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#MD's existence . confused god himself
chongoblog · 3 years
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Hey, I really want to watch CPU kerfuffle, is there a document that sums up the first 10 episodes so I can start at 11 and know everything important?
Funny enough, there actually is! Around the time of 10, I created a lore document that I would try to update with each Kerfuffle. I kinda stopped doing it around 11, which is the magic number for ya. However it IS 50 pages long (and a lot of the information is out of date). Ever since then, a wiki has been created which does a good job of covering many things, although since a LOT of characters return (some with a lot of Spoilers attached to them)
Here's the lore document and here's the wiki, but for the sake of brevity, I'll include a "brief" synopsis of Everything Important From Season 1 of CPUKerfuffle You Need To Know About So You Can Start On CPUKerfuffle #11 (under the cut)
So here's the Season 1 Synopsis. CPU Kerfuffle is a tournament series featuring Level 9 CPU's with their own names and distinct characters (this characterization is ramped up in Season 2 but one step at a time). Each tournament is a double-elimination bracket of eight fighters, and the winner of the tournament goes 1 on 1 against the current Champion of CPU Kerfuffle. The Champion is allowed to slightly alter the rules of the tournament to fit their style (for instance, when ICEE was Champion, he made Freezies appear occasionally) In the beginning, it was run by me in-universe and was a largely informal affair.
In terms of the Important Story Events, there aren't too many in Season 1, so before we cover those, let's introduce some character that might be important later.
-Squid Jenny: A disciple of the god Iggy Koopa. In her first tournament, she was presented as a FIERCELY loyal subject before actually briefly defecting from Iggy while also changing her name and gender presentation. She would later go on to return as a follower of Iggy, but with a new name and a new sense of personal agency. She says Trans Rights, obviously.
-Hamburger Helper: A Red Ridley who was the first Champion and held his reign as Champion for quite some time. Is married to a Ganondorf named Dadandorf and they share a son named Jimbo, who becomes Dark Jimbo out of teenage rebellion.
-Florida Man: A white coat Joker hailing from Florida, and a being of all the chaos that entails. He doesn't do much in Season 1, but keep an eye out for him in Season 2.
-Home MD: A doctor who wishes to find the cure for losing. Over the course of the series, he loses and regains his medical license.
-Spriteman/Perfect Spriteman: Spriteman is Just a Guy Who Really Loves Him Some Sprite! He won't stop talking about his favorite citrus soda! But....what happens when his obsession goes too far? He turns into a Piranha Plant, that's what.
-Patch-Man & Hoedown: Patch-Man is the owner of a large farm known as "Patch Farms", which is a place of bountiful harvest, although there have been some very intriguing farming techniques used there, such as creating a daughter that is also a gijinka of Corn itself named Corn on the Cob. He's married to Hoedown, who is secretly a member of the pirate crew known as the Red Kraken. Within Season 1, Hoedown is the only member of the Red Kraken in CPUK
-Captain Valentine: Just an overall cool dude and the face of the tournament throughout Season 1
-The Grunk: A Big Boy who can get pretty angry. He specifically joined the Kerfuffle after Hamburger Helper dissed his Tinder profile.
-Dantoinette: More accustomed to Soul Calibur, Dantoinette came over to CPU Kerfuffle to see how the other side played. She is.....very good.
There are more, but I want to keep this at least somewhat brief. So in terms of the relevant lore, here is the series of events that take place:
After a few tournaments of Hamburger Helper keeping hold as Reigning Champion, Iggy sends Jenny to see if Hamburger Helper is up to something. And it appeared he was, as he was building a strange machine.
Soon after, a fighter appears that simply goes by the name of "Crimson". And once he joins, an incredibly strange tournament takes place that includes splitting and converging of universes. The Guy from Spy Kids 3-D is there. There's a lot of confusion (and a lot of it gets kinda retconned? Only so much you can do when you improvise things lol), but it's discovered that Crimson is a sort of hivemind demon that can control other people at will while also holding some power over the different dimensions, and it's clear that Hamburger Helper is working for the Crimson.
On the ninth CPU Kerfuffle, we approach a Season Finale, preparing for things with a set of round robin preliminary rounds. And those are eventful. Home MD loses his doctorate from how badly he's beaten, Captain Valentine becomes possessed by the Crimson, and The Grunk is actually found DEAD, killed by the Crimson.
After this tournament, there is a hiatus. In-universe, I decided that having all this negative PR was way too much to handle, leading to a lack of tournaments and leaving the battlefield in an almost Mad-Max-Style chaos for months. Amidst the Chaos, the fighters all create four factions, or "Teams", which I'll talk about later.
At the end of this haitus, Iggy himself steps down from the heavens and uses an enormous amount of his power to greatly weaken the Crimson, ridding most of its existence, but still unable to turn Captain Valentine back. In light of coming back AND saving the world a little bit, Iggy becomes the new owner of CPU Kerfuffle, bringing back my friends and I simply as commentators in-universe. Squid Jenny becomes a field reporter to help the tournament run and to help the audience see the discussions happening between fighters. Another person working for the tournament rather than fighting anymore is Home MD, whose doctorate is restored after he manages to revive The Grunk from the dead.
This leads to the tournament titled "#Reboot". There isn't much that happens in this tournament in terms of lore, but Dantoinette becomes the Champion, which leads into Episode 11, which is where you'll be beginning. At that point in time, there are 8 different teams, which will be explained at the start of CPUK11.
Have fun!
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karlnapity · 3 years
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It Hurts Me Just to Think and I Don't Do Pain
AO3 link TWs: heavy unreality/derealization, vague references to suicidal ideation
George isn’t sure how he got roped into all this, but he’s more than a little stressed and more than a lot confused.
… He really isn’t sure how he got here.
Sapnap and Mexican Dream are talking somewhere to his left, and XD is whispering somewhere to his right, and it’s all so hard to focus that he finds himself breezing through in something of a haze, letting Sap drag him along as they go through the motions of trying to keep up with the eccentricities of MD.
The fuzz gets worse as they near the prison. XD gets louder, drowning out it all. He doesn’t bother fighting it. It fades, briefly, just enough for something something community house and something something Dream, and he welcomes the return of the feeling of just not feeling.
There are some things he doesn’t really need to know.
It’s not really like it’s important after all. It’s more than a little likely this is all a dream, anyways.
It’s getting harder and harder to tell, and the return of ghosts and talk of the afterlife doesn’t quite make it any clearer.
His mind is so foggy, it’s hard to think, hard to move, hard to do much of anything. He wishes Sap would let him go back to bed. He knows, somewhere, that he should care, be as insistent as Sap that they should find Quackity, but it’s so so hard, especially when he can’t tell at all whether it’s real.
He’s kind of given up guessing. It’s a little disconcerting, sure, to go through the motions of an ordinary day or a conversation and end it waking up somewhere he doesn’t remember, but it’s just not worth the effort.
That’s what XD tells him, anyways, and subsequently it’s what he tells himself.
He’s never quite been for going against the grain.
Sap is asking him something, and he offers an eloquent ‘Huh?’, can’t muster up any other words or any effort to move his leaden tongue.
Sap rolls his eyes and pulls on his sleeve to tug him along. It can’t have been that important.
Submitting to the dreams has helped. He’s no longer tired anymore, and even if the fog makes it hard to concentrate and hard to hold a conversation and the whispering sometimes makes him want to slam his hands over his ears it’s so much better than the overwhelming fatigue he felt before.
And, besides, the dreams can be better. Easier. A little less stressful.
“George!” Sap yells, and it all shatters for a minute before the calm blankets him again. It hits so hard it almost knocks him off his feet. He tries to keep his balance, tries to focus on his friend’s face.
“Is it true? Did Quackity destroy Mexican L’Manburg?” There’s a pain in his voice that George recognizes.
Did he?
There was… it was a dream from a while ago. MD and Quackity….. yes, he was there. It was just a dream, right?
‘Don’t want him to think you’re crazy,’ XD says. ‘Best to be quiet.’
It’s an easy compliance. Sap shakes his head with something like faint disgust and George can’t even find it in himself to care much at all.
He should be helping Sap. He should be helping find Quackity. He should be helping with MD. He should be…
What is he even doing?
He rubs his eyes, tries to focus on whatever conversation is happening. He feels XD’s hands heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down. He wants to lay down, settles for sitting on the hard ground.
He runs his hands over the wood beneath him. It’s calming, kind of grounding. The warping on the woods sends his vision swimming, makes it hard to focus, but it’s all okay.
There’s a hand rough on his arm, pulling him up. Someone’s voice- Sap- rings harsh in his ear. XD’s is calming in the other.
He follows along.
Sap lets go of his hand. He looks up, peers at the glittery lights. They’re all so pretty.
There’s something about it that sets off alarm bells, but it’s offset by the way they all look so nice in his kaleidoscopic vision.
He’s so dizzy.
They move on. He’s stumbling. He wants to sleep so bad. He wants this dream to end. He wants Sap to stop being mad at him. He wants MD to stop shouting. He wants Quackity. He wants to sleep. He wants to cry.
MD dies.
This is a dream, right?
This is where he should wake up.
Sap tugs him down so they’re sitting on the balcony where he jumped, legs dangling off the edge, and he angles them so George is leaning his head on his shoulder, so his arms are around George’s shoulders. Their hands tangle in his lap.
Sap is quiet for a long, long time. George lets the floaties in his vision dance, resists the urge to reach out and touch them.
“What’s going on with you?” Sap eventually asks, reaching up a hand and brushing his fingers through George’s hair. George takes his hand before the rhythm puts him to sleep.
“I don’t know,” is all he can say. His voice sounds far away, and he can vaguely tell it’s slurred, his words all running together like he’s hearing them through water.
Sap sighs.
“I’m worried for you.” He pushes George away so he can turn and look at him. He holds their hands together. “You’d tell me if something is wrong, right?”
George watches XD out of the corner of his eye.
He should say something. Something is wrong.
There’s a god following him around. He can’t, doesn’t want to do anything but sleep. He can’t think straight. He’s so tired. He can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. There’s something wrong with him.
He doesn’t say any of that. Instead he just tugs Sap close. They cling to one another.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, truthfully. His words are barely incomprehensible. He can barely keep his eyes open.
He digs his fingers into his palm in a last-ditch effort to keep himself awake. Sap uncurls his hands.
“Just tell me,” Sap begs, holding tight. “I can’t lose another friend.”
There’s a small burst of emotion in his chest, so potent that it leaves him gasping before it fades all too fast.
He’s hurting Sap. He knew it, logically, but it still leaves him feeling so very../ disgusting.
He’s such a bad friend. What else would lead to all this?
Sap is all he has left.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispers.
Sap cups his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His energy disappears, so fast, leaving him falling as XD snickers. Sap catches him before he can fall off the roof, dragging him back. He shakes him roughly.
The warping of the wood is so interesting, leaves his brain running circles. He blinks and out of consciousness. One second Sap is still shaking him, another he’s sitting next to him. He disappears then he’s back, then he’s saying something to him then he’s so quiet, but it’s never quiet because XD’s there then he swears Quackity is there, then next he wakes he knows that’s ridiculous.
And Sap sticks by him as he lays there.
The sun is rising. It reflects off Kinoko and it’s so pretty, leaves him saying something or other to Sap. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t make any sense at all from the way Sap looks at him.
Then he’s finally awake. It comes on so quickly, leaves him jerking up and gasping, putting a hand to his chest. Sap is by his side as he rubs sleep out of his eyes.
Was it all a dream?
He glances around, but XD isn’t there. The kaleidoscope in his vision is still creeping around his edges, but it feels crystal clear. He gasps a laugh.
He looks up. Sap is grinning, but there’s still a layer of confusion, of pity, of concern.
“Holy shit,” he gasps. “What the fuck.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Sap asks. He laughs.
“Not at all.” He lays back on the roof, but this time it’s just to watch the sunrise.
“Hm.” Sap lays down beside him, rests his head on his stomach.
They stay quiet for a while. George pointedly ignores the whispering and the green in the corner of his vision. This is his sunrise.
“Do you think we were always going to be so fucked up?” Sap asks. His voice cracks. George reaches for his hand, holds it tight.
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
>
The clarity holds for a few hours before he turns to talk to Niki and she’s not there. The clarity holds until he wakes up in the forest. The clarity holds until he finds himself talking to a tree and desperately hopes no one saw.
He’s not sure whether the conversation with Sap happened.
He really wants to ask about MD. He doesn’t dare.
He doesn’t care if they found Quackity. He should. He doesn’t. He’s so tired.
Sap is still concerned. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he could get his thoughts in order enough to say. He doesn’t know whether he could stay awake long enough.
It’s worse. He doesn’t know what to do.
He fights to stay awake. He passes out on the Prime path, which is probably some sort of sacrilege. He passes out by the prison and Sam drags him back to Kinoko. He passes out by the crater and Bad gives him a blanket. He passes out by Tommy’s house and Connor gives him a weird look.
He passes out on the bridge in Kinoko and falls into the pool. Sap saves him from drowning.
He hopes that one’s a dream.
He doesn’t leave his room very much anymore.
>
Sap still tries to drag him out on adventures. He thinks it’s his way of checking up on him. George probably isn’t very coherent.
Sometimes it all makes sense. Sometimes the world is distorted and different colors and floaty and XD is more a part of the conversation than Sap. Sometimes Sap is an animal, or a talking berry bush, or speaking entirely in French.
Sometimes Sap just begs him to say something. Those days are the worst.
He’s pretty sure those days are real.
>
Sap drags him to Niki’s bakery to get something for his sleep. Something that will help him to stay awake, or something.
His head hurts constantly. Thinking hurts. Feeling hurts. He tries to do neither of them.
Existing hurts.
Niki seems concerned for him. This probably isn’t real. He doesn’t know Niki well. She wouldn’t have much reason to be worried for him.
“Are you awake?” She asks, waving a hand in front of his face. He registers sitting in a booth in her bakery.
Sap sits across from him. He addresses Niki. “I don’t have any idea, anymore.”
She frowns. “His eyes are open.”
He shrugs. “That doesn’t mean much.”
“How long has this been going on?”
He loses focus there. It’s weird to hear them talk like he’s not in the room.
But then again, he isn’t really in the room, is he?
He wants to tell them something, to reassure them, but then again, he doesn’t really know if this is a dream.
He doesn’t want to waste energy on a dream.
There’s nothing out of the ordinary, no talking animals or anything that would register it as a dream. Niki is normal, Sap is normal. But that doesn’t mean much anymore.
He can’t ask them. Dreams never admit themselves as much. Wouldn’t be much point then.
I want to stop dreaming. That’s the only thing he can think.
If he has to sleep, he wants to just sleep.
“George? You okay?”
Somehow it pierces through the haze. He’s able to focus on Sap’s concerned face.
“You okay?” He asks again. He reaches up and brushes George’s face. It’s wet.
He’s crying. He doesn’t remember when he last did that.
“Why are you crying?” Sap asks. “You awake?”
He shakes his head. He hiccups, sobs.
Sap’s sleeve is rough against his face. He takes it, rubs his hands over it in some attempt to ground himself.
The texture is nice. Niki and Sap keep talking over his head as he focuses in on it. At least it keeps him awake.
“Dream,” he murmurs. The constant green shadow is heavy on his shoulders. It hurts. He wants it to stop.
He tries to call him XD. It’s not the same. They’re not the same. But it’s the only thing he can think. They both hurt.
“Sorry, George?” Sap asks. He looks between the two of them. “Did you say Dream? Did he say Dream?”
“He’s not here, George,” he snarls. “Goddammit, let him go, okay? He’s not here. He’s not gonna be here. You’re not gonna see him. Probably not ever, okay? Fuck.”
George shakes his head. He wants to explain. He can’t find the words, the thoughts. His tongue feels heavy.
XD laughs in his peripheral. He covers his ears. It’s only louder.
Is this real?
Is any of it real?
“Sap,” he whines, and the other holds him close.
“I’m here, okay? Whatever you need.”
Consciousness is fleeting.
Thinking hurts. It’s so much easier to give in.
“Come on, George, please.”
His eyes slide closed. XD laughs.
“Just tell me, okay? Anything. I’ll do anything.”
He thinks of MD, so insistent that he had to go back to the afterlife. Maybe he has to go back to his dreams.
Maybe he should stop thinking.
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just-a-fangirl13 · 3 years
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Why s5 *might* be the season MacRiley happens
Okay so...Hear me out! I'm not crazy I promise!!
Firstly, after 5x03 (and probably 5x04) it may seem very unlikely that MacRiley could ever happen. But I thought of a few reasons why they might actually happen by the end of s5 after all.... (it gets a lil long winded and kinda complicated but just stick with me till the end!)
1. All the MacRiley moments including the ones in 5x03.
[this Mac smile could not be an accident or something that slipped through both production and post-production right?! that in itself is a whole reason!]
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Every Macriley moment we have ever had- whether it's the hugs, Riley saving Mac, Mac saving Riley, the ultimate show of loyalty when Riley went after Mac during Codex or even just the looks exchanged between the two- to any outsider it would seem pretty obvious that they are dating or at least in love. Keep in mind the writers would have written each of those scenes and Lucas and Tristan have acted them out with a specific build up in mind aka MacRiley.(think about the date episode: Riley just got dumped but was still thinking about how Mac might be hungry. She didnt have to do that. She could have just shown up at his place..) I mean how can they write two people so perfectly in sync and so perfect for each other and not have them end up together? It would just be a waste of all that tension and slow burn. (not to mention all the hugs and glances)
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2. They know we exist. 
The MacRiley fam is very active on twitter with the writers and while they were writing 5x01 they knew we were around. They know we are a huge group. They would not want to risk pissing 90% of the fandom off by not making MacRiley endgame.
[P.S.yes 5x03 was a bait and switch but if you were paying attention you would have noticed that neither Lucas not Tristan live tweeted or hyped up the episode. They knew we would probably hate it so they didnt publicise it too much! so in the future if you have doubts about the episode being a MacRiley one just check their stories or posts on twitter/intstagram]
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3. Yes 5x03 happened. 
I really think it was an episode they HAD to write. Ok so after 4x13 they had 7 more episodes planned and were filming 4x20 (aka the finale) when the pandemic struck. So they have these 6 episodes but no finale for it. [Idk if anyone else has noticed but in 5x01 there were clearly some parts cut out. For example the conversation between Desi and Riley towards the end seemed a bit jilted. Riley asking Desi to forgive her but Desi replied with yeah we are cool (still no apology ofc) I feel like something happened during that which ended up getting cut out so it could fit with the final story.]
This makes me think that they have rewritten a few bits to tie into the new finale episode. In 5x03 when Mac asked Desi to come fishing with him which was clearly something very personal to him she was like no do better.. then we see Mac's disappointed expression. She could have easily said okay but maybe not for our first date? Or its not really my thing? Or just about anything else rather than laughing in his face like that. Eventhough MD is together they still arent compatible. Mac’s final words in 5x03 was him being desperate. I truly think he is so broken and lost that Desi is the only safe thing left, the only thing he feels like he can fix right now. Once he finds himself again and heals...then it's going to hit him like a pile of bricks!!
4. But Riley doesn't have feelings anymore...WELL doesnt she? 
When it comes to Mac, Riley is always in denial. We saw it in s4 when she tells Bozer not to make her say it. I think s5 will show her finally accepting it. Finally accepting that she is in love with her best friend and that it definitely isnt Codex adrenaline because she caught the feels when Codex wasnt even around. While Mac's arc would include realising he and Desi are never going to work and that he is unhappy and that RILEY is the one for him.
[why else would they give Riley feelings for Mac? Something has to come of it.]
5. The slow burn rule.[this point is a lil complicated] 
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Now season 5 is rumoured to have 13 episodes. So here’s what I think: If MacGyver follows the pattern that most shows do when it comes to slow burns, then technically MacRIley should have happened at the end of season 4. But since the season got cut short and they didnt get to air/finish their final episode the writers had to improvise. 
From what I know, 4x19 which is 5x04 for us is the episode where Mac meets Desi’s parents and 4x20 was supposed to be the finale that was left unfinished.(they are definitely moving the timeline ahead if a pre finale episode is suddenly a mid season one.) There might have been a 4x21 or 4x22 but I haven't heard anything about those....EVER.
So what I think they have decided to do instead is extend the MD storyline a bit longer just so they dont end up scrapping all their s4 episodes where they would be together and write a new finale that ties everything together, aka MacRiley.
If you think about episode counts, s4 and s5 together would have 26 episodes which is a how long a normal season runs. Basically what im trying to say is if we follow the ‘slow burns end by s4’ and take season 5 as an extension of 4 then MacRiley should get together in the season 5 finale or maybe the episode just before. (IM REALLY TRYING TO GET SOME LOGIC INTO THIS)
This would be a typical TV thing too where the couple finds out about each other’s feelings while the main arc of the show is also at its peak, which perfectly sets up a future season where fans are hyped but still has a satisfying ending.
6. So what about MacDesi?
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So far the macgyver writers have given us characters we love. Think of every character on the show apart from maybe Desi... Mac, Riley, Bozer, Jack, Matty, Leanna, Samantha, Russ and even Murdoc. WE LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. So then why is Desi such a strange character? I think shes purposely been written as an opposite to Mac or even Riley (I get she’s supposed to kinda replace Jack but Jack is really irreplaceable). 
It's not necessarily a bad thing its just not a great thing to do or have great execution. People have said things like Desi is a badass and shouldnt have to apologise or say I love you back to her boyfriend because she is a strong woman...I'm sorry but your opinion of who a strong woman is, is EXTREMELY skewed. A strong woman is someone who can make mistakes and when she does, she is ‘strong’ enough to own up to it, she is loyal and fierce and also caring while being a badass who can take down bad guys. And for GODS SAKE, RILEY DAVIS IS A STRONG WOMAN...people have called her mushy and feminine on twitter and I'm just very confused by that.....
Anyways before I go off on a rant, it seems like Desi is intentionally being written this way. Every opportunity they get to redeem her and make her more relatable or just a better person they just dont take it. While Rileys character arc is one of the best I've ever seen. Either its intentional or they’ve forgotten how to write characters...which is worrisome but ill give them the benefit of the doubt.
The writers also know we dont like Desi. The amount of times we've tagged them in the toxic posts or pointed out problematic things we can be sure they've seen at least half of those. So theres no way they dont know. RIGHT?
So why then is MD still a thing you may ask??
Well for one they cant break them up again off screen because of those unreleased s4 episodes. (not to mention the other parts of the audience who arent as invested in mac’s love life would probably be very confused.)
Secondly Mac has to be the one to pull the plug, not Desi. 4x13 made it seem like Desi was the annoyed one not Mac. He apologised to her which meant he wanted to fix things. 
Thirdly, they are opening the chpt one last time before they permanently close it. MD is going to be a stark contrast to macriley(it already is in every way possible). Every issue Mac and Desi had can be used to show how amazing macriley really is as two people who arent even dating yet.
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Fourthly, MD being together is a sort of commentary on Macs mental health as well. We can see how happy he is with Riley but around Desi he becomes some one else. If the writers are doing this on purpose or subconsciously still remains to be seen.
And Yes keeping MD around for a few more episodes seems like a necessary risk right now but I have a feeling its going to be worth it later.
[I know we have had like 4 desi entered episodes already but I really think 5x04 will be the last of it since 5x05 is the Jack episode and 5x06 is Mac+Riley+Bozer episode with no mention of Desi at all!]
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The writers know we are a dedicated bunch and they know that once MD breaks up for the last time the entire fandom will be waiting and watching. That's when the show will be at its peak. That will be the perfect moment to bring in MacRiley’s arc to a new start!
Congrats if you stuck with me through this whole thing! if you agree/disgaree with any of these or have other reasons why they could be endgame in s5 let me know!!
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ruby-whistler · 3 years
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Are you normal or do u sometimes go "IVE BEEN SCARED OF SLEEPING WITH THE LIGHTS ON(off? Idk its hard to decipher)"/lyrics -curious anon
me: oh boy, can't wait to try and make a tumblr blog! Before i do i should research it- *what in the hecking heck is an xkit*
djskdjsk i had no idea what an xkit was until yesterday and when i got it i got too confused and uninstalled it - dw curious anon i don’t use it either i just vibe and do whatever i guess. if you tag correctly and make good posts things should work out, can’t wait to see your acc around!
I got some sad-ist merch :DDD!!
yooo!! that’s so pog for you! it’s probably pretty comfy :D
me standing ominously in your askbox waiting to rec my fav fics:
fjsjdjsk i literally just finished passerine i still have 80 more (some of which are like 300k words long) on my to-read but uh if they have c!dream mischaracterized i’ll not be reading them anyways so it’s very hit-or-miss, will probably get through some of them quicker-
After many moons spent under the dsmp, seeing discourse and analysis alike, i have come to the conclusion i simply do not have the energy to care about any lore outside of c!tubbo and c!tommy's and will only defend them. And that is ok. It is ok to not watch or care about all dsmp or want to discourse about them or analyze. Idk man was thinking deep thoughts today
it’s ok to watch entertainment and enjoy it the way you want to! it’s great to want to enjoy or talk about your fav character!
the problems come up when you attack other people for their perspectives on the medium or spread misinformation about different characters based on only watching the perspective you like, but you know - if you’re not doing analysis, you really don’t need to look that deep into it.
it’s ok to just chill. your feelings about characters are valid! :D so yeah i agree with you! let people with different opinions exist if they’re also being respectful (e. g. tagging correctly).
Hey ik u worked with animgician's newest vid and i found a not-crit (i rlly think) little thought on it if u wanna see it
yoo feel free to send it in!!
No one: me: *shuffles around* wanna hear about my cool warden c!tommy au?
may i interest u in a little bit of my writing? If not that is ok i just wanna see if my writing is any good before working on a fic lol
Anyways if i am not in the askbox for a little it is because i am now writing a proper fic thing out. Wish me luck o7 -curious anon (i have three different lyrics i am going to be incorporating and a little analysis and just a smidgen of projection)
Ruby do u wanna read a little something i wrote? *does the little fingers thing* its really short just a headcanon with a little prose
i sure do! that sounds rlly cool - are you sure you don't wanna make a post about that on your own account though? i don't mind seeing it at all but i think the c!tommy tag would be able to appreciate that au better than my followers. you've gotta find the right target audience, y'know? /lh
though of course i'd love to see your writing, i'm sure it's great! looking forward to it :]
Ayo i remembered u talking about how punitive punishment doesn't work the other day so i want to discuss. What would u consider to be a fitting "punishment" for c!dream's canonic killing of mexican dream?/gen
i mean... we're not trying to - being against punitive justice is about the fact punishment is wrong, not just certain types of it. asking me what a "fitting punishment" would be is sort of very not getting the point.
hurting people further is not going to teach them anything and it’s not going to help anyone, why is it necessary?
so the answer is: none. he shouldn’t be punished, actually! he should learn on his own that what he did wasn’t right, and that’s about it. that’s the thing about transformative justice. him becoming a better person who Wouldn’t Do That again because it goes against who he is.
however, there’s also restorative justice, which is working to “make it up” to the victims. to which i propose; dream has the revival book and could literally bring him back once he is out of the prison. give him some powder maybe. md would probably be chill w/ that.
Yknow. In all my time in dsmpblr i can confidently say that the main differnece between c!dream apologist/enthusiants and c!wilbur/sam ones is that the c!wilbur/c!sam ones want their fav to have a breakdown and c!dream ones want theirs to get positive reinforcement /hj /lh
i’m pretty sure the sam and wil ones also want them to get better/get redeemed, at least deep down, but i get what you mean! you’re *glances at the 🟩⛏ gc where all we do 24/7 is write angst about c!dream being terribly hurt and then we cry about it* 100% correct. no angsters who like the pain here *nervously laughs* we all just want him to heal and be happy for the rest of his life with no heart-shattering breakdowns whatsoever! /s /lh
Hope ur having a great day m8 :]] -curious anon (also i have a new canon fact i wanna share. In quackity's alt lore stream yesterday he said (to the best of my memory) that "no law/juridsiction exists on the dream smp to prevent one from building anywhere" so i guess that clears up the big debate on wheather or not c!dream had a right to enforce rules (or basically the arguement that he owned the server by divine rule)
no i’m - i’m pretty sure that’s just how it works. dream still owns the smp, but he himself has said wayy back at the beginning “everyone can build and go wherever they want” and that was that. it was one of his rules on the smp, it was his main problem with l’manberg. being able to build anywhere were the rules that he “had the right” to enforce. and he did, not because he was a god, but because it was his smp, his home that he claimed for his friends. wouldn’t call it a big debate, it’s really that simple.
.AGONY. HURT EVEN. THIS IS HOW IT IS FOR CURIOUS ANON. I LAUGH, I CRY, I FIND AN ANIMATED GIF ON TWITTER THAT SQUEEZES MY C!TOMMY ENJOYER HEART INTO OBLIVION. (i am being dramatic btw for the funnies just so ya know) I AM NOT GOING TO FINANICALLY RECOVER FROM THIS. AAAAAAAAAAA UEEEEEEE
OK THAT FREAKING
O U C H-
also for the old phil ask. Hes a bad dad because of how he treated ghostbur. I will elaborate if u want
didn’t ghostbur just say “i’m not wilbur” and philza said “you’re not my son” and they went on with their day? weren’t they actually in agreement that he wasn’t the same as wil when he was alive? i don’t remember him really treating him badly tbh other than disowning him which seems fair to me, because ghostbur was a literal stranger to phil at that point?
wish you a nice day, curious anon! (i’ll be back on my essays and answering other asks now, so i might not reply right away :])
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paperanddice · 3 years
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Kazuul
Following up Thrarak from two days ago, we get the more deadly of the exarchs.
5th Edition
Formerly a worshipper of a god of civilization, Kazuul sold himself out to a violent power for what it could offer him. Destruction and murder became second nature until burning down the entire world felt like an entirely reasonable goal. All he wants is to claim ever greater weapons for himself until the end comes, sitting over his horde of stolen items as his life ceases to be. Killing isn’t even a matter of hatred for him anymore; he’s become numb to the splatter of blood and the ending of lives. All that remains is the desire to possess that which is held from him. Even his body is warped and changed, swollen to immense size with demonic flesh and muscle.
His current favorite weapons are the Tooth of Grom, a magical longsword forged from the tooth of a slain fire titan, and World Splitter, an axe stolen from a dwarven champion. He bitterly hunts down the person who stole a previous blade of his, Gorgorin the Shatterer, and would risk anything in existence to reclaim it. Any opponent carrying a legendary weapon will instantly attract Kazuul’s attention, drawing him through the chaos of battle to try and claim it for himself.
Kazuul Large humanoid, chaotic evil Armor Class 18 (plate) Hit Points 225 (18d10 + 126) Speed 30 ft., fly 30 ft. Str 25 (7) Dex 11 (+0) Con 24 (+7) Int 12 (+1) Wis 14 (+2) Cha 17 (+3) Saving Throws Con +13, Wis +8, Cha +9 Skills Athletics +15, Insight +9, Religion +8 Damage Resistances cold, fire, lightning; bludgeoning, piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical attacks Senses darkvision 60 ft. passive Perception 12 Languages Abyssal, Common Challenge 18 (20000 XP) Legendary Resistances (3/Day). If Kazuul fails a saving throw, he can choose to succeed instead. Special Equipment. Kazuul wields Tooth of Grom, a +3 longsword with the following additional magical properity: once per day, when Kazuul hits a creature with this sword he can force the target to make a DC 18 Wisdom saving throw. On a failure, the target must use its reaction to make a melee weapon attack against a target of Kazuul's choice. Kazuul also wields World Splitter, a +3 battleaxe with the following additional property: three times per day when Kazuul hits a creature with this battleaxe he can damage the target's armor. The armor takes a permanent and cumulative -4 penalty to the AC it offers. The armor is destroyed if the penalty reduces it's AC to 10. If the armor is magical, the target can make a DC 18 Dexterity saving throw to negate this effect. Actions Multiattack. Kazuul makes two attacks: one with Tooth of Grom and one with World Splitter. Tooth Of Grom. Melee Weapon Attack: +16 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 19 (2d8+10) slashing damage. World Splitter. Melee Weapon Attack: +16 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 19 (2d8+10) slashing damage. Abyssal Flame. Kazuul conjures up fires in a 15 foot radius centered on a point within 120 feet of him. Each creature in that area must make a DC 19 Dexterity saving throw or take 21 (6d6) fire damage. Word Of Doom (1/Short Rest). Kazuul can issue a word of primordial power. Each creature within 15 feet of Kazuul that can hear him must make a DC 19 Charisma saving throw. On a failure, the target takes 35 (10d6) force damage and Kazuul can score a critical hit against the creature on a roll of 15 or higher. The target can repeat the save at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. If the saving throw is successful, the target takes half the force damage and Kazuul cannot expand his critical hit range against that target. Legendary Actions Kazuul can take 3 legendary actions, choosing from the options below. Only one legendary action can be used at a time and only at the end of another creature's turn. Kazuul regains spent legendary actions at the start of its turn. Attack. Kazuul makes one melee attack. Move. Kazuul moves up to his speed directly toward a hostile creature that he can see. Vortex Of Blades (Costs 3 Actions). Kazuul makes one melee attack against each creature within his reach.
13th Age
Once a great champion of the Crusader, Kazuul delved deep into the Hellholes and came into closer contact with the demons within than any others. His unwavering loyalty proved to be much more flexible than initially thought, as the purely destructive power of the demons soon drew him in and he eventually deflected and dedicated himself to them instead. Not even the Diabolist has a hold on his soul now, as he considers himself bound to the Abyss itself and not the duplicitous trickster who seeks to manipulate pure destruction itself. He gathers demons wherever he can find them and simply aims for pure destruction, levelling towns and countryside alike until nothing but desolation and gore remain behind him. Nothing yet has been able to stop him, and even the Crusader’s own armies have fallen before him.
He wields stolen weapons of great power, taken from the corpses of those who tried to stand before him. Right now his favorites are the Tooth of Grom that can trick the minds of those it strikes, and the World Splitter which cuts armor like paper.
Kazuul Large 12th-level troop [humanoid] Initiative: +15 Legendary Weapons +17 vs. AC (2 attacks) - 90 damage Natural even hit: 1/turn, the target is also confused until the end of Kazuul’s next turn. Natural odd hit: 1/turn, the target also takes a -4 penalty to AC (save ends). C: Vortex of Blades +17 vs. AC (all engaged enemies plus 1d2 nearby enemies) - 70 damage Natural 16+: The target is also stunned (save ends). Limited Use: Kazuul can use this ability only when the escalation die is even. C: Word of Doom +16 vs. MD (1d4+1 nearby enemies) - 80 damage Natural 14+: Kazuul’s crit range against the target expands to 15+ (save ends). Limited Use: 1/battle. C: Abyssal Flames +16 vs. PD (1d3 nearby enemies in a group) - 90 fire damage AC 28 PD 25 MD 23 HP 720
Originally from the 4th Edition Monster Manual 2. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as see my premade adventures and updates on my alchemy project, consider backing me there!
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morethanonepage · 4 years
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i’m angery
i know i’m mostly a star wars killjoy on tumblr dot com lately but allow me to SCREAM about my latest nemesis, a book called “American Dirt”:
Lydia Quixano Pérez lives in the Mexican city of Acapulco. She runs a bookstore. She has a son, Luca, the love of her life, and a wonderful husband who is a journalist. And while there are cracks beginning to show in Acapulco because of the drug cartels, her life is, by and large, fairly comfortable.
Even though she knows they’ll never sell, Lydia stocks some of her all-time favorite books in her store. And then one day a man enters the shop to browse and comes up to the register with a few books he would like to buy―two of them her favorites. Javier is erudite. He is charming. And, unbeknownst to Lydia, he is the jefe of the newest drug cartel that has gruesomely taken over the city. When Lydia’s husband’s tell-all profile of Javier is published, none of their lives will ever be the same.
Forced to flee, Lydia and eight-year-old Luca soon find themselves miles and worlds away from their comfortable middle-class existence. Instantly transformed into migrants, Lydia and Luca ride la bestia―trains that make their way north toward the United States, which is the only place Javier’s reach doesn’t extend. As they join the countless people trying to reach el norte, Lydia soon sees that everyone is running from something. But what exactly are they running to?
Written by one Jeanine Cummins, who has Puerto Rican ancestry but grew up in the MD suburbs (as I did, tbf) and in 2015 considered herself white (”I am white...in every practical way, my family is mostly white.”  [cw for sexual assault and murder at the link]), everything I read about this book has begun to drive me to madness.
Recommended by the Mary Sue book club (the source of the above summary), it has since been retracted bc a) its sucks and b) THEY DIDN’T READ IT BEFORE PUTTING IT ON THE BOOK CLUB LIST (”I try to read most, if not all, of the books I recommend for the Book Club because I truly do love reading, and I want to make sure that if I suggest someone grab something, it’s something I can say I liked. When I was looking up two books to fill out the list, one of them was American Dirt. I saw that it had received a lot of positive press from Stephen King, Rumaan Alam, Don Winslow, Sandra Cisneros, and other literary news outlets including Oprah’s Book Club. It seemed like the type of literary fiction that’s always good for a book club read. I was mistaken.“)
Myriam Gurba, at Tropics of Meta, describes being asked to review it for a feminist magazine, and then being told her review was too negative to publish. It included gems such as:
Cummins bombards with clichés from the get-go. Chapter One starts with assassins opening fire on a quinceañera, a fifteenth birthday party, a scene one can easily imagine President Donald Trump breathlessly conjuring at a Midwestern rally, and while Cummins’ executioners are certainly animated, their humanity remains shallow. By categorizing these characters as “the modern bogeymen of urban Mexico,” she flattens them. By invoking monsters with English names and European lineages, Cummins reveals the color of her intended audience: white. Mexicans don’t fear the bogeyman. We fear his very distant cousin, el cucuy.
[...]
With their family annihilated by narcotraffickers, mother and son embark on a refugees’ journey. They head north, or, as Cummins’ often writes, to “el norte,” and italicized Spanish words like carajo, mijo, and amigo litter the prose, yielding the same effect as store-bought taco seasoning.
[...] Lydia’s husband, a journalist, describes her as one of the “smartest” women he’s ever known. Nonetheless, she behaves in gallingly naïve and stupid ways. Despite being an intellectually engaged woman, and the wife of a reporter whose beat is narcotrafficking, Lydia experiences shock after shock when confronted with the realities of México, realities that would not shock a Mexican.
It shocks Lydia to learn that the mysterious and wealthy patron who frequents her bookstore flanked by “[thuggish]” bodyguards is the capo of the local drug cartel! It shocks Lydia to learn that some central Americans migrate to the United States by foot! It shocks Lydia to learn that men rape female migrants en route to the United States! It shocks Lydia to learn that Mexico City has an ice-skating rink! (This “surprise” gave me a good chuckle: I learned to ice skate in México.) That Lydia is so shocked by her own country’s day-to-day realities, realities that I’m intimate with as a Chicana living en el norte, gives the impression that Lydia might not be…a credible Mexican. In fact, she perceives her own country through the eyes of a pearl-clutching American tourist.
Parul Sehgal, at the NYT, digs into the fact that while the motives of this book may be unimpeachable (tho: are they??), the writing itself is...perhaps less so:
I found myself flinching as I read, not from the perils the characters face, but from the mauling the English language receives. Lydia’s expression “is one Luca has never seen before, and he fears it might be permanent. It’s as if seven fishermen have cast their hooks into her from different directions and they’re all pulling at once. One from the eyebrow, one from the lip, another at the nose, one from the cheek.” Yes, of course. That expression.
Sehgal also highlights my favorite line I’ve heard about in this book: “when Lydia finds she is unable to pray, ‘she believes it’s a divine kindness. Like a government furlough, God has deferred her nonessential agencies.’” The Raised in the DMV Suburbs just JUMPED OUT, didn’t it, Jeanine? But like legit, why on earth would a Mexican bookstore lady’s frame of reference ever be A GOVERNMENT FURLOUGH and NONESSENTIAL AGENCIES. followers, i just about died. 
David J. Schmidt, at The Blue Nib, calls out other inaccuracies and stereotypes:
It is worth dwelling on the character of Javier for a moment. A “drinking game” could be created based on all the Latin American stereotypes he personifies. Javier is dapper, yet dangerous. He is charming, yet mysterious. He wears a white guayabera, a shirt the author describes as “more suitable for Sunday Mass than a regular workday.” (Untrue—this is a casual garment, more suitable for a love affair in a Fabio-bedecked romance novel.)
This quintessential “Latin lover” shows up at Lydia’s bookstore and speaks to her in a tone significantly different from the other characters of American Dirt. I  must emphasise, Javier’s dialogue does not reflect the normal speech patterns of Mexico, but perfectly reflects U.S. stereotypes. The only way to properly read Javier’s lines is through the most gross of caricatures.
One should imagine the husky voice of Antonio Banderas, speaking at his most sensual and Spanishy. Any character he has played in English will do, although it is clear that Javier was ideally written for the voice of Puss in Boots. When Lydia asks if Javier reads English, the dapper narco responds:
“I try, yes […] My English isn’t fluent, but it’s close. And this story is so delicate.”
[...]
The cultural inaccuracies of American Dirt run deep, right down to the language. Throughout her book, Cummins shows confusion regarding the grammatical genders in Spanish. Most notably, she baptises the drug kingpin Javier with the nickname La Lechuza. It is difficult to imagine a macho, womanizing capo using a feminine-gendered noun as his moniker. Would a hardened mafia boss call himself “The Princess of Compton” or “The Belle of Belfast”?
Cummins got a seven figure advance for this. A SEVEN FIGURE ADVANCE. She “wished someone slightly browner than me would write it,” but she did it,  and her team is throwing around the fact that her husband’s previously undocumented status as some sort of justification without mentioning that he’s white & Irish. 
Also, there’s this news:
Imperative Entertainment, the production banner behind the Clint Eastwood hit The Mule, has acquired the rights to American Dirt, the Mexican migrant drama novel by Jeanine Cummins.
Charles Leavitt, the scribe who penned the Leonardo DiCaprio drama Blood Diamond, has been tapped to write the adaptation, which will be produced by Imperative’s Dan Friedkin and Bradley Thomas.
Charles Leavitt is a white guy who, most recently, wrote the Warcraft movie. So, that’s going to end well. 
I’ll leave you with this other gem from Gurba (from her essay about it, “Pendeja, You Ain’t Steinbeck “):
Susan Sontag wrote that “[a] sensibility (as distinct from an idea) is one of the hardest things to talk about” and with this challenge in mind, I assert that American Dirt fails to convey any Mexican sensibility. It aspires to be Día de los Muertos but it, instead, embodies Halloween. The proof rests in the novel’s painful humorlessness. Mexicans have over a hundred nicknames for death, most of them are playful because death is our favorite playmate, and Octavio Paz explained our unique relationship with la muerte when he wrote, “The Mexican…is familiar with death. [He] jokes about it, caresses it, sleeps with it, celebrates it. It is one of his favorite toys and his most steadfast love.” Cummins’ failure to approach death with appropriate curiosity, and humility, is what makes American Dirt a perfect read for your local self-righteous gringa book club.
so idk, The Mary Sue, maybe it should stay on your Book Club list after all. (Oh wait: as of this writing, it still is.) 
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teleiosresearch · 4 years
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The Roles of Christ and the Holy Spirit throughout the Bible 
Understanding the trinity is foundational to our Christian faith but can be confusing. Scripture clearly states that God is one (Mark 12:29; Galatians 3:20; James 2:19). However, there are three manifestations of God revealed in the scriptures: God the Father, Jesus Christ the Son and the Holy Spirit (the godhead).They are all one essence as God, but each member of the godhead has their own distinct will.
Adding to the confusion, the term ‘Trinity’ is not in Bible. Scripture itself does not represent the unity of the 3 members of the godhead by a single term but describes the concept by association, actions and description.
Last time we described the trinity, the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, and the biblical foundations of this important theology. Each member of the godhead has been in existence before time began with the same holy character. However, their actions and roles have differed depending on how God was managing His people at the time.
Let’s examine how Christ and the Spirit are described and how their roles varied throughout scripture.
Roles of Christ and the Spirit in the Old Testament
Jesus Christ
Creator – Colossians 1:16; John 1:3; Hebrews 1:2
Sustains creation – Colossians 1:17
Angel of Yahweh (Lord) – The Angel of Yahweh is the manifestation of the invisible God throughout the life of Israel. His role is clearly one of deity and although controversial, is most likely the incarnate Christ.
Led Israel – Christ, in the cloud, led the Jewish people in the desert as noted by Paul in 1 Corinthians 10:1-4
Visible manifestation of God – Any visible appearance of God must be Christ as no one has seen God at any time (Exodus 3:2; Exodus 33:19; John 1:18; 1 John 4:12)
The Holy Spirit
Creator – Genesis 1:2; Psalms 33:6; Psalms 104:30; Job 27:3; Job 33:4
Contended with man – Genesis 6:3
Gave revelation and prophecy – 2 Peter 1:20-21
Came upon selected believers – The Spirit empowered certain people such as kings (David and Saul), the builders of the tabernacle, as well as the prophets, the 70 elders of Israel, several judges, and others. The Spirit’s association with Old Testament believers appears limited in scope to accomplish specific tasks over a period of time.
These actions by the Spirit contrast with the New Testament where believers are indwelt permanently from salvation and His power is not limited (Romans 8:9; Ephesians 1:13-14).
Roles of Christ and the Spirit in the Gospels
Jesus Christ
Offered the kingdom with Himself as king – Matthew 3:2-3; Matthew 4:17; Matthew 10:7; Luke 22:70
Offered salvation and forgiveness of sin – John 3:3-16
The Holy Spirit 
Caused the birth of Christ in human form – Luke 2:52
Anointed Christ at His baptism – Matthew 3:1-17
Testified of Christ at His baptism – Matthew 3:16
Filled Christ – Matthew 3:16
Assisted Christ with certain miracles – Luke 4:18
Assisted with Christ’s resurrection – Romans 1:4
Led Christ into the wilderness for His temptation Matthew 4:1
Assisted with Christ’s prophetic messages – Luke 4:18
Assisted Christ in offering Himself as a sacrifice – Hebrews 9:14: 1 Peter 3:18
Came upon the disciples for certain purposes – Matthew 10:20; John 20:22
Revelation of the gospel writings came through the Spirit – 1 Timothy 3:16
Roles of Christ and the Spirit Now in Believers
Jesus Christ
Maintains creation - Colossians 1:16-17
Prays for believers – Romans 8:31; Hebrews 7:24
Heads His body, the church – Colossians 1:17-18
Nourishes and cherishes the body – Ephesians 5:29; Philippians 1:11
High priest – He acts as a high priest offering mercy to believers in every time of need - Hebrews 4:14-16
Fills believers with His fullness – Ephesians 1:2-23; Colossians 2:19
Bears fruit in Christian’s lives - Philippians 1:11
The Holy Spirit – Please see Holy Spirit – Power Source for the Christian Life for more information.
Roles of Christ and the Spirit Now in Non-believers
Jesus Christ
Maintains creation - Colossians 1:16-17
Provides salvation as a free gift from God through faith (please see Our Great Salvation)
The Holy Spirit
Convicts man of sin, righteousness, and judgment - John 16:8-11
Regenerates the new believer at salvation - Romans 6:2-9
Places the new believer in the church at salvation - 1 Corinthians 12:13
Seals the new believer to their redemption at salvation - Ephesians 1:13-14
Please see Holy Spirit – Power Source for the Christian Life for more information.
Indeed, God has given us a great salvation and has provided for every need to attain this, from the beginning of time to eternity future.
Thanks for joining me. Please join us next time as we begin to discuss the essentials of the Christian walk.
William C. Stewart, MD
For questions or to view more of our research…
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Disclaimer - This blog is provided for your use and enjoyment on an ‘as is’ and ‘as available’ basis. Both the blog and the contents are subject to change at any time without notice. Although I endeavor to ensure that the blog and the content are current and accurate, it may contain errors. I do not represent that the blog or the content is current, accurate or complete, or appropriate for your specific requirements. I do not accept any liability from any person for the blog, the content or any other information (or the use of such information) I provide. I do not have a seminary degree, but I have trained myself in the scriptures to teach and provide this information. For any specific question, I suggest you contact experts in that field and or do your own research into the scriptures.  
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mountphoenixrp · 7 years
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We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:
                                                Set, the God of Chaos,                                             whose origins stem from Ancient Egypt.                           He is now a psychiatric clinician at Asclepius General Hospital                                               and a professor at Phoenix University.
FC NAME/GROUP: Haruma Miura (Actor/Brash Brats) GOD NAME: Set ALIAS (FOR SILLY HUMANS): Dr. S.Setti MD, Psy.D PANTHEON: Egyptian OCCUPATION:   –Psychiatric Clinician, Asclepius General Hospital, Trauma and Healthcare Centre –Adjunct Associate Professor of Psychiatry & Behavioral Medicine, Phoenix University –Prolific Serial Killer HEIGHT: 184 cm WEIGHT: 67kg DEFINING FEATURES: Set’s irises are black. Not brown, not burnt toast–not a curious dark chocolate, nor rich deep tan. Black–onyx black, coal chip dropped in soot eyes. Eyes that are blacker than the most starless night or darkest deep ocean waters. As black as if a void in the cosmos had opened up where his pupils should have been and swallowed away all the color and light everywhere and from anything before them like a black hole swallowing planets. They are generally deeply unsettling to humans and gods alike with their cold emotionless flat darkness, so Set has taken to always wearing professional glasses or shaded eye wear to distract, conceal and reflect back the shine of a pleasant benevolence that his own true sight lacks. [x] [x] PERSONALITY: Set by his very nature possesses a very convoluted and impenetrable personality. If Set were not a God himself, one would probably see him as a letter perfect highly functional sociopathic psychopath. However, Set is not nor has he ever been something so pathetically mundane as “human” so he would very much find such a timidly narrow view of his finite pursuits, pleasures and pastimes to be malign slander if not a downright insult for which one deserved to be gutted for. Set does not feel a G-O-D requires rationalization (nor compassion or kindness–and perhaps a boat load of other adjectives he is scarily devoid of). In a nutshell the god of chaos, disorder and violence, does not reason or rationalize his own behavior, rather, he relishes the pure unfiltered darkness of it all. His schemes in general are elaborate theater shows of creative mental tortures and always very well planned for maximum devastating effect. There is no doubt that Set can cloak himself in charm, he’ll seem genuinely thoughtful and kind to those that…can “amuse” him for a time. However, Set is incredibly manipulative–he can pull others strings very effectively, wear all the perfect masks of one who is truly caring. He knows how to get to people, how to appear impeccably cultured, appreciative, and sophisticated. All the while turning them inside out to achieve the most disastrous results. He takes joy in toying with others, all for the mirth of watching them twist on their own puppet strings. His sheer remorselessness is without a doubt frightening, and he’ll always deliberately play others to his own advantage. HISTORY: Set is the ancient Egyptian god of the desert, storms, darkness and Chaos. Indeed, in ancient Egyptian culture his very name means to be a “destroyer” or “the  instigator of confusion”. He is one of the first five gods created by the union of Geb and Nut. He did not begin this way. Set was originally an important and friendly god of Upper Egypt whose name was invoked for love spells and inscribed on amulets which served as love charms–unfortunately Set all too soon fell prey to his own desires. Forbidden wants twisted his heart and mind, driving the god to seek out and steal younger sister Nepthys (whom he took to wife). Finding he enjoyed doing things his own way for once, Set challenged his eldest brother Osiris at every turn. It was the most classic case of Middle child syndrome ever.
Osiris bestowed on humans gifts of compassion and equality for all. The world was a paradise where everyone, man and woman, was equal under the reign of the oldest brother, food was abundant, and no one suffered any want. Set grew jealous of Osiris’ power, adoration and resented his success. His resentment grew even more bitter after his wife Nephthys, attracted by Osiris’ beauty, goodness and kind hands, disguised herself and seduced the great king, becoming pregnant with the god Anubis.
In a furious cuckolded rage at Nephthys with her unapologetic adultery, Set decided to remove his brother once and for all. A magnificent casket was created at his order, the most beautiful chest ever made, tailored to Osiris’ exact measurements. He then threw a grand party, to which Osiris was invited, and after the banquet told the guests he had a special surprise. He revealed the chest and said that whoever could fit most perfectly inside could take it home. One by one the guests climbed into the casket but could not fit until Osiris’ turn came. He lay down in the casket and found, of course, that it fit him perfectly. Set immediately in a bloody violent rage, hacked his brother into pieces where he lay, then slammed the lid and threw the casket into the Nile River.
Back in Egypt, Set took the throne, and the harmonious balance which had been maintained by Osiris was completely lost. Set was a chaotic and unpredictable monarch who brought storms and drought and the humans turned on each other in their efforts to survive while Set watched with glee. After all he had never really cared for “humanity” anyway.
It was finally, Horus, son of Osiris who battled his uncle Set and took control once more of the world. He did however spare his uncle’s life because of an appreciation of balance and harmony. The concept of Ma'at (harmony) is integral to Egyptian values–and there can be no Ma'at without Isfet (chaos) too. Set grudgingly accepted his diminished role, but refused to live among the other Gods in the heavens any longer. Instead he moved among the humans seamlessly, intent of cause as much harm as he could to Osiris most favorite of all the universe’s creations. Humans took all too well to the negative aspects and chaos Set brings to their existence and were unknowingly much more a source of continuous entertainment as his pawns and living punching bags.
Time passes though and Set heard whispers of a place that sounds even more intriguing. Mount Phoenix, where the blood of immortals have given life to a new breed of human, ones who might be even better stock for his games. Set is fascinated by the delightful possibilities such a foolish place will present, and more importantly…
He wants to find his own rotten little apples in the barrel of mortality.
POWERS: While Set still does quite enjoy bringing about chaos the good old fashion way (that is with plenty vicious unnecessary violence, liberal blood shed, brutal mutilations and theatrical deaths), he has adapted his mind with time to do the more “messy” work of indirectly subjecting others to his little fun games of havoc far more discreetly. Set is Isfet embodied, thriving in unraveling order, causing destruction and anarchy to reign while he stands tall in the ashes. Isfet or Asfet (meaning"chaos", “violence”, and “to do evil") is the Egyptian counterpart of Ma'at (meaning “order” or “harmony”). Set is able to embody chaos itself and turn it outward as the power of Negikinesis or the ability to manipulate all forms of physical, mental and spiritual negativity as he desires with:
Manipulative Charisma (Set possesses immense extreme charm and ‘magnetic’ quality that transcends mortal limitations, allowing him to sway virtually anyone as well as entire communities to his dark ideas, cause and service with barely any effort.)
Negative Touch (Set cause weakening negative effects on others by touching them.)
Hatred Compulsion (Set can compel hate and/or self-hatred in others with suggestions, causing the target to hate anything/everything about themselves, someone else, even everyone around them. This will cause the victim to be hated themselves, and be more willing to kill those they hate.)
Malevorous (Set feeds on the chaotic darkness of people’s minds, gaining boosts to stamina, strength, durability, and speed, depending on the level of evil and malevolence. This power automatically scans for the worst malicious intent to feed off of when facing multiple victims. Victims need not have actual powers; a sociopathic serial killer is just as useful as a mentally wretched victim.)
Violent Aura (At will, Set can generate an aura of violence that amplifies/induces aggression on beings inside the aura and gains strength from those emotions.)
Weakness Corruption (Set can make others immorally flawed by psychically kindling the targets’ minds so that they succumb to the urges of enhancing/magnifying their own debasing sin and/or humiliating vices.)
Mind Destruction (Set can with a simple negative thought cause madness in a person or group of people that have no mental illness, depending on what he desires at the time, his victims may go slightly loopy or lose total grip of reality becoming delusional, lose control over themselves, take to paranoid, catatonic or hostile behavior.)
STRENGTHS:
Even not using his god-like abilities Set is a formidable clinical hypnotist. He can lull the mortal subconscious just with the sound of his voice and gentle suggestions. 
Has been among humanity the longest of the Egyptian Parthenon, and is very adept at moving among humans–or “seeming” as human himself.
He is also an expert in psychology (though he does not believe it to be a science, but more of a game he holds all the wins for.).
Naturally aggressive/volatile primordial beings are even more susceptible to Set’s chaotic influence than “good” calmer ones. Humans and halflings don’t stand a chance.
To all but those of the Egyptian Parthenon (who still remember that Set encased his own brother in a coffin, hacked him to bits after a huge dinner party and also kidnapped his own baby sister to make her his lover), Set comes across as a polite refined gentleman doctor with extensive knowledge about the arts, tea and horticulture.
WEAKNESSES:
Extended suppression of Set’s smaller dark malicious urges usually results in a mental/emotional/psychological meltdown of the killing spree kind. Him being a little bit evil here and there is much better than him in full on ax murdering serial killer mode which he does quite gladly descended into (and easily) without some form of small scale meddlesome entertainment.
Set cannot sway those with true undying loyalty or love towards another with his negative powers. Set also is not able to sway the pure love, loyalty or affection of animals.
Set cannot create a beings flaws out of thin air, only enhance existing ones being repressed or inherent already. 
Beings who are child-like with no sense or knowledge of the concepts of chaos, wrongdoing and evil literally are his worst weakness. Set finds their “purity” in particular to be extremely offensive to his senses (they are like “noise” or radio interference to everything he is). You will never find Set going too close to beings like that nor be willing to hold or converse with small children for this very reason.
Is highly susceptible powers of his own birth siblings and their offspring: Osiris, Isis, Nephthys, and Haroeris.
Circumstances of poor taste, breeding or manners, tend to make Set TRUE colors show though. He fights very hard against letting out the madden force of chaotic rage that is his true “colors”. However those who exhibit poor taste or bad manners, usually get to see the god as he truly unpleasantly is.
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acoolguyscoollife · 5 years
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Chapter 9: Revelations, The Most Cliche Name For A Chapter
“Tabitha, what the hell does this mean?” I asked, but she was quiet, thinking as she looked around. She paced back and forth, footsteps echoing through the eerily quiet room. “Tabitha.” I repeated, once again to no response. I inhaled, taking as deep of a breath as I could, preparing myself. “Tabitha Tabitha Tabitha Tabitha Tabitha Tab-” I was almost six repetitions in when she put her hand over my mouth, still as quiet as she had been a second ago. Her eyes darted back and forth, internally debating something that I couldn’t ascertain. “Rr you ggng t sy nythng?” I asked, muffled by her mouth, and she took it off my face, sighing as she did so.
“I’m sorry, CG. What were you saying?” Tabitha asked, and I glanced to the rest of the group. Amy was watching Tabitha with genuine worry in her eyes, which made me worried that I wasn’t quite reacting the way I should be, since I was just curious. Seth was glancing between Tabitha and the doors, hand nervously gripping the handle-bit of the gun, and Aki was just glancing between me and Tabitha. It was strange how Aki seemed to fit into the group’s dynamic pretty well, but hey, I wasn’t about to complain.
“Tabitha, I’m prepared to not zone out. I need you to fully explain what the actual hell is going on, and why you’re so… frazzled.” I said, gripping my hands together in a half-pleading, half-emphasizing motion. Maybe it was just the encouragement that she needed, or maybe it was something about the way I was pretty much shedding my cool persona for the benefit of a friend, but she nodded, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“Okay, so I know you weren’t listening, and the others didn’t understand my explanation, so I’m sorry in advance.” Tabitha began, before turning to the rest of the group. “I’ve been lying to you all. A lot. But the biggest lie is that… this isn’t a simulation.” The words didn’t quite sink in, because at their core, they didn’t make sense. This wasn’t a simulation? Then, what was it? I had to admit, my suspension of disbelief had been stretched pretty damn far when Tabitha had given us a full-sensory and immersive virtual reality experience, but going so far as to say it wasn’t a simulation was… definitely something else.
“Wait, then what is it?” Seth asked, and Tabitha turned her attention directly to him, taking out a notepad that I hadn’t seen before. The cover was tattered, covered in ink blots and pocket lint from being kept in her pocket for god knows how long.
“To try and explain it as simply as I can, it’s… a trans-dimensional localiser. It finds dimensions based on the criteria given, usually through complex computer algorithms and artificial intelligence to fill in the gaps with source material given.” Tabitha said, and while most of the words flew over my head, I was beginning to get the picture. “Have you heard of the theory that there exists an infinite number of universes? Well, from what I can tell, that only goes so far. There are universes that are tangentially linked, so as to allow transportation between these universes. While an infinite number of parallel universes exist, a lot of them are closed off from being accessed by other universes, usually part of a cluster. While theoretically, any kind of universe can be reached, there exists only twenty-four versions of a specific universe.” She continued, and Seth spoke up before I could, saying what we were all thinking.
“I’m confused.” Tabitha sighed at Seth’s words, rapping her fingers against her skull for a moment as she tried to think of the right words.
“Okay, so, we’re not in a simulation. We’re travelling dimensions.” She said finally, and the penny dropped for all of us. Well, all of us except Aki, who just listened, slightly confused.
“That is… amazing!” Seth said, grabbing Tabitha and hugging her, which was a reaction that confused all of us, including Tabitha herself. “You’ve done something scientists could only dream of, as a 20-year-old in a laboratory in England!” He exclaimed, ecstatically.
“I… had… help!” Tabitha said, struggling to get the words out as Seth bear-hugged her. Noticing her struggle, Seth let her go, taking a few steps back sheepishly. “And on that topic…” Tabitha trailed off again, and I saw her eyes glance towards the backpack.
“I’m guessing whoever left you that note was the one who helped you make this.” I said, and she nodded. “So who was it then?” I spun my hand in a circle, emphasising that I wanted her to continue speaking.
“Professor Wallace Uchen, PhD, Md, and a metric assload of other doctorates. He was my mentor, and one of my closest friends.” Tabitha told me, and I could hear Amy mutter to herself behind me, but we both ignored it.
“Was? You make it sound as if he’s dead.” I said flatly, and her grim expression made it clear that I may not have been far off.
“There was a lab accident. A bad one. We had just repaired the machine after his… after it had broken, and he volunteered to test it out while I manned the killswitch. But something went wrong.” Tabitha was clearly remembering the events as she spoke, and had it clearly not been a hard subject, I would have had her narrate this bit so she could give some well-needed backstory onto the near-child prodigy. “He went in, and the dimensional tether broke. He couldn’t get back out, and contact with him was lost.” At this point, she had turned away from the rest of us, and I could have sworn her voice was beginning to quiver. The more she spoke, the harder I found it to maintain the cool atmosphere I tried so hard to give off, all my focus being on figuring out how I could help, and finding out more about her. “So, I did what I could from what I had, and improved the machine. Found a way to track worlds he’s been in, based off the worlds we had initially inserted into the machine, and made it capable of handling a lot more load than it was used to.” As much as he tried, I heard Seth’s failed attempt to hold back a snort, and while Tabitha tried to look angry as she looked back, I could tell that she was thankful for the brief reprieve for something stupid. “Even then, I thought he was dead. We had never had a way to find… anyone who had been untethered when they were fully inside the machine, and I hadn’t found any life signs. Turns out, maybe I wasn’t looking for the right thing.” Tabitha’s smile was faint, but definitely there.
“Well, I have to say, that is a mind-screw of epic proportions… but at the same time, it’s still an awesome thing to hear.” Amy said, reassuring Tabitha, but I gasped out loud as I realised something incredibly important.
“Wait, does that mean I can take the Cobatana out of the simu… out of this dimension and into the real world?” I asked, and Tabitha laughed, giving me a short nod in response. This was officially the greatest thing I’d ever heard.
“Um… guys?” Aki asked, and I remembered that she existed. I had been caught up in the non-thisworld situation, so I hadn’t even realised that she had been trying to get our attention. “I don’t understand anything you said, but does this mean you’re not going to help us?” I frowned, a little confused.
“What gave that impression?” I asked, and she looked away, her tiny ears twitching.
“Well… it just seemed that you had more important stuff to focus on.” Aki replied with a hint of sadness, and I noticed that either she accidentally missed the cat pun opportunity, or she didn’t do them when sad. Either way, it was an important part of her character, so I wanted her to either be happy enough or conscious enough to keep making them.
“Aki, don’t worry, we’re the big damn heroes. We’re going to save your world, because now it’s not a game. This is real life, and that makes this our job.” I said, striking a pose that made her gigglesnort.
“Well, if you say so, Cool Guy.” She said, and I could have almost sworn she had responded with sarcasm. She was catching on quick. “What’s the plan about the presumably-large groups of people outside ready to kick our asses to kingdom come?” She asked, and I glanced to everyone else. A quick nod, and everyone’s weapons were on display again, including my own, which I gave a quick twirl that nicked the ground slightly, slicing through it like butter in a very satisfying way. Aki seemed content with this option, turning towards the door we were going to leave through, and raising her paws. A quick flex, and deadly-sharp claws shot out of her fingers.
“Holy shit, she’s deadly and cute. The ultimate weapon.” Amy said, and while Aki hadn’t heard the incredibly subtle flirtatiousness in Amy’s voice, I certainly did. I had been around enough of her flirting to recognise it, and I shot her a quick glance. Amy just shrugged sheepishly, and I turned back around, shaking my head in disbelief.
“On the count of three, then?” I asked, and Aki nodded, as I moved towards the door. “One…” I began, preparing myself to barge through. “Two…” I took a quick glance at everyone else, who nodded. One swift kick to the door, and the fighting would begin. “THREEOHGODMYLEG.” My triumphant cry of the third number was cut short by the realisation that this door was a lot thicker than I thought it was going to be.
“CG, you dumbass, you kick at the lock!” Seth said, and I stuck my middle finger up at him from the ground, which I decided was a much nicer place to rest with my aching leg. It wasn’t broken, nor was an ankle twisted, but the muscle definitely ached. Seth moved forwards to kick it himself, and I rolled to the side to let him do it. His yell of aggression combined with his own kick to the lock of the double doors was cut off as he, too, learned that this door was a bitch. Tabitha sighed loudly, taking a step towards it.
“Tabitha no, this door may be our greatest enemy yet!” Seth said, pained as he reached a hand up. Tabitha just raised her hand to the side of her head, snapping her fingers and making a throwing motion, sending a shockwave from her fingertips into the lock of the door, splaying it open and causing the hinges to rattle. I was about to speak up and say something about how we had weakened it, when the situation finally clicked. I glanced over at the now open door, and realised that the outer hallway was… empty. Struggling to my feet, I half-limped out into it, glancing down either side.
“The hell…?” Muttering under my breath, I re-sheathed my sword, making my way slowly down one of the halls. “Why am I getting the sinking feeling that something’s going on here that I don’t understand?” I asked the rest of the group, and my eyes met Tabitha’s. “Well, something else I don’t understand.” I added, and she stuck her tongue out at me, screwing up her eyes as she did so.
“Guys, I can hear something. Outside.” Aki said, her ears twitching at the sounds that were inaudible to us. “It sounds like a commotion.” I tried to remember which hallways would take us back outside, mentally following a map of the game in my mind as I traced through every path I’d ever taken. Eventually, I gave up on trying to do that, and instead surmised that it would just be a lot easier if I gave up and followed the left wall until it took us out. Surprisingly, that ended up getting us out fairly quickly, if you counted going through a window as finding an exit to the castle. Seeing the situation that had unfolded outside, I quickly understood exactly what was going on. Two sides of people were gathered, each one wielding a lot of weapons and colours of the rainbow emblazoned on their clothes.
“You have to believe me, there’s an insane woman in there who’s trying to usurp my power! She wants to enslave all of us for her bidding!” The King pleaded to what I could only assume was the leader of what I could again, only assume, was the leader of the rebellion.
“And what proof do you have of that? You’re a white-blooded king, ruling with an iron fist! This just seems like a convenient lie for us to become complacent and distracted as we fall for a trap! Is that what happened to Eranor?!” The rebellion leader drew a sword to the King’s throat before any of his guards could make a move. “You caused our people to be shut down here, and killed my brother because of it! He needed help from humanity, and yet you segregated us from them!”
“Yeesh, you kind of forget how heavy games like this get.” Seth whispered to us from behind the incredibly convenient bush we were using to spy on the rest of them.
“I think the worst part is that we know it’s real now. Should we be trying to save them, then?” Amy asked us, and I glanced to Tabitha, who was just waiting for a response from me. As cool as I was, it was strange being thrust into the leader position, but I had to take the reins of this crazy train, and sail this incredibly mixed metaphor into the sun.
“The way I see it, if we try and help, and die, what happens to Uchen? What happens to our ability to cross worlds? It could fall into the hands of someone who would end up ruling the multiverse, and that’s not really what we want.” I reasoned, as much as I hated doing it. I could see Aki deflate as I went back on what I had said. “I’m sorry, but we need to get out of here.” I told Tabitha, who started tapping away at her wristwatch, which was where the projections for the simulation had come from. As she did, I heard the commotion reach a fever pitch behind me, and glanced back round.
“Get away from him, you cur! My father is many things, but knowingly deceptive and malicious is not one of them!” The voice came from the son of the King, which, as they usually were, was the Prince. Prince Highmoon was the heir apparent to the castle, and was the person the player worked with in the game to save the world. However, his attempt at defusing the situation went… very much the opposite way in this situation.
“Die, you son of a bitch!” The rebellion leader yelled, raising his sword back. The Prince moved himself in front of the King, and the sword cut through the air, heading directly for the pair’s neck.
 “What the hell?!” I wasn’t sure how I had moved as fast as I did, I had been running at the group before I’d even had time to process my actions. Tabitha was quick to cancel whatever it was she was doing on her watch, hopping over the bush with the rest of my gang (that sounds bad. Squad? Crew?) in tow. The Cobatana was in my left hand, which wasn’t my strongest hand, but the other one was pressed against the blade to stop the sword of the rebellion leader from meeting its target.
“Now now, I think you need a time out.” I said, before swinging my foot forwards into his testicles. He crumpled, and I sheathed the sword, motioning for some of his allies to bring it on. None of them wanted to. Turning back to the King, I looked the two of them up and down. The Prince hadn’t lost his confident and determined expression, but the King was practically whimpering. “You shouldn’t have run away from us, you know. Lucky we got here when we did.” I said nonchalantly to the King, who nodded frantically, stammering out a few excuses that I didn’t bother to listen to. A quick turn back to the other group, and I saw they were beginning to back off. “Rebellion’s over, try again another day when the Cool Guy isn’t here.” I said with a signature smile, and the few people who were left began to run away, tail between their legs. I turned around one last time, meeting the eye of the King. “Now, I believe my friend has some questions.”
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xadoheandterra · 6 years
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Title: Genetic Chapter: I (II) Fandoms: Harry Potter & Deus Ex (HR, MD, Black Light) Characters: Adam Jensen, Harry Potter, David Sarif, Francis Pritchard, Jim Miller Summary: The world is a shitheap, and sometimes it doesn't stop raining its crap down on the poor masses. In this case Adam isn't quite sure what to do--he asked Sarif for help once, and now amidst the mess and muck and crap that is his life, Sarif finally delivers. Perfect fucking timing as always, David, god damn.
AO3 | FFN
Adam could see the end of their relationship long before it reached the point of no return. As much as he’d like to blame it on any one thing—on Megan, on the Mexicantown Massacre, on David Sarif, on his drinking or his smoking, on Kubrick even—there wasn’t just one thing. Instead there were many, little, small pieces that added and added over time into a large heaping pile of shit. Maybe some part of Adam recognized the fact that Megan used him—used his DNA, his forgotten history, his trust, his ignorance—or maybe some part of him never could accept how much Megan loved science and her job—and how little she really loved him.
Mechanical, augmented fingers tightened imperceptibly, but enough, that the glass cracked. Adam hastily set it down onto the coffee table before he shattered another household item in the mixture of grief and rage that wanted to swallow him whole. By that point, oh so long ago it felt now, Adam had known Megan for ten whole years. He thought he knew her well enough—he thought he knew her. He hadn’t told anyone, before, but he’d even spent a portion of his new, shiny salary under David Sarif to get her a ring. He’d intended—
—it didn’t matter anymore; what Adam intended, what Megan intended—none of it mattered anymore. Two years after the bullshit blew up in all of their faces, after Darrow and the kidnapping and the lies—none of it really mattered anymore, did it? Adam ran his fingers over his face and leaned into the couch with a tired sigh. Two years after it all blew up, three after that integral fight that saw Adam with packed bags on the curb, homeless, infuriated, betrayed. Almost twelve years, now, since he met her in that little coffee shop hours before he joined DPD’s SWAT team, hours before the job he’d worked so hard to get landed in his lap.
Twelve years…it really seemed like a lifetime ago, didn’t it? Twelve years was when it all started—Adam could definitely say twelve years was when his life began to hit the shitter and hit it hard. Not at first, and Megan wasn’t necessarily the catalyst there, but it all began to hit home at roughly the same time didn’t it? Now here he was, twelve years later, and finally he had more answers than questions and finally—
Adam looked toward the television, toward the information that had been forwarded to his infolink—and then that he streamed remotely onto the screen because having it all in his head, or on the computer, didn’t do it justice enough. This was large—large and it deserved to be framed in a way he hadn’t let himself—dared to let himself—Adam sighed explosively.
Twelve years, near to the day, he thought bitterly. Almost four years since he’d—and yeah, now, as the world was going to shit, as the world was shit really—now it all came home to roost. After everything now David had—and Pritchard, too, probably with his smug smile as he ripped into the servers and finances and—now it just hit him. Why now?
Sarif didn’t have to tell him; what even was the point? At this juncture Adam had so much—Miller and Manderley and MacReady and Alex and the Collective—Janus—and Sarif just sends him all of—all this? Now? After Prague and ARC and all the shit Adam just—just—finished handling Sarif lands this in his lap. This. What was it? What was it, David? Some sort of sick penitence to give him this now? Some—ploy to get him to come back to—Adam had to force himself to breathe because as much as all that happened in Detroit and what led to the Aug Incident held, as much as what Sarif fucked him over with, as much as he’d felt betrayed by the man after everything—and after Megan, after what she did—Adam doubted there was anything truly leading Sarif behind actually enacting what he’d thought had been one of Adam’s last wishes.
It had been two years of silence and unfinished business between the two because Adam didn’t want to face up and own up to the man he’d—admired, trusted, adored in some respects—aside from the few short conferences between them that focused on his Augs and the shitstorm in Alaska and the pieces of his memory he still didn’t have. Aside from platitudes and arguments that burned sick on the back of his tongue—and now this. David had to have known what he’d—he had to have. Adam breathed through his nose and bowed over the edge of the couch.
Maybe it was long overdue, in the end, a face to face between them. There were things Adam needed to say that a conference call wouldn’t quite allow him to, and there were things David needed to say back. Adam knew that; and then—well Adam was coming to terms with the fact that as much as he was a machine these days, he was human too and despite his Augs, despite everything—didn’t he deserve the chance at what he’d lost? Even if it were minor and small in the grand scheme of things—and hopefully Miller and MacReady wouldn’t look at him and—others did it, anyway. Couldn’t he, too? Couldn’t he—Adam scrubbed his hand through his hair.
He needed to stop dithering on it, Adam grimaced. It was long overdue that he face this—face this part of his past, this part of—everything. He couldn’t put it off, and now that he was out of Prague and that mess—not out of the entire mess, of course, because the Illuminati were still out there and there was still Janus to contend with, and of course he was an Aug, these days, and that was synonymous with monster to some people, and yeah TF29 still was working out of Prague too so he was still stuck in the city even if he didn’t want to be. Second class citizens, mechanical humans—the legislation and segregation still nipped at his heels, especially here and being what he was, well, Adam could never quite escape it. That was fine. His bed had been made and he’d handle it, like everything else. Still there was a lull and that—that meant everything didn’t it? It was time, Adam admitted. It was time and—and he should honestly deal with this now. He needed to. If anyone ever—Adam didn’t doubt that David and Pritchard would—but he couldn’t trust Megan, and he couldn’t deny the risks involved with the Collective, or Miller’s bosses, but—well, life wasn’t worth living without risk, was it?
With little thought Adam pulled on Miller’s contact information, synced his infolink to build a connection. He didn’t bother to fully wait for it to snap into place—Miller could be in a meeting for all he knew, but he could start the groundwork for a message.
“Miller?” Adam said, and he knew he sounded like shit because he felt like shit. Having a breakdown as thorough as he’d just gotten through did that to anyone. “I…need to take some personal time.” Adam chewed on his lip. “It won’t affect my work, you have my word, but it’s—private. Personal.” Adam huffed a sigh. “Just…if you could get me the clearance for some time off I’d appreciate it. Shouldn’t take long anyway.” Adam eyed the television screen, and then cut the connection. If Miller wanted more he could contact him, or pull him into the office and they could talk—but Adam would prefer to keep this close to the vest. All anyone really needed to know was that he needed to clear the air about some shit with some people from before Interpol, things he’d been putting off.
God wouldn’t Delara like to hear that; Adam, finally dealing with some of the shit he’s closed off from the world. Adam snorted and shook his head with a bitter sigh. Oh, well, what did it matter. He needed to pack; he had another trip to London, it looked like. Hopefully this one would be less life threatening.
Harry kicked his feet as he swung back and forth, twisted onto the seat of the Surrey Park swings just enough to actually grasp at the chain, legs crossed around it even as he listed side to side. Another year of crazy adventures at school, another year of pretending he was normal and that the insane bullshit he got dragged into was normal. Another year he spent worrying his lip over it all, worrying if this would be the year the others find out. What would the Wizarding World think of their boy-savior if they really knew? He barely got himself out of getting checked out by Madam Pomfrey this year, after the Chamber and rescuing Ginny.
His arm sparked with pain and Harry grit his teeth. He resolutely didn’t look toward the twisted, molten hole he’d received from the Basilisk fang. The Dursley’s wouldn’t bother to help him, Harry knew that much. He got lucky when he was eight—Harry doubted he’d be so lucky a second time. Harry was just thankful that Dudley’s cast-offs hid the worst of it, and no one in Surrey would even spare him a glance. They didn’t like him well enough before, and now? After his first year, after coming home to learn about the things he missed, being at Hogwarts—the prejudices that now burned sick in people, how neighbors stared at him like he was going to—no one cared.
It was sheer luck that the Dursley’s weren’t forced to get rid of him, Harry felt. Given peer pressure and the way the world was they had every right to kick him to the curb. They had every reason to, in fact, and yet somehow Harry remained at their tender care and mercies. Harry remained—and it left him confused and wary. The Dursley’s weren’t pleased with it, Harry knew. Neither were the neighbors. Freaks like him—they ruined a perfectly good neighborhood. About the only tick in his favor was that he kept to himself, and kept himself hidden. The lot of Surrey could pretend Harry didn’t exist, that way, and Harry at least preferred non-existence to the stares and the distrust.
It was funny how people’s opinions changed so easily. At first, when Harry was eight and he’d gotten lucky—and he’d gotten this gift—the people of Surrey saw him as something better. They saw him almost like a gift—and it burned the Dursley’s fierce to get complimented over their treatment of him; to be acted like they chose to let Harry get—and then, after Hogwarts, after everything that happened almost two years ago now, here Harry sat the bane of Surrey’s existence. Now he was the criminal that Surrey didn’t believe the Dursley’s painted picture of; now everything made sense. Harry bit his lip and tired to focus on just the swing, on the air flowing through his hair, and not on the twinge and spark that came from his bicep.
Harry sighed tiredly and leaned his head against the chain. He let the swing sweat rock him back and forth, back and forth, and let the feel of the metal chain—warmed from the summer heat, but not unbearable yet—dig into his flesh. Harry closed his eyes and lost himself into the motion. He’d long learned to ignore Surrey around him and just bask in the small things like rocking on a swing, the air against his skin, or even the touch of the metal chain.
People where beneath his notice; Harry didn’t observe the people of Surrey any more than they liked to admit to his own existence. Not since his first year at Hogwarts, not since the summer after, and because of this Harry didn’t see the stranger settle down beside him in the second swing. He didn’t even really notice the way the chains rattled or the groan of leather under a weight far more than a child.
“You know,” the stranger spoke up, and Harry jerked around in surprise to being addressed—no one in Surrey liked to address him, “that arm of yours—it’s, ah, very nicely made.” His shoulder protested the sudden movement, the way it ground the innerworkings together, but Harry focused on the stranger who stared down at him with a faint smile that’s edges curled with something Harry couldn’t name. The stranger looked specifically at his injured arm, peered at his hand with curiosity, and after half-a-second Harry could see the bright golden fingers that weren’t flesh and blood fiddle against the hem of a suit-jacket, almost a little—nervous?
Harry blinked, stared at the fingers—and the stranger chuckled.
“I know, I know,” he said and rolled his wrists as he did so, catching Harry’s attention again so that the teen jerked his head back up to stare at the greying face as the stranger eyed his own hands. “The gold makes them a little gaudy, I’ve been told. I have to say though I’ve always had a fondness for pretty things, why not make my hands among that number?”
Harry grimaced; a part of him screamed ‘stranger danger’ with the flow of pretty words and suave smile. Did this guy even realize how he sounded—and to a teenager?
“Although,” the stranger continued into Harry’s silence, unperturbed by it, “as nice as the craftsmanship is, I can hear it whine from over here.” Harry jerked and cradled his arm away from the stranger, eyes wide. “I take it you injured it, then?” the stranger murmured with a sigh. “You know, son, it’s dangerous to let that damage go untreated.” The stranger bent over his knees and placed his elbows onto his thighs. “Your parents might be upset you damaged it, but I bet they’d be even more upset you didn’t tell them, right?”
Harry’s eyes widened and he looked away. The Dursley’s would be pissed either way—what did this stranger know? For a moment Harry gnawed on his lip; he could he the man sigh in his not-response. He could hear the man shift back and shove his hands into pockets, but Harry sat there and thought. He couldn’t get help for the arm, he’d be fine on his own thank you. It wasn’t like he really had parents there anyway. Sure the Dursley’s would be pissed it was damaged, but they’d be more pissed if Harry brought it to their attention.
“Come on, kid,” the stranger said softly. “You have to know how dangerous it is to leave your arm like that.”
Harry curled in on himself. He knew—yeah, he definitely knew, but did he really have a choice? He kept his head ducked low and mumbled, “No one cares, anyway,” mostly to himself.
“No one—” the stranger seemed to sputter for a moment, surprised. “Now that just can’t be true,” he said. “After all your parents got you that arm, didn’t they?” Harry curled in further, and for a second the stranger seemed to stare and then—deflate. “Ah. They didn’t.” Cautiously Harry nodded his head and the older man sighed explosively. When at first he didn’t say anything, Harry raised his head to peer back up at the stranger from beneath his fringe.
The stranger was staring at him, lips curled into a frown and face twisted with some emotion Harry rarely put together in regards to himself—concern, it looked like? His brow was furrowed and his fingers toyed with the expensive hem to his jacket and his sleeves almost absentmindedly. Harry wasn’t sure what to say—people just didn’t come and speak to him, and Augs—one so expensively dressed and expensively maintained? They just didn’t come to Surrey anymore. Not since the Incident where neighbors died in screaming bloodshed. The little sleepy neighborhood still hadn’t quite recovered.
Still Harry watched, curious, as the older man got up and then down on his knees. Green eyes furrowed down because Harry could tell—that was an expensive suit, now dirtied by the pit of sand and dirt and wood chips that pressed into knees. Carefully augmented hands held out, and Harry’s eyes snapped right over to them. He stared at the black and gold that wrapped around like leather gloves, only sleeker and shinier and far more expensive. Harry tilted his eyes back up to the stranger, curious.
“Can I…?” he asked, and reached for Harry’s arm. Harry didn’t stop him, although he stared and stared and that was probably the wrong thing to do because this was a man with money. He was Harry, orphan boy-savior with an augmented and broken arm, stuck in an unloving household. Freak of the highest order. Still the stranger reached out and gently tugged at the sleeve of Dudley’s cast-offs to get a good look at the arm made of metal and painted like flesh.
A part of Harry should probably have been more weirded out, more concerned that some rich stranger Aug off the street wanted to look at his damaged arm, paid such attention to him, but Harry found himself far more confused by the entire mess over concerned. Things like this just didn’t happen to Harry, unless it had something to do with the magical world. Even then it was more people falling over themselves, not this—whatever this was.
Gently Harry watched as those golden, gilded hands articulated his fingers, and then rotated his wrist. He listened to the strange hum and tsk to himself in thought, and then gently pushed up his sleeve until he caught the sparking edge of the melted wound on Harry’s bicep. For all of a second the stranger stared, and then let the shirt fall down and carefully smoothed it over the damage and gave Harry a worriedly strained smile.
Harry thought he heard the man hiss, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” under his breath as he got to his feet and brushed off his knees. He pulled Harry off of the swing and carefully brushed dirt off of Harry’s shirt, and then smoothed down his birds nest of hair.
“Alright, kiddo,” the man said, and he gave Harry a wide smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That is some…pretty significant damage. It has to hurt, right?” Cautiously Harry nodded. “Well, how about a deal. Since your…family probably doesn’t know, how about I get that fixed up for you?”
Harry frowned. “Why…?”
The stranger sighed and dropped back down to Harry’s level. He actually sat in the dirt and shook his head. “Truthfully, kid? You remind me of someone I care a great deal about,” he said. “Now Adam, he’s a work of art these days. Always was, honestly, but he has this whole deal where he doesn’t bother to get things taken care of until—well.” The stranger gave a wry smile. “The amount of times I needed to make sure he patched up right? Far too many. And you—!” He gestured up and down Harry. “You’re young—a kid! Wounds like that—they can have lasting effects. I don’t know about you but—nerve damage?” The stranger tsked and shook his head. “I don’t want to even think about what this is doing to the rest of your system, son. So…what do you say?”
“But…why?” Harry questioned. “I’m just…nobody.”
“Kid, son,” he sighed heavily. “You’re not ‘nobody,’ you see?” Gently, enough to not jostle or damage Harry’s arm further, he patted the prosthetic hand. “This is a Sarif model, right?” Carefully Harry nodded. “Which means…hm, London bombing? Four, five years ago? How old are you, son?”
Harry chewed on his lip. “Twelve,” he said.
“You were…eight? Nine?” he prompted softly.
“Eight,” Harry said with a whisper.
He nodded, slowly, and gave Harry a small smile. This one did reach his eyes. “Did you know, son, that there were only three eight-year olds who got a Sarif model arm prosthesis in the wake of the London bombing?” a second, Harry shook his head. “Two of them were donated,” he continued calmly. “Only one required a full shoulder down model and requested a custom flesh-toned job. Sarif models tend to come in black, white, or gold primarily, you know? Flesh tone is…interesting. Memorable.” Harry bit his lip and glanced down at his hand, and then over to the strangers. “I know my own work, son,” he said softly to the teen. “Let me fix it up for you, hm?”
After a second Harry raised his head to look at—and it took a second before it hit home. He knew the stranger looked familiar, except—he hid his hands. Before he kept the Aug out on display, now it was so subtle and—Harry chewed on his lip.
“Mr. Sarif?” he asked, almost hesitant.
“Hello there, son,” David Sarif smiled and lightly poked Harry on the forehead. “I was wondering when you’d notice.”
“Oh,” Harry mumbled. “I…” He frowned. “Why are you…um, here?”
“I was in the area for business,” Sarif said, and climbed to his feet, “when I saw an adorable little boy sitting all lone on the swings, with a gorgeous arm.” Gently he led Harry from the playground and toward the car that had been idling on the side of the road.
“Did you—” Harry started, and then paused and cut himself off.
“No,” Sarif told him softly. “Not until I got a good look at that arm of yours. What happened to it, son?” Harry ducked his head, embarrassed, and Sarif chuckled. “Ah, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course—but you will let me take a look at it? Get it fixed up for you?”
Harry glanced at Sarif, curious and a little worried. He whispered, “Please?” because honestly it hurt and he’d worried about what he’d do with the arm ever since he hurt it. He didn’t want to lose his friends because he happened to be an even bigger freak than they ever knew. A part of him just knew if they ever found out, about his arm—he’d be treated like a pariah worse. It had taken work to hide it this far from them, and now damaged? That was practically impossible.
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Sarif said lightly, with little fanfare, settled Harry into the car.
“So what’s the deal about this personal time?”
Adam breathed through his nose and closed his eyes while he felt the airline rumble from the seat.
“No, no, I’m not saying—look, you’ve definitely earned some vacation time, Jensen, I’m not saying that you haven’t. It’s just…you’re known for going off the reservation. I want to make sure this isn’t some personalized vendetta.”
He hadn’t taken a commercial airline in years; not since Sarif Industries and the start of his constant VTOL flights from Malik, which later turned into VTOL flights with TF29—no, Adam hadn’t been on a commercial flight in years. He couldn’t say he’d missed them.
“It’s not.”
“Reassure me.”
The cramped space was problem enough for a man with a towering height of six-one. Add in fairly immobile limbs that hid weapons of mass destruction, and the current flavor of distaste for Augs, made the entire space feel even more cramped.
“Sarif contacted me several months back. There’s some paperwork mess to handle with the folding of SI assets into Tai Yong Medical.”
“Paperwork can be handled remotely. That doesn’t tell me why you’re planning a trip to London, now.”
Of course Adam could have taken up first class; Sarif all but offered to buy him the best ticket he could get. Still the look—not just from the airline and her crew, but from fellow passengers—left a lot to be desired. It was better to just hide himself in the back, cover his augs with gloves and clothes, and maybe stick a decent hat over his head or a pair of normal shades and not his eye-shields.
“You’re right. It’s not just paperwork. It’s personal, Miller. Sarif and I—it’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it.”
“…I’d rather not.”
Of course flying ‘incognito’ raised a lot of red flags for people as it was, given that his passport and all of his identification noted down what he was for anyone to see. Whenever Adam tried to be sensitive to humans—as if he wasn’t one, anymore—it always seemed to backfire in some way. He either came off as the terrifying ogre that civilians would run from in fear, or he came off as hiding something as a maybe-terrorist. Traveling like this took work that Adam hated these days. He’d been spoiled with VTOL flights.
“He was your employer, surely that’s not too hard to uncomplicate?”
“…Sarif was more than that.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought that—”
“Things changed, Miller. I’m not here to talk about it.”
In some ways taking a commercial flight was more attention grabbing for all that it wasn’t. Adam didn’t doubt that the Illuminati would be just as aware of his actions as they were among TF29, or even when he ran around as Sarif’s personal attack dog. Trying to hide his own movements from the ever-illusive group was near impossible—and Adam didn’t feel the need to. It wasn’t like his heading out to handle personal business really would have garnered much interest, anyway. Not with Megan at VersaLife, and her research, or Brown among the Santau group—or even TF29’s movements and actions against them; never mind the fact that they had to focus on swinging votes into their own favor to control any Aug on the streets. Then there was the Collective and Janus to consider, too—no, Adam guessed that maybe they’d be a little to preoccupied to look at his day to day. He hoped. It wasn’t like he was that important aside from being a walking weapon, anyway.
“Alright. I was going to approve it anyway. God knows you’ve earned it.”
“Mm. Thanks.”
“Just stay the fuck out of trouble, Jensen.”
“…no promises.”
The biggest issue Adam felt was that his conversation with Miller gave away more things than Adam ever wanted to share. He might trust the bastard, but that didn’t mean he worried over how much Miller’s bosses ended up hearing from Miller about Adam—or how much got shared as local office gossip. There was still the mole to consider, and the fact that Manderley definitely held ties to the Illuminati, among other little niggling doubts. Yeah Adam found Miller to be an alright sort all things considered—a bit too easily led by the nose, but then who would want to believe their boss could possibly be pulling the strings to fuck you over? Adam found himself in the unique disposition and mindset for just that, but he’d discovered others rarely felt the same.
Of course then Adam talked with Sarif himself about the arranged flight, how long it would take him—so on and so forth. Sarif said Pritchard would pick him up at Heathrow, and for a moment Adam thought he’d heard a kid on the other end of the line, but Sarif carefully derailed those thoughts. Some of the things the man suggested left Adam on edge—his teeth ached from a gnawing worry that wanted to crawl up his synthetically reinforced spine—but Adam couldn’t quite get the answers he’d wanted out of Sarif at the time before the plane took off.
Common courtesy dictated that Adam dropped the call and not contact Pritchard until they were landing, by which point it’d be hours later and that gnawing worry would turn into a full blown edged panic. Hopefully Sarif could quell his concerns. He’d hate to find himself falling back into the familiar pattern of grief and rage that had consumed his life for almost three years now. Not when he’d finally, finally, started to pull himself back on track and feel just that bit more human again.
Despite this being his first commercial trip in some time Adam hadn’t packed a lot—rather he packed little enough that anyone might’ve mistaken him off on another job for TF29 if they didn’t know that Adam regularly kept little on him. Having gone through the mess first from SWAT, to SI, then Panchaea, Adam long learned that little was more in the end. Settled above the seat in the overhead bin was all he needed—his laptop, some spare clothes, and a few basic toiletries. If he knew Sarif as well as he did Adam doubted he’d need any more than that, so when the plane finally settled down and Adam could disembark—although not without skeptical looks from not just the flight staff but also from the local agents on the ground at Heathrow—he did so with little trouble.
Adam tilted his head toward the grey, London sky and sighed heavily. He latched onto Pritchard’s contact with barely a thought and a tiredly murmured, “Pritchard.”
“Jensen,” Pritchard droned—fuck if Adam hadn’t forgotten how much the other man’s voice both annoyed and relieved him. Either during the mess of getting out of the facility in Alaska, to Pritchard asking for his help to hack into Santaeu group in Prague on behalf of Sarif, Adam found himself missing and hating the familiar, nasally drawl. “I’m waiting outside.”
“You actually came to pick me up?” Adam drawled back, only the slightest bit of incredulity in his tone as he searched out for whatever car Pritchard seemed to be driving now.
“Yes, well, Sarif’s busy,” Pritchard grumbled, “and it’s not like I have anything better to do apparently. Don’t get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Francis,” Adam said, and he allowed the faint tint of amusement to run through him at Pritchard’s frustrated huff as he found the car. “Fancy ride.”
“Blame Sarif,” Pritchard grumbled, and the infolink connection snapped shut the minute Adam pulled open the door. “I’d much rather something more practical.”
“Really?” Adam arched an eyebrow and let his eye-shields pull away. He eyed Pritchard in a way that he hadn’t been able to when in Prague. Video communication only offered so much information, and Adam much preferred pulling his data on the people around him in person. He noted the elevated heart rate and the spike in Pritchard’s breathing with concern, but filed it away to be handled or talked about later.
“Yes, really,” Pritchard said as Adam pulled the door shut and set his suitcase down at his feet. “And buckle up, damn you. Weren’t you a cop?”
Adam huffed a laugh, but complied. There Pritchard was, always fussing about one thing or another, and god if it didn’t relax some sort of tension Adam didn’t even know he had. He leaned back into the chair and sighed, tiredly.
“Forgot how commercial flights sucked,” Adam mumbled.
“Oh boo, hoo,” Pritchard said back as he pulled the car into drive. “Welcome to reality, Jensen, not all of us get free VTOL flights whenever we please.”
Adam rolled his shoulders. “Wasn’t saying I like VTOL any better. Never had a taste for it until Sarif, really.”
“Yes and lucky you.”
“Doesn’t Malik fly you and Sarif around now? Since, you know, you still seem to be working cyber security for him?”
Pritchard narrowed his eyes. “He’s a client, Jensen. I told you this.”
“Mm, sure, a client.” Jensen’s lips curled into a pleased sort of smirk. “That you are still assisting.”
“Oh shut up.” The car turned off onto the freeway and into traffic. “Don’t be surprised if Sarif offers you a job,” Pritchard added.
“That what happened to you?”
“He’s getting lonely,” Pritchard grumbled.
Adam turned his head out toward the window and frowned. “I don’t need you getting into my personal life, Francis.”
“Who said anything about your personal life?” Pritchard snarked back. “Besides, I wouldn’t be too surprised if you found yourself considering it.”
“I have a job,” Adam pointed out tiredly.
“Yes, and wonderful job it is. Glad you’re done with that mess in Prague.”
“Still in Prague.”
Pritchard twisted in his seat, surprised, and Adam arched an eyebrow. “What? I thought they would’ve pulled you out of that hell hole given their sentiments against Augmented.”
“Whole reason why I’m still there,” Adam shrugged. “Jobs the job.”
Pritchard frowned. He grumbled a, “You would be better off anywhere else,” and Adam appreciated the sentiment. He probably would be better off, but Prague was where he was and working for TF29 meant taking steps toward Janus and the Illuminati, both. Steps that needed to be taken.
“How is he?” Adam asked after they lapsed into silence. Pritchard switched lanes and picked up on the gas.
“Like I said,” Pritchard sighed. “Lonely.” He leaned back into the seat. “I try to do what I can, but…I’m no you, Jensen.”
Adam snorted. He mumbled, “Somehow I’m not surprised you got caught up in his charms.”
“Oh shut up,” Pritchard grumbled back, but Adam picked up the rise of heat toward Pritchard’s cheeks and chuckled to himself.
“What about the file he sent me?” Adam asked, and he kept his voice low, brows furrowed. “What can you—”
“I found the kid,” Pritchard said and immediately cut off anything Adam had to say. “Was going through old charitable donation shit Sarif got up to before you were hired, found a kid from the London bombing incident in 2025.”
Adam frowned and mumbled, “Shit that set off the riots in Detroit.”
Pritchard nodded. “Was given an arm to replace the one he’d all but lost in the bombing,” Pritchard said, and his voice grew a bit softer as he spoke. “Found the records in a mix of shit that hadn’t yet gotten over to Tai Yong Medical. Sarif had me pull it.”
“Neuropozyne?” Adam questioned.
“Never needed it,” Pritchard said. “No one thought a damn thing of it, at the time, but now….”
“After Megan’s research, the attack on Sarif Industries…” Adam sighed and closed his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“You certain?”
Pritchard frowned, and said tiredly. “Yes, Jensen. It’s him. Paternity test matches.” He eyed Adam. “He’s definitely your kid.”
Adam leaned forward as best he could with the seatbelt and buried his face into his hands. He mumbled, “Fuck,” because what else could he say? What else could he add to the mess that was already in front of him, already there? Here he was, hunting down the Illuminati, working for TF29, smack in the middle of Aug terrorist plots and segregation—and now, now was when Sarif finally makes good on that one promise. Now is when Sarif—when Pritchard—and fuck Adam wasn’t equipped to deal with this. He was just now finding his footing, just now getting used to everything and—and the gnawing worried fear ever since that night, the truth of the matter; that Megan—
God Adam hadn’t dared even hold his breath since the attack on SI, since his augmentation—since Panchaea. What was he supposed to do with a kid? Should he? His life wasn’t sunshine and happiness and there was a chance—a risk—
“Fuck,” Adam hissed into the quiet, and it summed up everything nicely.
I went through about three ideas for this. One was Adam was actually Harry Potter because that’s my go to number one, this one though I settled with because I’m getting a little tired of the Harry = X Character From Other Series trope and decided to just fall in with the child one instead. Besides this seems like a rather interesting idea to run with, so why not?
There are some background shit I didn’t touch upon with this story because more that I dove right into Adam’s headset. The original point of plan was to dive in after his and Megan’s breakup, but apparently Adam had other plans and it turned out to be post Mankind Divided instead. I’m still devouring the media for this series right now so not all of my information is correct, I know.
No, I haven’t played Human Revolution, either, although I plan to pick that up for PS3 when I have the funds. Only reason why I have Mankind Divided right now is the free for PSN Plus thing, and by god if I’m not in love with the story. I have no idea about the Deus Ex franchise as a whole aside from Adam Jensen’s story—what little I did know was to hear that “Human Revolution” was apparently really hard or something? I vaguely remember that being talked about when they released the Director’s Cut. I also remember thinking “oooh, fancy,” and wanting to get a copy, but not having the funds. So.
There is hints of Jensif here, because that was a thing, because goddamit I don’t know why I like the idea of the pairing. Megan and Adam was a hot mess that neither is still over, really, and they need to get that dealt with. Pritchard and Adam are…it’s a weird relationship I’m running with. Their kind of a mix of siblings to Sarif’s ‘daddy’ but also not? And they both apparently now having a thing for Sarif fucking muses. So IDK. Shits happened.
Sarif came off as a creep but he’s not, honest. He just…he’s really eccentric. Creepy in some ways and secrets and dealing with his own hot mess, but eccentric. Not…predator creepy. Just weird eccentric man in his fifties creepy.
Maybe, some day, I’ll feel happy to actually just write the whole shit out—who knows? Now back to enjoying Black Light and getting pissy with the Breach while I work on the next bit of Don’t Write Me A Postscript.
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teleiosresearch · 4 years
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The Trinity
The understanding of the Trinity is foundational to our Christian faith but can be confusing. Scripture clearly states that God is one (Mark 12:29; Galatians 3:20; James 2:19). However, there are three manifestations of God revealed in the scriptures: God the Father, Jesus Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit (the Godhead).They are all one essence as God, but each member of the godhead has their own distinct will and role.
Adding to the confusion, the term Trinity is not in Bible. Scripture itself does not represent the unity of the three members of the godhead by a single term, but describes the concept by association, actions and description.
The purpose of this blog is to describe the three members of the godhead to provide a basis of our belief in the trinity and explain the reason it is critical to Christians.
                                             The existence of the Trinity can be clearly ascertained in scripture for each member of the godhead on several levels. Let us consider the Bible references below.
Ascribed as God
God the Father – God Himself, as the head of the godhead, is mentioned thousands of times in scripture by the Greek word θεός (theos), the general word for God in Greek, and by primary names for God in the Old Testament, especially אֱלֹהִים (‘ĕlôhı̂ym) and יְהֹוָה (yehôvâh).
Jesus Christ – He is attested to as God Himself in the following verses: Psalms 45:6; 110:1; Romans 9:5; Titus 2:13; 2 Peter 1:1; 1 John 5:20; and John 20:28.
The Holy Spirit – The Holy Spirit is testified to as God in: 2 Corinthians 3:17 and Acts 5:3-4.
By titles signifying deity
God the Father – Stated in His name, God (theos)
Jesus Christ – Son of God and identifying God as His Father (signifying equality with God, John 5:18)
The Holy Spirit – Called Lord and God in 2 Corinthians 3:18; Acts 5:3-4
By character
God the Father
Righteous – John 17:25
Omnipotent – Ephesians 3:20
Eternal – Psalm 90:2
Immutable – Romans 8:35-39
Omnipresent – Jeremiah 23:23-24
Jesus Christ
Eternal – John 1:1; Colossians 1:17
Omnipotent, authoritative – Colossians 2:9-10
Equal with God – Philippians 2:6-11
Omniscient – John 5:18; 21:17
Eternal ruler – Hebrews 1:8
Holy Spirit
Equated with God – Matthew 28:19, Acts 5:3-4
Omnipresent – Psalm 139:7-10, 1 Corinthians 2:10-11
Omnipotent – Luke 1:35
By actions only God could do
God the Father
Created everything – Psalm 33:6
Grants salvation – Ephesians 2:8
Sent the Son – 1 John 4:9
Jesus Christ
Came from the Father – John 1:14
Controlled nature (calmed a storm) – Matthew 14:32-33
Healed physical infirmities, forgave sins – Mark 2:5-10
Resurrected – Romans 1:4
Raised the dead – Matt 9:23-26
Creator and sustainer of the world - Colossians 1:16-17
Holy Spirit
Provided salvation – 1 Corinthians 6:11; Hebrews 9:14
Moved people to prophesy – 2 Peter 1:21
Sealed our salvation – Ephesians 1:13-14
Eternal – Hebrews 9:14
In the life of Christ on earth, each member of the godhead:
Contributed to Christ’s resurrection – 1 Peter 3:18; Romans 8:9; Ephesians 1:20
Participated in His miracles – Matthew 12:28
Attested that Jesus is the Christ – Matthew 3:1-16; 17:1-7; 27:11; John 17:3
Their association together as distinct parts of the godhead: the Bible references activities with each member of the godhead participating together such as:
Salvation
Christ’s baptism – Matthew 3:16-17
Christ’s sacrifice – Hebrews 9:14; 1 Peter 3:18
Act of preaching the gospel and making disciples – Matthew 28:19
Making believers into Christians – Romans 8:9
Salvation – 1 Peter 1:2
Paul’s ministry – Romans 15:19
Prayers for Paul – Romans 15:30
Christian life
Knowledge for Christians – Ephesians 1:17
Christian service – Philippians 3:3
Comfort in time of trials – 1 Peter 4:14
Recognizing Godliness in others – 1 John 4:2
Witness of Christ on earth – 1 John 5:6-8
Christian life – 2 Corinthians 3:3
Believers’ blessings in God – 2 Corinthians 13:14
Eternity
Preserving salvation – 1 Thessalonians 5:23
In summary, God is one, yet there are three distinct manifestations of the one God described in scripture, have names of deity, possess characteristics as well as perform actions that only can be of God and are associated together to accomplish the Father’s purposes. These three members together are known as the ”godhead” which is known as the doctrine of the trinity; accepted by the ecclesiastical fathers from the earliest time the church could legally organize (313 AD).
Thank you for joining me this time. Please join us for my next blog when we discuss the role of the various members of the godhead at different sections in the Bible.
William C. Stewart, MD
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Disclaimer - This blog is provided for your use and enjoyment on an ‘as is’ and ‘as available’ basis. Both the blog and the contents are subject to change at any time without notice. Although I endeavor to ensure that the blog and the content are current and accurate, it may contain errors. I do not represent that the blog or the content is current, accurate or complete, or appropriate for your specific requirements. I do not accept any liability from any person for the blog, the content or any other information (or the use of such information) I provide. I do not have a seminary degree, but I have trained myself in the scriptures to teach and provide this information. For any specific question, I suggest you contact experts in that field and or do your own research into the scriptures.  
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