Martha Jones - Jesus Christ parallels (never thought i'd write a sentence like this)
there's the other one who has sent me
For I did not speak on my own, but the Father who sent me commanded me to say all that I have spoken. I know that his command leads to eternal life. So whatever I say is just what the Father has told me to say. (John 12:49-50)
Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life. (John 5:24)
I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but him who sent me. (John 5:30b)
I have much to say in judgment of you. But he who sent me is trustworthy, and what I have heard from him I tell the world. They did not understand that he was telling them about his Father. So Jesus said, “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he and that I do nothing on my own but speak just what the Father has taught me. The one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what pleases him. (John 8:26-29)
[...] for I have come here from God. I have not come on my own; God sent me. (John 8:42b)
etc., and so on...
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Sorry I just read the word twink which reminds me-
WHO"S IN CHARGE OF THE CASTING OF THE CHOSEN AND WHO CAST THAT MAN AS PONTIUS PILATE!?!?!?! WHO!?!?!
Like seriously!? Did you see that man!? Ughhhhhhhhhhh.
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I think the reason Rune puts so much effort into the temple of Bhaal despite not caring that much is because he's desperately trying to make himself care. Like, he knows his purpose, he knows his fate is inevitable, he knows what's being asked of him, so he does it. He puts in So Much Effort (when he's on the clock) because he's so desperate to find meaning in it. But he's Bhaal's favored son without even trying and its boring. Like any passion, when its work, it's Work.
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"Cut her."
Two words, barely more than a whisper. Almost quiet enough to get lost underneath the crying and praying and pleading.
Almost, but not quite, all eyes in the room suddenly focusing on Rhysand with a mixture of emotions behind them. Shock, sorrow, outrage. But he didn't turn his own gaze away from Majda, who grimaced at his answer.
'Your wife, or your heir. You will not have both.'
"Rhys-" Mor began, discomfort palpable. He only held up a hand, however, silencing her easily. Tension lined his body- the scent of Feyre's blood would be saturated in the walls for weeks. They were on borrowed time.
"It's what she would choose. Our son is who she would choose. Cut her."
One beat.
Another.
Chaos, suddenly, the noise increasing tenfold as everyone fought to let their opinion be heard. Louder than all of that, though, slicing through the cacophony, was a snarl so vicious it sounded more animal than fae.
Elain.
Elain, not Nesta, had her teeth bared in a snarl, feet planted firmly in front of Feyre's birthing bed.
"You will not touch her."
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