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pamphletstoinspire · 2 months

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Commentary on the Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ according to St. Mark – Chapter 4

St. Mark, the disciple and interpreter of St. Peter (as noted by St. Jerome.) according to what he heard from St. Peter himself, wrote at Rome a brief Gospel at the request of the Brethren (fellow Christians), about ten years after our Lord's Ascension; which when St. Peter had heard, he approved of it, and with his authority he published it to the Church to be read. Baronius and others maintain, that the original was written in Latin: but the more general opinion is that the Evangelist wrote it in Greek.

First, Christ tells parables: first, about the sower; second (v. 21), about the lamp placed upon the lampstand; third (v. 26), about the seed; fourth (v. 31), about the mustard seed. Second (v. 37), while He is sleeping a storm arises at sea; awakened by His disciples, He commands the winds and the sea and calms the storm.

And again he began to teach by the sea side; and a great multitude was gathered together unto him, so that he went up into a ship, and sat in the sea; and all the multitude was upon the land by the sea side. 2 And he taught them many things in parables, and said unto them in his doctrine: 3 Hear ye: Behold, the sower went out to sow. 4 And whilst he sowed, some fell by the way side, and the birds of the air came and ate it up. 5 And other some fell upon stony ground, where it had not much earth; and it shot up immediately, because it had no depth of earth. 6 And when the sun was risen, it was scorched; and because it had no root, it withered away. 7 And some fell among thorns; and the thorns grew up, and choked it, and it yielded no fruit. 8 And some fell upon good ground; and brought forth fruit that grew up, and increased and yielded, one thirty, another sixty, and another a hundred. 9 And he said: He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. 10 And when he was alone, the twelve that were with him asked him the parable. 11 And he said to them: To you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God: but to them that are without, all things are done in parables: 12 That seeing they may see, and not perceive; and hearing they may hear, and not understand: lest at any time they should be converted, and their sins should be forgiven them. 13 And he saith to them: Are you ignorant of this parable? And how shall you know all parables? 14 He that soweth, soweth the word. 15 And these are they by the way side, where the word is sown, and as soon as they have heard, immediately Satan cometh and taketh away the word that was sown in their hearts. 16 And these likewise are they that are sown on the stony ground: who when they have heard the word, immediately receive it with joy. 17 And they have no root in themselves, but are only for a time: and then when tribulation and persecution ariseth for the word they are presently scandalized. 18 And others there are who are sown among thorns: these are they that hear the word, 19 And the cares of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts after other things entering in choke the word, and it is made fruitless. 20 And these are they who are sown upon the good ground, who hear the word, and receive it, and yield fruit, the one thirty, another sixty, and another a hundred. 21 And he said to them: Doth a candle come in to be put under a bushel, or under a bed? And not to be set on a candlestick? 22 For there is nothing hid, which shall not be made manifest: neither was it made secret, but that it may come abroad. 23 If any man have ears to hear, let him hear. 24 And he said to them: Take heed what you hear. In what measure you shall mete, it shall be measured to you again, and more shall be given to you.

25 For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that hath not, that also which he hath shall be taken away from him. 26 And he said: So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the earth, 27 And should sleep, and rise, night and day, and the seed should spring, and grow up whilst he knoweth not. 28 For the earth of itself bringeth forth fruit, first the blade, then the ear, afterwards the full corn in the ear. 29 And when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. 30 And he said: To what shall we liken the kingdom of God? Or to what parable shall we compare it? 31 It is as a grain of mustard seed: which when it is sown in the earth, is less than all the seeds that are in the earth: 32 And when it is sown, it groweth up, and becometh greater than all herbs, and shooteth out great branches, so that the birds of the air may dwell under the shadow thereof. 33 And with many such parables, he spoke to them the word, according as they were able to hear. 34 And without parable he did not speak unto them; but apart, he explained all things to his disciples. 35 And he saith to them that day, when evening was come: Let us pass over to the other side. 36 And sending away the multitude, they take him even as he was in the ship: and there were other ships with him. 37 And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that the ship was filled. 38 And he was in the hinder part of the ship, sleeping upon a pillow; and they awake him, and say to him: Master, doth it not concern thee that we perish? 39 And rising up, he rebuked the wind, and said to the sea: Peace, be still. And the wind ceased: and there was made a great calm. 40 And he said to them: Why are you fearful? Have you not faith yet? And they feared exceedingly: and they said one to another: Who is this (thinkest thou) that both wind and sea obey him?

Commentary: Saint Mark - Chapter 4

Verse 10. And when he was alone. In Greek καταµόνας, the Vulgate, singularis, i.e., “solitary, by Himself”. The Arabic translates it “alone, away from the crowd”; Syriac, “when He was alone.” Thus the idea of alone and “separated from others” is expressed in Latin by the word singulus, derived from sine angulo, “without angle,” because things that are solitary and alone cannot constitute an angle. From the word singulus then comes singularis, meaning solitary and alone. Hence Cicero says (Academ. quaest. lib. 4), “I omit Aristotle, who in philosophy is almost singular [without peer].” Compare Cæsar(lib. 4 de Bello Gallico): “When they saw individuals [singulares] coming (alone) off the boat, they attacked those who were hindered by baggage on horses at full gallop.” Hence, too, the psalm verse, For thou, O Lord, singularly hast settled me in hope (Ps. 4:10).

The twelve that were with him (Jesus) asked him. The Greek, Syriac and Arabic have “with the “twelve,” meaning that the seventy disciples, who, with the twelve Apostles, were followers of Jesus, asked Him what was the meaning of the parable of the sower and the seed. Thus Euthymius.

Verse 21. Doth a candle come in (i.e., is it brought into a house or a room), to be put under a bushel or under a bed? That it should be hidden under a vessel? No! but that it should be set out in public, and give light to all. By this parable Christ signified that it was not His will that the mysteries of this parable and the other doctrines of the gospel should be concealed and hidden, but rather that His disciples should unfold them at the proper time, and communicate them to others who at that time were not yet able to receive them. It was His will that they should not keep them secret, but rather publish and preach them openly. Thus S. Jerome, S. Bede, and others, and this is plain from what follows.

Verse 22. For there is nothing hid, which shall not be made manifest (Latin,manifestetur, a categorical use of the subjunctive): neither was it made secret, but that it may come abroad. This is the Greek and Latin reading. “Although the doctrine of the gospel and My deeds and words are as yet hidden and secret, I do not wish them always to remain so. At the opportune time they must be openly proclaimed by you, O My disciples, and presented and preached to all.” So SS. Jerome and Bede. This is what Christ says in Matthew 10:27, That which I tell you in the dark, speak ye in the light: and that which you hear in the ear, preach ye upon the housetops.

Verse 24. And he said to them: take heed what you hear. The meaning, says Euthymius, is, “Attend to the things which ye hear of Me, that ye may understand them, and commit them to memory, that when the proper time shall arrive ye may put them into practice and communicate them to others.” And He gives the reason: “That none of My words may escape you,” says Theophylact. Hear Bede, “He teaches us carefully to hear His words, in such manner that we should carefully digest them in our hearts, and be able to bring them forth for the hearing of others.”

In what measure you shall mete, it shall be measured to you again, and more shall be given to you. Meaning: If you widely and abundantly communicate and preach My doctrine to others, I also will abundantly impart to you far more understanding and greater wisdom, grace and glory, as a recompense and reward to you. Thus fountains, the more they pour out above, the more they receive from below.” Therefore, let teachers, catechists, preachers, etc. learn from this saying and promise of Christ, that the more pains they bestow in teaching others, the more grace and wisdom they will receive from Christ themselves, according to the words, He who soweth sparingly shall also reap sparingly: and he who soweth in blessings, i.e., bountifully, shall also reap in blessings (2 Cor. 9:6). (See commentary.)

Verse 25. For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that hath not, that also which he hath shall be taken away from him. Hath, that is, “uses,” and shows that he hath by using. For such a one hath indeed, but he who useth not a gift or grace hath it but in name only. This is what theologians say, that he who uses his grace hath it in a second act; but he who uses it not hath it only in the first act, that is, in power and possession. (See commentary on Matth. 13:12 and Matth. 25:29.) The meaning, therefore, is, to him who uses learning given him by God, by study or by imparting it to others, an increase of learning shall be given; but from him who uses not his learning, shall God take it away, as something idle and useless. For Christ here is urging the Apostles to preach the gospel diligently and fervently, promising them, if they do so, a greater influx of His wisdom and grace.

Verse 26. And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the earth. This is another parable, different from that of the sower, which precedes it (v. 3). Both, however, are derived from seed, but differently applied and explained. Moreover, by the seed, as S. Chrysostom, S. Bede and the Scholiast in Jerome’s works rightly explain, both here and in chapter 13 of Matthew, is signified evangelical doctrine; by the field, hearers; by the harvest is meant the end of the world or each one’s death.

Verse 27. And should sleep (that is to say, the man who sowed), and rise, night and day, and the seed should spring, and grow up whilst he knoweth not. Some refer the words rise night and day to the seed, so that Christ, by way of explanation, would go on to say and (they understand the word and here to be διηγητικὸν [having a narrative sense], explaining what went before; they think that it can be taken to mean “that is”), the seed should spring, and grow up whilst he knoweth not, “he,” meaning the sleeping man.

According to this reading, the seed cast upon the ground by the farmer sprouts and grows continuously, night and day, and even while the farmer is not thinking about it, but is resting and sleeping. Thus Bede, the Scholiast in S. Jerome and the Gloss.

More obviously, S. Chrysostom, Theophylact, Euthymius, Maldonatus, Franz Lucas, and others refer the words, rise, night and day, to the sower, and not to the seed, so that night pertains to the word sleep, day to the word rise. According to this interpretation: As the farmer who has sowed is sleeping idly in the night and, having risen, is employed in various occupations during the day, and thinks not about the seed and the field, nevertheless that seed is germinating by its own innate force, and is growing up whilst the husbandman knoweth it not. So also it puts forth first the blade, then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear. So it is likewise with the doctrine and preaching of the gospel. They were sown by Christ and His Apostles, that is, they were preached from small beginnings. But continuously, by degrees, they grew insensibly into the mature and mighty harvests of the faithful, while Christ was, as it were, unaware and sleeping in heaven, in that He permits the Jews and unbelieving nations and tyrants to rise up against His Apostles and the gospel, and persecute and kill them. It increases, I say, and propagates itself gradually, until it fills the world, when, the harvest being ripe, the corn, that is, the elect, shall be gathered into the granary of heaven, which shall take place at the end of the world on the day of judgment.

By this parable, then, is signified the power of the gospel, which by degrees has pervaded the whole world, and is converting it to itself and to Christ. Tacitly, also, it signifies that apostles and preachers of the gospel must not glory in their preaching, as though they were converting the world by it. For, as the Apostle saith, “Neither he that planteth is anything, nor he that watereth, but God that giveth the increase (1 Cor. 3:7). On the other hand, Christ intimates that preachers ought not to be downcast if they see small and tardy fruits of their preaching, because God will, by the few converted by them, gradually convert many more. So S. James, by means of seven, or, as some say, by nine, whom he converted to Christianity in Spain, converted the whole country.

Verse 28. For the earth of itself bringeth forth fruit; first the blade, then the ear, afterward the full corn in the ear. Arabic, Because the earth alone bringeth forth fruit, first the blade, and after that the ear; then the ear is filled, and when the fruit is perfect, then the sickle is applied, because it is harvest.” So likewise, by the preaching of the gospel, the Faith of Christ and His Church grew by various degrees of increase—grew, I say, both in virtues and also in its propagation throughout all regions.

Morally, expositors adapt these three expressions, blade, ear, full corn, to a three-fold increment of virtues and merits. For the earth of our heart germinates, firstly, the blade, when it conceives and begins good desires and good works within it; secondly, the ear, when it proceeds to earnest working; thirdly, the grain, when it brings its works and virtues and merits to full maturity and perfection. Thus Theophylact says, “The blade is the beginning of good; the ear is when we resist temptations; the fruit is perfect work.”

Listen to S. Gregory (hom. 15 in Ezech. and lib. 22 Moral. cap. 14), “To produce the blade is to hold the first tender beginning of good. The blade develops an ear when virtue conceived in the mind leads to proficiency in good works. The full corn fructifies in the ear when virtue becomes so proficient that it is capable of strong and perfect work.” Therefore, it is not enough for salvation, says Victor of Antioch, that we “put forth leaves by obedience, but [we must] also learn a manly fortitude and, like the stalks of corn, remain upright without minding the winds which blow us about. We must also take heed to our soul by a diligent recollection, that, like the ears, we may bear fruit, that is, show forth the perfect operation of virtue.” Christ here intimates that the Apostles, and those who work for the conversion of souls, ought to await with long-suffering the fruit and harvest of their labors, as farmers do. They ought to cherish those who are tender in the faith, and gradually lead them on to the height of virtue by teaching, admonishing and exercising them. “Let no one, therefore,” says Bede, “who is regarded as being of good purpose in the tenderness of his mind, be despised, because the fruit takes its rise from the blade, and becomes corn. Symbolically, the Scholiast in S. Chrysostom says, “The blade was in the law of nature, the ear in the law of Moses, the fruit in the gospel.”

Verse 29. And when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle. In Greek ὅταν δὲ παραδῷ ὁ καρπὸς, that is, “when indeed the fruit has brought itself forth” or when the fruit shall be produced; for fruit is here in the nominative case. Hence some translate, “when the fruit shall have come forth.” Euthymius: “when it has matured.” The Syriac has, “when it has become fat”; Arabic, “when it is perfect.” This is a Hebraism, for in Hebrew, verbs in the conjugation Hitpael have a passive meaning, or a reflex action, by which the agent receives the action in himself, so that the agent is the same as the recipient of the action. Hence some codices read, “when the fruit has produced itself.” Maldonatus explains it differently, “When the fruit, that is, the seed itself, which was the fruit of former seed, shall have brought forth, that is to say, other seed from itself.”

Verse 33. And with many such parables He spoke to them the word, according as they were able to hear. That is, insofar as they were worthy to hear, as Maldonatus says, citing Bede, Euthymius and Clement of Alexandria (lib. 1 Strom.). According to this reading, Christ spoke clearly, without parables, to the Apostles, who wanted to understand and believe, so that they might understand more and more; but to the scribes and the Jews who did not want to believe and understand, He spoke somewhat obscurely and parabolically, so that, even if they wanted, they nevertheless could not understand. More simply and plainly, Theophylact and Franz Lucas (in loco), as well as S. Chrysostom (in Matth. hom. 45) explain that Christ spoke with such, i.e., common and easy parables, which all could understand, not with abstruse examples unknown to the crowd; so that they might take in their substance, and perceive that there was something heavenly and divine lying beneath the surface, although they did not comprehend each particular. Nevertheless, by what was known of the parable they were inspired and encouraged by Christ to investigate and search out the unknown thing that lay hidden beneath it.

Verse 36. Even as he was in the ship. Meaning: The disciples took up Christ upon the deep sea, that they might cross over it with Him; Christ, I say, as He was in the ship, namely, sitting and teaching the people standing on the shore. This is plain from verse 1, for afterward (v. 38) it appears that He changed His position, sleeping in the ship. It marks the ready obedience of the disciples, and in turn Christ’s easy accommodation of Himself to their promptitude, so as to avoid the tumult of the thronging multitude. Franz Lucas interprets somewhat differently: Even as he was in the ship, he says, means “before anyone got off the ship where He was.” Hence the Syriac translates “when he was in the ship,” and the Arabic, “they took him aboard the ship.”

And there were other ships with him. It happened by the counsel of God that the many persons who were carried in those ships should be spectators and witnesses of the miracle very shortly to be wrought by Christ, namely, the calming of the tempest.

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#gospel of mark #stmark

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 11 months

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Chapter 31: I Desire Mercy, Not Sacrifice

Fandom: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed Characters: Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Joseph Seed, Cameron Burke, Earl Whitehorse, Mary May Fairgrave, Nick Rye, Kim Rye, Boomer (Far Cry), Grace Armstrong, Jerome Jeffries, John Seed, Faith Seed, Tracey Lader, Virgil Minkler, Hurk Drubman Jr., Sharky Boshaw, Adelaide Drubman, Joey Hudson, Peaches (Far Cry), Jacob Seed, Staci Pratt, Eli Palmer, Wheaty (Far Cry), Jess Black, Original Male Character(s), Project at Eden's Gate | Peggies, Tammy Barnes Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Religious Cults, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Swearing, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Animal Attack, Threats, Threats of Violence, Stabbing, Knives, Guns, Shooting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Hallucinations, Sexual Humor, Sexually Suggestive Dialogue, Kidnapping, Blood and Violence, More Biblical References to Lions Than You Can Shake a Stick at, Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Social Darwinism, Obsession, Flashbacks, Enemies to Lovers, Physical Abuse, Hand Feeding, Smut, Internalized Misogyny, Hurt/Comfort, arrow wounds, Menstruation, Coercion, Manipulation, Bloodplay, Strangulation, Disembowelment, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Cannibalism, Stockholm Syndrome Summary:

Kit wakes up in the middle of nowhere after being shoved from Jacob's balcony by Staci.

It's snowing, she's pissed and the Stone Ridge Chalet is her best way of distracting Jacob long enough to keep Staci alive.

This is it folks, the chapter where Kit finally says yes to Jacob and yes to the cult (John is currently having an anxiety attack because he wasn't there to hear it)

#fan fiction #far cry 5 #jacob seed x female deputy #jacob seed #staci pratt #oc: kit cross #american beasts #chapter 31

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doomh3ad · 2 years

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About

hi!! u can call me imelda, chrissie, chelsea or mel, i have extreme slasher brainrot (specifically doomhead from rob zombie's 31 <3)

requests are closed! and also feel free to submit any questions or thirsts, even if requests are closed! i'm totally fine with any nicknames or pet names, i love ppl being friendly with me <3

i'll write poly relationships (as long as no one is related) and crossover poly relationships with reader too! i also take platonic requests.

[non-writing posts will be tagged 'imelda shut up' & asks as 'imelda's asks']

characters i'll write for include but are not limited to:

•Michael Myers (OG + 2018 Halloween)

•Corey Cunningham, Allyson Nelson (Halloween Ends)

•Art the Clown, Tara Heyes, Dawn Sissy, Sienna Shaw (Terrifier 1&2)

•Yautja (Predator)

•Otis, Baby, Foxy Coltrane, Captain Spaulding (Firefly Trilogy)

•Doomhead (31)

•Any Ghostface minus Charlie or Mrs Loomis, Sidney, Gale, Randy, Sam & Tara Carpenter (Scream franchise)

•Pinhead (both og + 2022 versions), Kirsty Cotton (Hellraiser)

•Candyman/Daniel (Candyman)

•Gabriel May (Malignant)

•Arkin O'Brien, Asa Emory/The Collector (The Collector)

•Greta, Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

•Patrick Bateman (American Psycho)

•Amanda Young, Mark Hoffman, John Kramer, Daniel Rigg, Jill Tuck, Adam, Lawrence, Peter Strahm, Logan Nelson, William Schenk (Saw franchise, Spiral)

•Julian Lambrick (Would You Rather)

•Ellen Ripley (Alien)

•Pennywise, Patrick Hockstetter (IT 2017+2019)

•Bo, Vincent & Lester Sinclair (House of Wax)

•Ash Williams (Evil Dead)

•Kurt Kunkle (Spree)

•Thomas Hewitt (TCM)

•Rick Grimes, Negan Smith, Daryl Dixon, Maggie Rhee, Glenn Rhee, (TWD)

•Ian McKinley (Final Destination 3)

•Rusty Nail (Joyride)

•Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs)

•R (Warm Bodies)

•Michael Langdon (AHS)

•Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker, Daniel Espinoza, Mazikeen/Maze (Lucifer)

•Jerome Valeska, Ed Nygma (Gotham)

•Sebastian Castellanos, Joseph Oda, Juli Kidman, Ruvik Victoriano (The Evil Within)

•Leon Kennedy [RE2/RE4/RE6] Claire Redfield, Ada Wong, Luis Serra, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira, Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield [RE5], Sheva Alomar (Resident Evil)

•Kara, Connor, Markus (Detroit Become Human)

•Trickster (Dead by Daylight)

i'll also write for some ships ! these include (but i'll likely do any i know that you ask for!)

-Greta & Brahms

-Vincent, Lester or Bo & Carly

-Ben Miller & Zoey Davis (Escape Room)

-Chloe & Lucifer/Deckerstar (Lucifer)

Rules

i won't write : incest, pedophilia, rape, suicide etc. i will write yandere, dark fics & most kinks, just ask if you're not sure! i will write both dominant and submissive readers, just specify. i'll write headcanons, drabbles, full fics & series!

if you don't specify in a request, reader will be gender-neutral, but i will do other genders if you ask! i won't write about pregnancy or mentions of children, sorry.

it's ok to spam requests! i am only one person with a fairly busy life so requests may take up to about a week to be answered at most, usually, i appreciate the patience <3

pls don't request the exact same specific scenario word for word you've sent to other writers.

while i'm aware that i can't stop under 18s from reading or requesting, i would prefer if you didn't dm without your age in your bio or anywhere else that's visible!

commissions info

-commissions will begin once i've finished my cycle of regular requests, around mid-july hopefully!

-still working on reasonable pricing, always open to feedback! currently, i'm thinking around £5 for 1k words, £10 for 2k etc. for anything 3k+ it'd be £15-20. if you'd like a lot of long headcanons instead of a fic they'd be around £5 too i think!

Masterlist (part 1)

Masterlist (part 2)

Kinktober 2022 masterlist

Coming soon (current requests!)

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spiritualdirections · 7 months

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St. Jerome, the model interpreter of Scripture

From Scripturae Sacrae Affectus,Pope Francis' Apostolic Letter on St. Jerome:

‘Biblical passages are not always immediately accessible. As Isaiah said (29:11), even for those who know how to “read” – that is, those who have had a sufficient intellectual training – the sacred book appears “sealed”, hermetically closed to interpretation. A witness is needed to intervene and provide the key to its liberating message, which is Christ the Lord. He alone is able to break the seal and open the book (cf. Rev 5:1-10) and in this way unveil its wondrous outpouring of grace (Lk 4:17-21). Many, even among practising Christians, say openly that they are not able to read it (cf. Is 29:12), not because of illiteracy, but because they are unprepared for the biblical language, its modes of expression and its ancient cultural traditions. As a result the biblical text becomes indecipherable, as if it were written in an unknown alphabet and an esoteric tongue.

‘This shows the need for the mediation of an interpreter, who can exercise a “diaconal” function on behalf of the person who cannot understand the meaning of the prophetic message. Here we think of the deacon Philip, sent by the Lord to approach the chariot of the eunuch who was reading a passage from Isaiah (53:7-8), without being able to unlock its meaning. “Do you understand what you are reading?” asked Philip, and the eunuch replied: “How can I, unless someone guides me?” (Acts 8:30-31).[32]

‘Jerome can serve as our guide because, like Philip (cf. Acts 8:35), he leads every reader to the mystery of Jesus, while responsibly and systematically providing the exegetical and cultural information needed for a correct and fruitful reading of the Scriptures.[33] In an integrated and skilful way he employed all the methodological resources available in his day – competence in the languages in which the word of God was handed down, careful analysis and examination of manuscripts, detailed archeological research, as well as knowledge of the history of interpretation – in order to point to a correct understanding of the inspired Scriptures.

‘This outstanding aspect of the activity of Saint Jerome is also of great importance for the Church in our own time. If, as Dei Verbum teaches, the Bible constitutes as it were “the soul of sacred theology”[34] and the spiritual support of the Christian life,[35] the interpretation of the Bible must necessarily be accompanied by specific skills."

#st jerome #bible study #biblical scholarship #scripture study #pope francis #scripture #tradition

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airlock · 3 months

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CYL8 Nerding - Internal Bottom 10

y'know, last year, the least voted character in CYL had just 2 votes to his name, so I thought this might be the first year we ever see a character get 0 votes!

this did not happen -- our least voted character this year has 1 vote. fucking incredible. anyway, shall we go all-in on this year's biggest losers?

AKANEIA #1: Dice, also Roberto (3 votes) #3: Reiden (6 votes) #4: we all still think of Luke as a small fry (11 votes) #5: Frost (13 votes) #6: Malledus (16 votes) #7: Boah (17 votes) #8: Roderick, also Belf, also Ymir (18 votes)

VALENTIA #1: Tatarrah, also Garth (3 votes) #3: Dolth (4 votes) #4: Barth, also Jerome (6 votes) #6: Grieth (7 votes) #7: Halcyon (11 votes) #8: Slayde, also Blake (15 votes) #10: Marla (16 votes)

JUGDRAL #1: Danann (3 votes) #2: Scipio (4 votes) #3: Hilda, also Halvan (8 votes) #5: Sandima, also Alva, also Perne (10 votes) #8: Munnir (11 votes) #9: Tristan, also Deimne, also Safy (12 votes)

ELIBE #1: Lundgren (6 votes) #2: Zelot, also FE7!Murdock (8 votes) #4: FE6!Merlinus (10 votes) #5: Desmond, also FE6!Murdock (11 votes) #6: Hellene (14 votes) #7: Barthe (18 votes) #8: Saul (19 votes) #9: Fargus, also Durban (20 votes)

MAGVEL #1: Riev (8 votes) #2: Hayden (11 votes) #3: Rennac, also Vigarde (13 votes) #5: Dozla (26 votes) #6: Fado (28 votes) #7: Caellach (33 votes) #8: Orson (41 votes) #9: Natasha (42 votes) #10: Tethys (43 votes)

TELLIUS #1: Muston (1 vote) #2: Bertram (3 votes) #3: Daniel and Jorge twinning it the FUCK up (4 votes) #5: Hetzel (6 votes) #6: Kasatai (8 votes) #7: Bastian (10 votes) (I'M ONE OF THEM. YOU ABSOLUTE DASTARDS--) #8: Ludveck (12 votes) #9: Izuka (13 votes) #10: Numida (14 votes)

YLISSE #1: Cervantes (14 mustache hairs) #2: Validar (16 votes) #3: Phila (17 votes) #4: Kjelle (24 votes) #5: Flavia and Basilio sitting under a tree, F-I-G-H-T-I-N-G (25 votes) #7: Mustafa, also Excellus (31 votes) #9: Brady (33 votes) #10: Yen'fay (37 votes)

TMS#FE #1: Teru & Garrick (8 votes) #2: Kuen & Excellus (11 votes) #3: Chikaomi & Lon'qu (12 votes) #4: Chouten & Pheros (13 votes) #5: Nobu & Gangrel (19 votes)

HOSHIDO/NOHR #1: Tarba (7 votes) #2: Zhara, also Lloyd (8 votes) #4: Fuga (9 votes) #5: Llewelyn (11 votes) #6: Funke (12 votes) #7: Senno (15 votes) #8: Hans (17 votes) #9: Daichi (24 votes) #10: Arete, also Kumagera (30 votes)

FÓDLAN #1: Tomas, also Gwendal (4 votes) #3: Lonato (5 votes) #4: Pallardó (6 votes) #5: Aelfric (8 votes) #6: Ludwig aka Duke Aegir (9 votes) #7: Solon (11 votes) #8: Kostas (12 votes) #9: Volkhard aka Lord Arundel (13 votes) #10: Grégoire aka Count Varley (16 votes)

ELYOS #1: Hyacinth (38 votes) #2: Seforia (68 votes) (god dammit I knew I should have voted for her--) #3: Saphir (74 votes) (I DID VOTE FOR HER THOUGH YOU ABSOLUTE--) #4: Lindon (97 votes) #5: Morion (142 votes) #6: Bunet, also Zephia (158 votes) #8: Marni (187 votes) #9: not Marni (201 votes) (ie Madeline btw) #10: Vander (215 votes)

ZENITH #1: Ganglöt (50 votes) #2: Hel (69 votes) (nice) #3: Ótr (77 votes) #4: Nótt (88 votes) #5: Freyr (91 votes) #6: Ylgr (94 votes) #7: Múspell (116 votes) #8: Reginn (121 votes) #9: Letizia (122 votes) #10: Gustav (148 votes)

#cyl nerding

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nakrobtee10 · 6 months

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Team super wings's cars vehicles

1.JETT: GT86 TRD

2.DIZZY: CIVIC MUGEN RR FD2

3.DONNIE: LUMINA SS CARAVAN

4.JEROME: BT-50 PRO

5.PAUL: MU-7 CHOIZ

6.MIRA: BEETLE R LINE GRC

7.BELLO: ESCALADE SLP

8.GRAND ALBERT: AERO 8 SUPER SPORT R.I.P

9.ASTRA: IS350 F SPORT TRD PARTS

10.AGENT CHASE: F-150 RAPTOR

11.FLIP: M4 GTS-R

12.TODD: GRAND CHEROKEE SRT8

13.NEO: SATRIA NEO S2000 R3

14.POPPA WHEEL: 389

15.KIM: CHALLENGER SRT DEMON

16.ASTRO: EVORA GTE-S

17.ZOEY: C30 R-DESIGN

18.SWAMPY: SONATA NF

19.SCOOP: EXR-S

20.CRYSTAL: PANAMERA TURBO S

21.BUCKY: RANGE ROVER VOGUE GT

22.SYLPHY: SYLPHY,SENTRA

23.GOLDENBOY: IMPREZA WRX STI

24.SUNNY: TTRS

25.LEO: MODEL X

26.NARAE: CENTOSIECI PUR SPORT

27.TINO: CANYON DENALI

28.LIME: MEGANE RS

29.TONY: G3

30.ELLIE: 9-3 AERO CONVENTIBLE

31.SHINE: SUPER CARRY

32.MARTY: EXTENDER GRAND

33.LUCIE: AION HYPER SSR

34.TRAVER: ESTOQUE SUPERLEGGERA VELOCE

35.GOLDENGIRL: LANCER EVOLUTION VI

36.TAKI: CLK AMG GTS

37.TIKI: CONTINENTAL GT SUPER SPORT

38.SALLY: PUROSANGUE

#super wings #au

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igazikutya · 4 months

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Zajok a nappaliból - 2023 TOP12 LP és EP/Single megjelenései

Top 12 LP – 2023

1. NVST - Filled with Oil [2023, Les Disques Magnétiques][LP] 2. Beau Wanzer - A Dead Person's Monologue [2023, iDEAL][LP] 3. The Orb & David Gilmour - Metallic Spheres In Colour [2023, Sony][LP]

4. Flesh & The Dream - Choose Mortality [2023, Everything Forever][LP] 5. VC-118A - Waves Of Change[2023, Delsin][EP] 6. Judgitzu - Sator Arepo [2023, Nyege Nyege Tapes][LP]

7. Years Of Denial - Suicide Disco Vol. 2 [2023, VEYL][LP] 8. PANGAR - Position [2023, Pangar][LP] 9. Benedikt Frey - Fastlane [2023, ESP Institute][LP]

10. Anatolian Weapons - Earth [2023, Subject To Restrictions Discs][LP] 11. Deadbeat - Kubler-Ross Soliloquies [2023, BLKRTZ][LP] 12. Ultramarine - Send And Return [2023, Blackford Hill][LP]

13. Artefakt - Floodplain [2023, Semantica][EP] 14. Totek – ttk. 1 [2023, Darker Than Wax][LP] 15. Paul St. Hilaire - Tikiman Vol.1 [2023, Kynant][LP] 16. Cosmo Vitelli - Medhead Remixes [2023, Im a Cliche][Rmx-LP] 17. Scotch Rolex & Shackleton - Death by Tickling [2023, Silver Triplet][LP] 18. African Head Charge - A Trip To Bolgatanga [2023, On-U Sound][LP] 19. Harmonious Thelonious - Cheapo Sounds [2023, Bureau B][LP] 20. Legowelt - The MidiVerb Chalice [2023, Axumisia][EP] 21. Labelle - Noir Anima [2023, InFiné Éditions & Eumolpe][LP] 22. Pris - Phantom [2023, Resin][LP] 23. Saint Abdullah & Eomac - Chasing Stateless [2023, Planet Mu][LP] 24. Andrea - Due In Color [2023, Illian Tapes][LP]

25. Maps and Diagrams - A Study Of Ends Or Purpose[2023, Handstitched][LP] 26. The Black Dog - My Brutal Life [2023, Dust Science][LP] 27. Tolouse Low Trax - Leave Me Alone [2023, Bureau B][LP] 28. Actress - LXXXVIII [2023, Ninja Tune][LP] 29. Marmo - Epistolae [2023, Utter][LP] 30. VHS Head - Phocus [2023, Skam][LP] 31. Froid Dub - Deep Blue Bass [2023, Delodio][LP] 32. Fire & Adrian Sherwood - Fire [2023, Salgari][LP] 33. Mioclono - Cluster I [2023, Hivern Discs][LP] 34. Cristian Vogel - Fase Montuno [2023, Edition Mille Plateaux][LP] 35. Vanishing Twin - Afternoon X [2023, Fire][LP] 36. Suzanne Ciani & Jonathan Fitoussi - Golden Apples of the Sun [2023, Transversales Disques][LP]

Top 12 EP/Single – 2023

1. Orphx - Revenant [2023, Self-Released][EP] 2. Univac - MagnetFunk [2023, 30D ExoPlanets][EP] 3. Toribio - Tongue In Cheeks [2023, BDA][EP]

4. Djedjotronic - Smog on the Dancefloor [2023, Italo Moderni][EP] 5. Khidja - Transmissions Part 1 [2023, Malka Tuti][EP] 6. Laksa - Body Score [2023, RE_LAX][EP]

7. Al Wootton - Vitus [2023, Optimo Music][S] 8. Talaboman - Bosca Bosca - Bosco Bosco [2023, Night Land][S] 9. Coco Bryce - Canaan [2023, MYOR][S]

10. Humanoid - Sweet Acid Sound [2023, De_tuned][EP] 11. Viels - Distorted Reality [2023, Dynamic Reflection][EP] 12. Na Nich - Black Soil [2023, Delsin][EP]

13. Ancient Methods - The Third Siren [2023, Persephonic Sirens][EP] 14. Civilistjävel! - Fyra Platser [2023, FELT][EP] 15. Jerome Hill - Crude Appraisal [2023, Super Rhythm Trax][EP] 16. Pugilist - Negative Space [2023, Of Paradise][EP] 17. Jeff Mills - X-Ray Zulu [2023, Axis][EP] 18. Rhys Fulber - Brutal Nature Redux [2023, FR][EP] 19. Priori & Al Wootton - Flaw [2023, Trule][EP] 20. Orphx - The Way Through All Things [2023, Sonic Groove][EP] 21. Lew E - Touched / Teardrop [2023, Basic Spirit][S] 22. Yaleesa Hall - Newman [2023, Will & Ink][S] 23. DYL - Fjord [2023, Nous'klaer Audio][EP] 24. Ayaz - Unpinned [2023, phase group][EP]

25. nueen - Link [2023, 3XL][EP] 26. Blawan - Dismantled Into Juice [2023, XL][EP] 27. Sepehr - Diaspora Cocktail [2023, Planet Euphorique][EP] 28. interferenc - pH4R [2023, Self-Released][EP] 29. Khidja - Transmissions Part 2 [2023, Malka Tuti][EP] 30. Soreab - Maschera [2023, Baroque Sunburst][EP] 31. Sabatoj - I.C.U. [2023, Katharsis][EP] 32. Terrain - Corners [2023, Varmal][EP] 33. Luke Slater & Dubfire - The Dissent [2023, Mote-Evolver][EP] 34. Dino Sabatini - Opera Quattro [2023, Outis Music][EP] 35. Domenico Crisci & Retina.it - Diorama [2023, Semantica][EP] 36. Benedikt Frey - Recall [2023, Malka Tuti][EP]

#zene #underground #electronic #music #intelligent dance music #top 12 #2023

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geeknik · 7 months

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31 Days of Halloween: Day 5, Jerome, Arizona

As we venture deeper into our 31 days of Halloween, we turn our attention to the hauntingly beautiful ghost town of Jerome, located in the picturesque mountains of Arizona. Once a bustling mining town, Jerome now stands as a captivating destination with a rich history, spooky legends, and paranormal experiences that draw in visitors from all over the world.

Historical Background

Founded in the late 19th century, Jerome was a thriving mining town known for its copper production. However, as the copper boom declined, the town fell into decline, earning the reputation as the "Wickedest Town in the West." Today, Jerome has transformed into an artistic and cultural hub while retaining its ghostly charm.

Ghostly Legends

Jerome is renowned for its ghostly tales and eerie encounters. With a history filled with mining accidents, natural disasters, and a past rife with violence, it is not surprising that many believe the spirits of the past still linger within the town's buildings and streets.

One of the most famous ghostly residents is that of a young boy named "Billy." It is said that Billy perished in a tragic mining accident and now roams the halls of the old Jerome Grand Hotel. Guests and staff have reported hearing his laughter, feeling his presence, and witnessing toys mysteriously moved around.

Another renowned apparition is the "Lady in White." Legend has it that she was a prostitute who tragically died in a fire. Now, her ghostly figure is spotted in various locations throughout the town, often accompanied by a scent of jasmine. Some believe she is still searching for her lost love.

The Experience

Exploring Jerome is an immersive experience that transports visitors to a different era. The town's historic buildings, vintage shops, and art galleries create an atmosphere that is both charming and eerie. Walking the narrow streets and venturing into the old structures is like stepping back in time, with the added possibility of encountering something supernatural.

Ghost Tours

To fully embrace the ghostly atmosphere of Jerome, consider embarking on one of the ghost tours offered in the town. Led by knowledgeable guides, these tours provide insights into the town's haunted past, sharing spine-chilling stories and taking visitors to locations known for paranormal activity.

From the iconic Jerome Grand Hotel to the historic Connor Hotel and the chilling Jerome State Historic Park, these tours offer a glimpse into the town's ghostly residents and their lingering presence. Be prepared for goosebumps and a heightened sense of curiosity as you delve into the spectral realms of Jerome.

Conclusion

Jerome, Arizona, is a captivating blend of history, art, and the paranormal. As we continue our journey through 31 days of Halloween, exploring the ghostly legends and eerie encounters within this mountaintop ghost town adds a touch of mystique to our Halloween celebrations.

Whether you seek spine-chilling encounters, artistic inspiration, or a glimpse into the past, Jerome provides an enchanting backdrop. So, embrace the ghostly tales, immerse yourself in the haunted atmosphere, and let the spirit of Halloween guide your exploration of this bewitching destination.

#ko-fi #kofi #geeknik #nostr #art #blog #writing #halloween #samhain #all hallows eve #spooky #ghost town #jerome arizona #arizona #jerome

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lullabyes22-blog · 1 year

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Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 9 - Powder

Summary: Zaun is free—and must grow into its unfamiliar new dimensions. So must Silco and Jinx. A what-if that diverges midway through the events of episode 8. Found family and fluff, politics and power, smut and slice-of-life, villainy and vengeance.

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

Playlist on Youtube

Chapters: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48

CH 9: Vi and Caitlyn bite off more than they can chew.

Tw: aftermath of war, violence, police brutality, hazing, parentification, implications of sexual abuse.

Gonna get my pound of flesh Burn it 'til there's nothing left Think you you can handle this? Yeah, you wanna bet?

~ "Mutiny" – Neoni

It smells like rotting rainfall.

Exiting the air-conditioned oasis of the Hexadraulic Elevator, Vi is engulfed in the stench. It is one she'd always associated with the Undercity. The smell of home. The first thing that hits is the humidity: like being folded into a sodden body-bag. The second is the texture in the air: slick and gritty at once.

Above, there is a scudding of storm-clouds. A hazy ring of green smog traces the skyline.

For a moment, Vi just—breathes. Her heart is beating fast; she'd put it down as nerves. Her gait feels unsteady; she'd dismissed it at the same. Now she realizes it's the change in the atmosphere. In Piltover, she'd been caught off-guard by the cleanness. Or better put: the absence.

The Undercity is different. A presence, so palpable she can feel its foul density pushing into her lungs.

Vi takes a slow breath, and exhales.

It's just air. She'll get used to it.

Six months since she's been down here. Things have changed. The aftermath of the Undercity's standoff with Piltover still irradiates the atmosphere. It stains each surface, from the crumbling old mortar buildings at the Promenade, to the patched-up neon casinos piled gaudily along the Riverside harbor, right down to the construction cranes and cyclone fencing beneath the shadow of the Old Hungry. Here and there, Vi glimpses bombsites, unnerving in their emptiness; like holes blasted into a beloved face.

Life is already creeping through their cracks. Catastrophe robs Fissurefolk of everything but their will to keep living.

Vi nearly smiles. But sorrow has calcified her muscles. Her lips barely twitch.

Her two Enforcer escorts—big of muscle and stupid of eye—step beyond the checkpoint. One coughs and fishes for a gas mask. The other breathes audibly through his sleeve.

“Cho'Gath on a cracker,” he grunts. “It’s bad as ever.”

“Like raw sewage.” Jerome wheezes into his mask. “With potato fries.”

Vi scoffs. "You'd eat 'em anyhow."

They crack into laughter. Not because they have a sense of humor. Their laughter is just a way to prove their manliness. Or whatever the hell passes for pride with Piltie menfolk. They try too hard. It makes them easy marks.

Thank Janna Vi is making the trip alone.

"You must be happy," Jerome sneers. "Home sweet home, eh?"

"Home stinky home, you mean," Timothy sniggers.

Vi deadpans, "Yep. I'm all choked up."

They burst into laughter again. She lets them. She doesn't care what they think. She never cares about the opinions of people who look down on others for being different. And these men are soft, on top of stupid. None of them would survive a night in Stillwater, or a bare-knuckled brawl in the Lanes.

Or, let's face it, a sip of the tapwater.

"Now remember," Jerome says, wagging a finger. "No insubordination."

"Right."

"You follow the rules down here. Ours. Not theirs."

"Uh-huh."

"Go straight to the local liaison. Like the Council ordered. No detours. No delays. Got me?"

"Got it."

Timothy sets a hand on Vi's shoulder. "Be a good girl, Vi-pie"

Vi meets his eyes, and congratulates herself for not decking him. There's no friendliness in the gesture. Just another attempt to assert dominance. Play the big man to the little woman. The high and mighty Piltie lording it over the lowborn Sumpsnipe.

She pastes on a false smile. "Sure." A beat. "Timmy-Wimmy"

His face flushes an ugly color of purple. Vi's smile turns real.

Shoving her hands deep in her pockets, she shoulders past them. Their angry stares burn into the back of her neck.

She doesn’t care.

Nothing matters except why she came here.

Beyond the steel barricade sit the Boundary Markets. Late evening, and the city throbs with life. To the left, the bright-glassed storefronts and festooned awnings of bazaars. To the right, the green-gray slice of the Pilt between monochrome office buildings. Practically anything of value—iron, glass, wood, leather, wire—has been salvaged from the disaster sites for resale. The sidewalks are crowded with pedestrians: clerks spilling outdoors after work with loosened ties and unbuckled galoshes, shopgirls collecting their laundry in brown paper parcels, families on trips to the grocer with children squabbling at their heels.

Language is a familiar medley. Vi shuffles through the voices like a deck of cards: Standard, Shuriman, Ionian, Va-Nox. High on variety, low on content. Just the usual brays of, "How much?" "D'you want to get a drink?" "Shit—there's gunk on my shoe!" "Is this a good club?"

The anthem of post-apocalypse.

All the hurly-burly can't conceal a haze of shellshock in the air. Or maybe the shellshock is all Vi's? She'd barely slept the night before. Her dreams were disorienting—a hellish redness like at the Bridge. She'd turned her head to where Mom lay crumpled on the cobblestones, her eyes staring glassily. Except it was Vander, his hulking coat of muscle unzipped into spoiling purple meat.

Powder was crouched beside him. Everything about her was misshapen—her braids too long, her skin etched with tattoos, her smile too wide. She'd been whispering as she played with something. Vi couldn't see what. Maybe a gadget? A toy? Pow was always talking to her toys, remarks that used to crack Vi up. Sometimes, she'd stand outside their shared room at the Drop’s basement, listening in. Sometimes Vander would be there, his eyes shining as he mouthed, Where's she come up with this stuff?

Then Silco stole everything.

Stole Powder, and broke her, so now whenever Vi remembers her sister, it's from inside the eerie glittering shell of Jinx.

The rage builds in Vi like a strangling scream. At the Bridge, she'd seen Jinx's carnage unfold. The firelights. The bombs. The bodies. She'd let Ekko handle Jinx—I’m so sorry Ekko—and crossed with Caitlyn to the other side. She'd felt the rumble of the grenade blast in her bones. She'd stood trapped behind bars of striped shadow while the smoke faded. She'd watched Enforcers swarm the scene.

She'd done nothing.

Meanwhile Silco took her sister, and she'd let it happen. Again. She'd failed to protect Powder, and failed Ekko, and Vander, and everyone in the Lanes, and she could never take it back. She couldn't take back the past, but she could change the present, the same way the past had changed hers.

She wasn't the girl thrown into Stillwater. The girl whose family was devoured by a monster. The girl who ran away when she should've fought. That girl is gone, and she'd grown into someone who has survived, and bided her time, and grown stronger. She won't run this time. She'll face the monster.

No.

Scratch that.

The monster will face her.

In the sky, the clouds thicken and the green drains into gray. Raindrops begin pattering the pavement. Within moments, like a bucket upending, it becomes a downpour.

Vi ducks under an awning. There is a pocket umbrella stowed inside her jacket, but she doesn't fish it out. She uses the moment to catalogue her surroundings. A sumpsnipe's reflex that the Peacekeeper Academy has layered with more sophisticated tricks. Evasive maneuvers. Vigilance. Stealth.

The Peacekeeper Academy.

Vi would never have set foot inside the place. Not unless handcuffed. And yet violent circumstances belowground had compelled Vi to make a choice once unthinkable.

She'd joined the Enforcers.

The Enforcers, who'd amputated her and Powder from their parents. The Enforcers, who'd spread brutality in the Lanes. The Enforcers, who'd kept the Undercity in squalor for the sake of safeguarding Piltover.

The Enforcers, who had access to Piltie funds, government databases, and legal resources. The department was mired in corruption—but the Council, under the pretty-boy Talis, was finally doing something about it. The Peacekeepers were a newly formed division, meant to serve as both liaisons and buffers between Piltover and neighboring territories. They could act with a measure of diplomatic immunity, and had clearance to pass between nation states.

Including Zaun.

Vi could say her reasons for enlisting were rational. Pragmatic, even. She knows better. The weeks of carnage between Piltover and the Undercity were horrific. She'd seen bystanders blown apart by shelling. She'd seen an old man twitching in death throes at the Bridge. She'd seen a little girl floating facedown in the bloodied Pilt. So much death and suffering. She needed to protect people, people like Powder, and she felt diminished, powerless, by what she couldn't do for them.

During the conflict between Piltover and the Fissures.

During the reunion with her sister.

During the disaster at the cannery.

None of those events transpired in a vacuum. A monster created them. The same monster who sat at Zaun's pinnacle, ready to hurt more people. Ruin more lives. She hated him. She needed to stop him. Not just his schemes and stratagems. She needed to take down his empire.

And save her sister.

The Peacekeepers were a means to an end. But Vi never expected to land the position. Sometimes she wonders if Caitlyn's mom pulled strings. Something to get Vi standing on her own feet, with a salaried job and a place of her own. Her two-week layover chez Kirraman had already stretched to a month. Caitlyn would have let Vi stay longer. She'd told her plenty of times, with that sweet confiding smile that could've melted chocolate.

But Vi refused to survive off charity. She'd survived off worse.

So she'd applied with the Peacekeepers. She'd endured a battery of interviews. Then came the tests: physical fitness, background checks, polygraphs. Her criminal record had been expunged by the Council for information on Silco, and an insider's view into the Undercity. Caitlyn had pulled all-nighters with Vi to prep her for the written portion. The physical, she'd passed without breaking a sweat. There was nobody she couldn't crush on the mat or outpace in the obstacle courses.

The polygraph gave her a little trouble. She'd practiced saying the right things. She'd done a trial run with Caitlyn on equipment that they'd… borrowed… from the office's interrogation unit. She'd passed with flying colors. During the real interview though, she'd had blips on a few questions: Have you committed any major crimes? and Have you ever inflicted physical injury to a child in your care?

The indicia weren't enough to trigger alarms. But the interviewer brought them to Vi's attention. She'd stuck to her answers: No, on both counts.

Afterward, she'd broken down sobbing in an empty alleyway, and cracked the wall with her bare fist.

The rainfall skitters off the awning like marbles. Vi takes a slow breath, and leans against the wall. She observes the oily froth of traffic, attuning herself to the rhythms of the Undercity.

Zaun.

To look at her, you might believe she was still a local. Her street clothes are nondescript: red-striped jacket, white undershirt and jeans, the labels cut away. Her boots are the same: plain, but with strong grip. Good for staying on her feet during 12-hour patrols in downtown Piltover, but also for vaulting to the closest rooftop in an emergency belowground.

Low-key in all but one respect: she is armed to the teeth.

Beneath her untucked shirt, clipped with a belt at her spine, she carries a spool of grappling wire. A switchblade is tucked into the specially-stitched pocket of her pants, and an Emerson folder is concealed in her wallet.

Hardly her full freight. But the precautions are necessary.

She wasn't allowed to take the Hexgauntlets. She didn't have the clearance with the Wardens. Even if she did, she was less concerned with administrative crap than with personal headaches. It already took a month of back-and-forth bullshitting—oops, her bad, diplomacy—between Councilor Medarda and Silco to let her set foot belowground. Next they'd taken forever on the regulations for Piltovan firearms within Zaun's borders.

In the end, Vi was allowed a pen-sized canister of mace. Not Academy-issue. The kind of crap a tourist would carry.

Well, Vi thought, Fuck you too.

At the final checkpoint, Zaun's blackguards had searched her top-to-toe. But she'd still managed to smuggle the contraband inside. A security guard—a schoolmate of Caitlyn's—had stashed the weapons in the Hexadraulic Lift. Vi had collected them during the last leg of her journey. Zaun's security was none the wiser.

It might blow up in her face later. But she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything except getting to Powder.

Raindrops hit the bridge of Vi's nose and trickle down her cheekbone. On a surge of bitter nostalgia, she shuts her eyes.

(Soon, Pow-Pow.)

(I'll get you out of here.)

The rain softens to a luminous mizzle. Vi takes her cue. She palms a cherry-sized gizmo from out of her pocket. And tosses it into the air.

It leaps high—and flits off.

Likewise, Vi pushes off the wall and takes off. In her ear, Caitlyn's voice thrums. "All clear."

"Okay," Vi says.

They are keeping touch with a tiny pair of microprocessor earpieces. A Hex-technology that hasn't yet gone public. Each earpiece operates in burst transmissions to preclude eavesdropping by a surveillance team. The equipment is a convenient proxy for other methods of communication, like radios, which can be jammed.

Vi can't ignore the prickling paranoia that this is an elaborate setup on Silco's part. Nor, apparently, can Caitlyn. To preempt the possibility, Caitlyn is currently dawdling at the vibrant night-markets by the Boundary. She has a video-fed controller wired to a cherry-sized Hex-drone. The same one that Vi just tossed skyward. Through it, Caitlyn can observe the periphery.

For tails.

Or threats.

Vi moves smoothly, fitting through the small spaces in the crowd. So far, no one has set off her radar. But that means nothing in and of itself. If Silco is having her shadowed, his crew will be pros. They won't favor the soft-target strategy. Most likely, one half will handle recon, the other half action. The last few will stay back, potentially with reinforcements, and serve as a makeshift mission-control.

The natural question is, Will they hurt me?

Vi ignores it in favor of what's more relevant to her survival, How do I get rid of 'em?

She knows, if she puts her mind to it, she could evade them as long as need be. She knows the terrain. But why bother? She's not interested in a game of cat-and-mouse, always looking over her shoulder and second-guessing. Nor is she interested in politely contacting the Zaunite liaison.

She's not here to play by Piltover's rules. Or Silco's.

If there are tails, she's ready to disorient them. If there are threats, she's ready to trounce them.

Vi passes beneath the colorful awnings and smoking chimneypots of Nosh Avenue. It was named after the coffee-stalls, patisseries, delicatessens and tea houses glowing through its hivelike streets. Nothing fancy. The poky little establishments would've appalled any Topsider daring a closer look. But for Vi they always held the powerful allure.

She remembers wandering the jumbled paradise with Mylo and Claggor. Sometimes Powder would tag along, little fingers folded through Vi', her eyes aglow with childish glee. They'd laugh together, boiling over with restless energy: Mylo and Claggor jostling, Powder making cute little wisecracks, Vi keeping her eyes peeled for a spot they'd liked the last time.

Shops popped up and vanished so quickly in Vander's heyday. Most were driven out of business by gangs. Others lost custom because Enforcers prowled the streets, regularly stopping and frisking anyone who looked at them cross-eyed.

Nosh Avenue looks so different now. The hodgepodge of stalls have been swept clear as if by a gale. Instead, there is a glossy honeycomb of dinettes and cafes, tier upon tier, festooned in neon and brightly glassed. A declaration of a different future, one where the grime of the Undercity will be replaced by a Zaun that's no different from Piltover: posh, paved and pristine.

It would be almost attractive. Except, of course, it's Silco's handiwork

Vi wends her way through the increasingly dense crowds. Stopping to eye the barbecued wares behind the soot-flecked glass, and the reflections of the moving pedestrians, she says, "Nothing so far."

"Stay alert."

Vi drifts on, her gait steady, while a small piece of her gut chews itself to pieces. She doesn't like to think of Caitlyn, alone, her unarmed body at the Boundary like a living vein of vulnerability. She's taking risks on Vi's behalf. Too many risks. If something happens to her—

Vi pulls the plug on the thoughts. She has to stay focused.

She has to get to Powder.

She is near the intersection when she spots the first tail. A long-boned male, with a bald head and an intricate geometric tattoo on one sinewy arm. The man is at a noodle stand, the semi-shaded booth offering both privacy and an unobstructed view of the streets.

Vi thinks, That's #1.

Outwardly, she stays relaxed, offering no sign that the man has even registered on her radar. Her tail is similarly discreet. When Vi stops at the traffic light with the other pedestrians, the man maintains a safe distance. Once the light goes green, he doesn't follow Vi so much as bob in and out of the margins, a cork in the tide of the crowd.

Halfway down the street, Vi spots the second tail. A woman, in a brightly-patterned caftan, her hair gelled into green cornrows. She lounges at the outdoor dining patio of a café. She meets Vi's eyes only in passing, exhales something under her breath, and looks away.

On the mental tallyboard, Vi marks, That's #2.

Her heart judders in her fingertips and temples: the first lick of adrenaline.

Casually, she strolls along the glossy shopping district, where sleekly-groomed women and sharp-dressed men spill in and out of an emporium's revolving doors with oversized bags. Watching them gives Vi a pang. Following the war, there were rumors of riots and curfews in the Fissures. Piltover's border patrol, from their vantage at the arrow-headed promontory, reported bursts of flame from the darkened city stretching below.

Now it’s like nothing happened. The meandering strip of the Promenade is contoured in neon and flush with trade. And yet there is still so much poverty—beggars, homeless bums, children practically in rags, some toiling away as slop-cleaners, others as bootblacks.

They were around in Vander's tenure too. But the fancy shops and flashing lights make their presence that much starker.

Silco may have brought more money to the Undercity. But it's only for a special few.

Vi pretends to browse the luxury goods on display in the storefronts. She pops in and out of a few more downscale shops, before reemerging with a blue shopping tote in one hand. To onlookers, it seems as if she's picked up a last-minute gift.

In the periphery, her pursuers keep pace. She pegs them as the reconnaissance unit: logging her routes and giving their counterparts the run-down. The latter won't converge until she is well clear of the tourist district. They are still too close to Piltover. The number of uniformed Piltie patrolmen at the Boundaries would inhibit even the ballsiest hit-team—no matter how Silco spins it afterward.

From a vending machine, Vi buys a bottle of cherry soda. Popping the top, she takes a sip, and murmurs, "Just made two tails."

In her ear, Caitlyin says, "All clear on your left and right."

"I'm crossing into Entresol. Can you gimme a visual at the next chokepoint?"

"I can, and will."

"Thanks, Cupcake."

Gradually, the seething crowds grow sparser. The street cuts sharply south, spanning a narrow incline that splits into a spider's web of alleys. In the distance, Janna’s Temple looms. Vi remembers it as a bare stone façade with leftover scorch-marks from Bloody Sunday—the night Enforcers flung grenades at six-dozen worshipers, killing mostly women and children. The bloodbath had triggered riots and culminated in the Day of Ash.

The night Vi lost Mom and Dad.

The Temple isn’t bare now. It is a world of mirrored lanterns and brightly colored smoke against a darkening sky. In the small courtyard, worshipers throng, hands reaching toward the painted golden gates in invocation. Drumbeats stir the air in a hypnotic rhythm. Vi catches the sweet whiff of hashish and the more savory aroma of stew bubbling in the open kitchens.

The goddess’ maxim, Janna Omnia Amat—Janna Loves All—glitters on a plaque festooned in cavern-blossoms.

Janna can afford to love all. She’s a damn goddess.

Vi’s own life hinges on nastier choices.

As her route progresses, she switches tacks—from nonchalant strides to increasingly aggressive twists and turns, no longer luring her tails, but forcing them to either retreat or come out in the open.

Within minutes, her two pursuers fall back. It signals no relief. Now the secondary team—the bone-breakers—will come out to play.

Sure enough, once Vi turns a corner, footfalls echo after her.

Vi doesn't glance around. She moves down a narrow potholed alley. In the late-evening hours, it is a remote green-lit dreamscape, lined on each side by ashen buildings. They give off the dank, weeping smell of old gravestones. There is no other sign of life anywhere.

Then, in the puddles along the cobblestones, Vi glimpses the reflection of a flitting shape.

The Hex-drone.

In her ear, Caitlyn says, "Two targets spotted. One behind you at thirty meters, one ahead at fifty meters."

"How long 'till they converge?"

"One minute and ten seconds."

"I'm signing off," Vi says.

"Vi—please be careful."

"I will."

She sips her soda, the adrenaline icing up her spine. At the same time, she makes her first offensive move, finesse inverting to speed. Breaking rhythm with the footsteps behind her, Vi darts to the right. There are a cluster of neon signboards below an old-fashioned alcove in the alleyway, half-enveloped in darkness. Eye-blink fast, Vi vaults the farthest one, and climbs the gritty walls, using the crevasse of pipes as footholds.

There, she crouches in darkness, balanced on a dusty overhang. An aluminum vent bellows on her left, its outline a hellish orange. A heat exchange whooshes to her right, sucking air into the brickwork building. The sounds, like the wings of monstrous metal birds, muffle the crinkling from Vi's shopping tote.

From inside, she fishes out a pair of pantyhose, in black nylon. Into each toe, she slips two identical souvenirs, heavy-duty metal and shaped like oversized dice, then ties the material above the ankles, so their weight clacks solidly together. Then she takes another sip of her soda.

Below, her first pursuer passes the jumble of signboards. Vi listens to his footsteps, clattering in the dark, then fading as he crosses Vi's hiding spot. Taking a steadying breath, Vi gives the man five seconds to realize that he's lost his target. At the opposite end of the alleyway, the other goon—now face-to-face with his counterpart—will come to the same conclusion.

Their surprise offers Vi a critical window.

Now.

Vi drops like a shadow. The moment her boots touch the cobblestones, she charges.

Her periphery blurs into blackness. There is only her unstoppable momentum and the whistling wind and the red-lit halo of the alley's mouth where the two heavyset goons stand below a neon wire artwork—a pair of red boxing-gloves—in featureless silhouettes.

They turn towards Vi as one. The first goon's mouth drops on a ragged, "Oh fu—" while the second, with better reflexes, lifts his right arm up and out. A snub-nosed chem-taser glints in his fist. He flicks the switch.

A whorl of purplish energy punches through the air, streaking towards Vi.

Vi dodges left, feeling the blast buzzsaw millimeters from her ear. It slams into the wall behind her, shards exploding in all directions. Vi doesn't falter or slow, but leaps forward in the same path of movement.

Before the goon can fire off another shot, Vi lashes out with the weighted ends of the pantyhose. They collide with the side of the man's jaw, a satisfying crunch. The goon staggers back in shock, his eyes losing focus, and his lapse buys Vi enough time to whirl in the same movement, kicking out at the second goon's knee. The man howls and lurches forward, his head at an angle for Vi to spit a mouthful of tepid cherry soda right into his eyes.

With a cry of pained disgust, the goon lifts a hand to swipe at his face. Vi's own hand is faster. Her fist slams against the man's nose, and tendrils of blood pop off her knuckles. The K.O. is instantaneous. The man jerks like a marionette, eyes rolling back, then drops as if his strings were cut off.

Blam.

A second walloping of energy nearly catches Vi's left shoulder with enough force to shove her sideways. She feels the fabric of her shirt singe, feels a streak of blood spread hot and slick against her skin. She rolls, drops down sideways, her stance low and narrow.

The first goon has recovered from the blow with the dice. Now he braces his chem-taser like a beretta fired straight from the hip. The energy blast shoots out with a strobelike flash. Vi evades, and a hole punches through the wall behind her, plaster flying to reveal corroded metal undergirding.

The goon torques his torso to fire off a third shot. By then, Vi has already struck, lightning-fast and going for broke, her grappling wire whipping out to wrap itself around her opponent's upraised arm. She yanks, and he stumbles face-first.

Right into her slamming kneecap.

The impact drives itself so deep into the man's face that it nearly inverts itself inside-out. In the next breath, his head caroms off her knee and he stumbles backward. His expression is dazed, as if he has utterly no frame of reference for the magnitude of pain he is experiencing.

Tough shit.

Vi hits him with a rapid-fire one-two. The man drops to the pavement with a boneless thud. Out cold. Meanwhile, his partner twitches to life. Vi steps over the first body and goes to him. He is stirring feebly, his shallow breaths intermixed with retching sounds. When Vi approaches, he tries to crawl away. Vi plants a foot between his shoulderblades and slams him back to the ground.

Time is short. In the next five minutes, the recon duo will notice their teammates' radio silence. Alarms will be raised, and back-up deployed.

Vi needs to complete her interrogation in that time-frame.

Five minutes in total.

With a quick efficiency, Vi pats the man down for hidden weapons or wires or wallets—something she'd never have considered before the Academy. He's unarmed. But from the pocket of his trousers, she retrieves the wallet. She flips it open. No ID, but a business card. Kieran Marshall, a captain of Zaun's blackguards.

Beneath Vi, the man croaks, "Wait—you—you—"

Vi comes down hard on top of him, knees pinned to his hips. Snatching up a fistful of damp hair, she yanks the man's head up and back, throat bared to the enfolding vise of her elbow.

"Any special reason you guys were following me?" she asks.

The man makes a wheezing sound, working his jaw back and forth. Vi's attack probably dislocated it. Still, it's hardly an excuse to turn shy. He is just stalling for time.

Keeping arm around his throat, Vi makes a wedge of three fingers in her other hand, jabbing them hard into the man's side. There is a burbling noise like someone flailing in the deep-end of the pool. The blackguard spasms, then forces himself to still.

"All right," he pants, "All right. We—we work for the head of War and Treasury—"

"Who?"

"Sevika," he groans.

Vi cocks her head.

Sevika? In charge of war and treasury?

Shit—Silco really is turning nepotism into an art form. What's next? Will that tatted-up henchman from Stillwater be Minister of Education? This entire business—Zaun—is as rotten as Silco, and the stink will seep into every square inch of her home unless she can stop him.

Conversationally, Vi says, "You still haven't explained why you're following me?"

"We're s'posed—to keep an eye on you."

"Why?"

"I d-don't know. My orders were to—"

Vi slams the blackguard's chin to the cobblestones, his teeth colliding with a brittle crack. The man yowls and struggles, but with his arms pinned, he's like a fish flopping furiously towards the water's surface.

"You got three minutes left," Vi says. "Make 'em count."

"Okay, okay." A rivulet of blood pools the corner of the blackguard's mouth. "We're here on Sevika's orders. To keep you busy. Keep you away from Jinx."

"Jinx." The name sours in Vi's mouth. "You mean Powder."

"Whichever. Look, I'm just—"

"Shut up." She digs her knee pointedly into his kidney. "Listen."

He obliges.

"You're gonna tell me where Silco's keeping my sister. You're gonna tell me fast."

The blackguard works his jaw. Either testing the damage, or anticipating worse.

Finally, he nods.

"She's at Bridgewaltz. The Lodging Project. Top floor."

"What? The Last Drop didn't cut it anymore?"

The blackguard gives Vi a blank, blindish look. "Well—yeah. It blew up."

Vi absorbs this in shocked silence. An unpronounceable feeling bubbles in her chest. No. Please no. Bad enough Silco had stolen their home like he'd stolen her sister. Yet Vi had still counted on the Drop being there, as if it was part of some potential future that she didn't halfway believe in anymore, but clearly hadn't rejected either.

Now that's gone.

Like Vander. Like Benzo. Like Ekko.

Fuck.

Must Silco destroy everything he touches? He's like a wasting illness. Just when you believe you're in the clear, the next bout hits you, worse than before, a paroxysmal sucker-punch right to the guts.

Worse, it spreads to everyone in your life.

Vi stares down at the blackguard, weighing her options. She needs to knock him out. Then she needs to haul ass to Bridgewaltz. Reinforcements will arrive soon. Then it's only a matter of time before they realize Vi's up to no good. To assume otherwise would be stupid.

Powder. The name is a pulsebeat in the aching debris of Vi's heart. I need to get to her.

To the blackguard, Vi says, "Tell Silco I said Hey."

His eyes bulge. "Wait—don't—"

Matter-of-factly, Vi squeezes her elbow around his throat. The man's liquid gurgles fill the alleyway. Once she feels the barest thrum of pulse, Vi lets his unconscious body fall.

Dusting off her hands, she rises. Scattershot plans gather at the edges of her mind. Bridgewaltz. She needs to get there before the inevitable secondary attack. She needs to cover her tracks so the reinforcements can't trace her. She needs to reach Powder, and convince her to escape. She needs to—

A little voice, the same pitch as Vander's, pops into her mind:

Steady, girl.

One thing at a time.

Vi turns and starts walking. The further she gets, the faster the adrenaline leaks out of her body. Suddenly, she feels the heaviness of moisture in her jacket. A rivulet of sweat runs down her spine. She takes a moment to drag in a breath and wipe her face. Then she presses her fingertips to her temples, to clear them of the high-pitched buzz.

The same sensation she grew up with in the Undercity—breaking bones and winning brawls and yet so fucking scared of losing herself.

The sensation she never wants to feel again.

(Soon, we won't have to.)

(Neither of us will, Powder.)

(I promise.)

Nightfall.

The rainfall has slowed. There is barely a smattering of isolated water-drops, the neon striking off them. The street-lit world is no longer dominated by brilliant marketplaces, or the background clamor of hundreds of people eddying in and out.

The Entresol block is quietly lantern-shaded, with a maze of high-arched rowhouses and cobbled streets that are reminiscent of Piltover's upscale neighborhoods—except they are stained black with decades of soot. At the corner glow a modest collection of shops, their signboards flashing in the gloom. A chop-house serving sump-vole flanks with river herbs. A tavern exuding gin fumes and piano skirls. A respectable-looking dry-goods store, the kind of place where you can buy loose cigarettes with a carton of milk. In the periphery is a rusted playground, where children are playing keep-away beneath the sprawling branches of a neon-wire tree that throws a surreally blue glow over the space.

It's cleaner than Vi remembers. But why wouldn't it be? This is the milieu of Silco's headquarters. All of Zaun's big-wigs have probably congregated here. They like things to be nice for themselves. But in the lower reaches, there are likely still shabbier neighborhoods and poorer Fissurefolk, grubbing for scraps.

Silco can pretty up the façade to his heart's content.

Inside, it's as hollow as he is.

Vi keeps to the shadows. At intervals, she carries out countersurveillance moves. In semi-private spots, she checks in with Caitlyn for a visual via the Hex-drone—and for a morale booster. She can hear the stress-notes in Caitlyn's voice the deeper Vi travels into Zaun. But her steadiness never wavers. Talking to her always steadies Vi in turn.

It had scared Vi at first; tried to make her keep Caitlyn at an arm's length. It didn't last long. The first time she'd kissed Vi, something unfurled with the slide of Cait's lips against her own: soft, sweet, breathless. It was like the first time Vi had seen sunlight at the blue skies of the Boundary, its glow limning Piltover's cityscape.

A dizzying sensation of flight.

Sex would've made their dynamic easy to nail down. Or not nail down. Even as a teenager, Vi was used to wielding the physical stuff as a shorthand for no strings attached. But with Caitlyn, it was more than that. They both knew it. Sometimes, tangled together in the cool cotton of bedsheets, Vi joked that Caitlyn must've reincarnated from a past life as a turd-polisher. Caitlyn would shush her with good-natured impatience.

From the start, she'd say, kiss-shaped against Vi's shoulderblade, There was something about you.

Oh yeah?

Your eyes. A softening sigh. They didn't match the rest of you. There was this… hurt in them. It was like a puzzle that didn't fit.

You like puzzles, huh?

I like you.

Just a little?

Yes. A thumb tracing the ridge of Vi's knuckles. Or a lot.

The memory makes Vi smile.

She needs it. She's too keyed up. She needs something positive to focus on. As the hours wax, she wonders if this is a rescue mission—or a suicide run. She remembers the carnage at the Bridge. She remembers her sister's crazed laughter. She remembers Ekko's warning: All that's left is Jinx and she belongs to Silco.

What if Powder is upset to see her? What if she lashes out? What if Vi can't convince her to come back?

Vi grits her teeth. She realizes that something about being in the Undercity, its gloom and grit, is draining away the hopefulness she'd felt in Piltover. It's making her feel like her old self, the teenager who'd lost everything. She'd thought that girl was gone, and lived on only as a lesson, a warning to do better.

She'd been wrong. That girl is still there.

But if she is, then maybe Powder is too?

Vi can still reach her.

Silco's headquarters loom in a glittering twist above the cityscape. A skyscraper shaped like a helixing braid of burnished metal. The chrome surface is new; there is no tarnishing of soot. At its zenith, a glowing green triangle, like a shark's fin, slices through the clouds. The effect is both surreal and unnerving. The building might as well be its own insignia, like the tacky Eye of Zaun.

A message to the masses: If you cross me, I will cut you.

The headquarters are fringed by a neighborhood of low-slung architecture. Vi scans them, first with a sumpsnipe's eyes, then with a Peacekeeper's. One of the primary attractions of this spot for Silco’s security team must be the multiple points of egress: through the main roads, through the side-streets, through the alleys. The second is that the narrowness of the district obstructs any attempts at large-scale ambush. Third, there is a refreshing absence of the electrical wires otherwise tangled across the Undercity's rooftops, thus curbing any acrobatic hijinks.

Vi's heart sinks a little. She'd hoped Powder would be somewhere out in the open. Except Silco wouldn't let his prized prisoner loose. Not as Zaun's First Chancellor. He'd keep her close—and closely hidden.

But nobody is unreachable.

Vi squeezes through an arterial-thin alleyway—a ginnel, Vander used to call them—between two buildings. Her senses stay tuned to sounds. It is harder than it seems. The airwaves of the Undercity are different from Piltover. In the latter, residential districts are so hushed you can hear the leaves dropping from the trees. Here, there is an ambient tide of generators and music and motorcars, rolling in and out in waves.

Vi had grown up memorizing this soundtrack. Once, she'd barely paid it mind. Now, every little noise makes her jumpy.

Easy.

You can do this.

Vi takes a deep breath. Fixes on the building that is tallest and closest to the skyscraper. Then she catches hold of its piping, and climbs. It's a slow ascent. Blackguards are roaming the streets. She'd glimpsed their shadows as she'd woven in between the buildings. She'd heard their footsteps, so sickeningly similar to the marching boots of Enforcers from her childhood. Like an army of darkness, they flooded the area, so nothing felt safe.

Nothing was safe. Not in Silco's nation.

(I won’t lose you to him, Powder.)

By degrees, Vi hauls herself up and across the roof's edge. She crouches low, chest heaving. The humidity is suffocating. Her body is lathered in sweat. She hasn't realized how accustomed she's grown to the pleasant climes aboveground. Her past had toughened her to a different world; oppressive and violent and dark. A ration on food. No hot water. Threadbare sheets and summer blackouts. She'd never forgotten it. Certainly not in Stillwater—which was barely a cut above, and in some ways, a cut below.

Now she realizes staying in Piltover has unfitted her from her old life. Her real life?

She'd expected everything to click seamlessly back into place. Instead, it takes effort. Like a conversation with someone you no longer have much in common with.

Focus.

The discomfort doesn't matter. Her insecurity doesn't matter.

Nothing matters but Powder.

Vi slinks toward a good vantagepoint. A sniper's aerie, but that's Caitlyn's expertise. Vi isn't here to shoot anyone. She just needs the elevation, so she has a perfect line-of-sight to Silco's headquarters.

And the top floor.

The blackguard said it's where Powder was kept. But Vi isn't going to take his word for it. She needs to check. Her location is ideal: near-total darkness, with just a little secondhand radiance from the shops below. The air is perfectly still. She wipes her face with a shirtsleeve, then fetches a narrow tube from her jacket.

A monocular telescope.

Vi kneels, perfectly balanced, elbow braced on one thigh. She aligns her eye to the scope, and sights along the cityscape. It takes a moment to zoom in on the skyscraper's top floor. Its triangular peak is distinctive. The eye-popping green. Vi flicks the switch to magnify the lens. For a moment her vision is studded in pixelated dots. Then the images sharpen. The headquarters' top floor is an atrium, she realizes. More than that. A penthouse suite. She can see the intricate scrollwork of stone masonry. She can see tall casement windows covered in heavy swagged billows. She can see the elegant curling banister of a balcony.

Vi's pulse skips.

Was the blackguard telling the truth? Is Powder there? In the highest tower?

She flicks the magnification switch again. Her view enlarges. The balcony has a smooth-tiled patio set into it. Fancy. The kind of thing she'd see in a Councilor’s digs. There is an oblong-shaped pool, its underwater lights casting a dreamy undulation of blues. The water looks so pure. A glittering temptation in the nighttime boil.

Vi sees someone there.

A girl.

Vi's pulse doesn't skip. It stutters wildly. Her breath rasps through her nostrils.

In her ear, Caitlyn's voice crackles: "Vi—what's happening?"

Vi can't answer.

Powder is there.

Right there, miles away and yet up-close. She is perched on the diving board, legs dangling playfully. Her small body is clad in a black two-piece swimsuit. The lens is so sharp that Vi can see each detail. The underwater ambience throwing eerie ripples across the tattoos on Powder's arm and torso and thigh. Her skin glowing-white and gleaming-wet. The insanely long blue braids undone and dripping around her face.

Oh, Vi thinks.

A tsunami of love and grief and pride engulfs her. She forgets her surroundings. She forgets the last time she and Powder squared off on the Bridge. She forgets the brutality and bloodshed. She forgets Jinx, and Silco's tainted darkness oozing from her pores.

She just sees Powder.

Gods, she looks so grown up. Seventeen now, right? Same age Vi was when she'd gotten sent to Stillwater. Except Powder has none of Vi's scruffiness. In the fall of her loose hair, her graceful profile, Vi sees their Mom. She is the replica of her, but daintier. It's crazy. Her smart, funny, amazing little sister, who has grown up in six short months into such a—

In her ear, Caitlyn says, "Vi?"

She jerks back to the moment. "I'm here."

"What's happening?"

"I—I've got a visual. On the headquarters. Top floor." She swallows dryly. "Cait—she's there."

"She?"

"Powder. She's right there. Now I just need to—"

"Vi. Hold on." Caitlyn's voice is rigid with strain. "You have a clear view?"

"Right into Silco's bougie-ass balcony."

There is a beat. Then Caitlyn says, "I'm circling the drone across your location. Don't move."

Her stressed-out tone cuts through Vi's euphoric fog. "What's wrong?"

"Stay put." She hears Caitlyn's forcible calm. "I need to check for sentinels nearby."

"Caitlyn—"

"You shouldn't have an unobstructed view into Silco's balcony. Not unless your location is also a guardpost for his network."

Despite the heat, a chill crawls across Vi's scalp. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying it's too easy. Practically an open invitation to snipe your sister."

"Maybe I got lucky?"

It's a joke, and a poor one. It's also a stalling tactic. Vi knows she should hightail it. Except her eye is still glued to the telescope. She can't help it.

Powder is there.

Right fucking there.

As Vi watches, she slithers off the diving board and into the water with barely a ripple. Cuts across the pool in smooth strokes, then climbs out, dripping wet. She shakes herself like a cat coming out from the downpour, her hair shimmying around her body. Vi recognizes the motion from their childhood, when she'd haul Powder out of the old metal wash-tub as a kid, then bundle her into a towel.

Someone is waiting with a towel.

Vi's equilibrium crashes like a freight train. Shock—then rage.

Silco.

The shuttered balcony doors have swung open. He stalks out. Fully-dressed, in a three-piece suit, a towel slung over his arm. He moves in the same prowl Vi remembers: loose-limbed and languid. Predatory. The nightmare shape she'd seen from the casement window at Benzo's, coalescing out of green fog to wreck her world. Take Vander away.

Take everything away.

Powder doesn't shy from him. She walks over to him. Not just a walk—a—a fucking sashay. Like a showgirl across a stage. Like the girls at Babette's beneath the blacklights. Vi remembers one girl saying that the trick was to pick a spot above the crowd's heads and focus there—so they wouldn't have to look at all that sick crawling greed oozing everywhere.

The same greed in Silco's eyes.

Vi's mind spins. She watches as Powder takes Silo's hand. She lifts it high over her head and turns a playful pirouette, like a ballerina in the music box from Caitlyn's dressing table. She radiates the innocence of a little girl. Except nothing about her and Silco together seems innocent. Not the way he drapes the towel around her shoulders and pulls it closed over her near nakedness. Not the way he takes her wrist and tugs her back indoors. Not the way she clings to his side, rubbing her cheek against his arm.

Nausea bubbles in Vi's gut.

Sevika had called Jinx Silco's daughter. Yet as far back as Stillwater, pounding Silco's goons into mincemeat, Vi remembers rumors. The kingpin and his loose cannon. The girl he'd taken off the streets. Someone he'd groomed into an asset in more ways than one. Someone who rested her bones in Silco's lap, and broke bones at his command.

They'd called her Jinx.

Big deal, Vi had thought. Just another of Silco's mad dogs.

She'd never fathomed who the girl would be.

Powder.

Fuck—there is no way. Powder wouldn't let that monster touch her. Not that way. It is obscene to imagine it, when he's already brutalized her into becoming Jinx.

Brutalized them all. Their family. Their home.

Suddenly, Vi wishes the telescope was a sniper's scope. Wishes she could put a bullet right between Silco's freakish eyes. Wishes she'd brought her Hex-gauntlets, so she could smash through his headquarters and pulverize him into a smear on the balcony.

It's the least of what he deserves.

"—Vi!"

She snaps back to reality. "Wha—?"

"Vi—something's wrong!"

"What is it? Is there someone nearby?"

"Blackguards."

"Where? Above me, or below?"

"No—they're here. Where I am. At the Boundary."

Adrenaline cranks up Vi's body like a furnace. "That's—that's impossible. That's Piltover's territory."

"They're with Enforcers. They're all heading my way. Shit. Vi—get out of there!"

"Caitlyn—"

"We've been made! Silco knows you're there!"

"I—"

"Run."

It sounds like Caitlyn says something else. But the words are strangled off into static. The connection cuts off.

Vi stays frozen. Staring into the scope, into her sister's sweet smiling face.

Then Silco shuts the balcony door.

The effect is like being clubbed with a two-by-four. Suddenly she is hyperventilating. Something splits down her center: terror for Caitlyn, terror for Powder. Worse is the sickening déjà vu. Her memory rewinds so she's back at the old cannery, eye-to-eye with Vander. She still remembers the way his body, strapped in the chair, went completely still, his face ashen where it wasn't streaked with blood.

"Oh Gods. You have to get out. Now."

Spots dance in front of Vi's eyes. She'd done it again. She'd been reckless, an idiot; she should have planned all the way through. Now Caitlyn is in danger, and Vi needs to get to her, get moving, before—

Something glitters on Vi's wrist. Something alive. A firelight? No, it is too big for that. A dragonfly, or something resembling a dragonfly. How long has been clinging to her? Vi squints in the half-dark. Then she gasps. The creature's shimmering thorax with its shroud of translucent wings is all copperplate and gears. A machine. Something Powder would design.

No—not Powder.

Jinx.

Vi jerks her wrist. The creature skitters off. She braces herself for an explosion. Instead, the contraption's wings flicker. In an eyeblink, it vanishes. Maybe it's jumped off the roof. Or flown off into the muggy atmosphere. Whatever: it's gone.

Vi needs to get gone too.

She stashes the telescope away. Keeping low, she creeps along the ledge, and over it. The climb up the building hadn't felt long. She was so juiced on adrenaline. Now, the adrenaline is replaced by a clammy dread. The Undercity throbs around her, no longer a familiar presence but a sinister one. In the variegated neon glow, the streets seem alien: the air itself seems to whisper about the interloper in their midst.

Vi's boots hit the concrete. The alleyway is empty. She hears no footsteps of prowling blackguards. It's thirty minutes from Entresol to the Boundary.

If she redlines on the last of her endurance, she can—

A rustle in the background.

Vi turns, and comes face-to-face with Sevika. Her muscled shape is folded into a form-fitting black suit, jacket wide open, pimping d-cups and a hardbelly in a tight maroon crop top. She radiates a tough sleekness, hair cut short and shiny, lips licked a nasty shade of red that matches the sharp twist of her smile.

Seeing her, Vi glowers her old defiance before falling perfectly still.

Fanned around Sevika in a semi-circle are six blackguards, their tac-suits contoured by the stark red neon of the streetside signs. Their guns are out and ready.

Aimed right at Vi.

"Officer," Sevika greets.

Then she punches Vi.

It is a brutal overhand fired straight from her hip. It connects with Vi's solar plexus, sending her sailing back several feet. She hits the alleyside wall and slumps in a heap. Pain rebounds through her ribcage. Sevika had used the mechanical arm. The kickback is like taking a shot from an elephant gun.

Sevika struts closer. Her steel-toed boot prods Vi's shoulder. Reflecting the red neon lights, her eyes seem to be the color of blood.

"Get your ass up," she says. "Silco wants a word."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #arcane netflix #arcane silco #arcane sevika #arcane jinx #arcane vi #arcane caitlyn #silco #sevika #jinx #caitlyn #vi #caitvi #vi x caitlyn #fanfic #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo

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Commentary on the Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ according to St. Mark – Chapter 8

First, Christ feeds four thousand people with seven loaves. Second (v. 15), He teaches His disciples to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees. Third (v. 22), He cures a blind man, who sees men like trees walking. Fourth (v. 31), He predicts His passion and death, and when Peter remonstrates with Him, He spurns him as Satan. Finally (v. 33), He declares that everyone must take up his cross and save his soul.

In those days again, when there was a great multitude, and had nothing to eat; calling his disciples together, he saith to them: 2 I have compassion on the multitude, for behold they have now been with me three days, and have nothing to eat. 3 And if I shall send them away fasting to their home, they will faint in the way; for some of them came from afar off. 4 And his disciples answered him: From whence can any one fill them here with bread in the wilderness? 5 And he asked them: How many loaves have ye? Who said: Seven. 6 And taking the seven loaves, giving thanks, he broke, and gave to his disciples for to set before them; and they set them before the people. 7 And they had a few little fishes; and he blessed them, and commanded them to be set before them. 8 And they did eat and were filled; and they took up that which was left of the fragments, seven baskets. 9 And they that had eaten were about four thousand; and he sent them away. 10 And immediately going up into a ship with his disciples, he came into the parts of Dalmanutha. 11 And the Pharisees came forth, and began to question with him, asking him a sign from heaven, tempting him. 12 And sighing deeply in spirit, he saith: Why doth this generation seek a sign? Amen, I say to you, a sign shall not be given to this generation. 13 And leaving them, he went up again into the ship, and passed to the other side of the water. 14 And they forgot to take bread; and they had but one loaf with them in the ship. 15 And he charged them, saying: Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, and of the leaven of Herod. 16 And they reasoned among themselves, saying: Because we have no bread. 17 Which Jesus knowing, saith to them: Why do you reason, because you have no bread? Do you not yet know nor understand? Have you still your heart blinded? 18 Having eyes, see you not? And having ears, hear you not? Neither do you remember. 19 When I broke the five loaves among five thousand, how many baskets full of fragments took you up? They say to him: Twelve. 20 When also the seven loaves among four thousand, how many baskets of fragments took you up? And they say to him: Seven. 21 And he said to them: How do you not yet understand? 22 And they came to Bethsaida; and they bring to him a blind man, and they besought him that he would touch him. 23 And taking the blind man by the hand, he led him out of the town; and spitting upon his eyes, laying his hands on him, he asked him if he saw any thing. 24 And looking up, he said: I see men as it were trees, walking.

25 After that again he laid his hands upon his eyes, and he began to see, and was restored, so that he saw all things clearly. 26 And he sent him into his house, saying: Go into thy house, and if thou enter into the town, tell nobody. 27 And Jesus went out, and his disciples, into the towns of Cæsarea Philippi. And in the way, he asked his disciples, saying to them: Whom do men say that I am? 28 Who answered him, saying: John the Baptist; but some Elias, and others as one of the prophets. 29 Then he saith to them: But whom do you say that I am? Peter answering said to him: Thou art the Christ. 30 And he strictly charged them that they should not tell any man of him. 31 And he began to teach them, that the Son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected by the ancients and by the high priests, and the scribes, and be killed: and after three days rise again. 32 And he spoke the word openly. And Peter taking him, began to rebuke him. 33 Who turning about and seeing his disciples, threatened Peter, saying: Go behind me, Satan, because thou savorest not the things that are of God, but that are of men. 34 And calling the multitude together with his disciples, he said to them: If any man will follow me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. 35 For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it: and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel, shall save it. 36 For what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his soul? 37 Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? 38 For he that shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation: the Son of man also will be ashamed of him, when he shall come in the glory of his Father with the holy angels. 39 And he said to them: Amen I say to you, that there are some of them that stand here, who shall not taste death, till they see the kingdom of God coming in power.

Commentary: Saint Mark - Chapter 8

Verse 10. Dalmanutha. Matth. 15:39 says Magedan, because in fact these two places were near each other, as I noted there.

Verse 15. Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and of the leaven of Herod. The leaven is the doctrine of the Pharisees, by which they taught children to say to their parents corban, as well as other things contrary to the law of God. The leaven of Herod is the doctrine of the Sadducees, for with them Christ had His most recent controversy, as appears from Matthew 16, verses 1 and 12. For Herod, as well as many of the principal people at that time, were Sadducees, according to Josephus (lib. 18 Antiq. cap. 2), who denied the immortality of the soul, and lived like atheists. So Herod lived in adultery, killed John, and committed many other crimes, having no fear of God. For although he thought (6:16) that John had risen again in Christ, yet that opinion was not so much his own as that of the people, and was not an expression of faith, but was wrung out of him by fear. In short, he granted that John, being a very holy man, had risen from the dead, but he denied that he and those like him would rise, so that he might indulge freely in carnal pleasures. Others, with Origen and S. Jerome, understand by leaven the sect of the Herodians, who flattered Herod, saying that he was the Messias. But that sect pertained to Herod of Ascalon, not Herod Antipas, who is meant here, as I have noted at Matth. 22:16.

Verse 22. They bring to him a blind man. And they besought him that he would touch him. “Knowing,” says Bede, “that just as the Lord’s touch could cleanse a leper, so too could it even give sight to the blind.”

Verse 23. And taking the blind man by the hand, He led him out of the town. Outside of Bethsaida, as is plain from verse 22. He led him forth for the same reason that He took the deaf and dumb man aside from the multitude when He was about to heal him (7:33). This was, first, for the sake of prayer, that, being alone, He might collect His thoughts, and unite Himself wholly to God, and pray the more intently and collectedly. Second, to fly from vain glory and the applause of men, and teach us to do the same. Third, because the citizens of Bethsaida were unworthy of this miracle of Christ; for although they had seen Him work so many signs, they would not believe in Him. Thus Theophylact and Euthymius. (See Matth.11:21.)

Mystically, the Scholiast in the works of S. Jerome says, “Christ leads the sinner out of the town, away from the society of the wicked. For wicked conversations corrupt good morals.”

And spitting upon his eyes. Fasting [morning] spittle does good to the purblind, but does not illuminate those who have actually lost their sight. The saliva, therefore, of Christ was not a natural but a supernatural remedy for blindness, being the instrument of Christ’s divinity.

S. Hilarion imitated this miracle by which Christ gave sight to a blind man, as S. Jerome relates in his Life. “A blind woman was brought to Bl. Hilarion, who said that she had expended all her substance upon physicians. Hilarion said to her, “If thou hadst given to the poor what thou hast thrown away upon physicians, Christ, the true physician, would have healed thee.” Then, as she cried out and begged for mercy, he spat upon her eyes; immediately, the Savior’s power was made present through him who followed His example.”

Tropologically, the saliva is the grace of the Holy Ghost, says Bede; this illuminates men so that they see the will of the Lord by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, says the Scholiast in S. Jerome.

Laying his hands. That is, when He had placed His hands upon the eyes of the blind man, and again removed them. For what the Scholiast in S. Chrysostom says is improbable, that this blind man saw people (v. 24) through Christ’s hands while they were over his eyes. For this would have been a new and uncalled-for miracle.

Tropologically, the Scholiast in S. Chrysostom says that Christ spat and laid hands on his eyes, because He wished to demonstrate that the divine word, added to the action, perfected it miraculously.

Verse 24. And looking up, he said, I see men as it were trees, walking. As if to say, “I see something obscurely and confusedly, not clearly and distinctly; for I see men walking, but in such a way that I cannot distinguish whether they are men or trees.” Just as it happens to ourselves, says Bede; when we see people at a great distance, we can only distinguish men from trees by their motion, because men walk, but trees do not. The word walking must be referred to men, not to trees, as is plain from the Greek. The word walking in the Latin text, however, might refer also to trees in this sense: “I see men as it were trees split, and therefore two-footed, and so walking.” This blind man, therefore, as yet in darkness, saw men as it were through a mist and cloud, in which they appeared greater than they really were, it might be as thick and tall as trees, as by means of magnifying glasses letters appear larger than they are in reality.

Moreover a man is similar to a tree. First, being tall and slender; second, being upright; third, being round; fourth, by their covering and adornment [cortice et coma], which in a tree is the bark and the foliage, and in man is his skin and hair; fifth, by their branches, for a man with his arms outstretched is like a tree with its branches outstretched; sixth, by their life and veins, for just as a man lives and is nourished by food, chyle and blood, distributed by the veins through his whole body, so too the tree lives and is nourished by sap which is dispersed by fibres to every part; seventh, a tree, starting as little shrub, gradually grows to the sky, and thus a man “grows like a tree, in a hidden age”; moreover as a man has his childhood, adolescence, manhood, old age and death, so too does a tree; eighth, a good tree produces good fruits, a bad tree, bad fruits; thus a good man performs good deeds, a bad one, wicked deeds; therefore, just as a tree is known by its fruits, so, too, a man is known by his works, as Christ teaches (Matth. 7:17). Finally, trees, like animals, have their hide, blood, flesh, nerves, veins, bones, and marrow, says Pliny (lib. 16, cap. 38). Hence experience proves that animals, too, are born of trees, especially ducks, on the islands off Scotland.

Moreover trees seem to walk on islands and in forests which, [reflected] in a river or in the sea, are moved and tossed about on the waters, such as can be seen at the city of Audenarde in Belgium. The same thing happens when they are agitated by winds. Now trees thrive in the north wind, are strengthened by it and germinate well, but caressed by the south wind they droop, says Pliny (lib. 17 cap. 2). Thus men gain strength and proficiency in virtue through adversities, but weaken and lapse in prosperity.

Pliny adds (lib. 13 cap. 4) that trees, especially palms, have two genders, just as human beings do, so that some are males, others females. He says, “The male palm tree flowers, whereas the female, having no flower, germinates only by a sort of thorn.” The same author (lib. 17 cap. 24) states that trees, like human beings, suffer from hunger, indigestion, and plague, and become sick with other illnesses. He also teaches (lib. 17 cap. 25) that trees have often spoken like men; but this is either fanciful, or else brought about by angels or demons. He states (lib. 23 cap. 1) that the first ready-made food of human beings was from trees, and that by this inducement men looked up to heaven: therefore, he presents a tree saying, “A great deal of man’s pleasure comes from me: I bring forth the juice of the vine, the oil of the olive; I produce dates and fruits of so many varieties, without requiring the earth to be plowed by the work of oxen. . . . All things that come from me are ready, freely offering themselves, and if it is too much trouble to reach for them, they even fall.” Therefore, this blind man who was beginning to see had every reason to say, I see men as it were trees, walking.

In a similar way S. Gregory Thaumaturgus, fleeing the Decian persecution, withdrew with his deacon to a certain hill. A certain traitor made known where they were to the persecutors, who carefully searched the whole hill to arrest Gregory. With strong faith in God, he stood in prayer, with eyes immovable and hands stretched out. But God smote the persecutors with blindness, or an inability to see. They returned and reported that they had seen nothing on the hill except two trees a little distant from one another. When they had gone away, the traitor himself went up the hill and saw two men, Gregory and his deacon, instead of the trees. He acknowledged that it was the work of divine power that they had appeared to the persecutors to be trees, and he fell down at their feet, and from a traitor became a confessor of the Faith. Thus S. Gregory of Nyssa in his Life.

Finally, the saying of the philosopher is well known: “What is man? He is an inverted tree,” because he sends forth his feet like branches below, and his head and brain like roots above, in that man must derive celestial life from heaven, and produce the celestial fruits of virtues.

Mystically, the Scholiast in S. Jerome says, “The blind man is a penitent sinner. He sees men as trees walking, because he esteems everyone superior to himself. With David he counts himself unworthy to be called a man, deeming himself to be a dead dog and a flea”(2 Kings 16). Hence such a man, by his humility, merits to be illuminated and exalted.

Verse 25. After that again he laid his hands upon his eyes, and he began to see, and was restored, so that he saw all things clearly. Christ wished not suddenly, but by degrees, perfectly to illuminate this blind man. First, that He might exhibit miracles of every description. Second, that this miracle might be more esteemed. Third, and principally, that He might accommodate Himself to the imperfect faith of the blind man and of those who brought him, increasing their faith as the miracle proceeded; and that He might the more kindle in them faith, hope, and desire that it might be brought to a perfect work. “In the first place, He cured this blind man imperfectly,” says Euthymius, “inasmuch as he believed imperfectly, that he who as yet had but a little vision might by means of the little light believe more perfectly, and be healed more completely; for He was the wise Physician.” And by and by he says, “Increase of faith deserved increase of healing.” Victor, too, says, “This increase and strengthening of sight confirms the increase and strengthening of his faith.”

Tropologically, Christ wished to teach us that the unbeliever and the sinner are gradually illuminated by God, and that they ought correspondingly to make gradual increase in the knowledge and worship of God. “He did it,” says Bede, “that He might show the magnitude of human blindness, which usually arrives step by step, and by certain grades, as it were, of proficiency, at the vision of God.” For as the Scholiast in S. Chrysostom says, “There are degrees of knowledge; neither can any one arrive in a single hour, or, indeed, without considerable time, at perfect knowledge.” We have experience of this in children and scholars, who must be taught and instructed step by step. Otherwise, if the teacher, being impatient with delay and trouble, should wish to teach them everything at once, he would crush their memory and intellect, so that they would take in nothing. It is like wine when it is poured into a vessel with a narrow neck; if you try to pour it all in at once, you pour in scarcely anything, but nearly the whole is spilled. Worthy of note is the Italian proverb, Piano piano si va lontano. [“Gently, gently, a long journey is made.”]. Also the saying of the philosopher, “Movement is by successive degrees.”

Symbolically, the Scholiast in S. Jerome says, “Christ laid His hands upon his eyes, that he might see all things clearly, that is, that by visible works he might understand things invisible, and which eye hath not seen; and that after the film of sin he might clearly behold the state of his soul with the eye of a clean heart. For blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

Verse 26. If thou enter into the town [Latin: vicum, village]. That is, into the town of Bethsaida (which was a sort of small village or hamlet), from which He had led him (v. 23), unless by the Latin word vicum you prefer to understand an “outlying district,” or a village adjoining Bethsaida or nearby.

Verse 34. Let him deny [Latin: deneget]. That is, “let him deny [abneget] himself,” as the Vulgate renders it at Matth. 16:24.

Verse 38. For he that shall be ashamed of me. In Greek ἐπαισχυνθῇ, i.e., “shall blush,” namely at Me and My teaching, life and profession of poverty, humility and the cross.

In this adulterous generation of depraved Jews, who are believers and sons of God, though not genuine ones, but like spurious children, the offspring of adultery. For they are degenerate from the faith of their fathers, the patriarchs, since they will not receive Me, the Messias promised to them. Therefore, they are not so much children of God as of the devil. Such are called in Hebrew רחנ ינב bene nechar, i.e., children born of a strange man or father, that is, begotten by an alien or an adulterer; therefore, they are unworthy of the true Father, God, and their ways are unlike His. (See commentary on Matth. 10:33.)

Verse 39. The kingdom of God, i.e., the glory of the kingdom of God, which is about to be in My transfiguration.

Coming, i.e., appearing, and manifesting itself to Peter, James, and John. In power. That is, with great might, efficacy, glory, splendor, and majesty.

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