Is this blessedness only for the circumcised, or also for the uncircumcised? We have been saying that Abraham’s faith was credited to him as righteousness.10 Under what circumstances was it credited? Was it after he was circumcised, or before? It was not after, but before!11 And he received circumcision as a sign, a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised. So then, he is the father of all who believe but have not been circumcised, in order that righteousness might be credited to them. 12 And he is then also the father of the circumcised who not only are circumcised but who also follow in the footsteps of the faith that our father Abraham had before he was circumcised.
13 It was not through the law that Abraham and his offspring received the promise that he would be heir of the world, but through the righteousness that comes by faith.14 For if those who depend on the law are heirs, faith means nothing and the promise is worthless,15 because the law brings wrath. And where there is no law there is no transgression.
16 Therefore, the promise comes by faith, so that it may be by grace and may be guaranteed to all Abraham’s offspring—not only to those who are of the law but also to those who have the faith of Abraham. He is the father of us all.17 As it is written: “I have made you a father of many nations.” He is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not.
18 Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” 19 Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead.20 Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God,21 being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.22 This is why “it was credited to him as righteousness.”23 The words “it was credited to him” were written not for him alone, 24 but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead.25 He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification.
Furthermore, Christ Himself spoke on the matter.
25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 26 and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” - John 11:25 and 26
He is clearly making a point here beyond “I am going to raise Lazerus” and this passage lends credence to my interpretation that what might be described as works is something we do to maintain our relationship because we are to live in belief and by belief and if we are indeed believers we will bear fruit, these works. But the fruit does not come first. You must first plant the tree and tend to it. Salvation is through faith alone. Christians will do works and they will show fruits of their Salvation but it is not through works that they are initially saved.
16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. - John 3:16
Once more, arguably the most popular verse in the Bible, “that whoever believes” there is no “and”, there is no “in addition to” or “while also”. Jesus Christ told you it was through faith alone that one is saved.
Things I have learned from Fifty Shades Darker (part 2/?)
1. Christian and Ana have gone out to eat. He ordered food for her, because Ana cannot apparently function as an adult. HURR DURR I AM CHRISTIAN GREY AND I MUST EXERCISE CONTROL. 2. Ana made Christian jealous and because awww, his feelings got hurt, he’s now calling her a child and belittling her. Fuck you, Christian. OH OH! And he’s making HER feel guilty for hurting poor Jose’s feelings (again, you know, that Jose who stuck his tongue down her throat) and having no regard for them. Fuck you, Christian. 3. Petition to rename this series Fifty Shades of Ways to say “Fuck you, Christian”. 4.“My inner goddess rises sleepily, stretches and smiles. She’s been asleep for a while”. Anyone here with a prescription for super effective sleeping pills? I’ll take a hundred. 5. Christian to Ana: “You are what I want you to be” AHAHAHAHA. FUCK YOU, CHRISTIAN. 6. Oh. Oooooooh. He is asking her how he can trust her when she didn’t use the safe word when he beat her, in a situation that frightened her and overwhelmed her to the point of literally forgetting there was a safe word. Christian is a HUGE dick to Ana. 7. And now SHE is apologizing to HIM. This is unbelievable. If this isn’t emotional manipulation, then I’m a duck. 8. Petition to ban the following words and phrases: oh my, jeez, crap, holy crap, holy shit, whoa, holy cow, holy hell. The list, as of this moment, remains open. 9.“I will take you across my knee.” - Whenever I feel sad about the fact that either there’s no more chocolate left in the house or my favourite fictional character has met an untimely demise, I think about this sentence and everything seems a little brighter in the world. 10. Ana has now taken a liking to calling Christian Fifty. FIFTY. I bet the author thinks she’s oh so clever. Plot twist: she’s really really not. 11. Hair can apparently “fall deliciously” over someone’s forehead. 12. They’re “redefining the terms of the relationship” and Christian is making compromises, so points for him, but for the life of me, after a book and 3 chapters, I cannot connect with these characters. They have no personality, no draw, nothing compelling about them. So I just have a permanent facepalm as I’m reading. 13.“The physical pain you inflicted was not as bad as the pain of losing you”. Haha, sure Ana, keep telling yourself that. Also, this is not romantic in any way, shape or form. 14. And still, she thinks SHE is the undeserving one. This is a setback for female characters everywhere. 15. Oh boy, they made up. Sound the fanfare. Pop the champagne. This effectively negates ALL THE DRAMA in the end of the first book and the beginning of this one. Think about it. Also, of course they made up, was there seriously any doubt about this??? 16.“Laters baby”. Ugh. Shoot me now. 17.“Holy shit… an Ipad”. It’s like she discovered the last known world wonder. AN IPAD. PRAISE THE HEAVENS. A FUCKING IPAD. She gets a car from him, but she loses her shit over an Ipad. Okay. 18. Seriously, it’s like the beating and the drama and the abuse never happened. This is frightening to read. 19. There’s a holy something in every paragraph. Someone fire whoever edited this book. 20. She’s still calling him Fifty. I should make my peace with this and add it to the open list of words and phrases I never want to hear again. Ever. 21. These people still do not know how to properly use an e-mail. Nobody writes e-mails like they do. N-O-B-O-D-Y. 22. Oh, here’s the new “plot”: a mysterious woman approaches Ana, seemingly knowing shit about her (like her name), and being all mysterious. 23. Calling it now: she’s one of Christian’s old…um…”girlfriends” and she’s jealous. She’ll probably be holding a gun in the vicinity/aimed at either Ana or Christian at one point or another. 24. Yes, I think this author is this “creative”. 25. Ana likes to give stupid nicknames to people. After naming Christian Fifty, mysterious lady friend is Ghost Girl - here to fight crime and punish current girlfriends of the man who dumped her. TO THE RESCUE! 26.“Jack, who is mentally assessing the fine specimen of manhood in front of him”. Excuse me while I throw up in a bucket. There’s bad writing, then there’s that. 27.“I’m the boyfriend”/”I’m the boss”. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s “I Have A Bigger Dick Than You Fight Me”. In one corner, we have the slimy, sleazeball boss, Jack. In the other, we have the abusive, manipulative boyfriend, Christian. Why this fight is even happening, I have no idea. Ana, just run off into the sunset with Ghost Girl. Go fight crime together and make out. You’d be better off. 28.“Panty-combusting look”. Read that again. No, really, take a second and read that again. Panty. Combusting. Look. 29. Hahahaha, Christian is lecturing Ana on sexual harassment. Excuse me while I laugh my ass off in a puddle of tears. 30. And then, theeeeen he tells her he just bought THE ENTIRE COMPANY she works at in order to “keep her safe”. How are you people defending this. 31.“Why does he have this need to keep me safe” - let me help you with that, Ana: “why does he have this need to keep me safe control me”. There we go, much better. 32. Ana and her inner goddess come up with a plan to lure Christian into bed. Lord, help me. 33. Cooking foreplay. Okay then. 34. Yup, the sex scenes are just as cringe worthy as the last book. And you know what? They wouldn’t be so bad, but with all the jeez and holy craps, it’s like very very badly written fan fiction. I have ready smutty fan fiction about 100 times better than this. 35.“he springs free”. You all know what she’s referring to, but I just imagined Christian springing off a trampoline, with a cape tied around his neck, yelling “Dobby is freeeeee”. I am so sorry. 36. Well that was… *takes coat and closes door on her way out*. 37. I’m only 54 pages in. Pray for me.
The three of you left in a cab to go back to Sherlock’s flat. You asked the cabbie to drop you off at your place first. You needed a shower, and a change of clothes.
After only about 10 minutes of Mrs. Astor and her worried examination you finally made it up to your flat. You slipped off your shirt and examined the wound. It could have been a lot worse. It wasn’t too deep, just enough to require a few stitches. It scared you more than anything. While you were in the shower you had some time to relax and think about the case. Why did Zhi Zhu need to go see Soo Lin? She was out, done. But he needed her help with something stolen… She works with antiquities. It struck you. The Black Lotus must have been selling antiques, smuggling them out of China. But we know something was stolen, hence the 3 murders. It must have been something extremely valuable, otherwise they wouldn’t make all this fuss. Then there was the books. Soo Lin had said that the cipher was based off a book. Meaning the book we need will be in both Lukis’ and Van Coon’s library.
Something else Sherlock had said earlier struck you. The numbers always come in pairs, the numbers have partners. This reminded you of something that happened on National Treasure, a movie you liked. Three numbers, one referred to a certain document, one to a line in it, and the last to the word in that line.These two numbers must refer to a page and a word on that page.
After this realization you quickly got dressed in a new shirt and some jeans. Your hair was still a little wet when you stepped outside. You began the 5 minute walk to Sherlock’s flat when your phone buzzed. You fumbled to get it out of your pocket when you ran into someone.
“Oh I’m so sorry.” You said sincerely. Before you was a well dressed, handsome man, with a smile on his face.
“It’s no problem, dear.” He said, his accent sounded Irish.
“I’m sorry, you look so familiar. Do I know you?” You asked, returning the smile.
“I don’t think so, it would be hard to forget a face like yours.” He smiled, cheesy line but it was working.
“I just swear I’ve seen you somewhere…” You said, trying to place it. “Yes I have, oh at that Italian restaurant a little white backover on Northumberland Street.”
“You know what, you’re right. I do remember you. If I recall correctly, you were there with a guy. Is he your boyfriend?” The stranger asked.
“Oh no, no. He’s just a colleague.” You smiled awkwardly.
“Where are my manners… My names Jim. I work in IT at Barts hospital.”He said sticking out his hand to shake mine.
“Y/N L/N. Small world, I’m at Barts a lot too. I work for Scotland Yard.” You said, looking down to your watch.
“You look to be in a hurry, I’m sure I’ll see you around some time. ”He smiled.
“I’m sure I will.” You waved goodbye as you continued down the street.
You finally read the message on your phone.
How’s Sherlock doing? Haven’t heard from you in a while.
You rolled you eyes and smiled at their childish feud. You sent back a reply quickly.
He seems to be okay. We’re working a case.
He replied immediately.
Good. I heard you got shot, are you okay?
This last text surprised you. It was uncommon for the Holmes brothers to care or show concern for anyone but themselves. You seemed to be the exception.
I’m not even going to ask how you found out. But I’m fine, just grazed me. A few stitches.
Before you realized it you were standing in Sherlock’s sitting room, sending your latest text to Sherlock.
“Who are you texting at a time like this?” Sherlock said from behind a four foot tall barricade of books.
“Your brother.” You answered.
“My brother? Mycroft doesn’t text.” Sherlock said, annoyed.
“Well he texts me. Does that mean I’m special?” You said, smiling in a cocky manner, just to bug him.
“I’m sure I won’t have to catch you up on what you missed.” Sherlock said, changing the subject.
“Expect not to.” You said, placing you bag and coat down on the couch.
“Go on then” Sherlock said, wanting you to show what you have deduced about the case.
“Soo Lin’s brother needed her help because of her work with ancient antiquities. The Black Lotus has been smuggling them out of China and selling them here for a lot of money. Something valuable must have been stolen by either Lukis or Van Coon. The code is hidden in a book, one that both of them will own. The numbers come in pairs, so one for the page and the other for a specific word on that page.” You said confidently.
“Help us look.” Sherlock said with a smirk on his face. You smiled and obliged. You began looking through boxes and boxes, only to find a few matching books. You hadn’t realized it, but it was now morning. You had worked all night.The only thing that brought you out of your work trance was the sound of John’s watch alarm going off. John had to leave for work. You and Sherlock continued to look.
“A book that everyone would own.” Sherlock began mumbling as he looked through his own bookshelf. You soon passed out on the couch, you had been looking for nearly 20 hours straight.
“I need to get some air. We’re going out tonight.” Sherlock’s voice woke you as he talked to John, who had just walked through the door.
“Actually, I’ve got a date.” John said, you sat up on the couch.
“What?” Sherlock asked.
“It’s where two people who like each other go out and have fun,” You told him, rubbing your eyes.
“That’s what I was suggesting.” He said.
“No, it wasn’t.” You said, standing up. You and John shared a look.
“Where are you taking her?” I asked John.
“Er, cinema.” He answered.
“Ugh, dull, boring, predictable.” Sherlock rambled as he walked across the room.
“Why don’t you try this?” Sherlock said, handing a piece of paper to John. “In London for one night only.”
“Thanks, but I don’t come to you for dating advice.” John said, and you laughed.
After John left you helped Sherlock look a little more but he seemed to be getting bored as well.
“Why don’t we go surprise John?” He asked.You looked up to him confused.
“How do you mean?” You asked.
“I could call up, get two more tickets.” He suggested.
“A double date with John.” You laughed, “I’m sure he’d love that.”
“Yellow Dragon Circus in town for one night. The Tong sent an assassin to England. A killer who can climb, where else would you find that level of dexterity. Acrobats… Exit visas are scarce in that country. They would have needed a reason to get out.” He said.
“You think this circus thing is a cover for the Black Lotus. Well it does fit.” You said. You’d also love to see the look of surprise on John’s face. “Sure, but I’ll need to change.”
Did Sherlock just ask you out on a date?
You got to the venue of the circus downtown with Sherlock. You were wearing a dark patterned skirt with a grey top and black jacket. Your heels clicked methodically on the pavement. You walked up to the ticket box where you saw John with his date.
“No we only have two tickets.” John argued.
“Then I called back and ordered two more. Hello, I’m Sherlock, this is Y/N.” He said. We shook hands with John’s date, her name was Sarah. She worked with John at the hospital. Sherlock suddenly took off down the hall, John followed suit. He didn’t look too pleased to see us. You and Sarah went to the bathroom to freshen up before the show began. She was actually really nice.
We stepped into the room where the show would be. It wasn’t much of a circus, the room was small and the stage was a circle of candles on the floor.
“You said circus, this is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd Sherlock this is…art.” John whispered to Sherlock.
“This is not their day job.” Sherlock reminded him.
“No, I’m sorry I forgot. They’re not a circus, they’re a gang of international smugglers.” John scoffed.
Someone began banging a drum, and the show began. A woman stepped out in traditional Chinese garments with her face painted almost entirely white. She revealed what appeared to be a huge wooden crossbow sitting on the floor nearly 5 feet tall. A long stick with a dagger on the end pointed out of it. You glanced up at Sherlock’s face. He was smiling like a child. He must have known the act.The woman plucked a feather from her headdress and placed it into a metal bowl at the end of the crossbow contraption. Suddenly the large arrow flew from the contraption and lodged itself into the wooden board across from it. The sudden movement scared you and you jumped and clung to Sherlock, your hands wrapping themselves around his arm. He looked down to you with genuine happiness. Something that you had never seen him do before. You smiled back, you loved seeing him like this.
Another person walked out onto the stage now. He had on a mask that reminded you of the huns from Mulan. They began locking him in chains and securing him to the wooden board that had just been skewered by the stick
“Classic Chinese escapology act,” Sherlock bent down and whispered in your ear, “The crossbow’s on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires.”
Just as Sherlock said, the woman placed a new arrow into the crossbow. She then pulled out a dagger.
“She splits the sandbag, the sand pours out. Gradually, the weight lowers into the bowl.” Sherlock whispered again. The woman stuck the dagger into the bag and it all happened just as Sherlock predicted.
When it seemed like the warrior wasn’t going to make it, he was free of the bonds and fell to the floor just in time. The arrow pierced the wooden board.
“My God!” John and Sarah said in surprise. Everyone began clapping. You turned to see Sherlock’s reaction, and he was gone. John had now turned around and was looking for him too.
“Where did he go?” John asked you.
“I have no idea, he was just here.” You said.
Suddenly the lady began talking again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlit shores of the Yangtze River, we present, for your pleasure, the deadly Chinese bird spider.” You stopped looking for Sherlock when that last word hit your ears. Spider. Zhi Zhu. Dammit, he was right.
The acrobat came down on two red silks, spinning, and well, flying. You saw the curtains behind the stage part slightly. You knew he was back here. How the hell did Sherlock sneak backstage in about three seconds.
You heard some grunting and the curtains began to rustle slowly. You slowly started walking towards the curtains. Just as you were almost there, Sherlock came lying out from the curtain and fell onto his back. His attacked jumped down as well. You saw John running at the two of you. You tried to pull the assassin off of Sherlock but you weren’t getting anywhere. He swung back and his hand made contact with your face. You yelped and grabbed your cheek for a moment before returning to helping Sherlock.
The assassin raised his sword above Sherlock, ready to strike down. John lunged at him from the side, and knocked him to the ground. When he was down, one swift kick to the face was all it took. While he laid there unconscious, Sherlock removed his shoe. On his heel was the mark of the Tong.
“Come on. Let’s go!” Sherlock yelled, grabbing your hand and dragging you behind him. John and Sarah were running behind you.
We made it to Scotland Yard and found DImmock.
“I send a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted.” Dimmock said, annoyed.
“Look, I saw the mark at the circus. The tattoo that we saw on the two bodies, the mark of the Tong.” Sherlock said.
“Lukis and Van Coon were part of a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China. Something valuable.” You told Dimmock, your cheek was starting to swell slightly.
“These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back.” Sherlock said.
“Get what back?” Dimmock asked.
“We don’t know what exactly.” You said quietly.
“You don’t know. Mr. Holmes, I’ve done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I’ll have something to show for it. Other than a massive bill for overtime.” Dimmock scolded, and there was nothing we could say.
blue has flashcards of terrible embarrassing puns adam can use on gansey to publicly embarrass him
theres no topping this okay. its just not possible
Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order
both of them are fuckign ridiculous about this
if blue/ronan/noah takes a book from the bookshelf and puts it back in the wrong place u can bet your ass adam/gansey will RUN
eventually they (esp blue and noah cause they’re shits) will put it back in the wrong place on purpose just to watch the look of pure terror on gansey’s face
adam just stares them down while calmly plotting revenge
honestly i bet u these two could spend three hours in chapters not even reading
Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies
provocatively bc he flirts like a 6 year old boy
and noah told him to
adam just frowns and tells him not to contaminate the batter
gansey: [looks into the camera like he’s on the office]
honestly i need a whole book of noah and blue deliberately giving gansey terrible flirting advice and adam being Unimpressed
and it all goes on ronan’s snapchat
Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion
adam never buys them bc they’re impractical but he loves them, he thinks they’re old fashioned and soothing
gansey loves them too so he DOES buy them, bc they’re nice and the electricity in st. agnes is shit, esp in bad weather
pls imagine these two sitting on adam’s bed at night during a thunderstorm doing homework or reading by candlelight and thEN
gansey: “oops oh gosh all my clothes are wet! i guess i should just…take them off…so they can…dry….”
adam: “oh…well..when u put it that way…this isnt gay no its not not even a little…”
YES IT IS PARRISH. OH MY GOD
Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen
adam gets his art-hoe ways from queen sargent
they’ll be chilling in the Pig or something and adam will draw curling vines or planets or phrases in Latin on gansey’s arms and shoulders
gansey tries to ignore the cool dry touch of adam’s elegant hands on his skin and the look of careful concentration between his eyebrows but he has. 0 Fucking Chill
one time he wrote “cubitum eamus?” on gansey’s wrist and he CHOKED and would not stop BLUSHING for 3 HOURS
blue/ronan/noah kept asking him if he was sunburned. adam just SMIRKS
the answer was yes btw
Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation
GANSEY HAS ABOUT 6 BOXES OF SOUVENIR MAGNETS
HE STICKS THEM ON A MAP ON HIS FRIDGE WITH EACH MAGNET STUCK ON THE PLACE IT’S FROM
tbh this is exactly the kind of cheesy “aesthetic” thing gansey would do
adam makes fun of him for it all the time
but after gansey dies adam is packing up his things and he finds this on the back of the map
“places to take adam parrish: by richard gansey”
and its a list of all the places gansey wanted to take adam
Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines
omg noah would do this
they both have an undying scorn for these things like they will literally not touch them
but noah has cross-referenced about 16 different love calculators, 30 different quizzes from 25 different issues of Teen Bop, an astrology chart down to the exact time of both Adam and Gansey’s births and 3 different “What Fictional Couple Are You?” quizzes
I know, this one is so long overdue I don’t even know where to begin. I struggled writing Tom and it also affected writing Loki, but I finally found him again.
This is the ending I’ve had in mind all along, it took me a while to get there and put it into words the way I wanted to, but I’m glad with how it turned out. This story has been running for so long I really hope the ending does it some justice.
And I want to thank every single one of you who stuck by me for this one, you guys are incredibly patient and I can never thank you enough.
For the most part of the following days Astrid stayed in her room, only coming out to use the bath and take books from Loki’s library inside her room with her.
Loki didn’t speak to her, he only asked if she needed anything, which she declined every time. He made sure she had food and clean clothes and she didn’t seem to need, or want, anything more from him.
Her mere presence calmed him down and after a few weeks he noticed the time she spent inside her room had grown smaller. He started finding her out on the balcony, staring in awe at the sight of the city in front of her, or curled up on his couch with a book in her hand. She had started reading about Asgard, to Loki’s surprise she hadn’t asked about Earth, or asked about going back home.
But his heart didn’t dare to hope. She still looked at him like one would look at a stranger, in fact she had barely looked at him at all.
“Two men who traveled back from China were murdered. And their killer left them messages in Hangzhou numerals.” Sherlock told Andy once we arrived back at the closed museum.
“Soo Lin Yao is in danger.” You told Andy, playing his heart strings, hoping that his love for her would in turn allow him to be of more help to us. “That cipher, it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well.”
“Look, I’ve tried everywhere, friends, colleagues. I don’t know where she’s gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away.” Andy began, you noticed Sherlock staring at the pots that Andy told us earlier Soo Lin was working on.
“What are you looking at?” You asked Sherlock.
“Tell me more about those teapots.” Sherlock asked Andy, walking towards the display they were in.
“The pots were her obsession. They need urgent work. If they dry out, then the clay can start to crumble. Apparently, you have to just keep making tea in them.” Andy answered.
“Yesterday, only one of those pots were shining. Now there are two.” Sherlock observed, bending down slightly to look into the glass case.
“She’s here, somewhere.” You gathered.
By now it was dark and Sherlock knew Soo Lin would be back to tend to the pots. We spotted her in the museum vaults, making tea. Sherlock approached her from behind.
“Fancy a biscuit with that?” He asked, scaring her. She gasped and the pot slid out of her hands. You jumped slightly, waiting for the crash, but it never came. Sherlock was quicker than that. “Centuries old. Don’t want to break that.” He said after he caught the pot. He handed it back to her as you flipped on the light.
“You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me.” Soo Lin Yao said. You and John approached Sherlock and stood next to him.
“You’ve been clever to avoid him so far.” Sherlock said.
“I had to finish. To finish this work. It’s only a matter of time. I know he will find me.” Soo Lin explained.
“Who is he? Have you met him before?” You asked.
“When I was a girl, we met in China. I recognised his… signature.” She said.
“The cipher.” Sherlock said.
“Only he would do this. Zhi Zu.” Soo Lin explained.
“Zhi Zhu?” John asked.
“The spider.” You said, recognizing the word. Sherlock looked at you quizzically as Soo Lin began to take off her shoe.
“You know this mark?” She asked, referring to the tattoo on her heel that resembled a flower inside a circle.
“Yes. It’s the mark of the Tong.” Sherlock answered.
“Hmm?” John asked.
“Ancient crime syndicate, based in China.” He explained.
“Every foot soldier bears the mark. Everyone who hauls for them.” Soo Lin said.
“You were a smuggler…” You said, surprised.
“I was 15, my parents were dead. I had no livelihood. No way of surviving day-to-day, except to work for the bosses.” She said, sadly.
“Who are they?” Sherlock asked.
“They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was 16, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England. They gave me a job, here. Everything was good. New life.” She said.
“And he came looking for you.” Sherlock followed.
“Yes, I hoped, after five years maybe they would have forgotten me. But they never really let you leave. A small community like ours, they are never very far away,” Soo Lin cried, “He came to my flat. He asked me to help him track down something that was stolen.”
“And you have no idea what it was?” You asked.
“I refused to help.” Soo Lin said, shaking her head.
“So, you knew him well when you were living back in China?” You asked again.
“Oh, yes. He’s my brother.” Soo Lin said. Sherlock looked up, surprised, “Two orphans, we had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet. In the power of the one they call Shan. The Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting.”
We showed her the picture of the symbols on the wall from the tramway.
“Can you decipher these?” Sherlock asked.
“These are numbers.” She said, pointing to the pictures from the bank.
“Yes, I know.” Sherlock said.
“Here, the line across the man’s eyes, it’s the Chinese number one.” Soo Lin said.
“And this one is 15. But what’s the code?” Sherlock asked.
“All the smugglers know it. It’s based upon a book…” Soo Lin said before we all heard the door slam. The lights shut off too.
“He’s here. Zhi Zhu has found me,” Soo Lin whispered. Sherlock ran towards the door. You followed after silently instructing John to stay with Soo Lin Yao.
“No, no, wait!” John yelled after you, but you were already gone and following Sherlock.
You followed Sherlock out to the main corridor of the museum. You turned around and saw a man dressed in all black standing on the balcony. He fired a gun in your direction, but missed. He kept firing as you and Sherlock dove behind a large statue. You had almost made it in time when the last bullet grazed your side. It cut through your shirt and sliced open your skin. You whimpered as you placed your hand over it.
Sherlock had already taken off after him before he noticed you had been hit. You followed him clutching your side. He pulled you behind a pillar when the shots started again.
“Careful! Some of those skulls are over 200,000 years old, have a bit of respect!” He yelled. The gunfire stopped and Sherlock looked down to you. He saw the ever growing patch of red growing on your white blouse.
“Y/N…” He said, his eyes growing with concern. He inspected the wound and looked up to you again. His hands were still on your waist.
“I’ll be fine. Just a flesh wound.” You said. That’s when you heard it. Another gunshot, but this one was farther away. Soo Lin Yao…
We ran back to where she was, you clutching your side. Then we found her, shot point blank, executioner style. It was nearly 15 minutes before Dimmock and his team had arrived.
“How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac’s out there? A young girl was gunned down tonight.” You yelled at him.
“What happened to you?” He asked, pointing to the blood stain on your shirt.
“I was shot, well grazed really.” You said. “But that’s not my point. That’s three victims in three days. You’re supposed to be finding him.”
“Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers. A gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose.” Sherlock said.
“Can you prove that?” Dimmock said. Sherlock accepted the challenge and we went to Barts. You went with John to get stitched up while Sherlock went off to find Molly.
You walked into the morgue to find the bodies of Lukis and Van Coon out. Sherlock looked to you as you entered the room. You gave him a small smile, ensuring you’re all stitched up and okay.
“We’re just interested in the feet.” Sherlock told Molly.
As you had expected, both men had the same mark as Soo Lin Yao.
“So…” Dimmock began, shocked.
“So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlour or I’m telling the truth.” Sherlock said.
“What do you want?” Dimmock asked, caving in.
“I want every book from Lukis’ apartment and Van Coon’s.” He said.
“Their books?” Dimmock asked, and you were just as surprised as he was. You didn’t understand what Sherlock could possibly do with their books.
Ask me some of these! These questions are actually pretty interesting! (said the person who wrote them)
1. How old are you?
2. How do you feel about that?
3. How tall are you?
4. How do you feel about that?
5. What was the last dream you had?
6. Are you a liar?
7. Is that last question answerable?
8. What is your spirit animal?
9. Do you know what a spirit animal is?
10. Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?
11. Or do you like something weird like crepes?
12. Do you disagree with the description of crepes as weird and think that that description is suggestive of a narrow cultural perspective?
13. Did the grammatically correct repetition of the word “that” in the previous question excite you sexually?
14. Do you like it when your questions are serialized?
15. Do you like it when your breakfast is cerealized?
16. Do you think that too many of these questions are about breakfast?
17. How long has it been since you kissed someone?
18. Have you ever murdered someone?
19. Are you sure?
20. So where were you on the night of March 2nd?
21. Then how come witnesses put you at the scene of the crime just minutes after the gunshot was heard?
22. What’s your favorite TV show?
23. Who’s your favorite character from that show?
24. Are you giving me a sideways glance because I asked you those last two questions here on tumblr where that's literally all you talk about?.
25. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, would you die?
26. If you could eat whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, would you die?
27. Are you going to die whatever you do because this is the human condition?
28. Did you just get a little down?
29. How often do you go grocery shopping?
30. Do you think the people at the checkout line are judging your groceries?
31. If you built a robot, what would it do?
32. If you could speak in a font, which font would it be?
33. What keeps you up at night?
34. If you could have dinner with one person from history, where would you eat?
35. Are you seeing someone right now?
36. Have you been seeing them for a long time?
37. Was it since you were a child? Always at night as you’re drifting off to sleep? Your eyes get heavy and begin to close, but just as you do, you see their face, sheet white and smiling too wide? And they don’t have eyes, not really? Just black pinpoints where the eyes would be? And you jump at the sight, but then they’re gone? And you try to convince yourself that you didn't really see them? But in reality, that face is burned into your brain more deeply than anyone you’ll ever love? And maybe that’s why they’re smiling?
38. Favorite cookie?
39. What’s your dream job?
40. Give me five movies and I'll rank them from most to least favorite
41. Give me five movies and I'll rank them from most to least amount of Steve Buscemi
42. Give me five numbers and I'll rank them from lowest to highest
43. What do you like to do when you alone?
44. What's your favorite version of Solitaire (Patience)?
45. Which is your favorite tooth?
46. Which tooth is kind of an asshole?
47. Which other parts of you are kind of an asshole?
48. What was your favorite place to live?
49. Do you have a secret that you'll take to your grave?
50. Did you seriously just say yes to that last question? Your secret keeping game is weak, son.
51. Does my little hoodrat friend make you sick?
52. But after you get sick you just get sad?
53. Pizza toppings. Likes, dislikes, fetishes, what have you
54. Do you have any friendship dealbreakers?
55. Do you have any relationship dealbreakers?
56. Do you have any relationship jawbreakers?
57. Can you juggle?
58. You're adapting your favorite book into a movie. But OH NOES! The studio thinks there's too many characters and tells you that you have to get rid of one. And if you don't, you're fired. What do you do?
59. You and I are forming a secret society. What is it called and what are the rules?
60. What is it? What do you smell?
61. What's your favorite texture?
62. What's your favorite ...sexture? Aww yeah! *porn music starts playing*
63. Do you have any pets? Tell me about your pets!
64. Okay, okay, you can stop telling me about your pets now.
65. Unless you have pictures.
66. What are the last three songs you listened to?
67. How much pudding?
68. Write a story in six words.
70. Do you use the semicolon?
71 Do you talk to yourself often?
72. What do you talk to yourself about?
73. Give yourself a motto.
74. Give yourself another motto, but, this time, it has to be something that abbreviates as T.O.O.T.S.
75. How about a motto that features the noble and majestic albatross?
76. How do you think you're going to die?
77. Nah, that's not it. Trust me.
78. What's your favorite game to play with a group?
79. Do you drink? (Not alcohol specifically. Just fluids in general)
80. How do you sleep? On your back? Your side? On a massive horde of gold and jewels?
81. What's your favorite word?
82. One or two spaces after a period?
83. What would the title of your autobiography be?
84. What about the title of the novel that you would write about the last thing you ate?
85. Infrared or ultraviolet? PICK A SIDE! WE'RE AT WAR!
86. Oh noes! You have to be at a costume party in 20 minutes and you forgot to make a costume! You dumb fuck! What will you do?
87. What's your favorite book chapter title?
88. Did you have an imaginary friend growing up?
89. What about imaginary enemies? Imaginary strangers?
90. Write a villain song for a villain that doesn't have one!
91. What toy from your childhood do you wish you still had?
92. If God exists and makes notes about you in his little Moleskine notebook (Of course God has a Moleskine notebook. He's such a pretentious asshole. JUST BECAUSE YOU BOUGHT A LITTLE NOTEBOOK AND ALSO CREATED THE UNIVERSE DOESN'T MAKE YOU A WRITER, GOD! CALL ME WHEN YOU ACTUALLY WRITE THAT SCREENPLAY!) what does He say about you?
93. How do you feel about parantheticals? (You love them.)
94. Which U.S. President would you most like to make out with? Just make outs, nothing below the belt.
95. Okay, maybe a little below the belt.
96. Do you believe that people have souls? And remember, some of these people like The Black Eyed Peas.
97. What do you sing in the shower?
98. What's your favorite operating system?
99. If it was totally up to you, how long would you like to live?
100. What's it all mean, anyway? You know? Like...LIFE? And shit?
One spring evening, as you were focused on working on a draft, you felt a tight knot in your stomach. Not long after, a sour feeling rose up to your chest and esophagus. With your face scrunched up, you instantly clasped your hand over your mouth and rushed to the bathroom to hurl. As you do, the thumping of your heart increased.
Could it be…
Hastily, you cleaned up the residue on the corners of your lips and dashed in lightning speed to check the calendar.
“…last period…was two months…ago…” you mumbled under your breath.
Your vision clouded up but you tried your best to suppress the feeling because you didn’t want to get your hopes up again. But that glint of hope that glowed so vivdly in the clouds, so close – so, so close – so very tempting. You wanted to reach out and grab it. As calm as possible, you sprinted back into the bathroom, ignoring the confused look on your husband’s face as you passed him down the hall.
You swung the door open and frantically opened the drawer to dig for a pregnancy test.
With shaky hands, you collected some urine sample into a cup and placed the plastic stick into it. Time passed by so sluggishly. At the two-minute mark, you could feel the tears threatening to drip down the corners of your eyes.
“Please…two…lines…two lines…” you whispered. Please, God. Help me… Please.
The alarm rang and you jumped up from the toilet seat to grab the stick, in the midst of it, spilling the cup down the sink. You blinked away the tears to get a closer look.
One line. Negative.
The pregnancy test fell from your hands as you crumpled onto the floor, bursting into tears. Like rising up to the mountains just to sink back down to the depths of the vast oceans. Aimless and wandering. Holding your breath, wondering when the next opportunity would come. You told yourself to not get your hopes up…but…but it was just that you were so, so sure this time.
A knock sounded from the door. You tried your best to muffle your sobs.
“Jagiya, are you okay…in there?” Sehun softly asked as he twisted the doorknob.
You turned around to hide your tear-stained face. With a sigh, he bent over and picked up the plastic stick that you discarded on the floor.
“Jagiya…it’s okay. Really. Stop trying so hard. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen,” he consoled, walking over and instantly bringing you into his chest.
You whimpered, trying so desperately to stop crying.
“I know. I know. B-but this time I really thought I was pregnant. I just threw up and even my period is late,” you explained, hiccupping.
Sehun brought your face out from his chest and asked, “Do you want to go to the hospital to check?”
You shook your head and buried your face back into his soothing embrace, “It’s probably just ingestion and stress”.
“Hmm…” he pondered and then said, “I know you want a baby to fulfill my request but I don’t want you to be so stressed about it”.
With watery eyes, you hung your head in shame. You were always an open book in front of Sehun.
Yet it wasn’t as simple as that. Yes, you wanted to fulfill Sehun’s wish, but it was also your wish, and your pride as a woman. It shouldn’t be this hard…you constantly told yourself that but it was…and you just couldn’t understand why you couldn’t achieve something so simple.
“Hey, hey. Look at me,” he held onto both your hands, “I already feel really, really, really blessed to have you and Youngwoo. If God entrusts us with another child, then cool, but if not that is perfectly fine too. Do you understand?”
You stared at the tiles of the bathroom floor as if it’s the only thing you could do. With a sigh, your husband pulled you into a tight bear hug again.
“Omma…are you crying?” a timid voice sounded from outside the door.
You peered over to see Youngwoo peeping in through the narrow slit while hugging tightly onto Pinku Pinku. Momentarily, Sehun released you to open the door for his son.
“Youngwoo-yah, Omma and Appa are discussing something important. Go to bed first, okay?” Sehun softly spoke while petting the frightened child’s head.
“Is Omma crying because Youngwoo did something wrong?” he asked, his beautiful eyes watering.
Immediately, you walked over and crotched down to Youngwoo’s level.
“No. No, of course not, Sweetbean! Youngwoo is always such a good boy,” you assured, hugging the trembling boy, then hesitantly explained, “Omma…just has other things on her mind”.
“Is Omma going to leave Youngwoo again because Youngwoo didn’t behave?” your son tearfully begged, “Youngwoo will be good from now on. Please don’t go”.
His words were bullets shot through your heart; you could no longer breath.
“No. No. Honey, Omma won’t leave,” you reassured, attempting to calm the child down but he kept crying.
At the sound of his sobs, your insides began to crumple until slowly you felt like a heap of foundationless, demolished structures. It killed you to know that your foolish decision to leave five years ago had developed into a childhood trauma for Youngwoo. When he continued to bawl, you eyed Sehun for help. Smacking his lips into a think line, your husband swooped Youngwoo up into his arms. The little boy thrashed around, his cries heightening to a new level once he realized you were no longer hugging him. You placed your hand over your heart to ease the pain but it only picked up in tenfolds.
“Youngwoo will be good. Omma, don’t leave,” he continued to plead through his tears.
“Shh…shh…Honey. Omma is not leaving,” Sehun coaxed, bouncing him up and down to quiet his wails.
His tiny face, resting on his father’s broad shoulders, had turned red from crying so hard.
“Youngwoo will doo h-homework an-and keen up his doys before bed. Omma, don’t leave,” he continued to sob.
Leaning in, you stroked the back of his head and kissed him several times.
“Young-ie, Omma is really not leaving. Omma can never leave her adorable son. I promise, Sweetie. I promise I’m not leaving. Don’t cry, you’re breaking my heart,” your voice cracked as you desperately continued to stroke his back.
Both Sehun and you sighed in relief as the cries gradually quieted after hearing your promise. Picking up Pinku Pinku from the floor, you waved it in front of Youngwoo in hopes that his fluffy best friend could cheer your baby up.
Squeezing its fluffy tummy, you said in a cute, goofy voice, “My handsome Master Youngwoo, I’m sleepy. Let’s go to bed. Tuck me in!”
A small smile cracked on the little boy’s lips as his tiny hands reached out to take the pink teddy bear back into his arms. You leaned in to kiss his tear-stained cheeks again. The wetness coated your lips and dripped into your tongue as the saltiness of your son’s tears challenged the sourness of your heart.
As you straightened up, Youngwoo stopped you, placed his hands on the side of your face and kissed you on the cheek as well. Your lips quivered.
“I love you, Omma,” he reminded you and you nodded.
“Omma loves Youngwoo too,” you replied, taking your son from your husband’s arms into yours.
“How about Appa?” Sehun jokingly pouted.
“I love Appa too. But Omma is pwettier,” Youngwoo responded in a super serious tone causing his father and you to burst into laughter.
“Oh Sehun…what have you been teaching our son? He’s already a sweet talker!” you playfully reprimanded, while sniffing back the last of your tears. Sehun smirked and you tiptoed to give him a kiss on the lips.
That night, Youngwoo refused to let go of you so the three of you ended up sleeping on the master bedroom with Youngwoo sandwiched in between his Omma and Appa.
Hearing the soft, even breathing of your two boys, you sighed, thinking that…maybe…maybe this was enough already, because you already have the world’s most loving husband and the most precious son ever.
A few days later, you cupped your face and threw up again. This ingestion was seriously lasting way longer than its welcomed stay. You held your sore back and knocked on your throbbing forehead to ease the migraine.
“Jagiya, we’re heading out!” Sehun called from the living room, oblivious to your early morning discomfort.
“Coming!” you hollered back.
Quickly, you cleaned up the vomit residue along the toilet seat and rushed out to say goodbye to your husband and son. At the door, Youngwoo jumped up and down, his eyes glittering upon seeing you. Expertly, you ruffled his hair while tiptoeing and kissing Sehun on the lips.
“Come home early tonight!” you reminded.
“Don’t worry, I definitely will,” Sehun replied, giving you another light peck.
As you crouched down to Youngwoo, he automatically leaned in, planting his soft baby lips onto your blushing cheeks. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach.
“My handsome Young-ie! Happy Birthday!! Omma will cook lots of good food for you to eat after class, okay?” you spoke, pinching his chubby cheeks.
He nodded enthusiastically then in a faint-hearted voice asked, “I-is…Yoona coming over?”
Sehun and you exchanged funny looks.
“Um…why Youngwoo…do you want Yoona to come over?” you cautiously asked while fixing his collar.
“Uh…no. Of course not,” he said defensively in one breath.
You raised your eyebrow at him.
The little boy hung his head and shuffled his little feet then mumbled, “…but if she wants to come…no one’s stopping her…”
His father muffled back a chuckle at his son’s tough disguise.
“Well…Oh Youngwoo…you’re a tad late,” you sighed, “Yoona and her family went back to Korea this past weekend”.
Youngwoo whipped his head up and looked at you with puppy eyes and a pout as if silently begging that what you said had been a cruel joke.
“How could she leave without saying, ‘bye’?” he whispered while kicking at invisible dust on the ground.
Shaking your head at your son’s already complex relationships, you walked over to the shoe shelf and took two neatly wrapped gift boxes and held it out to Youngwoo, “Yoona’s mom did leave me with these”.
In an instant, your son reached over to grab them but you held them high in the air, “Promise Omma you will call them back to thank them tonight for the presents, okay?”
He nodded eagerly so you surrendered the packages to him, half-expecting him to just carelessly rip the wrapping paper away. To your surprise, he sat down onto the floor and meticulously unfolded the corners one at a time, so carefully you almost urged him to hurry up or else he’d be late for school. Finally, he opened the first one to reveal a pair of Rilakkuma gym shoes, which you concluded were from Jongin and his wife. You expected Youngwoo to rave all over them but he frowned and pushed it off to the side. Raising your brow, you glanced at Sehun to see if he knew what was wrong but your husband merely shrugged.
The other box was opened just as slowly. His small hands lifted the lid, revealing a semi-worn panda doll plushie with a pink dress on. Youngwoo gasped, removed it from the piles of tissue paper, and hugged it tightly against his chest.
“Bommie!” he exclaimed, cuddling with the doll.
Confused, you picked up the card within the box. It read, “Youngwoo-oppa…Yoona has to go now ☹ै. I will miss you. Take care of Bommie for me, okay? When…you…if you miss me, just hug her”.
Hovering over you, Sehun began to chuckle loudly. With your nose crinkled, you smacked his chest with the card for his insensitivity.
“Young-ie, Yoona wrote you a message. You wanna read it?” you asked, holding it out to him.
He snatched it out of your hand in lightning speed, startling you. His glowing eyes darted around attempting to read the message but then he heartbrokenly frowned and looked up at you.
“Youngwoo can’t weed it,” he pouted. You stifled back a giggle and explained the message to him, concluding from the neat handwriting that Yoona’s mom probably helped her write it.
You watched with a sad smile as Youngwoo’s eyes grew glossy. He hugged the panda tightly against his chest and refused to let it go even when his father motioned for him that it was time to go to class. In the end, you suggested to tuck it into his backpack to accompany Pinku Pinku. He reluctantly agreed.
“Omma, don’t zip it all the way or Bommie can’t breathe!” your son spoke, frantically. You nodded and left a small hole.
Sehun held out his hand and Youngwoo took it. But his head still dangled and his lips formed into a depressing pout. He didn’t make a sound even when his father offered to let him ride his shoulders.
“Youngwoo-yah, want to video chat with Yoona after school?” you questioned, trying with all your might to liven the sulking boy.
Straightaway, his head whipped around to you and he zealously nodded. With a sad smile, you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
Baby, you miss Yoona, don’t you?
Holding his father’s hand, both of them walked out the door.
Why are things always more valuable once they are gone? Why do we not notice when they’re right in front of you?
And you were just as guilty for throughout those five years spent longing for Sehun and Youngwoo, you were already satisfied with knowing that they were somewhere happy and alive in the world…even if it wasn’t with you. Now that you got your wish, you wanted more and more. And sacrificing family time for work became more and more frequent. You shoke your head disapprovingly at ungratefulness.
You are so, so lucky, ________ah.
With a nod of the head and a quiet gracious prayer to God for reminding you of what’s truly most important, you bent over to clean up the presents on the floor. But as you do, the same sour feeling dwelled in your stomach. Covering your mouth, you ran into the bathroom and threw up for the fifth time this week. When you stood up straight, a sense of vertigo hit you and you almost slipped, but thankfully you held onto the sink for balance. It was like you were lost and dwelling in a whirlpool, able to see colors but not images.
Grabbing on the edges of walls and corners of tables and chairs, you managed to stumble your way out into the livingroom. Eventhough, you were never a fan of medication because you normally had high pain tolerance, but you were just about to pop some TUMS to combat this malevolent ingestion.
It took roughly ten minutes but you were up and running again, though you consciously had to press your palms against your stomach to calm the battle of blood cells versus bacterial intruder. Cleaning up the mess from earlier, you trudged into the kitchen to begin preparing food for Youngwoo’s birthday party.
Within twenty minutes, you discovered yourself nauseated by the mere smell of food. You could almost see the dark smoke whirl and rise from the pan up into your nostrils. And from your nostrils into the pit of your stomach, where it lingered and rattled like a combat invasion. Again, you wanted to hurl, but instead you reached out to the phone and you regretfully called your mother over to rescue you from your bind. As you waited for her arrival, you attempted to cut up the bell peppers but your vision grew blurry, forcing you to wait patiently on the living room couch.
“_______ah, you look so pale!” your mother commented first thing as soon as she stepped foot into your house.
With a frown, she lifted her hand and placed it against your forehead to feel the temperature. She sighed in relief when it wasn’t a fever but pushed you to go take a nap to regain some energy. You thanked her a billion times and hesitantly retreated to your room for your much needed rest.
The pillow and mattress were soft as cotton clouds, with the smell of your lover still clinging onto the sheets like magical fairy perfume. You felt like a little girl being swung back and forth in a cradle. So peaceful, so tranquil, like a spell coaxing you to join them amidst the celebration of life and death.
“Run! Run! Run!” she hears a strained female voice tell her.
Picking up her favorite rabbit stuff animal, she dashes across the hall. Her bare baby feet rattles against the wooden floors. Each plank creaks as her weight bounces along until she reaches a tall door. She whimpers, looking back to her mother for help as she’s never had to open doors by herself.
“Run!” the young woman screams as she claws her nails into the man’s right leg to subdue him enough for her daughter’s escape.
Squeezing her eyes tightly, the baby girl twists the door open and runs to hide over in the corner of the room. Tears stream down her shiny cheeks as she tries to find comfort by stroking her fluffy friend’s head.
“Don’t worry Usagi-chan, I will protect you,” she hiccups.
The door flings over. The brutality of the male’s force causes the wooden frame to jolt back and forth. Footsteps chill the blood along her spine. And then rusty combat boots stood before her, with crimson red spilling out of the deep teeth-like gash along his calves.
It’s dark pitch black except for the glint of two eyes hovering over the little girl. She folds herself into a fetal position, shaking in horror as the owner of the eyes held a knife up to the girl’s tiny face. Curses spurted from his lips as he threatens her to reveal where her mother’s stash of emergency money were. She shook her head, screaming as the cold metal grazes over the soft skin of her cheeks.
You woke up with cold sweat trickling down your face and soaking up the bed sheets. A fit of cough ignited and then the familiar feeling of regurgitation. Immediately, you threw the bed sheets over and dashed into the restroom to empty your stomach. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, stopping right in front of the bathroom door.
“_________ah? Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital? You’re really, really pale,” she spoke, her voice lined with worry.
You shook your head and weakly answered, “Just ingestion”.
“Ingestion? Are you sure?” she asked skeptically.
Just as you opened your mouth to reply, you clutched your stomach, turned around, and threw up again. The acidy taste lingered on the tip of your tongue.
“…_______ah…are you sure you’re not pregnant?” you mother cautiously questioned, patting your back.
Sighing, you regretfully shook your head. I wished I was…
“I checked two days ago and it came out negative,” you informed, dropping your shoulders.
“O-okay…then…go back to bed,” your mother spoke as she gently pushed you toward the bedroom.
You leaned on the doorframe to stop your dizziness.
“I’m calling Sehun,” your mother said shaking her head at your state.
You whipped your head around, which caused the vertigo to heighten, but you brushed it off and ran after your mother, “No. No. Don’t. He’s in a meeting”.
“Is a stupid meeting more important than his wife?” you mother asked, already with the phone by her ear.
“Omma…” you complained, trying to grab the phone out of her hands but as you do, the room spun in ripples in front of you. In an instant, your feeble body collapsed onto the floor.
“_______ah! ________! Don’t scare Omma!” your mother’s voice hovered over you as you gradually submitted to the darkness.
Stirring awake, you encountered the familiar whiteness. Oh great…you broke your record of not having to be here in over six years. The throbbing of your temples caused a whimper to escape from your lips. Immediately, your husband rushed beside you.
“Oppa…” you faintly greeted, your voice hoarse and dry. Pure confusion enveloped you as you looked around. The last thing you remembered was talking with your mom about what to cook for Youngwoo’s birthday party.
“Hey…how are you feeling?” Sehun’s tender loving voice asked while stroking your hair.
You glanced up at the digital clock that hung on the hospital wall. It was only 3:00pm.
With your lips smacked into a thin line, you spoke, “Oppa…you should be at work right now”.
He looked at you unimpressed, “My pregnant wife just fainted and got admitted to the hospital and you’re telling me to go back to work?”
“Yes. I’m telling you to—” you started then blinked in puzzlement, “…wait…what?”
His foolish grin answered your reaction. Pregnant…? You cupped your trembling lips as tears welled up in your eyes.
“B-but the pregnancy test results were negative,” you sniffed back tears of joy.
Straightaway, Sehun pulled you into his warm embrace, kissing you on top of your head. You hid your face into the crook of his neck.
“Those things aren’t accurate! And even if they were, Jagiya, you stashed like thirty of them in that small drawer, they probably expired by now”.
Everything felt so surreal. You heart was racing and you felt your body floating in mid-air. Were you dreaming?
“Oppaaa…” tears flowed down your cheeks when you saw Sehun’s eyes begin to water.
He cupped your face into his giant hands and stared into your eyes with his overjoyed ones, “See. Didn’t I tell you? If you let things go naturally then everything will turn out perfectly fine!”
Overwhelmed with emotions, you could only nod. Sehun threw his arms around you chuckling and crying at the same time. You couldn’t believe it. After all the hard work and praying, you were finally granted your wish. Thank you…Thank you. Sniffing back tears, you lifted your hands and gently placed it on top of your still flat tummy. You giggled between your tears when Sehun put his hands on top of yours.
You couldn’t wait to tell Youngwoo the good news.
Suddenly, you gasped, snapping your head to the clock again. Your husband winced from your abrupt actions.
“Oppa…Youngwoo-yah!” you exclaimed, throwing the bed sheets and swinging your legs over the mattress.
“Shh…Jagiya…Omunim went to pick him up already,” he informed and you sighed in relief, slowly sinking back into the bed.
Biting your lip in guilt, you asked, “Do you think he’ll be upset because the preparations for his party isn’t finished…”
Sehun shook his head and pinched your nose, “You’re talking about Oh Youngwoo. Our Young-ie. Has he ever been disobedient?”
A smile crept onto your lips. You patted your tummy and said, “That’s true. Actually…he’d probably be overjoyed knowing that he’ll be a big brother soon!”
“Exactly,” Sehun agreed, bending over to peck you on the lips.
You gave him a goofy grin. That’s when you realized that this was the first time you got to see Sehun’s firsthand reaction to your pregnancy (well not really firsthand because he probably found out while you were sleeping). But it was different than with Youngwoo…because well Youngwoo was more of an “accident” where the two of you were completely bewildered that two barely turned adults were now responsible for another’s life. Now, it was distinctive in that white teeths glittered at each other, eyes were mere curves from crying and smiling too hard, and cheekbones were high as the mid-noon sun. Sehun pressed his lips on yours and you hugged him tightly like never before for your union now created life. So beautiful, so miraculous.
Just then, your mother walked in with Youngwoo holding her hand. Wide smiles appeared on every face in the room.
“Omma! Appa!” your son greeted as soon as he saw you two. Sehun lifted his son onto his lap.
“________ah, you’re awake?” she asked and you nodded so she patted your hand and said, “I told you, you were pregnant, didn’t I?”
Laughing and crying at the same time, you held your hands up in defeat.
“Is Omma okay?” Youngwoo asked with his baby lips protruding out.
“Mmhm, she sure is. She actually has a surprise for you!” his father answered.
The little boy looked cluelessly at you. You motioned for him to come over so he climbed onto the bed to sit beside you.
“Sorry, Young-ie. Omma promised you she’d cook lots of food for you today,” you started but he cut you off.
“It’s okay Omma! As long as I get to talk to Yoona tonight –” he covered his mouth when he realized he revealed his internal thoughts.
His father hid his own face in his palms in second-hand embarrassment.
Shaking your head, entertained by his slip, you spoke, “Sure, Appa will set up the video call for you later. But Omma has something to tell you, Young-ie”.
Your soon looked up with eyes of anticipation.
Smiling, Sehun and you exchanged glances and said in unison, “You’re going to be a big brother!”
You watched as Youngwoo’s jaw dropped to the floor in slow motion. Seriously, you’ve never seen his mouth open so wide…he definitely didn’t open up that wide when you urged him to eat his veggies…
“Really!?!??!!?!” he squealed, bouncing up and down on the bed, “So Youngwoo will have baby to play with?!?!”
Nodding happily, you ruffled his soft hair and gave him a big, wet smooch along his temples. Beside you, Sehun smiled so widely, his eyes were merely slits as he joyfully observed how gleeful his son was hearing the good news. Sighing in contentment, you looped your arms around the small boy while his father squeezed both of you into a bear hug.
a/n: hehehehe baby :D
Things are gonna pick up for here on out! Thanks for those who stayed with me through those less interesting chapters! Really appreciate it!!!!!!! Really. I’m so glad I deleted those two chapters about Youngwoo and Chanyeol and his wife tho LOL you guys would have been like omg. I came here for Sehun not Chanyeol.