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jeeperso · 3 years

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D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc, part 1

"Killing's not working and murders all we’re good at!" "I’m good at lots of…" "And murders all we’re good at."

"Chipmunk droppings, I just got this nice cloak and my daggers enchanted. This stinks like a badger who hasn't bathed in months."

“I can do horrible. But, sure, whatever.” "I'm sure there are easier ways to get a harem for yourself, that don't come with as many strings attached."

"Wrong head. This one is much more swelled."

"Let's hope if we ignore it then it will do the same and then bugger off." “We def gonna have to kill it by end of day.” "Worse, I'd hate for us to agitate it and it turn out to be some sort of.... delivery head..." “It’s what I’d use for messages if I was a forked up Wizard.”

"You don't intimidate me." He says, clearly intimidated.

“If it makes you feel better, now I only have to roll one body into the ditch.”

"We've no quarrel with you. Stand aside, or barter like...and he ran off..."

"There we go. Nice and non-violent." “You mispronounced 'boring'.”

"I'm going to keep a look out in case someone competent tries to ambush us."

“Besides, I’m like… a free lance peacekeeping agent. For certain definitions of peace. And keeping. And all the other words really.”

"Okay, just what is that, an ogre, a hill giant, or something else?" “Can I kill this one?”

"A silver piece says Tiny is as likely to attack them as us."

"Unfortunately we were testing a modified growth potion one day and I drew the short straw."

"I figured as much. You're ill equipped, your tactics are amateurish, and you don't respond well when things don't go your way. Screams desperate with few options." "You don't have to rub it in man." “You tried to rob us. Twice. And we didn’t kill you. Even though I kinda want to.”

“I dunno, the one with horns is screaming that he’s got some cool shit we can steal.” "I am Nima Galzona, Necromancer, and apprentice to the great Hazlik." “Jonni Humantorch, genie fucker.”

"I'm...not comfortable riding inside a giant mouth. Bad experience with a dire mole once."

"Do necromancers just lose the ability to smell? Or they just get so used to the scent of decay that it doesn't bother them any more?"

"So anyone else get the feeling that 'murders' is going to be a drastic understatement about what's wrong here? I don't get the impression that a crime spree merits wizard attention."

Today however the streets are strangely sparse, as you head to where the caravan usually sets up, you find out why. “Please be fire, please be fire, please…”

Death to all witches and workers of magic, repent and pray the gods show thee mercy, for I have none. --The Witchfinder. “Oh, sweet! Someone they’ll give me money to set on fire!”

“I don’t use magic. The universe just knows I’m awesome.”

"Oh boy... shits about to get political." Jonni stops and puts the torches she was gonna start selling back.

At this point Nima turns around and unleashes a massive skull shaped fireball into the air high above the crowd. “Nice add on. 9/10.”

“Which remind me, if you cast speak with dead, and speak with plants, can you talk to chairs?”

"I threatened to pick you up like an angry poodle once, am not afraid to do it again."

"I'll go along, someone needs to make sure Jonni doesn't set stuff on fire we need intact."

"I wonder what kind of experiment it must have been to have so many people..." "I can guarantee you won't like the answer." OOC: Let's be optimistic. Maybe it was an experiment in self-sustainable farming to improve the local ecosystem. OOC: Narrator: it was not.

"Why can't we ever go anywhere nice? I can vaguely remember nice places used to exist somewhere at some point."

"Okay, who broke the moon?" OOC: Who knows in this savage land of sorcery and super science. "Wait, he can break a moon! Umm, we should avoid him for a long, long time." "This is his domain after all. That or some race of lunatic ratmen who thought it was made of Ruminating Rock."

Just a single row of normal sized bricks, about ankle height. "Its a trap, get an axe."

“Marsh, we can make you a new hand, right?”

“Shove it in.....Are we still saying 'phrasing'?”

"Goggles on, things are weird." “Here weird or 'coke party in the City of Brass' weird?”

"You know how I was wondering about why we never go anywhere nice? Well now we are somewhere nice and I don't trust it at all."

“Hey, so what are you doing after work?” Pause. "I do not have that information." “Well, this is Hell, let’s burn it down. Burn it all down!”

"Hold on, I speak attraction." (POSTER'S NOTE: As in theme park, not sex.)

"That information is classified. Please give administrator passcode." "A Wizard did it." "Passcode accepted." "I can't believe that worked." “My second guess was ‘ruminating powder.’”

"Yeah.. The others seem to be currently living-impaired.." “Let’s check my newest victim first then.”

“Hey, slim! Look alive! I wanna discuss mass burial techniques!”

"Talk! Fast! Or steam loud!”

"It is wrong to murder a defenseless mage in cold blood. It is wrong to murder a defenseless mage in cold blood. It is wrong to..."

OOC: Marshal is of the opinion we don't kill him for a long time.

OOC: So what this session has taught us is like everywhere else in Ravenloft, The Weird Wizard Wasteland SUCKS!

Gorbash: okay… so… how do we finally get out of here? Domain lord: Only the Dark Powers could let you out. Edmund: So we need to talk to them. Domain Lord: Literally no one ever has. You’d have to cause a catastrophic amount of attention to maybe get their attention. Jonni: …. My hour has come at last. "Time to kill a monster. And it is self-defense if he summons a monster intent on murdering us." “Sure. Let’s go with that.” "Hi, if you are watching this. I am dead. I assume you killed me, but that was a mistake..." "It really wasn't." "Must run faster. Must run faster. Not getting caught in another dimensional implosion. Must run faster." Escape collapsing grad thesis, first! “Yeah, let’s let Marsh calm him down while we check to see if that loser left anything interesting out here." You find a very interesting ant. The tiny, angry sun is back in the sky. "Don't make eye contact..." "That’s my purse! I don’t know you!” Jonni somehow kicks the sun in the balls. "Beware! We have fortified waffles! They can concuss at 50 paces." “Crab people. Or more fucked up Wizard experiments. 50/50 odds.” OOC: Doctors without Domain Borders. "We only want the food and clothes." "And we just want shinies.” "Money is no use to us, no one would take it from us." “Oh, you just gotta know how to talk to them. Grab em by the short and hairies first.” "As said, my waffles are well fortified. They can be used as throwing stones." "And as a professional, I would advise not swimming five hours after eating one." "Really Jonni, I don't mind the way you speak.. but it might not hurt to try to limit the goading to people who CAN'T wipe us from existence?" “Killing me only proves I was right.” “Hey, we were bonding over our opinion on casual murder!” OOC: Her two diametrically opposed sides! Her evil side! And her indifferent side! "We never truly die, this will avail you nothing." “Yeah? I bet kinda dying still hurts like a mother forker though.” OOC: Slab of iron with which I have lived, strike now one last heart of dickery… “Sorry not sorry we killed your folks!”

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 3 years

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Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

Almsgiving and Prayer (Matthew 6:1-15)

It was characteristic of the Pharisees in our Lord's time, that they sought publicity and display for their religious acts. They made their prayers in as conspicuous a way as possible, so that the people would observe them, mark their 'devoutness' and be impressed with their fervor and their earnestness. This was one thing in which the disciples of Jesus were told that their religion must differ from that of the scribes and Pharisees.

"Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them." This does not mean that they were not to be godly before people - they were to live righteously everywhere. There are many Divine words bidding us to be careful of our conduct in the presence of others. Jesus Himself in this same Sermon said, "So let your light shine before men; that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father." We are to live all the while so that we shall be blameless, that those watching us, to find fault, shall have no reason for speaking against us. We are to show always to all men, an example which shall honor Christ.

What is forbidden, is that we do our 'acts of righteousness' before others, in order to be seen by them. We are to live for the eye of God, to get His praise. Some of those who professed great devoutness in Christ's time, making much show of piety in the presence of men, were in their inner life cruel, unmerciful, grasping and unholy. The lesson Jesus taught, was lowly humility, devoutness of heart, a goodness which did nothing for display - but was always and everywhere true, faithful, genuine, thinking only of pleasing God.

One special example in illustration of the lesson Jesus gives, is regarding the giving of alms. It was the custom of some of the people in those days to give their alms very ostentatiously. If they did not literally sound a trumpet, announcing their gifts, they at least let all people know that they were contributing to the poor and how much they were contributing. They wanted praise for their generosity. The motive was, not to relive distress - but "to be honored by men." Jesus says they have received their reward in full. That is, they had the name of being charitable. Their deeds were known and talked about. They did not give their alms to please God, or because they cared for the poor - and so they had no honor from God, and no love from men as their reward.

Jesus teaches in contrast, in a very emphatic way, the true manner of giving alms. "But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." The lesson would seem to be, that our doing good to others should be, as far as possible, absolutely in secret. When others need our help in their distress, we are not to withhold it - but we are not to tell others of what we do. We are even, as it were, not to let ourselves know of it. We are to give out of love, to those who need to be helped, not humiliating them by making a spectacle of our kindness. Our giving, too, is to be only for the eye of God. Then He will reward us and recompense us.

The lesson is applied still further to prayer. "And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men." They do not pray to God at all, and their real desire is to have men think they are very devout. They have their reward - that is, they get what they seek for: men see them. We all need to guard against the performance of our acts of devotion, for men's eyes - and not for God's .

Jesus does not mean to teach that we are never to pray in the presence of others. Public prayer is a duty. What He is pressing is that we are not to do any religious act to have men see us, and think us devout. We are to pray to God only and our prayer will receive His answer of love and grace. In all our life of love and service, the same rule should be observed. We should never seek honor for anything we do. We should shrink from praise and publicity. To show consciousness of our goodness, and any worthy service we have done - is a blemish. We should hide away rather from praise of men.

Florence Nightingale, having gone like an angel of mercy among the hospitals in the Crimea until her name was enshrined deep in every soldier's heart, asked to be excused from having her picture taken, as thousands begged her to do, that she might drop out and be forgotten, and that Christ alone might be remembered as the author of the blessings which her hand had distributed in His name.

"But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen." The Pharisees chose public places as their place of private devotion. They wanted people to see how devout they were. Jesus bids us to guard against all such display of our religion. He teaches here also the duty of secret prayer. We are to go away alone - other people about us disturb our thoughts. Then we are to shut the door to keep out all the world, that we may be entirely alone with God. He alone is to hear us when we pray, and in Him alone must our dependence be. No one can afford to leave daily secret prayer out of his life. Jesus went often alone to meet with God.

The form of prayer which Jesus gave His disciples, was not meant as the only prayer they were ever to use - but as showing the spirit in which they should pray and the scope of their requests.

"Our Father in heaven." This is the golden gate of prayer. If we enter the temple at all - we must enter it as God's children. Of what open and loving access the name Father assures us. We know that He to whom we speak - has a father's heart, a father's gentleness; a father's yearning for his child. A true earthly parent withholds from his child nothing that is good, so far as his ability goes. God withholds from Him children nothing that is really good. We should learn also from a little child - how to pray to God. We should come to Him in simplicity, with childlike confidence, with unquestioning trust, with yearning love.

"Hallowed be Your name." To hallow is to honor, to make holy. If we pray this prayer sincerely, we will hallow the Divine name in our own heart, we will pray with reverence and love. Christian people sometimes grow very careless in speaking of God. They become so accustomed to using His sacred name in prayer and conversation, that they utter it lightly, as if it were the name of some familiar friend. A miner with black, grimy hand plucks a pure flower from the stem. It seems almost a profanation to touch that beautiful flower with the soiled fingers. But what shall we say to our taking on our unclean lips, the holy name of God? We should learn to hallow this blessed name in our speech. Then we should hallow it in our life. We are God's children and we bear His name. We must take heed that in every act of ours, in our behavior, in our whole character and influence, we should live so that all who see us shall see in us something of the beauty of God.

"May Your kingdom come." God's kingdom is where God is king. In praying this petition, we are to think first of our own heart. The one place we can surrender to God, is our own life. We cannot surrender our neighbor's heart to God. A mother cannot make God king in the heart of her child. But each one of us is master in his own life and can choose who shall rule in it. In praying "May Your kingdom come," our prayer means nothing at all - if it does not first of all invite the Divine King to become our king, to rule in us. Then the prayer widens, and we ask God to set up His kingdom in our home, in community, then over the whole world.

"May Your will be done in earth, as it is in heaven." Some people always quote this petition, as if it meant only submission to some painful providence, as if God's will were always something terrible. They suppose it refers only to losing friends or money, to adversity or calamity, or to being sick or in some trouble. But this is only a little part of its meaning. It is for the doing of God's will, not the suffering of it, that we here pray. Our desire should be always to let God's will be done by us and in us. It is easier, however, to make prayers like this for other people, than for ourselves. We all think others ought to do God's will, and we do not find it a difficult prayer to make that they may do so. But if we offer the petition sincerely, it is a prayer that we ourselves may do God's will, as it is done in heaven. We can pray it, therefore, only when we are ready for implicit, unquestioning obedience.

Then it may - sometimes it does - mean the giving up of a sweet joy, the losing of a gracious friend, the sacrifice of some dear presence, the going in some way of thorns and tears. We should learn always to make the prayer, and then hold our life close to the Divine will, never rebelling, nor murmuring - but sweetly doing or bearing what God gives us to do or bear.

"Give us this day our daily bread." This seems a small thing to ask. Why are we not taught to pray for bread enough to last a week, a month, or a year? It seems for one thing, that Jesus wanted to teach here the lesson of continual dependence. He taught us to come to God each morning with a request simply for the day's food, that we might never feel that we can get along without Him even for one little day. Another lesson He wanted to teach us, was that we should live by the day. We are not to be anxious about tomorrow's needs - we are to think only today's. When tomorrow comes, it will be right to seek provision for it and to take up its cares and duties.

"Forgive us our debts - as we also have forgiven our debtors." The first part of this petition is not hard to pray. But the second part is not so easy. When someone has done us an injury and we are feeling bitter and resentful over it - it is not easy to ask God to forgive us as we forgive others. Perhaps we do not forgive at all - but keep the bitter feeling against our brother in our heart; what is it then that we ask God to do for us when we pray, "Forgive us - as we forgive?" God has linked blessing and duty together in this petition, in an inseparable way. If we will not forgive those who have wronged us, it is evident that we have not the true spirit of repentance to which God will grant remission of sins.

"Bring us not into temptation." We ought never to seek any way in which we shall have to meet temptation. Temptation is too terrible an experience, fraught with too much peril, ever to be sought by us or encountered, save when God leads us in the path in which it lies. So if we make this prayer, we must go only where duty clearly calls us. If we meet temptation there, God will keep us from evil.

#J.R. Miller #Devotional Hours Within the Bible #Almsgiving and Prayer #Matthew 6:1-15 #July 10 #2021

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years

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Fictober 21 - 4 “Fine I give up”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Yep. They fucked - so much for his self control, huh? Now Macen has to deal with the fallout, and more importantly, his feelings. Maybe it wasn’t just sex after all. Did he mention he was bad at ad-lib?

(Don’t worry folks, the confession will come another day... I’m tired, lol.)

---

…

You know that part where he said he was going to break things off? Yeah… the opposite of that had happened.

Macen was careful to sit up as he glanced across the darkened room. Next to him, fast asleep and burrowed under the covers, was his costar. Alex’s face was peaceful as he wandered through his dreams, like he hadn’t just fucked the turian within an inch of his life. Baby faces were damn deceptive that way, and he was proving to be a fine example.

His body was sore in that way he enjoyed oh so much as he slid out of bed, distributing his weight so he didn’t wake the human up. Naked as the day he was born, he padded to Alex’s shower and got in. Human showers were always too damn cold for him, but it didn’t matter as he let the water pour down his carapace as he stood there, standing at the drain.

“You said you weren’t going to do it again…”

And that promise had crumbled like a sandcastle on the beach the moment Alex had looked at him with that expression. After that, it was a blur of tossed clothing, roving hands, and tongues that were still learning how to play nicely with each other. Part of him was glad he had clipped his talons the day before… but that was like admitting defeat in itself.

Fuck… he had fucked up.

He sighed as he rested his head against the shower wall, praying for the freezing water to snap some sense into him. Macen knew he should leave the moment he was dry and had found his pants, but a large part of him just wanted to go back to bed. They had to be on set early tomorrow. He’d be wasting valuable sleep time if he went back to his place. Besides, Alex was closer…

And they’d risk showing up together.

“No, you’re going home after this. It’ll just mean more coffee tomorrow.”

Yet his voice wavered as he washed the soap disappear down the drain. Even then, he was doubting himself. Right then, it felt like he was fighting a war against an unholy combination of his sex drive and… well he didn’t want to mention the other organ. It shouldn’t have had a say in this in all. Really, if anything, his situation was his brain’s fault. Damn thing had gotten used to the human…

Yeah… he had totally meant his brain.

“Alright, get in there and say goodbye.”

The water shut off and Macen dried off in silence. Still naked, he padded back to the bed. Unsurprisingly, Alex was still fast asleep, hugging a bit of the blanket as he dreamed. He looked so peaceful, that it almost seemed cruel to wake him up.

But… he couldn’t just go without saying anything. They had moved past the fuck and leave point months ago.

“Shit…” Macen’s expletive hissed out from between his teeth as he looked around for his pants. At least those he could find – halfway across the room. What could he say, Alex was an enthusiastic partner. Add in the training, and he had reach. No wonder people kept trying to get him to sign up for friendly biotiball matches. “Just… get them and say goodbye.”

Yet when he reached down, he could see the human’s face better. Something about how soft and quiet he looked did terrible things to his stomach, and his pants dropped to the floor with a soft thump. Unfortunately for him, his belt buckle hit first – the metal clang rang out like a shotgun blast.

Shit…

“Mmm…” Alex rolled onto his stomach and burrowed under the blanket. “S’cold… come back to bed, Macen.”

Now, at the moment the turian was definitely not in a sub headspace. If he had been, that could have explained his compulsion to stay. Yet, there was nothing like that in the moment. Something else was leading him back to the bed he had been trying so hard to avoid. It was a powerful urge, and he had no ability to resist.

“I’m coming…” He slid back in, pulling the cover back over his naked body. As soon as he had settled back in, Alex’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. He could feel the human’s heart on his back, and it made his beat faster as his mouth went dry. “Alex?”

“Too cold…” Then there was a sleepy yawn as he nuzzled into his back. “Night…”

Macen’s stomach bubbled as he felt himself leaning into the touch. Logic was screaming at him to do anything, but he was ignoring it then. Instead, he felt his eyes slowly close as the warmth of Alex’s body and his off-beat heart lured him back to sleep. In the morning he would regret this, but at the moment he didn’t care. Right then, there was just the bed and the warm embrace of the man he had come to…

He could deal with that thought later. Much later.

---

“They totally came to the set together.”

“Do you think those rumors were true after all?”

Nothing like crew rumors to make Macen regret being born.

It was finally time for some food after a long morning of filming. Just like he had feared, he and Alex had wound up heading to work together. To say people were talking was putting it mildly. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had already wound up on social media, though he had no ability to check. After the last two disasters he called relationships, he had gotten rid of the entire thing.

Honestly, he didn’t miss the memes. Plus, it gave him a mysterious edge. It was good PR.

Still, his carapace itched as he shot the two humans a glare as he passed. He still had enough bad boy reputation that they scattered like ants, but it didn’t do much more than soothe his prickled ego. In that moment, he had probably confirmed everything they had been whispering about.

What… no one had ever claimed he was smart.

“Fuck…” Macen sighed as he found a quiet place to settle in and eat. Doing so with the mandible implants was a little difficult, but he had figured it out with trial and error. It was good he had too – makeup had been getting annoyed with him. Now at least he was back in their good graces, which was what anyone should want in his line of work.

“Yeah, I’d be saying that too if I was you.”

A shadow had fallen over the turian, and he didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. There were only two people on set who went around in all black armor on the regular, and one of them definitely didn’t set him in shade like that. Just the sound of her voice made his stomach drop.

Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire…

Beau took a seat nearby, her eyes laser focused on him. It made it hard for Macen to swallow his lunch, but he did his best. Honestly, it wasn’t the best idea – it felt like he was swallowing concrete. At least it didn’t actually get stuck, but maybe that death would’ve been preferable to whatever she had planned for him. He’d had a good life… mostly…

“Afternoon, Beau…” Even he knew that was a faulty opening, but Macen had committed to the bit. “Can I help you?”

Another glance as she sipped from a can of soda. “Just wondering when you’re going to ask Alex out and get it over with. You two have been dancing around this for way too long.”

Macen was glad he hadn’t been eating at that point – if he had, he would’ve sprayed levo crumbs everywhere, and as far as he knew she was allergic. Instead, he just choked on his own spit and wound up coughing. To say it wasn’t his finest moment was putting it mildly at best, but at the moment it was all he could do.

At least she had enough heart to thump him on the carapace a few times. It wasn’t going to do anything – he wasn’t human – but it was the thought that counted.

“Don’t die on me, Virius. Garrus was a nightmare to find someone for, or at least that’s what I heard.”

He coughed a few more times, eyes watering. Words were hard, but doable. “I’m not… we’re not…”

Yet there was the feelings in his stomach squirming about in the mere mention of the man he more often than not found himself in bed with. He was adult enough to admit they had moved past simple sex, but… this was something else entirely.

And it was a dark, nasty road, one he knew way too well to be comfortable with anymore.

“I see the way you look at each other. Besides, you’re over each other’s places so much you might as well just fucking move in.” When he gaped, Beau added, “We text each other. I can tell when he’s getting laid, his messages stop and then he’s all relaxed after.”

Damn Alex for being so obvious in his tells…

Macen managed to straighten up, but his heart was still pounding. “It’s… complicated, ok?”

“Because you’re making it that way. You were an ass, get over it and get with it before you regret it.” Beau took another sip from her can. “Unless you’re still thinking this is just a sex thing.”

No… even he knew that one. And even thinking of that made him sigh as he hung his head. It was impossible to ignore the feelings that had been plaguing him for quite some time. To admit it was, in a way, admitting defeat in a war against himself. It was one he had tried to win for so long, yet he was seeing the last of his defenses crumble with every touch, every smile, every time Alex so much as looked at him.

He may have been a turian… but he knew he was beaten.

“Alright, fine … I give up.” His mandibles twitched. “I like the guy, ok?”

Part of him had expected the words to taste bitter on his tongue. Defeat was supposed to be something like that, and yet it was the complete opposite. Macen was surprised to find he felt lighter with just a few words. Of course, that didn’t last long – as soon as there was room, worry filled the place denial had once been.

He never got a fucking moment’s rest.

Beau shook her head as she put her can down. “I hope your delivery’s better when you tell him, Virius. How the hell did you get an award for acting?”

“I never said I was good at ad lib.” Despite everything, he snorted. It was a little bitter and self-depreciating, but it was still a laugh. “That’s going to take more work. I have no idea what to say to him.”

Something about this made him feel like a stupid teenager again, crushing on the cute boy in his class before either of them wound up in basic. He was far too old for something like this, and yet the feelings were so familiar he couldn’t deny it. Despite how hard he had tried, he had damn well caught feelings for Alex.

Well… at least his taste had improved. The guy in his math class had turned out to be a real dickhead.

“That I can’t help you with, Virius.” Beau stood, once again enveloping him in shadow. “But, lucky for you he’s coming this way. Time to work on those ad-lib skills.”

In that moment, Macen could have sworn she smirked as she left him behind to go fuck with someone else’s day. Even worse, she was right – he could see Alex in the distance and judging by the speed he had been spotted by the human and was now being targeted.

Shit… he hadn’t been kidding. He had always been terrible at ad-lib. But… there was no way out of this except through it. All he could do was brace himself for impact and hope he didn’t get tossed like a biotiball during a champion match.

For all he knew, Alex was capable of that now. Wouldn’t that be a way to go… death by being yeet’d by his crush into a wall. Well, there were worse ways he supposed…

Fuck, he so wasn’t ready for this. Fuck…

#fictober21 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #shakarian #the actor AU

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

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Chapter 4 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter four

~|Emily Fox|~

“Guess what I did this weekend?” I ask Madison excitedly when I see her at her locker on Monday morning. She stares at me, blinking a few times. She did not expect me to be this excited on Monday morning. “You rode an elephant?” she asks when she realizes I won’t continue until she guesses. “Don’t ever ride elephants. They’re not made to do that,” I tell her off, “No, I finished writing my song!” Madison’s eyes widen before an excited squeal leaves her mouth. Now we’re getting weird looks from other students, wondering why the hell we’d be so excited on Monday morning. “Let me hear!” she shouts loudly, but I quickly dim the fire inside her eyes by shaking my head. “I still need to tweak it a little, but I think it might actually have potential,” I say. Madison pouts. “I’m sorry, Mads. I promise you, I’ll let you hear it once I pick up the courage to ask someone to duet this with me.” “Like on TikTok?” she asks, visibly confused. “No, I think it might sound better as a duet. I sang like part of it with this Charlie dude at the Music Store.” Madison’s eyebrows rise whilst her eyes widen. “Who’s Charlie?” she asks, the bell nearly ringing out her voice. The two of us make our way to class together. “The Cute Douchebag I told you about?” “You never said he was cute…” “I’m telling you now. He kept coming back to play this one guitar in the store to escape from his parents and I let him while I cleaned up the place. And then on Saturday, he suddenly started singing this verse that fit perfectly what I already had. It sounded amazing, Mads. Our voices blend really, really well together.” I take in a deep breath and release it into a sigh. “Mmh… Cute Douchebag Charlie serenades you and you turn it into a duet… Sounds like the start of a great Romantic movie,” she thinks about it for a moment, “I’d watch that.” “I’m going to put your feet back on the floor, Madison, because nothing’s ever going to happen between Charlie and me.” I can’t hide the smile tugging at my lips though, and I think Madison has seen it too as one of the corners of her mouth curls up into a smirk. “Mmh-mmh…” she hums and before I can bring anything else in, she dips into her classroom, leaving me all alone to find my way to the room next door where I have my first class. Let’s pray today goes by fast. Which only works by constantly imagining what it would be like to show Charlie the song I wrote with his verse added to it and what it would be like if we sung it together. I wonder if he’ll be at the store tonight and if he is, do I immediately tell him I’ve finished the song? Or do I wait until I’ve perfected it? Or do I—I can’t even finish my thought when the bell rings, signaling lunch time. Halfway through.

“Dreaming about mister Cutie Pie?” Madison’s voice startles me as I stand in line for lunch. “Hell, Madi. Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?” She gives me her most mischievous grin. “So, you’re not denying that you were dreaming about mister Cutie Pie?” “No,” she raises her eyebrows, “I mean, no I wasn’t dreaming about him because he’s still a douchebag.” I take a sandwich from the canteen lady. “A very cute Douchebag,” Madison wiggles her eyebrows. “How do you know he’s cute?” I ask as we move towards the fridges for some soda. “You told me. And I found him on Instagram.” She reaches in her bag for her phone whilst we head towards the table we always sit at. “How did you find him on Instagram?” I ask her, sitting down and taking the phone from her to look at his photos. Some of them look really cool and artsy, most of them with his guitar, whether that be electric or acoustic. “I checked the Music Store’s Instagram and looked through their followers and found about fifteen Charlies, but none of them as cute as this one.” I glance up at the handle at the top of his page. Charles_Gillespie. Gillespie? That’s a very unique last name. “You should be in the FBI, Mads,” I tell her and find myself scrolling through all of his pictures. “I mean, it’s no rocket science, babes,” she shrugs off her FBI-abilities. I shake my head at her, and then deep-dive into the wondrous world of Charlie Gillespie’s Instagram. Those eyes. They seem more golden in real life than they do in the pictures on here. And that smile. In one photo, he has like a really lazy smile on his face, but it looks so freakishly adorable that I nearly melt on the spot. “Someone has a crush!” Madison sings into my ear. “I do not,” I sound way more offended than I intended to. “Okay, fine. You do not. But when you stop being in denial, I’ll be here to tell you ‘told you so’,” Madison tells me sassily. I so want to say something to that, but I’m stumped. And too distracted by Charlie’s Instagram. I’m so distracted I even forget to eat and only leaves me with five minutes left to eat an entire sandwich. I shake my head at myself, disgusted by my own thoughts. This boy.

“Heading to work?” Madison asks me when she meets me at my locker after the final bell. “Yep, have to lock up again and work on my song,” I tell her, shutting my locker and shouldering my bag. “Do you think he’ll be there again?” I chuckle, “It would surprise me if he wasn’t. He’s been at the store every day since the day I met him.” Madison raises her eyebrows again. That’s how she looks at me a lot lately. “Someone has a crush on you.” That mischievous grin appears on her face again, and it just makes me shake my head disapprovingly, but I can’t help but smile too. The thought of him having a crush on me disgusts me and makes me feel all giddy inside at the same time. “Yeah, sure,” I say, “See you tomorrow, Madi,” I wave at her, leaving her behind at the school to make my way to the Music Store, where, to no surprise of mine, I find Charlie at the guitars again. He doesn’t even notice me walking in. “There’s only one customer left,” Ash tells me, “He’s been here a lot, hasn’t he?” “What? No? This surely is the first time I see him,” I reply, not being able to hide the sarcasm. “Just lock up when you’re done,” she says throwing me the keys before hopping across the counter. She’s the only person who could ever do that so smoothly. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she yells over her shoulder and rushes away before I can come up with a good comeback. Completely leaving Charlie to his devices, I begin sweeping up the place. Scattered sheet music goes back in its place, dropped food wrappers are being picked up and thrown away, misplaced instruments go back into their place. I’m nearly done when I hear Charlie cough behind me. “Ah, Charles. Didn’t see you there,” I say when I turn around to face him. “Well, yeah… People tell me I can be very quiet,” he replies awkwardly. I hardly believe that. He’s the most obnoxious person I have ever met. “I wanted to ask; did you finish that song we sang the other day? I really liked it and I thought maybe if you’d finished it, we could sing it together?” My eyes widen at the mention of the song. Should I tell him the truth? “Uhm, no, I haven’t finished it yet.” The lie rolls off my lips before I can stop it. “Great! I actually had this idea for a verse last night,” he reaches into the pocket of his skinny jeans and a piece of folded up paper appears. “I think it would sound good as a bridge.” He unfolds the paper as he says it and then places it on top of the piano wing, reaching just past me. I get a whiff of his deodorant and aftershave. A blend of minty fresh and musky undertones. I realize it’s my favorite scent in the world. “I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah You are my brightest, burning star, woah-woah I never knew a love so real We're heaven on earth, melody and words When we are together we're” He looks up at me every now and again when he’s singing. And all it does is cause hurricanes in my mind and the rhythm of my heart quickening. “And then it goes back into the chorus you wrote,” he finishes, breaking our eye contact once again. “Because, you know, that was really good.” He awkwardly coughs again. His eyes pleadingly looking up at me from underneath the strands of hair. That’s when I realize he isn’t wearing the beanie I’ve seen him with so many times. His brown locks lay messily across his head, but it creates a rougher look, which works for him. “Yeah, okay, thanks, Charles,” I say, recomposing and returning to the tougher façade I’m used to putting up around him. “You done? I need to clean up.” I point around the room to emphasize my lie. The room is entirely clean, I just need to get out of the situation. “Why are you pushing this away, Emily?” The question takes me aback a bit. “It’s obvious we’re supposed to write this song together. With both our ideas and creativity together, we can create so many amazing songs. This is meant to be, Emily. Why can’t you see that?” I’m not entirely sure what he means by ‘meant to be’. We are? Or as a band? Or a singer-songwriter-duo? I don’t even have the time to ask him, because he’s already turned around and making his way to the door. “I write alone,” I tell him quickly, causing him to freeze with his hand on the doorknob. He looks back at me with those pleading puppy eyes. “So, whatever you think is meant to be, it’s not going to happen.” He simply nods his head at that. “Good to know.” For the rest of that night, I wonder if that’s going to be the last I hear of him.

Even Uncle Mitch can tell something’s wrong when I’m in the kitchen making myself some food after my shift. He stares at me with those worried green eyes of his and sits down across from me at the table. “You want to vent?” he simply asks, which he knows is enough for me to break. I take a deep breath, wondering where to begin in this story and what to leave out for my old Uncle’s sake. “There’s this boy—” before I can continue, he jumps up. “Who do I need to chase down?” he tries to sound tough, but Uncle Mitch is the gayest of all the gays. He’s not afraid to show off his more feminine side. But in situations like this, when he pretends to be all tough dad and everything, it’s just kind of endearing. Because that’s not at all who he is. “No one, Uncle Mitch.” He slowly sits back down and lets me continue, propping his head onto his hand, elbow resting on the tabletop. “This boy always comes into the Music Store during my shifts. He either has this excuse to be there, buying picks or strings or polish or whatever, and one night he asked if he could stay and play some guitar whilst I clean up because he wanted to escape his parents,” I take a deep breath, remembering what my parents told me when I said what college I wanted to go to. “I couldn’t say no to that, could I?” Uncle Mitch hums with a small smile on his face. “So then he sang part of a song he wrote and it kind of matched with the song I was writing, so I sang along with him, and then we sang the chorus together and our voices match really well and they blend so beautifully and I bet you would’ve gotten goosebumps, Uncle Mitch,” he chuckles at that, “And today he came up with a bridge for the song and he sang it to me and it was perfect and I kind of shook him off. I should’ve told him how beautiful it was, but I didn’t.” I sniffle, tears pooling in my eyes, and I’m not even sure why. “And then he asked why I pushed him away because we’re meant to write songs together and I don’t disagree with him but…” I trail off as sobs take over my body. “But you can’t write songs with anyone else but your Uncle Bobby,” Uncle Mitch finishes, his voice sounds closer suddenly. When I wipe away the tears, I feel his arms snake around my body. All I can do is place my hands on his, and softly cry as he speaks. “I know it’s hard, Muffin, but you have to know that your Uncle Bobby wouldn’t want you to stop making music. He’d tell you to go for it if he heard how well the two of you work together. I think you know he’d want you to work with this cute boy.” “I never said he was cute,” I chuckle between the sniffles. “You’re crying at the dining table about a boy. If he’s not cute, I don’t know what you’re crying about.” He lets go of me and assesses me from a distance. I look up at him. “He’s cute right?” I nod my head. “I’ve taught you well.” He presses a kiss to my head and makes his way out of the kitchen. “I don’t know what to tell him when I see him again though? If I ever see him again.” “Just make sure your song is finished and show him what you’ve made of it. Then he’ll realize you’ve changed your mind.” I nod my head, taking in all the advice. “And I’m sure you’ll see him again, Muffin. You’re a catch.” He winks at me before completely disappearing out of the kitchen. “It’s creepy when you say that!” I shout after him before turning back to my food. “But it’s not when Cutie from the Music Store says it!” I hear him faintly somewhere in the house. Uncle Mitch is the best person in the entire world. I wouldn’t know what to do with him. Mom and dad wouldn’t know what to tell me in a situation like this. Dad would probably hunt Charlie down and mom would tell me I wasn’t ready for a relationship with a boy. Thank Heaven’s for Uncle Mitch. The light in the darkest dark. He’ll shine bright forever.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle

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#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #charlie x oc #jeremy shada #owen joyner #madison reyes #Luke Patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #julie molina #oc emily fox

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cadomoisspokenfor · 3 years

Text

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 6:

Balance

Farouk later says he made all this to keep David comfortable. But then why go through the effort of having therapy sessions with anyone else? Is he just delighting in the gaslighting?

Small thing, Ptonomy’s not technically a psychic in the same way David/Farouk/Oliver are, but he does have well practiced mental abilities. I wonder if it takes more work to trick him than the others. Same for Walter I guess.

“I like to think i’m a time traveller. I can go back and back, but all I can do is... watch.” Sad and also relevant for future episodes. Thinking about it, this a pretty character defining statement for Ptonomy. Perfect recollection of all the horrible things he’s seen in the past, but never able to change anything.

Also, Farouk sat there and listened to Ptonomy’s entire story patiently and quietly. To what end?

Do Cary and Kerry still think of themselves as siblings in this simulation? Or are they just codependent friends?

So Walters problem is fragile masculinity?

Why is Syd able to see through Farouks delusion? Why doesn’t Farouk do anything about it?

I theorized once that Syd could see through it cause she knows what it’s like to be in the white room, but Ptonomy and Melanie have been in the astral plane too. And Ptonomy prides himself on knowing when he’s in reality. Could it be that Syd just has a really strong sense of self? Because of her power I mean. “Everywhere I go, I’m me.” It’s also possible Syd holds no insecurities about whether she’s psychotic or not. So when reality suddenly changes, she doesn’t just brush it off.

Is Farouk over inflating parts of Amy’s real personality, or is this just a completely inserted personality with no tangible connection to the real Amy?

This isn’t how David sees Amy, but maybe it’s how Farouk sees her, for holding David back?

Ptonomy takes Lenny’s place here. By Farouk’s design, or is it just to show similarities between their personalities? Ptonomy can be a bit cruel towards people with trauma and grief.

David no longer loves dogs.

“Paul” and not “Ptonomy”. I think it’s just a nickname, and I *think* they use it later too.

“I just feel so in control here. Like- my expectations... I’m not trying to bite off more than I can chew...” David feels most comfortable with low expectations and small and manageable goals. This feels really relevant for later.

I think Lenny here realizes she’s made David too comfortable. He’s never gonna want to leave and become a God if this keeps up. Also, his attachment to Syd keeps him from becoming what Farouk wants him to be.

On that attachment, this is maybe the most at peace we’ve ever seen and will ever see David be in the show. And he cites his relationship with Syd as the reason.

(Small note) I don’t think it’d be fair to say that David moving forward, or even David before this, not prioritizing their relationship all the time is a mistake on his part. Even though the show sorta paints it to be one, most of the time when he’s pulled away it was either to save someone in mortal danger, or to stop a global threat. David’s constantly dealing with the classic superhero dilemma, but the others don’t seem to see what they’re putting him through. Or in some cases they do and think he should just get over it. Curse of his powers I guess.

“People always talk about the depression. But it’s the other side, that... invulnerable feeling. Tha- it’s.... dangerous.” The more David gives into the thought that he is a powerful mutant who can’t be damaged by anything, the more dangerous he becomes. This one’s hard to reconcile cause it means even if he wanted to use his powers for good he couldn’t because it’s treated as a slippery-slope to him becoming a villain. Dammit, Hawley...

Farouk clearly knows what makes David happy, but continues to try pushing him into the “I am God” thing despite this. Perhaps this is what he regrets in s3? He could’ve given David exactly what he needed, but like many parents, he wanted his kid to be a miniature version of him. He thought that was what was best for him. Later he’ll realize it wasn’t.

Melanie’s airplaning her food to no one. Is she just pretending or does she actually see Oliver there? Probably the former.

Cary and Kerry’s in-syncness isn’t always all that relevant to the greater plot, but it’s always fun to see.

Farouk’s probably still trying to build up David’s subconscious hatred of Amy.

David’s real upset about the pie. This note’s not necessarily important, I just feel bad for him 🥺.

Also, Syd tried to use this as an opportunity to get out of eating cherries. Valiant effort.

Those bugs are in the white room too. Is Farouk even leaving those on purpose? Or is it more like a mental infection?

The bugs are gone when Syd and the others are looking at it, but they reappear after she sits back down.

Farouk probably hasn’t gotten to flex his powers *this strongly* in 30 years. Hence the “Feeling good” dance sequence.

The same weird thing behind the glass that was in David’s room in Chap 1 is in Syd’s room this ep.

Syd’s also having nightmares about the real world here, just like she will in s3.

I reiterate, how can Syd tell?

MAYBE, the reason Syd could tell is she’s actually been in the real Clockworks before. The rest haven’t. Well, David has, but I don’t think he *wants* to question things right now. Being with Syd in Clockworks was a real happy time for him. Syd describes it like a feeling of deja vu. It’s all reruns to her, but... slightly edited reruns. A constant feeling of “that’s not how this went.” (Small note) It should be considered that David actively resist believing in anything supernatural because of his previous diagnosis. Ans his current one too, probably.

David feels the outside world is too complicated for him. “Too loud.” “I need the routine, the grounding. I’m good.” Interestingly, Dr. Busker’s the one who tells him the outside side worlds not cut out for everybody. Seems counterintuitive to her/Farouk’s goals.

David’s completely comfortable with growing old and dying in a mental hospital. This wasn’t the case at the start of Chap 1. I think the only thing that changed was Syd came into his life.

“I can’t stay here.”

“Not even for me?”

David’s relationship with Syd makes him feel happy and safe and comfortable, but Syd can’t stagnate. She assumedly has dreams outside of David or anything going on with Summerland. *Assumedly* since we’re not necessarily shown what those might be. (There is that alternate timeline where we see her in the back of a limi driving past homeless David)

This is all to say, their lives right now are too busy for them to sit down and talk about it, but there are hints that their long-term relationship goals are incompatible with each other.

It’s not brought up a lot but Kerry has a lot of chemical and prescription terms memorized. Probably from paying attention during Cary’s career, but still, it does make me wonder how she knows so little about other aspects of life in s2.

According to www.uofmhealth.org “Clozapine is an antipsychotic medicine that is used to treat schizophrenia after other treatments have failed.”

(Small aside for drug talk) [According to www.rxlist.com “Effexor (venlafaxine) is an antidepressant used for treatment of major depression.”

Those are the 2 drugs Cary and Kerry say Syd might be on. Said in response to Syd talking about the strange dreams she’s been having.

One of the listed side effects of Effexor is “strange dreams.”

Clozapine has a lot of things listed but I don’t see anything about effecting dreams. I do see drowsiness and muscle problems listed though, and Syd looks like she trips a bit before starting to talk about her dream.]

I didn’t realize on previous watches that Cary and Kerry both had Oliver related dreams. Cary saw the ice cube, and Kerry saw “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.” Probably in reference to the diving suit.

Melanie in Mental Clockworks acts very similar to Melanie throughout s2. I’d go as far to say they’re the same. Perhaps Farouk is just overemphasizing already present parts of their personalities. When driven to this point Melanie’s willing to do or believe anything that will bring Oliver back. In s2 this mindset will be intentionally orchestrated by Farouk, then subsequently exploited for the cave conversation.

Is Walter interested in Kerry because he subconsciously recognizes her as the girl he shot before?

When Cary’s first brought into the astral plane he’s in the middle of a forest. Could this symbolize the forest around David’s old house? David also had to make a journey before getting to where Oliver was located. Though I can’t remember what he was surrounded by when he came in.

If Syd’s not in there because she doesn’t want to be touched, then why did David still do the pillow divider thing when they were in bed together?

Syd was stored in David’s memories of his childhood bedroom.

Ptonomy’s powers give off a very “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” vibe. I think this is also the last time we see him in mental clockworks.

Walter definitely goes for power above all else.

Syd got locked behind that door she was so curious about.

Amy says some real targeted stuff here. She plays directly into David’s insecurities. If what she says is supposed to represent David’s deepest fears, than it would seem being unloved or underserving of love is the worst thing in the world to him. “You’re unwanted.” It feels doubly sad cause Amy visiting him in the hospital was probably what kept him going all those years without Syd. Lenny was nice but she... was also being treated.

Melanie prays.

Is it the actual Oliver that appears to Melanie at first? Whoever they are, they leave immediately after instructing her to somehow save David and Syd. It could be possible that Oliver did that to get a head start on it while he brought Cary up to speed.

Whenever someone questions his and Syd’s relationship, David’s only response is a defensive “We’re in love.”

Farouk’s sick of trying to indirectly manipulate David to his will and just starts outright venting about how he doesn’t get “love.”

This is also the first person-to-person philosophical discussion between David and Farouk.

Farouk also doesn’t get being “happy” and “fulfilled.” How sad.

Lenny says “Daaaviiiiiiiid” in the same way that Clark does.

Farouk calls himself a fungus here. If he’s using the previous metaphor, he means to say he’s feeding off David’s power and is eventually gonna burst out of his head, killing him in the process. (Added a few seconds after) I forgot he literally shows David that that’s what he means, lol.

Farouk’s downplaying his emotional connection to David here, claiming to only want to team with him for boosted power. But he does also say “I’m trying to help you.” I think this whole scene might be Farouk’s way of saying “Either you finally hatch and become a God, or I leave you behind to die. There are no other options.”

Again, Farouk knows what makes David happy and can’t accept that cause it’s not what he wants out of David. He’ll regret this later.

“Oh, you pretty things! Don’t you know you’re driving your mama’s and papa’s insane? Let me make it plain, gotta make way for the homo superior!” “Homo superior” in Marvel comics is another name for mutants. And David being the most powerful mutant in show would mean he’s the most “superior” of the homo superiors. Farouk locks his mind away for not realizing that. I guess he’s the “papa” in this scenario.

The lyrics to “Oh! You pretty things”in general is relevant to what’s going on at this point in the story.

Another line in particular sticks out, “Look out at your children. See their faces in golden rays. Don’t kid yourself, they belong to you. They’re the start of a coming race.” Farouk tries to essentially disown David at the end of this episode, but the song says “don’t kid yourself.” Farouk will eventually come to think of David as his son. A son that he knows he failed. Not yet though.

#legion fx

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victorusolano · 3 years

Text

FYD Series

by Victor Ubanos Solano

The old lady said that the pup was born in the province of Cavite from an unidentified breed of canines. Although it looked like a Labrador or a half-breed Saint Bernard or if mistakenly recognized from refined breeds of dogs, it was just a dog of some ordinary sort or I do not know. She said, “My friend had to put the pup inside a rugged sack so we can travel the way from south to north.” It was Friday morning when I met them at the tail coach of the PUV going to Antipolo. “They're not letting us to onboard because they do not allow pets inside” The Madame exclaimed. She was talking to me like a newly found friend. But only with a calm smile, I rewarded her back from her exasperation.

The other commuters reverted in silence while we were all comfortably tucked into our seats. “So, I gave its brother to the kind and gentle bus driver then he let us in.” She said while still a bit annoyed. Again, another moment of delay before she spoke another word. “Don’t tell them!” She shrugged with a hush. The car moved on, the furry creature sneaked out from the sack bag where he was kept out of sight and raised his little paws to my feet. “Cute creature,” I said and put him on my lap. “You want? You can adopt him too!” Calmly she said. The little beast gave me a gaze of glassy eyes as if telling me, Please! He bowed his head and folded his feet, pushed his body closer to my arms; I looked at him and told myself, a furry friend – and I named him Maximus.

The truth is, I never had a pet that I raised on my own. The feeding and caring for a pet to live was never handed to me directly as an opportunity. My attempts from the past were some experience of a disaster, I can name a few: Boomer was the first, she was a family dog and died while giving birth to Dugan which I named after an anime series Cedie in the ninety’s. Unfortunately, Dugan died a miserable death due to an unknown disease. The last was Chuchay. I would say Chuchay is a lesbian bitch but that was only my guess and died a virgin dog. There was one animal that lived a long life and expired old, It was a rooster. Needless to say, the reasons for these animals being gone, the sad and happy moments had been revered and marked happy memories.

Now as for Maximus, the first nourishment I gave was all dog milk that I bought from the pet shop the next morning. I can say that he liked it and enjoyed it till the last drop of the serving. The routine began like that, milk in the morning and afternoon.

One day, there was an inevitable change in my work schedule. I left Maximus wandering outside around a fenced structure. I decided to let Maximus claim the outside surroundings. A territory, my strong belief was that; going out of the fence is far from his ability.

I went home early the next day. I expected that Maximus would be so excited to see me wagging its tail in joy. But no shadow of Max at the entrance, I wondered and tried to look for him. I called him Max for a nickname. “Where is that rascal?” Sweat on my brow dropped. I've looked at all corners of the surroundings and I am sure he cannot be inside the house. It would be impossible, I locked all the doors and checked them twice before I went to work last night. The only recollection I had was; I left Max at the gate; Max watched me leaving, and wagged his tail like sending me the message, Goodbye. It could be a snake swallowing him whole for dinner? That was my suspicion. In fear of that indescribable scene, which I considered could be possibly true, I grabbed a metal rod which I used to push coals in the hearth and poked it under the hearth stand, but only pots and old ceramics clanged under and no Maximus or a snake moved to be visible.

There, I turned my survey to the other part of the premises, to a meter square of foliage near the dead mango tree, I grubbed the metal rod to the soil and the newly grown shrubs, but there was no reptile of some sort to be recognized. If Maximus is not inside the house. And a dog can't break the fences. That Maximus may have been stolen? Yes and no! What would be so interesting for a small dog? Maximus is not even an expensive breed, so what to steal it for? I went on curiously.

I went outside and looked. Maybe a charitable neighbor allowed him a free sleepover. “Nanay Auring! Have you seen my dog?” I yelled out from the gate. She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch wearing a billowy duster dyed in Okir patterns, and said “No! I didn’t even know that you have one!” I resigned my curiosity and walked a little more and searched. Disappointed I was, with no Maximus found. I began to lose yearning. I felt tired and it has been an exhausting day – my mind whirled of many thoughts. If Max happened to know where to go back, I'd make sure he could not escape anymore, or if someone brings my dog home, I would be grateful to thank the good samaritan then. I retired to look for that dog; I have gone for the next street and the next street further. And to the tall rusty arch gate of the village, now I can see the highway from a distance. I imagined a scene, a plausible one, did Max walk this far last night? tried to follow me, and was hit by ten-wheelers careless of their speed. I prayed without words “May good heaven forbid.” While trudging, I decided to go back and will continue my search tomorrow. I have agreed to myself to take my usual drill at home, boil water for coffee, take a bath, continue reading the pages of the novel I left last night, take note of ideas and write more chapters to a story I have been developing for the past two months, then go to sleep.

I entered the gate of my house and pushed the door open. Alas! Almost all things inside were scattered. Shoes were randomly thrown everywhere, and the tattered fleece of the sofa and paper bills were torn in pieces. I looked at all these things and quickly I thought they were not made by a human. “Maximus!” I yelled out with all the energy. Max came out from my room, little pink tongue out as if smiling, wagging the small tail, and with all speed, I ran to my room and found a disaster. All pillow covers raged in an inordinate piece, my room slippers are all twisted. Max barked a screeching note trying to divert my attention. “Little rascal! How did you get in?” but in no time before I finished what I just said, a book fell from the shelf inside my room near the window. “Aha!” Little did I know that there was a stack of old things outside of my room window. Max managed to climb and entered through a missing jalousie blind near the beam. He quickly felt from my sharp stare that Max committed something wrong. Maximus curved his hind half, bowed his head, and tried to kiss my feet. “Little beast! I thought I lost you.” A sudden surge of feeling not to punish him is a remarkable thing I felt, I pity and realized Maximus was just a pup.

A few months passed, the acquaintance with him went on with ease, Max and I shared my favorite nook in the house, He and I went out together. Max, I can say, is almost a member of the dance club organized by the village sports enthusiasts. All afternoon we went there and he waited patiently till I was all perspiring for the afternoon workout and then he slipped out and explored all nearby places. There were other gangs of dogs, high breed dogs, toy dogs, and all sorts of unidentified colors. Maximus, a snobbish dog I observed, had been in too many dog fights before he could learn to go places he liked.

After my workout at the village sports center, I usually attend some readings and writings before going to bed. Maximus never missed an opportunity to read what I type on the computer. He sat beside the writing table and climbed on a little space left on the bench. “Hey, is that beautiful?” Max's responses are few, he would just look at me, a big mouth of a yawn, and look away. Max didn't know any tricks that time so I taught him the basics; shake the hand, sit in place, roll over and poop training, the only difficult one was to play dead. Surprisingly, he exhibited that skill by ignoring my presence when I am deeply immersed in reading or writing.

In the totality of his existence, Maximus was very happy and satisfied with all that comprises a dog life, nearly those eight months of being my chum, I could not say that Maximus was of a selfish temperament. But Maximus hated to be acquainted with other dogs. At some point I tried to understand that animal behavior is multifaceted. In the case of Maximus, it was curious that he had skipped some of the processes. Maximus would walk away when being ignored or would stay in his cabin for a couple of days and almost a week or many days. He sulks and this is what he meant by his isolation or maybe I was wrong. After all, I don’t know all the details of the dog's affair.

Two years have passed. I can say Max is now a fully grown-up dog, so many physical changes have happened. I am correct to assume that he is a big dog with big paws and short folded ears. But one afternoon Maximus ran away. I went on my search and imagined that he wandered all over the residential area and went to town in search of food or shelter, or maybe he went to the market and tried his luck there; why would a dog just leave like that? Max’s life inside the house was all working fine, with all this theorizing, I almost forgot that maybe I am overthinking, but since he cannot talk, it makes sense that all was and in between were only mere suggestions of his gestures, or perhaps Max is just a dog.

I went home and surrendered my search mission, which made me very tired. I laid down in a daybed, and my thoughts were quickly drawn in a pensive. There, I saw Max stopped in a shop and was thrown a piece of meat from passersby eating street food. He enjoyed it very much, and some of the bystanders threw leftovers, and eventually, more came. He enjoyed a banquet, feasting on what was left. The romanticized life there, however, only lasted for a moment. And with another twinkling, the image changed and dissolved into darkness. Another scenic place looked like a highway road except that no vehicles were passing by. There on the sidewalk, I saw Max walking slowly past a pile of food scraps but he just ignored the presence of it. I reckoned his solitaire swiftly in my mind, he fasted his cravings and preferred to go without food, I thought there he longed for my company. “Maximus!” I called him loudly and beckoned him to come over but sadly he swept aside his master's order and ran away so fast. I tried to follow him but the scene warped so quickly and transcended to another beyond.

One afternoon after many days passed. My neighbor Nanay Auring brought kalamay for a snack, I received it with warm thanks, and after her funny gossiping performance act, she left. I dashed to my small kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee. I went onto my writing table and dedicated myself to scrawl pictures in my mind. That moment of my solitude I have forgotten Max for a little while. I went on to write as much as I could, and when almost half of the page was done, I heard scratching knocks at the door. I unbolted the metal lock and opened it. “You giant scamp! Where have you been all these days?” He curved his legs, tucked in his tail, and stood before me with a bowed head. I bent over to hug him, and he pressed his cold nose onto my neck, and I patted his fur. I pulled him inside and cleaned him up. I gave him his usual favorite dog food, and not too long he consumed the last dab from the feeder bowl. He climbed up and sat beside me. He looked at the screen of my computer. I swallowed the rest of the coffee with a gulp. I looked at him and asked, “What title do you think is pretty for this piece?” He barked loudly as he approved when I typed the name Maximus.

***

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright Statement : This work is the intellectual property of the author. Permission is granted for this material to be shared for non-commercial, educational purposes, provided that this copyright statement appears on the reproduced material. To disseminate otherwise or to republish requires written from the author.

GLOSSARY

*Auring: a coined nickname of Aurea, Aurora or Aurelia. *Kalamay: a variety of rice cakes in the Philippines. *Nanay: (n) mother / a female parent. *Okir: a design or pattern often rendered or curved in hardwood, brass, silver and wall painting in curvilinear lines and Arabic geometric figures. *PUV: (abbr) public utility van / vehicle.

#maximus

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spacesnaill · 4 years

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Holds you at gunpoint. Every question for Jupiter. (you can skip some if you want-)

i love you, you motherfucker 🔫

1. what is your character's relationship to the traveler?

jupiter is aether’s and lumine’s big sibling, so they all get along very well. i like to think aether and lumine are way more brash and “act before you think” kind of people, while jupiter usually is the one who takes lead (both because of the big sib energy and because they are way more analytical). that being said, jupiter is aware that the twins are very much capable of surviving on their own and fighting if there is any need for that, which is why even after losing touch with them in tevyat they know that the twins will manage somehow, they just need to find them

2. is your character proud of, ashamed of, or indifferent to their feelings towards members of a certain gender?

i’d like to think that the species/society the trio comes from doesnt give a fuck about gender and sexuality so jupiter would never feel ashamed or upset about their feelings towards specific genders. i dont think they would rlly label themself but they are definitely not straight. as to having feelings towards others: they are usually straight forward in their approach

3. what is your character's relationship with themselves?

jupiter knows their purpose and objective very well, but that often clouds their true desires. i like to think that they havent really been thinking for themself up until they were stranded in tevyat and had to rely on themself. they came to realize their own opinions and perspectives that they carry with themself everywhere they go. tho, their views are rather flexible, because they are very much willing to learn if an oppoturnity arises. that being said, they dont quite know themself well just yet, they are still learning after all

4. what is their favorite region? why?

with how much of the game is available rn, liyue is definitely their favorite so far. it’s culture is incredibly rich and full of fascinating stories and legends. i personally am looking forward to the release of sumeru, but what will come out of it is yet to be seen

5. what is their relationship with Zhongli? do they have one at all?

oh they very much do. while his charm and politeness are qualities that they very much enjoy, what originally drew them closer to him was his vast knowledge over liyue’s traditions and customs. at first during their stay at liyue harbor they would wait to catch him during his afternoon and evening strolls around the city to ask him things and carefully listen to everything he has to say. id like to think that zhongli appreciated having such an active listener and even a conversation partner at some point. eventually their little friendship grew into fondness for each other and they would seek each other’s company, until jupiter straight up confessed. id like to think their relationship is fairly innocent and very much founded on mutual respect and admiration. they both value honesty and communicate with each other rather well. and even though, zhongli hesitated before agreeing to travel with them, leaving liyue behind, he doesnt regret doing it

6. who is their love interest? If they do not have one, who is their closest friend?

while zhongli is both their love interest and their dear friend, venti is their first close friend. during the events of chapter I they both bonded. venti seemed like someone containing a vast amount of knowledge that jupiter was eager to discover. it quickly became apparent to them that the bard doesnt particularly like to talk about the past in detail, but venti still would surprise them with how much he knew about art and the culture surrounding it. they are both pretty light spirited so they always enjoyed each other’s company and their bond only grew stronger during their travels.

7. what do they think of Mona?

they are curious about and intrigued by her methods. they can also very much relate to her pursuit of lost/forgotten knowledge. they like to ask her about astrology and theorize with her, asking her to teach them little things for an exchange of a hot, homemade meal

8. what do they think of The Knights of Favonius?

their opinion on the knights is mixed. they can very much see that most of the people working for them are underqualified and not cut for the job or only doing it for the renown. while the idea of a city without a ruler is appealing, in practice the knights are the ones ruling over it and jupiter was left feeling sceptical when thinking about their methods and the possible future. they dont have anything against the individual people in the organization, but they do think their approach is highly flawed

9. wine is Mondstadt's most popular drink. do they drink wine?

while they do indulge in alcohol from time to time, they dont seem to be able to get drunk or even tipsy. they’ve concluded that since their body is built differently than a person of this world’s, its very probable that they dont react to certain foods and products the same way. alcohol is like any kind of a drink for them and many people are terrified when they see them consume it in large quantities

10. what do they think of Kaeya?

they like his playful nature and think he is a highly intelligent person, who doesnt show anyone what he is truly capable of. his methods, while very cunning, seem rather brash, which somehow reminds them of their siblings. while they are very much curious about his motives and history, they dare not to pray if it isnt welcomed. during their stay in mondstadt they would often times catch kaeya lurking in the tavern and spending time with the local gangs and bandits in order to extort information from them while drunk. in the rarer occasions where he would be alone, they would sometimes keep him company, filling the night with talks about nothing in particular

11. if they were forced to make the choice between killing their love interest/friend or killing themselves, what would they choose? why?

that very much depends on when that would happen. pre-separation with their siblings, they would very much operate on the hard logic of “whoever has more information/more important information should survive”. however after spending time in tevyat and meeting its people, jupiter learns to greatly value life and their inicial stance would change to a more selfless one. the more they get to know about the world the more they are willing to put their life on the line to preserve life in it, especially if its the life of someone they hold dear

12. what do they think of Childe? 16. is there a canon character your character hates? why?

at first they were open to the idea of being childe’s friend, however with time they started noticing that something was wrong with his overt friendliness. when he revealed his true intentions, jupiter was not surprised, but learning what he had chose to do made them absolutely despise him. staying in liyue has taught them a lot and made them care about the people living in this world. however childe seemed to have no disregard to them. they will not hesitate to fight him if their paths do cross again

13. do they carry a lot of Mora?

having a large amount of mora is basically a requirement when travelling with zhongli and venti. jupiter does take on a lot of jobs and comissions, though mora is mostly a secondary issue for them. they do find themself owning quite a lot of it at times until they overspend with their companions and are forced to rely on their survival skills in order to save up enough to get a roof over their heads

14. does your character side with Kaeya, Diluc or neither?

when it comes to the family feud: neither. jupiter doesnt like to pry into family matters and they understand both kaeya and diluc never talking about their issues with one another. while they cant imagine siblings behaving like that, due to their own experience, they dont feel like its their place to judge.

when it comes to the knights of the favonius: jupiter slightly leans more on diluc’s side, recognizing the many weaknesses of the organization as it is, however they both come from different places when critiquing it.

15. what do they think of Venti?

venti has become their best friend and they value him deeply. they worry about him sometimes, aware of the origin of his appearance and the history behind it. they like how venti seems to perceive life in a very poetic way and are fascinated by it. they get along very well and venti often fill their time during their travels by his songs, both known and not yet named

17. how did they acquire their vision?

they seem to be blessed with the same ability as their siblings when it comes to being granted powers without aquiring a vision themself

18. what is your character's weakness?

their curiosity and hunger for knowledge

19. what is their strength?

they utilize the knowledge they have gathered into things they can use to their advantage be it in battle or daily life

20. what is your character's theme song?

pure gold by half·alive

21. what weather do they love the most? why?

they love when its sunny. jupiter very much enjoys the feeling of sunlight on their skin

22. what do they think of Paimon?

jupiter would be Ecstatic to get to meet paimon. her vast knowledge in all matters would make her a valuable companion. in the current story they have no idea who she is as of now though

23. what do they think of the Fatui?

while they do not approve of the fatui’s methods, they cant help but think that something much deeper must be going on. jupiter wants to believe that the tsaritsa cant be simply evil and that perhaps she has some other, hidden motivation for her actions. having spent time with and got to know the fatui in liyue, they also know that not all of them are cartoonish bad guys

24. what do they think of the archons?

overall the concept of archons seems very new and intriguing to them. they do try to get as much information about their godhood out of venti and zhongli. they wonder whether this world really needs the archons as much as it claims to

25. what is the worst thing that could happen to your oc?

either losing their siblings or losing their memory (its a great fear of theirs)

26. what does your oc want the most?

their long term dream is to write down all the knowledge they’ve gathered so far and make it accessible and understandable to anyone willing to read it

#genshin impact #gi #genshin impact oc #gi oc #original character #oc #the third star au #ask #friends #jupiter

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cheemerthelizard · 4 years

Text

Crusader of Life (Kakyoin x Reader) Chapter 8

Ah, finally a break! Varanasi is a beautiful city, and the day is all yours! No Stand user would possibly decide to ruin you and Kakyoin’s first date... right?

You and the others had finally arrived at Varanasi, and it looked even better than what Avdol described. Beautiful designs, bright colors, and sparkling jewels, it was all so amazing! The best part: no Stand user in sight.

“Say, Mr. Joestar, your arm looks a little weird,” you commented, pointing at it. “Looks like a huge pimple or something. Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“Hm,” Joseph stared at it. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I can go with you, if you’d like,” Polnareff offered.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. You four go enjoy the city.”

And that you certainly would. After all, there was no way you’d miss an opportunity like this to get some sweet, sweet time off from a Stand attack. Granted, you probably shouldn’t jinx it.

“Oh, (Y/N), I need to ask you something,” Kakyoin said, interrupting your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking, we haven’t really had a proper date. The most we’ve had together is walking around looking for Polnareff. Would you mind if-“

“No, I wouldn’t mind,” you answered, smiling. “I would love to go on a date.”

“Oh, good,” Kakyoin sighed. “Well, I don’t really know this place very well, so perhaps we could explore a bit?”

“That sounds nice,” you replied. “In fact, I haven’t really gone on a date with someone until now, so I don’t know what to do.”

“Nor have I. We’ll wing it. Avdol! Jotaro!” Kakyoin tossed a walkie talkie to both of them. “We’ll be exploring the city a bit. Call us on there if there’s danger.”

“Understood,” Avdol nodded.

“Alright,” Jotaro agreed.

“Good. Well, we’re off!” Kakyoin waved to the two.

“Have fun! Tell me how it goes!”

“Don’t get caught by an enemy Stand.”

If you thought the city was beautiful from a distance, you hadn’t seen anything yet. The view from the streets was a whole new version of eye candy. Everywhere you turned, there were vendors selling something appealing. Trinkets, exotic foods, colorful clothing, and just about anything you could think of. Oh, you just wanted one of those things, just one. Taking your own piece of India home would be wonderful. Alas, you had no money with you.

“I can buy something, if you really want it.”

“Hm?”

Kakyoin laughed. “You’re not good at hiding your expressions. Even Ace is looking at everything in awe. I can buy something small, if you really want it.”

“No, I can’t do that,” you protested. “You’re my boyfriend, not my sugar daddy.”

“If it makes you feel better, you can pay me back.”

“But I won’t remember, I won’t.”

“I’ll help you remember, if it means that much to you.”

You stared at the ground and muttered, “Fine.” You knew, somehow, Kakyoin wasn’t really going to remind you. He just said that so you wouldn’t feel guilty about taking money out of his pocket. Still, you picked out a cute little elephant necklace, but checked the price without Kakyoin knowing. Good. It’s fairly cheap.

As you continued down the streets, Kakyoin whispered something to you. “I didn’t bring any money, either. Mr. Joestar was kind enough to lend me some. He said to ‘use it as I deemed fit,’ then winked.”

“So it won’t affect you if I get something expensive?”

“He didn’t give me that much, come on.” Kakyoin chuckled. “But he did give me enough for lunch, dinner, and two small souvenirs.”

“How convenient,” you laughed. “It’s almost as if it was planned for something.”

Kakyoin laughed, too. “I didn’t tell you at first because I didn’t know how you’d react to me leaving all my money at home.”

“Hey, like I said, you’re my boyfriend, not my sugar daddy.”

Those words seemed to lift a weight off of Kakyoin’s shoulders. “Well speaking of lunch, I’m starving. Let’s find somewhere to eat.”

“Yeah...” your mind had drifted elsewhere. You had just seen someone in a cloak, you were sure of it. But, suddenly, he was gone. It couldn’t be an enemy Stand, could it? You prayed that it wasn’t.

“You okay?”

You snapped back to reality. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just felt like someone was watching us. I’m probably just paranoid from the past few days, with all of the Stand users attacking us.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it was.”

The two of you searched for a while for a good place to eat, until you stumbled upon a little cafe that had a wonderful smell to it. You both eagerly went inside to check out the menu, since both of your stomachs were growling. Each of you chose what you wanted, and sat down to wait for it to be ready.

“Actually, your Stand was the first one I’ve seen besides mine,” you laughed. “I thought I was the only one to have an ability like that.”

“Well, yours was technically the second for me,” Kakyoin said, “since I had to see Jotaro’s first, but it was special, since I hadn’t seen Star Platinum in action yet.”

“Do you believe in fate?” you asked. “Like how the Joestars have fought to keep away Dio. Do you believe that us meeting there was fate?”

Kakyoin looked, and thought about it. “Maybe,” he finally said. “I don’t really think about fate all that much. However, I don’t think someone’s life is completely controlled by fate, only certain bits. Us meeting? I think it was, but we chose to make something out of it.”

However, you weren’t listening to him. That same cloaked guy from before was back, and definitely looking right at you two.

“Kakyoin,” you nudged him. “I think I’ve seen that guy before.”

Unfortunately, as soon as Kakyoin turned, the man caught drift of what was happening, and quickly dashed back into the crowd of people.

“Darn. He’s gone again.”

“No, no, I saw him, even if it was for a split second,” Kakyoin reassured you.

“You did?”

“I did. And he did look suspicious.”

You grumbled. “I hoped nothing would ruin this day. It was supposed to be special.”

Kakyoin got up from his chair. “I think it was special, even if it was interrupted by an enemy. But for now, we need to go after that cloaked man. He could be dangerous.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. You took Kakyoin’s hand as he lifted you up from your chair, and you both ran after the supposed enemy Stand user. It wasn’t long before you found him, though, running through the crowd. The two of you dashed through the streets, bumping into lots of people on the way, but determined to not lose sight of that man. Eventually, he had made his way out of the dense crowd, and catching his breath. He thought he had lost you! Before you ran to take the opportunity, Kakyoin stopped you. He looked right at you, summoned Hierophant, let his Stand slither its way right towards the cloaked man, and grabbed onto his shoulder. The man let out a confused yelp, and you and Kakyoin emerged from the crowd. Now that you had actually seen the man, he looked very different than you expected, with a long, black beard, thick eyebrows, and bushy hair.

“Alright, bud, start talking!” You tried sounding as tough as possible. “Name, Stand’s name, and Stand’s ability.”

“Alright, fine!” The man was still trying to grab on to Hierophant, who had a firm grip on his shoulder. “My name is Fredrick Jones, but that’s all the information I can give!”

Kakyoin tightened the grip on his shoulder, earning another loud yelp from Fredrick.

“Hierophant’s grip will only get tighter, so you better start talking, Fredrick.” Yes! Nailed it!

“The reason I can’t tell you the other information is because I don’t know what they are!” He cried, and Hierophant tightened his grip again.

“Don’t play dumb with us! If you don’t have a Stand, why were you following us?”

“Y-you got me,” Fredrick’s voice strained. “I was following you to take pictures.”

“Pictures, huh?” you asked him. “What does Dio need with pictures?”

“Who’s Dio?” Another cry of pain as Hierophant squeezed harder.

“Let me ask again. What does Dio need the pictures for?”

“Look, I was taking the pictures for myself, I promise!” Fredrick was practically crying at this point. “You see, I’m an artist, and I’ve recently entered a big art contest, and the theme was love. I’ve been uninspired for weeks, but seeing you and him together... an artist can’t help but feel inspired!”

Frantically, Fredrick got out the pictures he had taken, and showed you. You nodded. “Yup, these are all of us just being together. Nothing that would be useful to the enemies.” You turned to Kakyoin. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“Do you want me to release Hierophant’s grip?”

“I think it’s safe.”

Hesitantly, Kakyoin called back Hierophant, and Fredrick fell to the floor, massaging his hurt shoulder. “Thank you, oh thank you!” he cried with relief. “I don’t know what was going on, but I’m sure it’s what you were talking about with ‘Stands’ and ‘Dio’.”

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry,” you put your hands up to your mouth. “What was happening did have to do with Stands. We’re on this journey to stop an evil man named Dio, and he’s been sending out his minions to do the work for him. We had mistaken you for one of his followers. How can we make it up to you?”

Fredrick scratched his beard. “Well, there is one thing. Make romantic poses for me to use for my art piece. Artist’s block is the hardest thing to overcome.”

“Romantic poses?” Kakyoin asked. “Like this?”

Without warning, Kakyoin had grabbed your head and pulled you close, so that you had to kiss him. The kiss lasted for a while, about ten seconds this time, until you heard Fredrick say, “Okay, that’s the perfect picture!”

Kakyoin lifted his lips from yours, and you noticed your face heating up.

“Is that all you’ll be needing?” Kakyoin asked your new friend.

“Yes, thank you very much!” Fredrick answered happily. “In fact, this is going to be the winner, for sure!”

“Glad to help!” you called. “See you around!”

You and Kakyoin left Fredrick, and returned to the group.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened with us!” you called. “We got almost attacked by an almost enemy almost Stand!”

“Kakyoin, translate,” Jotaro said.

“We met someone who was stalking us, but not for Dio. He was an artist who wanted pictures of us to paint later.”

“Well, I had an actual Stand attack me,” Joseph muttered. “And it forced us to not stay at any hotels tonight.”

“Yikes,” you said. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re in the car. For now, let’s get a move on. I’m wanted here.”

Once everyone was in the car, Joseph started the engine, and you were off.

“Hey, Kakyoin, did you use all of the money I lent you?”

“No, I don’t believe I have. Here’s the money back.”

Joseph chuckled. “You didn’t have dinner, did you?”

“Didn’t have time.”

“It’s okay, I have snacks.”

Joseph tossed some cookies and crackers to the back, and you ate them quickly. “Wow,” you said with food still in your mouth. “I’m hungrier than I thought.” Just then, you yawned. “And sleepier, too.” It wasn’t a surprise when you felt Kakyoin pull your head to his shoulder.

“Goodnight,” you said sleepily, before letting yourself drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

#kakyoin #noriaki kakyoin #kakyoin noriaki #kakyoin x reader #noriaki kakyoin x reader #kakyoin noriaki x reader #crusader of life #stardust crusaders #jjba #jjba x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas! May I present (hah) to you, SoC Au Part 2!

It was noon before Kaz finally reemerged from the basement. With great difficulty, he dragged himself up the three flights of stairs and rinsed the blood from his body. Squeezing between the two dogs that now occupied his bed, Kaz let his exhaustion drag him under. He had school tomorrow. Missing school was the least of Kaz’s worries but if he wanted to keep playing Exy, he knew he had to keep up both his grades and his attendance.

Sleeping through the remainder of the day and the entire night, Kaz managed to recover some of his strength. Waking early Monday morning Kaz managed to snag his cane. Nothing looked any different from the way he’d left it. He prayed that neither Lola nor Romero had entered the office while he slept. Kaz turned the dogs loose in the backyard before grabbing a quick breakfast and headed to school. All day long, Kaz was out of it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying back to the box in the safe. Now that he knew exactly who the man was, Kaz knew he’d be able to find something, anything, to point him in the right direction.

Standing in his goal, Kaz watched the scrimmage, his thoughts drifting. Every member of Edison High’s Exy team had been handpicked by Kaz. None of them had been very good when they’d began. Half of them hadn’t even known the rules. Looking at them now, Kaz felt a small swell of pride in his chest that he squashed almost immediately. They’re just an investment, he told himself.

Before Kaz, none of these kids had had anything to live for. Their lives were rendered barren and loveless by the opioids running rampant on the streets. Guidance counselors and motivational speakers were brought in each year, preaching about how life would get better. For many of them, it never did. Most kids on the streets of Baltimore grew up and fell into one of two categories: drug dealers or drug addicts. Sure, some made it out, but there weren’t nearly enough. It wasn’t that they didn’t want a way out. It was that they didn’t have one.

Unlike many of the adults in their lives, Kaz didn’t go around spouting that bullshit. He knew his words would offer no comfort to the souls of the grieving. He knew the biting pain of being cold and alone and desperate on the brutal streets of Baltimore. He knew that it stole the will to live right out of you and making you cling fiercely to every scrap of kindness someone threw your way, no matter how cruel and unkind that person might be to others. He knew that it made people easy to manipulate and eager to please.

Seeing an opportunity, Kaz jumped at the chance to build his own army. It took a great deal of bargaining but Kaz managed to convince Nathan to give him bigger, better jobs. The more dangerous the job, the greater the risk but with it came greater rewards. Building his reputation as Dirty Hands, Kaz racked up enough money to purchase the dilapidated hotel a few blocks down from the school. Kaz managed to finance the renovations with a loan from Nathan and opened it up to anyone that made the cut for the Exy team.

With three meals a day, a roof over their heads, and a bed a little softer than the concrete walkways, Kaz's offer was hard to turn down. With such a big pool of applicants, there were a few kids that were already half-decent. Kids like that had no place on the lineup. Kaz didn't need a good team, he needed a desperate one.

And they were. Every time Kaz stepped off the court he saw the ravenous glint in their eyes and it made Kaz smile. Not so long ago, they’d been the worst team in the district. Everywhere Kaz went, he heard the laughter of skeptics.

“Poor Brekker,” Van said from his seat atop the desk in Kaz’s office. “You’ve really scraped the bottom of the barrel with this sorry excuse of a team.”

“Look at them, Van,” Kaz said. He heard Van hop off the desk. Joining him at the window, the two of them watched the kids dragging their meager belongings up the walk.“When was the last time you saw Hutchinson smile? Or heard Cooper laugh? I’ll bet fifty bucks that today is the first time you witnessed either of those.” Kaz smiled when he saw the way Van’s expression soured. “So what if they’re the bottom of the barrel? They’ll play until their bones break and their lungs give out. So long as their hearts beat, they will fight. Do you know why?” Kaz asked.

“Greed?” Van replied, his own lips curving in a knowing smile.

“Greed,” Kaz assented. These kids had fought tooth and nail for their place on his team. They knew, if they failed, it wasn’t just the game they lost. It was their home, their food, their whole life was on the line. Offering these kids Exy made them his. By breathing life back into the empty husks they’d been, that life was his to control.

“No one will ever believe in them. They’re the worst of the worst, Kaz. They’re those things you find at the bottom of a teacup. The…” Van scrunched his face up as he looked for the right word. “The dregs! That’s it.” After a moment’s consideration, he added. “You know that doesn’t sound half bad.”

“The Dregs,” Kaz echoed, feeling the word roll across his tongue. Van was right, the name wasn’t half bad at all.

The buzzer at the other end of the goal sounded, leaving the score 7-1 in Kaz’s favor. Filing off the court behind his team, Kaz let himself get dragged into a conversation about plays for Friday’s game. They had to win. If The Dregs had any chance of getting recruited for college, they were going to have to prove they were worth it. Kaz had promised his Dregs a future free of their demons and Exy was their ticket to it.

In all honesty, Kaz’s Dregs weren’t much better of than their families had been. Anyone who knew an addict knew that their drugs were the center of their world. It was their solace, their safe haven, from the horror and misery of day to day life. Wasn’t Exy the same for the Dregs? Exy was their salvation. Exy was their solace. Exy was their everything. The Dregs were just junkies chasing a high, only better off than their drug-addicted relatives for their dependency gave them a future. Now that Kaz thought about it, no matter where he started or who he looked at, every one of the Dregs’ problems stemmed from the opioid crisis. Kaz would have to remember to thank Romero for handing him a team like this before he put him in the ground.

Late at night, Kaz continued to hunt through the files in search of something, anything, about Romero in Nathan’s files. It wasn’t until late Saturday night that Kaz found anything. Kaz had originally decided to work backward from his arrival at the Wesninski house and found nothing. After some research, Kaz found that there had been an exponential increase in opioid users in 1984. Kaz decided to start there. He hadn’t known what exactly he’d expected to find in the files but it wasn’t this.

There was a single unmarked drive in the subsection. Inserting it into the computer, Kaz found that it had multiple layers of encryption. Kaz slipped his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and called the only person that could help him.

“Kaz, honey, it’s three in the morning.” Kaz could hear Van struggling to hold his temper.

“I’m aware but it’s urgent.” On the other end, Kaz heard the sultry voice of a woman calling Van back to bed. Oh. “If you’re busy, though-”

“What do you need, Kaz?” Before his luck could run out, Kaz explained his predicament. Half an hour later, Kaz opened the door to find Van standing at the door. Dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes. Shoving a cup of coffee into Kaz’s hand, Van moved past him and marched up the stairs. A small part of Kaz wanted to apologize.

Van wasn’t like the rest of Kaz’s associates. Unlike them, Van wasn’t bound to him. There were so many things in Kaz’s life that he had no control over and it drove him mad. What if scenarios played through his head and hurled him into bouts of self-doubt that sent him careening to the brink of death. Having control over the lives of others distracted Kaz from his own growing worries. Being able to orchestrate incredible schemes, riddled with twists and turns that easily blindsided his prey reassured him of his abilities. Still, he wouldn’t be able to do it without information. For the longest time, Kaz had assumed that all he needed was information on the target: who they were, their habits, their appearance. He’d been wrong. Cons weren’t like pickpocketing. They weren’t one-off things. Kaz had found that if you wanted to be a successful con man you needed to be a bit of a renaissance man too.

Lucky for Kaz, picking up new skills wasn’t hard. Fueled by vengeance and spite, there was very little that Kaz couldn’t teach himself how to do. Despite being a jack of many trades, coding just wasn’t something Kaz could do. He’d tried his hand at it multiple times but he simply didn’t have the knack for it. It hadn’t stopped him from trying to hack into the school’s database to dig up some dirt on his prospective teachers. Kaz never knew who he’d have to blackmail to do what but teachers seemed like people who’d need some extra convincing to get what he needed. Kaz’s own grades weren’t a problem. His team’s were. Enter Van.

Kaz had never heard the name in his life nor could he conceive what kind of parents would name their kid that. As such, when Van first showed up in Kaz’s room uninvited, he’d rightfully lost his shit. Putting a knife to his throat and pinning him to the wall, Kaz had expected to see fear flood the boy’s eyes. To his infinite horror, Van had only pushed close until the tip of the blade bit into his flesh. Kaz watched in awe as a stream of blood trickled down from the point of his blade.

A lazy smile stretched across Van’s face. A manic light danced in his eyes. In an all too friendly tone, he offered to help breach the school’s firewall and dig up dirt on every member of Edison High’s staff. When asked why he’d help, Van had only shrugged.

“Why not?” he’d countered. “It’ll be fun.” Kaz had been skeptical but allowed Van to try his hand anyway. It had taken him no more than a few hours to dredge the deepest, darkest parts of the internet and find something on each and every member of, not only the school’s faculty, but their families, and the entire board of education. Kaz couldn’t refuse that kind of help. Van became Kaz’s biggest asset and, along the way, someone he’d come to lean on far more than he’d meant too.

It wasn’t often that Kaz went anywhere without Van. Kaz didn’t actively seek the boy out. No, Van just had a habit of appearing wherever Kaz went. It irked him to not know how Van kept managing to follow him without getting detected. Not knowing his motives or being able to control him, scared Kaz far more.

Kaz tried not to stare at Van as he worked. Nestled on the floor on a bed of sheets, surrounded by the dogs, Van seemed to genuinely relax. Kaz knew that Van’s usual laid-back attitude was a facade, but he’d never quite figured out what it was Van was trying to hide. On the list of problems in Kaz’s life, Van ranked just beneath his vengeance for Romero. Van had never done anything to harm Kaz. Not yet at least, but Kaz couldn’t help but fear that one of these days, Van was going to flip on him.

“Why don’t you give up?” Van asked, not taking his eyes off the screen. His voice startled Kaz from his thoughts and he floundered for an answer. “You’re never going to solve me.” Kaz scowled. Van looked over then and smiled. It was the same lazy smile he’d given him when Kaz had pressed that knife to his throat. “Ask me.” For the last two years, Kaz had hunted for something, anything, that might have given him a clue as to who Van might be. Questioning people had come up empty. Few people knew he existed. Even fewer knew what he looked like. Van was a ghost. Kaz couldn’t even find his name in the Social Security database. Van was a nickname, short for God knew what, and every attempt to find his last name had hit a wall.

“What’s your last name?” Kaz asked, knowing very well he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

“Don’t have one. Maybe you could give me yours.” Van winked at him. Kaz wadded up a scrap sheet of paper and chucked it at his head. “It was worth a try,” Van said as he passed the laptop back over. He’d done it. Of course, he had. Kaz had yet to find a firewall that Van couldn’t breach nor a system he couldn’t hack. Kaz would have to find a way to put a leash on this kid and soon.

Gathering the blankets up from beneath him, Van threw them over himself before curling up between the dogs. With a groggy ‘good-morning’, he fell asleep. Turning his attention to the screen, Kaz felt a thrill go down his spine. This was it. He was finally going to find the proof he needed to nail Romero. He could feel it in his bones. Romero would be sent to prison in disgrace only to be found dead in his cell days later. A wicked smile curled the edges of Kaz’s lips as he thought of all the things he would do to him. Romero’s death would not be quick or easy. No, Kaz had to pay him back for ten years worth of suffering. Opening the drive, Kaz found a single folder. Lenimen Parem, it read.

Of all of Kaz’s ridiculous obsessions, learning dead languages was his hardest to defend. Sure, knowing Greek and Latin roots gave him a deeper understanding of words but he’d yet to find a use for it. Until now. Lenimen Parem.

“Better solace,” Kaz whispered. Feeling infinitely more pleased with himself than he should, Kaz navigated to the folder to inspect its contents. In it, he found scanned copies of handwritten chemists’ notes. Fractions were scrawled beside barely legible elements. Compounds were labeled in the order in which they’d been mixed. Scrutinizing the notes written beside each failed attempt, Kaz struggled to discern the purpose of these experiments. Slowly but surely, the sun’s rays snuck up between the shafts of the blinds and spilled through the curtains hung over the windows. Sleep threatened to drag Kaz under, lulling him with sweet words and seducing him with assurances of rest. After all, the drive could wait until tomorrow couldn’t it?

“Sleep, Kasimir,” Jordie cooed. “Tomorrow, I’ve got to run a little errand and then I’ll take you to the pier. How does that sound, lieve schatje?”

“M’kay,” Kaz mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut. They were only closed for a few seconds before Kaz jolted awake. They’d never gone to the pier. They’d made it halfway there before Jordie and his friends caved and found a little alleyway where they’d be safe from prying eyes. A greedy light had danced in their eyes as they dug out their needles and their newest bottles. Kaz had begged Jordie not to do it. Jordie had shoved him away before inserting his needle into the soft cork of his bottle. Pain at the memories of their past life had driven Jordie to opioids. He’d sought solace in them.

Lenimen Parem. Better solace. Kaz felt his heart stutter. Opioids. Nathan had been creating a new strain of opioids. Frantically, Kaz searched through the labels and formulas listed. The final listing was for a strain called Jurda. Reading through the notes beside it, Kaz felt his chest tighten with every passing sentence. By the end, he could barely breathe.

Nathan’s purpose in Lenimen Parem had not been to simply heighten the experience of the drug. It was to heighten the addictive properties of it too. And he’d done it. Nathan had managed to manufacture a drug that produced the desired effects and compel the user to actively seek more. The downfall of the project had been the fact that an unknown impurity in the batch. Unable to discern the impurity that had made the drug so efficient and, Nathan had no choice but to abandon the project, settling for selling a less efficient strain.

Warehouses were burnt down. A hit list of all the chemists involved in the creation of the drug was compiled. The only evidence left was the test subjects themselves. Anyone involved in the testing would have to be eliminated. Hundreds upon hundreds of names were compiled in the list, a number and a date by each. Dated 11.21.94 were seven names that Kaz recognized. Bishop Clark - 14. Sarah Hendriks -17. Inna Bethesda - 16. Roy Sanders - 16. Meena Reyes - 19. And finally, Jordan & Kasimir Rietveld - 10 & 6.

#just a pipe dream #six of crows #six of crows au #SoC/TFC au #the foxes #the foxhole court #the foxhole court au #tfc hc #tfc au #aftg #aftg hc #aftg au #all for the gay #all for the game #soc #soc au #kaz brekker #reveal to me your deepest desires

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queen-scribbles · 5 years

Text

Of Paranoia

Happy Birthday @errantgoat! <3 Have our babies somewhere on the road between Redcliffe/Haven etc and Orzammar. ;D

---

It was just a village, no different at first--or second--glance than a dozen others they’d passed through on this quest of theirs. The small, rundown houses huddling together in clumps, as if in solidarity against an uncaring world. The larger buildings--likely a chantry, blacksmith, general store, among others--that formed an approximation of a main square. The varying browns and dull greys broken occasionally by a scrap of red or blue or green clothing from an individual who refused to surrender to the drab color palette, mud everywhere. It was, in every way, a typical Fereldan village.

So why was it making her skin crawl?

Trinne hunched her shoulders as if that would ward off the paranoia and fought the urge to pull her cloak further around her, lose herself in the folds of her hood, as she stepped ever-so-slightly closer to her companion.

Harvey glanced at her with a raised brow and grim half-smile. “You too?”

Of course he’d picked up on her unease; the man hardly missed anything. It was good to have her instincts validated, though. She wasn’t just imagining things. “Yeah, feels like we’re bein’ watched. And not by someone friendly.”

He nodded, rubbed the back of his neck as he muttered, “At least it’s not more darkspawn.”

“I dunno; might be better to have a threat we can sense coming,” she tried to joke, but the tension in her voice made it more than a little flat.

“As opposed to one we can potentially talk our way out of?”

Trinne snorted. “Good point.” She’d left her staff back at camp to avoid drawing attention; better to not undercut that by clashing with... whatever was giving her goosebumps. “Let’s just get what we need and leave. Maybe whoever it is’ll be happy to just watch creepily.” Assuming there’s actually someone watching and this isn’t something else... The archdemon nightmares had been worse--for her, at least--recently.

Harvey nodded, leaving unsaid that their lucky was rarely that good.

She curled her fingers, feather light, around the inside of his wrist, tugging surreptitiously toward what looked like the general store. “What did we need, again?” She really had been paying attention when Alistair rattled off the list of supplies--both mage-y and mundane--back at camp. She definitely hadn’t been distracted by the hawk flying circles over the nearby woods, and she absolutely was just making small talk to blend in.

He raised an eyebrow at her again but played along. “Bandages, some of the rarer herbs for potions we haven’t been able to find ourselves, conditioning oil...” a dry smile tugged his lips. “Food.”

Trinne snorted an equally dry laugh. “Of course, food.” Three sodding Warden appetites--not to mention the qunari--meant they always, always needed food. She squeezed the coin purse hanging from her belt. “We might hafta prioritize; that last trip to Denerim kinda wiped us out, necessary as it was...” Damn ogres and their ability to dent plate armor.

“Right,” Harvey sighed, holding the door open so she could enter first. “Also,” he murmured, barely audible, as they strolled through the otherwise unoccupied store. “Jowan mentioned we’re almost out of lyrium potions.”

She had noticed that, but, “That’ll be kinda tricky in a village this size,” she murmured back just as quietly. “Not like they’ll have a Wonders of Thedas or anything, we might hafta hold off an’ pray we can manage.” She smirked. “’Less you feel like raidin’ the chantry...”

“Sure, what’s one more warrant or bounty on our head?” he deadpanned, reaching for a set of neatly rolled bandages.

Trinne looked over at him, barely biting back a surprised burst of laughter. “Really?”

“No.” Harvey sighed, running one hand through his hair. “...We’ll think of something.”

“Oh, c’mon, you don’t think it’ll be fun to add ‘wanted for breaking, entering, and theft of chantry property in a backwater village on the edge of the Hinterlands’ to our list of glorious accomplishments?”

“Trinne.” He rolled his eyes but she still caught the corners of his mouth twitching toward a smile.

“Harvey.” She grinned.

He gave a small shake of his head. “Go see if they have the herbs we need, I have a feeling that’ll be easier than us trying to find it ourselves.”

Given the unorthodox arrangement and scarcity of various products on the shelves, she was inclined to agree. “Right. Which do we need again?”

“Embrium and crystal grace.” He frowned slightly. “If we don’t have enough for both with money left for food, the embrium’s more important.”

“Got it.” Trinne headed for the counter, waited for the blonde behind it to look up from her ledgers, and made her request.

The blonde wrinkled her nose. “Hasn’t been a good year for embrium, I’m afraid, but you can check.” She pointed toward the far end of the counter, where Trinne could see a chest-high bank of small drawers. “They should all be labeled.”

“Thanks.” Trinne nodded and drifted down to look. ‘Labeled’ turned out to mean crude drawings of the respective herb tacked to each drawer, and half of them she couldn’t figure out what they were supposed to be, so she just started peeking in every drawer til she found what she sought. There was plenty of crystal grace, but--as warned--hardly any embrium. Still, something was better than nothing, and they needed it, so Trinne gathered every last scrap she could out of the drawer.

“Any luck?”

She flinched and spun to cock a brow at Harvey. “D’you always have to be so quiet?”

His lips curved in a brief, bemused smile even as he shrugged. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Trinne just rolled her eyes. “They do have both, just not a lot of embrium.” She held up the pitiful quantity. “Apparently this isn’t a good year for it.”

Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would explain why we’ve had trouble finding it ourselves. We’ll get it; Morrigan and Zevran can fight over who needs it more.”

She smirked. “That’ll be a fun conversation to overhear. Didja find the rest of what we need?”

He nodded. “Everything besides food, at least; apparently the grocer is across the way.”

“Wait, they’re separate?” She shook her head. “Never mind, not important. What’s one more stop?” Besides longer in a place that gives both of us the willies.

They made their purchases--which took over half the remaining coin--and exited just as a breeze whisked through. Trinne shivered, not just from the brisk wind, and glanced around. Still nothing out of the ordinary. She sighed as her gaze slid over the surrounding foothills, taking in the view.

“Shame this place gives me the heebie-jeebies,” she commented, rubbing her arms as if that would banish the gooseflesh. “It’s really pretty, and all cosy nestled against the mountain....”

Harvey gave an absent nod, searching the buildings across the way. “I think that one’s the grocer.” He pointed. “Whenever you’re done admiring the view.”

“Right.” Trinne bit her lip and tugged the strap of the satchel she carried. “Dunno how much we’ll be able to afford after gettin’ all this.”

His brow furrowed in thought. “Should we see if they have a chanter’s board? I know neither of us is keen to be here longer than we have to, but if there’s a couple quick jobs we could do...”

“Might be worth looking,” Trinne muttered. “Before or after buyin’ food?”

“Can’t hurt to look now,” he shrugged. “While we have less to carry....”

“Yeah, and on that note, how come I’m carryin’ this stuff an’ you get the food?” she needled playfully as they headed toward the chantry.

Harvey raised an eyebrow at her, biting back a smile. “Should I trust you with the food?”

“Harvey Cousland, I am offended,” she gasped in mock-indignation, dramatically pressing both hands over her heart. An incredibly ill-timed growl from her stomach undercut her playacting and she frowned at it. “Traitor.” She looked back to Harvey. “I wouldn’t eat food meant for other people” --her stomach rumbled again and she pressed one hand to it-- “tempting as the damn appetite might make things. You’re so lucky it didn’t hit you this hard.”

He flashed an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry?”

“Eh, not like you had any say in how bad we got all the side effects...” Her words trailed off as they drew close enough to see the fluttering scraps of parchment nailed or tacked to the chanter-s board--and the larger sheet strategically hung so it covered almost half of them and was impossible to miss. “Harvey.”

“I see it, Trinne.”

All the levity of their banter shriveled and vanished as the two of them stared at the WANTED poster. For them. In a backwater village on the edge of Hinterlands. There were descriptions rather than sketches--Thank the Maker--but it was still a jarring reminder of the non-darkspawn problems they faced. Especially when they reached the bottom.

“Thirty sovereigns?!” Trinne hissed, nails scraping wood as she tore the poster down.

“Each,” Harvey added, deadpan. “Dead or alive, he’s getting serious...”

She snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause the men who attacked us in Lothering were just kidding.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Guess we’re not stickin’ around to run errands,” she muttered as she crumpled the poster and sparked lightning across her palm to set it on fire.

“Probably not wise,” Harvey agreed. “But we still need food.”

“This badly?” Trinne hissed sotto voce, dropping the poster remnants to smother with her boot.

“Yes,” he hissed back, just as quiet and forceful. “The hunting around here’s thin, remember? Zevran and I have tried. It could be days to the next village, do you really want to chance that with the supplies we have left?”

She hesitated. He was right, she knew that much, but the thought of fighting off desperate civilians was unpleasant, to say the least.

“Trinne, we don’t really have much choice,” Harvey insisted softly,shooting her a curious look. “And why am I having to talk you into taking a risk?”

“Maybe b’cause you an’ me, no armor, no staff, against potentially an entire village of desperate people seems like it could be a bit uglier than a risk,” she shot back.

“No one said we have to fight them,” he said pointedly. “And that’s assuming someone even notices; it didn’t look like that had been up long, it’s possible not many people had a chance to see it.”

He made a good case, she had to give him that. Sneaking away was always an option, and this was a fairly pragmatic risk as things went. “How d’you know it hadn’t been up long?”

“I don’t know, but it rained night before last; anything posted then would be all weather-beaten.” Harvey pointed to some of the other notices as examples. “It looked fresh, until you lit it on fire. So it’d most likely only been up a day or two.”

“Place this small, that’s plenty of time for everyone to see it,” she said dubiously.

“Only if they care,” he countered. “Look, we’re going in circles. If it makes you uneasy, you can head back to camp and I’ll-”

“No way, Cousland, I’m not leavin’ you with no back up and a thirty sovereign bounty on your head, don’t be ridiculous.�� She sighed. “Let’s just... get it over with so we can leave.”

He nodded and the two of them headed for the grocer’s. Trinne couldn’t help wondering if that was behind the scratchy, tense feeling of eyes on them; someone had seen the notice, seen them, and was just waiting for a vulnerable moment to make their move. She tugged on her hood again, as if it could shield her from unfriendly eyes, and fought down paranoia. Harvey was probably right; it was safe enough to take the time buying food, even more so with the scarcity of things to hunt.

Unlike the general store, there were a few other customers in here, and Trinne tensed. Harvey nudged her with his elbow. Don’t be suspicious. She knew, and she tried, but it was hard when any of the others present might be a threat. Especially when they’d only made it halfway through before the word Wardens surfaced in small talk between the proprietor and one of the other customers as he paid.

“...hear what they did?!”

A snort. “Reg, I’ve heard three different versions of what they did, but I don’t see why it matters to us; your cow’s more likely t’ sprout wings’n we are t’ see a Warden come through here.”

Harvey and Trinne shared a wordless look.

The customer scoffed at his dismissal. “Th’ teyrn feels different, one a’ his men came through couple days back, slapped up a flyer with the bounty an’ ev’rything.” His voice dropped slightly in volume, though what he was sharing was supposedly common knowledge. “Thirty bleedin’ sovereigns a head, if you can believe.”

Trinne shot Harvey another look. Maybe we should hurry.

“They killed the king, what’d you expect? The teyrn’s serious about seein’ ‘em face justice, ‘course he’s gonna offer a lot, an’ tell even people who’ll like as not never see ‘em.”

“Y’never know,” the customer pressed. “An’ imagine what someone round here could do with that kind of money.”

Trinne’s nails dug into the apple she’d picked up hard enough to break the skin. “I think what we have’s enough,” she murmured. It wasn’t, not nearly, but the uneasy feeling was growing, and her stomach twisted at the risk of having to fend off desperate people.

Harvey nodded agreement or understanding or both and reached for the share of provisions she’d collected. “I’ll pay, you can wait outside.”

She bit back the instinctive protest; one person would draw less attention, and of the descriptions on that damned poster, the one of him had been the most vague. “Alright, but if it takes too long, I’m comin’ back in.”

“Trinne-”

“I’m. Coming. Back,” she insisted.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Just don’t put too low a threshold on what you consider ‘too long’.”

“Can’t promise anything,” Trinne muttered as Harvey headed for the counter and she for the door.

The previous customer was on his way out just ahead of her and held the door with a smile. She willed herself to stay relaxed as she flashed a mildly awkward answering smile and mumbled thanks as she followed him out. He kept walking and Trinne leaned against the store wall, arms crossed and counting heartbeats as she waited. She’d never been good at waiting, but this was worse than usual. She half-watched the man amble down the way, mostly from idle curiosity, but part of her couldn’t shake suspicion, given his side of the conversation they’d overheard. She wasn’t normally this paranoid, and it was an uncomfortable feeling that did nothing for her mood. It’s the sensation of being watched, she told herself. That’s enough to put anyone on edge. Being hungry and sleep-deprived couldn’t be helping, either.

The man trod up the steps of a building not far down what served as the main thoroughfare in a village this size, paused by the woman sitting on the front porch. A woman, Trinne noticed, who was staring straight at her. And not in a casual, people-watchy way, like Trinne had been doing; like a watchman or lookout. She grabbed the man’s arm, still staring at Trinne--who was trying not to be obvious about staring back--and said something. He nodded and his steps to the front door were far more purposeful.

You’re being paranoid, you’re being paranoid, you’re being paranoid, Trinne tried to tell herself. It didn’t work very well, cold unease clamping down in her chest. Her nails dug into her arms and her teeth scraped against her chapped lower lip. Where the blazes is Cousland?!

As if summoned by her restless fretting, the door swung open and Harvey stepped out, still adjusting the strap of the pack that held the food.

He frowned when he saw her expression. “Trinne, what’s wr-”

“We need to go.” She pushed away from the wall. “Now.”

His frown deepened but he didn’t argue as he followed her down the steps. “Any particular reason?” She told him and he raised a brow. “She might have just been curious why you were watching someone she knows,” he pointed out.

“I know, and normally that would be my thought, too,” Trinne sighed and ran one hand through her hair. “But that crawly feeling, like someone’s watchin’ me, is worse.” She adjusted her hood before letting her hand drop and adding quietly, “I know this isn’t a ‘Warden senses’ thing, but I just have a bad feeling, y’know?”

Harvey nodded. “Gut instinct’s just as important. And it can’t hurt to err on the side of caution.”

“For once in my life?” she added glibly, smirking, as a defense against the alarm bells tolling in her head.

He shrugged.

Normally that would be where she made some sarcastic or pithy remark and he rolled his eyes at her, but she was currently too tense for sarcasm. So she rambled instead. “It’s not really once in my life anymore, is it? Between you an’ Jowan, I am starting to think things through, an’ occasionally....”

The words trailed off as they came in sight of the road out from the village. A small, loosely scattered cluster of figured loitered near the road. She couldn’t make out faces from this distance, but they didn’t look wary and braced for confrontation. More like lazy fishermen hoping for a bite they weren’t even sure would come.

Even as her steps started to falter at the thought of having to fight these people, Harvey grabbed her wrist and tugged her after him into the gap between two houses.

“I saw,” he said quietly before she could even open her mouth. “It just means leaving by a different route than we came in.”

Trinne gave a jerky nod, glad one of them wasn’t tripped up by dread and worst case scenarios, but, “How?” Nestled in the mountain foothills as it was, the road was the only real way in and out of the village.

Of course, they’d become quite adept at circumventing when the ‘only real way’ to places was blocked.

Harvey jerked his head in a sideways nod. “This way.” He started dodging between houses, headed for the outskirts of the village and the sloping mountainside beyond. Of course he'd figured an alternate route, just in case. Planning ahead had always been more his strength than hers. As was finding ways around problems rather than through them,

The village border was marked by a waist high stone wall, topped by a wooden rail that added another foot or so to its height. As it looked largely meant to deter wildlife, it was easy enough for them to slip through the gap between wood and stone after taking off their packs.

“We shouldn’t head straight back to camp,” Harvey said as they re-shouldered the packs. “Just to make sure no one’s following us or anything.”

“Good idea.” Trinne bounced on the balls of her feet slightly to settle her pack in a more comfortable position. “Lead the way.”

It was rough going at first; the slanted terrain made keeping their balance tricky, and they both slipped more than once, but once they were past the village proper and things flattened out it got much easier. Even with the occasional minutes-long stop so Harvey could check for any sign they were being followed. It made a return trip that would’ve taken half an hour at a leisurely stroll three times as long, but Trinne didn’t mind. Better safe than sorry, in this case, and the view and weather both made it a relatively pleasant walk.

And as it was, they were almost halfway into that circuitous route before she felt like it was safe to talk.

“So, Cousland,” she began, unable to keep the mischievous note entirely out of her casual tone, “I hate to say ‘I told you so’-”

Harvey snorted and sent her a look that was both dubious and amused. “No, you don’t.” A smile tugged the corners of his mouth as he swatted aside a low-hanging branch. “And if Jowan’s to be believed, you never have.”

“Okay, you got me there,” she laughed. “But who doesn’t like bein’ proven right?”

He raised a brow. “Depends on the topic. ‘The archdemon will destroy the world’ is not a claim I’d want proven right.”

“True. But you know what I meant.” Trinne ran a hand through her hair, no longer caring if she knocked back her hood. With the village so far behind them, the crawly feeling of someone watching had diminished significantly.

Harvey nodded. “I do.”

“Next time a village gives one of us the creeps, maybe we just give it a pass.” Her stomach rumbled again. “Even if it means goin’ hungry.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. It would be an issue to deal with when--if--it arose, she knew that. Didn’t lessen her relief that this particular incident was behind them.

“‘Least now I can stop bein’ the cynical one,” she teased, which earned a quiet snort and another shrug. “Really, Harv, I appreciate the efforts to steer me away from blatant paranoia.”

Harvey chuckled. “Anytime.”

She smiled back, all playful sincerity, because she knew he meant it, and plucked a leaf to keep her fingers busy as they wound their way between the trees.

--- --- ---

This is meant to be at a point where our kids are friends and there are no Feelings yet. HOWEVER. As it wound up 100% Trinne pov, who’s to say what Harvey’s thinking. :P

also, dear Maker, why are closing sentences so hard??? I must’ve gone through about eight before finding one I like well enough.

#queens fic #harvey cousland #trinne amell #otp: shadows & sparks #dragon age #i really love these two a lot if you couldn't tell :D :D :D

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tleecacc · 4 years

Text

Virginia Lee

My mom came into this world on November 11, 1922. She loved that she was born 11/11/22. And she loved that it was something genuinely unique. That it held all the axioms of synchronicity.

She often proudly told the story of when she was born, how she was so tiny the doctor’s did not expect her to live. As a last resort, a last ditch effort to save her life, the doctor gave my mother horse serum. Apparently that was a thing. And when she made it through the night, the doctor came in the next morning to tell her mother and father that miraculously she was gaining strength. He said to her parents, my grandmother Eulalia, and grandfather Daniel, ‘this little girl is a fighter’ …That she was.

She was born into an era that included the great depression. She lived through a world war, and so many incredible changes that the 20th century presented its almost unfathomable. Some of which she out right rejected, others she eventually either accepted or adopted. Her first microwave oven was used as a bread box for years before she agreed to learn to use it properly. She was the original, ultimate minimalist. She saved wax paper, rubber bans, bread bags and aluminum foil. She abhorred the idea of just throwing things away after one use, which culminated in receiving food gifts wrapped in layers wax paper, encased in at least two bread bags, held tightly together with six rubber bans. She was also a vitamin freak and insisted on a well balanced diet. We were not allowed to leave the house without drinking orange juice that was kept in as air tight a container as possible, so as not to lose its rich life giving force. She detested impracticality. We’d by her gifts to make her life easier but she would eventually admit to one or another of us, ‘Its so unnecessary, I don’t need it’ ‘I’ll never use it. My old (fill in the blank) works just fine’ etc.

I thought she was the most gentle person ever to touch her feet to this earth. And I believed she couldn’t possibly love anyone as much as she did my brother’s and sisters and I, until she met her grandchildren. My mother held an extraordinary amount of love in her heart for each of them.

She found her spiritual path in the love and devotion she exhibited towards her family everyday of her life, and to every person she encountered, with few exceptions. She prayed for all of us everyday. Harder if she thought we were in special need, a heart was aching, someone's health was in question, a soul was at risk… or you spent time in bars which is the same thing… so yeah, she prayed a lot.

My mother was one of 11 children born to Daniel and Eulalia May. When you come from large families such as ours, you can spew out the names of your offspring or siblings in successive order as if it were one name. For my Mother’s family it was

BobDorthyVirginiaMaryRitaBillLoraineDaveDanBarbaraTom. And by the time my mother was 14 years old, she was a mother to her 8 younger siblings, as her mother was rarely well. She never complained about that role. She loved her brothers and sisters and was devoted to their care. She loved each of them and their individual take on life. She was very proud of the life they each garnered for themselves and their children. She was happy to see them living in a world less harsh than the childhood they endured. She held an extraordinary capacity of love in her heart for each of them. And she took their needs on without the least bit of resentment or regret.

My mother’s family moved 17 times in her years at home. In a family with six gorgeous women you can imagine the stir it caused within each neighborhood they were adopted into. They were the May girls. With their flowing red, auburn and black heads of hair, their Miss America smiles and that undeniable May sense of fun loving humor. To say they were gregarious almost doesn’t do their personalities justice.

My momma was beautiful, physically and spiritually. She loved her life. She was radiant in the outdoors and pushed us daily to be out in the fresh air. She was athletic. Mom made the varsity field hockey team as a freshman. She never drove a car and so walked everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Which may explain the athletic prowess of her children. As toddlers, when the newest sibling took over your spot in the stroller, we had to run along side her to keep up. Although she only stood four foot eleven, she had legs that moved incredibly fast. This tiny, feisty, determined woman walked everywhere and loved every minute of it, so it was hard on all of us to see the loss of that freedom in the recent months when her health finally took that joyful ability away.

According to my mother, the advent of television was humanities downfall, and she was determined to get us children out of doors in the fresh air. She loved picnics in the park and spending time in our large back yard (‘you can’t find a back yard like that just anywhere’). She took us places on busses when my dad did not. We rode to the Art museum, Steinberg, downtown, the Muny free seats, all of forest park really and of course Cardinal Glennon Hospital. A place I believe they new her by name. She made sure we learned to swim, rode bikes, and spent as much time as possible at Jamieson park. She ensured we ran, play ball of any and every kind. All of which we each embraced and learned to love. And to this day we, each of us appreciates her love of nature, because she instill that same love in each of us.

We woke every morning to a good, most often hot breakfast. We were not allowed to escape without first downing a glass of orange juice. Our nutrition was high on her list. Good food on our plates was something she did not often have as a child and often went hungry. I think she is the only person I know who actually did walk uphill to and from school…in worn-out clothes and ill fitting shoes. So to my mother, giving your children what you didn’t have meant that we had everything that was important. Sometimes more, but never less.

She made Christmas Eve our best family celebration every single year. And the tradition goes on today, and will never fade if most of us have our way. It was one occasion that brought us together without fail with all of our clashing personalities, boisterous voices, our loud laughter, and our undying competitive spirits. And an occasional cartwheel from Uncle Laurie. It wasn’t always easy. It was always crowded. And nothing gave her greater joy than to see us all hugging and joking and telling stories, especially if they were about her. She never once let us for a minute question her deep abiding love for us, and she laced all of it with her Irish, indelible May family sense of humor.

My mother was hilarious and she’d be the first one to let that be known. Her sense of humor was one of her great attributes and oh so contagious. My mom instilled in us a basic truth, that one can get through any hardship with prayer and an ability to laugh at ones own foibles. Besides, they made for better stories. And she was the ultimate storyteller, often laughing harder than everyone in the room. She’d sometimes be laughing so hard you couldn’t make out the punch line. And she loved a good practical joke. She once turned off the kitchen lights and laid herself out on the floor, playing dead, to scare my brother Scott, after he and my brother Chris had just spent an hour telling my sisters and me scary stories in the dark. Stories and antics that made us scream with fear and laughter, except maybe Laurie. She screamed alright but then burst into tears….of course…Because Laurie cries at everything so, grain of salt. But man she got him good. And laid there on the floor laughing so hard her belly shook.

She had the most contagious smile. Broad and genuinely warm and engaging. Her laugh was the most incredible music I’ve ever known. If she was telling you a story that she found particularly hilarious, it was all she could do to get the words out as she could hardly breathe. In those moments it didn’t matter that you might not be able to understand her, her joy was a gift.

She made our life so amazing. Nine kids in a 2 bedroom house with a 1/2 story attic big enough for 5 girls to share, like a dorm room. A finished basement where we could roller skate when it rained, or play ping pong or pool and a room that held a zillion board games, blocks, bats, balls, snow suits and boots, a record player, dart board, and the electric trains we set up every Christmas. She taught us to play cards, and never complained when we turned up the stereo or radio when we girls were doing dishes, or dad was out of the house.

She pitched whiffle balls, set up our croquet game or let us use her clothes line for badminton or volleyball. She let us dig in the dirt, play with the hose when it was hot, had my dad build us a sand box and a swing set. She taught us how to cross stitch and made paste with flour and water to stick our construction paper cutouts together. She was unstoppable. She was the ultimate mother. I am who I am today because on 11/11/22, the day God took his wand and cast stardust across the universe and breathed life into my sweet sweet mother, the tiny infant that was not expected to live. She fought for her own life and that of her children and grandchildren with love and prayer and sheer determination. She fought with a deep love for life and heart felt prayer from her soul, for each of us.

The last day she was awake, she gave me a message to pass on to her children. It was a moment I will never forget for the remainder of my own days, and worth repeating often.

‘Tell the children I said goodbye.

Tell them that I love them so much.

Tell them to be good to their mother’s and dads, they love them so much

I love them so much’

I said, I promise momma, I love you so much

She said, ‘I love you more.’…I love you more. How could I ever argue that.

Addendum:

Since the funeral, I have wanted to finish my acknowledgments of the remainder of my siblings that I did not mention at church. Sorry, I lost if after Peggy…

To:

My brother Christopher Dennis, for all the quiet stoic patience that my mother instilled in you. I remember how you always got on your bike and ran errand for mom as a kid. How you took on babysitting duties and made those times fun for us. How you rarely, if ever, complained about life in the middle of 9 kids. How much joy you gave her with the attention and love you gave to our brother Mark. It made her so happy. Mom loved you so much and I could always see her appreciation of you and your gentle way of being. When I look at you, I see that part of her in you.

Mark Joseph, wish you could read and understand me so I could tell you how incredibly much she loved you. Words could never convey.

James, I’m happy she is finally able to bestow all of herself on you now.

Carol Lee. Mom loved you so so deeply. She worried about you constantly, and was so grateful to be able to be there for you in the hard times you suffered from a disease doctors knew very little about in your younger years. She was always so happy to hear your sweet voice on the phone, and to know you were okay. I know she hated leaving you. Thank you for always staying so closely connected to her.

Laurie Lee. She thought she was finished having her passel of children, but as she was apt to reminded you, she decided she had room for just one more, and that was you. I love how much you loved her. How you kept in contact with her and worried about her. You were her last and she enjoyed spoiling you with her time and attention in the years when you were the last be at home with her before grade school. She always noted your generous heart, and you are more like her in that way than many, you just cry more…then again maybe not. She was so proud of you and how hard you worked for the sisters. You are so devoted to your own family, and working for the nuns is almost as good as having a priest for a son…, but not quite so don’t get a big May head about it. Lucy I am so grateful to have been there, to bare whitness, as you, her youngest child, knowing this would probably be her last meal bravely spoon feed her, through tears of course, that last bit of ice cream. I will never forget it.

Finally I come to Scott David. This one, will get to me the most. I spent many hours over my lifetime watching my mom with her own struggles, for her strength to take care of her brood with little sleep, for her ability to keep going after a particularly difficult day with the Bear, which were many, to fight her own depression from being overwhelmed with the enormity of the load she bore everyday from the sheer logistics of her life. But you Scottie were my hero in that. You could make mom laugh with just a one liner as you came barreling through the door. You were a true angel in mom’s life and therefore all of our lives. You brought her more joy with your own May sense of humor than all of us put together. You made her day, everyday that you were near her, and for that I could never repay you. I relished every single moment of watching you, with your quick and whitty sense of irony, make her laugh, make her smile, make her silently giggle. Thank you for all the Johnnie Carson nights you spent with her. I enjoyed watching the two of you at that hour more than any other hour of the day, because you could always bring her relief with your own joy of life. Thank you for all the practical jokes you put up with from her. They were the best and I was always on board with being in on them. You as much as mom taught me that with a humor, everything, no matter how difficult, can be made better, could be eased. I can never find the words to express how much hope you brought back to us when you lifted her spirits. Thank you for giving her so much joy. I don’t know what she would have done without you in her life.

Love you Momma,

Theresa Lee

#grandmaginny virginialee

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smolstrawberrychara · 6 years

Text

Klance Au Month - Day 11 - Historical

18th century love letters.

Penny For Your Thoughts

At a London Coffeehouse in the 18th century, Keith is a writer for the local newspaper. He takes tip-offs from the public in the form of scrolled up paper in a lion's jaw. Only, today, he gets more than he's bargained for.

Getting to his feet, Keith cleared his throat, ready to read their latest tip-off. Then his breath fell short.

This wasn’t? He couldn’t? Keith’s cheeks flamed. The quiet around him suddenly became achingly so as he processed what he was supposed to be reading aloud.

Dearest Keith, your words are as fine as that behind you so gracefully hide beneath the tail of your handsome silken coat. From afar, my admiration will eternally shine. X

“So?” Shiro urged, leaning closer, “what does it say?”

Read here, or on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745950

Keith’s head felt like a balloon, vision swirly and messing completely if he moved too fast. The floor also seemed to be moving, avoiding him like the deck of a ship. He stumbled forward, stomach slamming into the bench. He grinned, congratulating himself on getting exactly were he wanted to be. Climbing over the seat, he wiggled into a comfy position on the stark wood. In front of him, the server was collecting cups, snuffing out the candles balanced on the empty tables as he went.

The server. He was a tall man, with tanned skin and unruly brown hair. He swept through the coffeehouse with practiced ease, even when the walls were bowing outwards with the number of patrons. He laughed it off, yelling out opinions and adding titbits to the conversation. He always seemed to know the right thing to say.

“You,” Keith began, throwing an arm across the table to grab his attention. The server jumped, turning to face Keith with the barest hint of amusement. “You m’st be, like. THE most nintelli- inetla-SMARTEST person in this roooom.”

Keith grinned to himself, satisfied with turning out that perfect sentence. The server raised the slightest eyebrow, making a point of shining his gaze across the entire shop before sending it back to Keith. He couldn’t help preening when it did, sitting a little taller.

“Well, there is only you and I here, so I would hasten to agree.”

Keith felt his cheeks warm, and he curled his elbow in to rest his head against it.

“Mnnhow come,” Keith said, stretching in place. He was so very tired today but the reason why seemed to be evading him. “How come, d’you never join in?”

The server shrugged, “I join in plenty.”

Keith frowned, poking at a dip in the wood. “Not mines, you don’t.”

The server smiled, crossing his elbows against the table top and leaning forward. His lips were crooked, eyes sparkling above them. Keith’s heart raced.

“Okay, here’s an idea.” He said, smirk unwavering, “I’ll leave a message in the lion’s head for you to read tomorrow.”

Keith sprang up, nodding eagerly.

“But it’ll be just for you, so no sharing.” He continued with a wink. It made Keith’s stomach swoop. He watched as the server swayed back through the house, grabbing paper and a quill at the desk. His tongue poked between his lips as he wrote, eye flickering back to Keith’s before an undeniable grin pulled onto his cheeks.

Then he was passing Keith once again and tucking the paper under the sharp fangs of the golden lion bust. Keith lunged forward, knee smacking into the bench and stopping him in his tracks.

The server tutted, shaking his head.

“Tomorrow.” He said, wagging a finger at Keith, “it’ll come quicker if you go home and sleep now.”

Keith bit his lip. On the one hand, the letter was here now. On the other, he’d given his word. And Keith was a man of words. So, straightening the thick fabric of his jackets, he got to his feet, standing tall.

“Then I’shall go.” He announced with a nod. The walk across the shop seemed to take longer than usual and someone had clearly moved the tables from their rightful positions as Keith found himself knocking heads with a fair few. But somehow, he’d managed. And the twinkling laughter behind him was a good source of motivation to keep walking.

~*~

Squeezing through the crowd, Keith dodged elbows and narrowly missed smacking his hip into the thick corner or one of the wooden tables. The coffeehouse was always buzzing but mid-morning was when conversation really seemed most rampant. Cups slammed against benches, voices roared. Men threw themselves over tables, so caught up in passionate debate they were. Blacksmiths fresh from the forge, cheeks still red and clothes ashen sat side by side with seasoned travellers, fresh from the oceans, cheeks burned red and clothes adorned with the many jewels of their labour.

Keith felt the familiar buzz in his veins. It was just like that first day. With just one penny he’d found in the gutter he had bought himself into a whole new world. He wasn’t ignored - kicked to the kerb and treated like a dog. He was someone. With an opinion. A view. He could tell people the injustices of their city, the toils of its people and the crimes committed under their very noses. And people listened. And they spoke back. Keith had gained a power that day. And with his long-learned ability to blend into the background, it became legendary. He used his skill to learn more of the world and spread that knowledge like wild fire.

Soon he was not only spreading gossip, but news and political debate. He’d pointed out the number of orphans on the roads and suddenly there were food packages delivered to the children. And not long later, Shiro recruited him to his newspaper team. The man took a young Keith under his wing, taught him to read and write and stake his point so that no-one could ignore it. Now, Keith afforded a small apartment down the back roads of London and a steady income, working alongside Shiro to write the coffeehouse newspaper.

Keith shuffled along the bench, down to his seat alongside the golden lion bust. This was his favourite part of his job. The lion’s mouth was carved open, teeth forming a cage for paper to be slipped in. Anyone in the coffeehouse could give them their stories, could share their thoughts, their news. It was exhilarating.

Grabbing the latest instalment, Keith threw his coat tail out before landing in the seat next to Shiro.

“Alright Keith!” Matthew Holt whooped, rubbing his hands together and leaning in. He was a frequent at the coffee house - a well to-do young man studying at Oxford. Keith thought he wouldn’t like him much - with that kind of background he was destined to live a life of luxury, abusing any common street urchin he saw. But then Keith discovered him sneaking his sister into the male dominated world and he instantly changed his mind. Matt’s intentions were pure, his desire to level the playing field, make knowledge available to anyone who wanted it, was a plight Keith admired. Matt had Keith calling endless defences, angling his shoulders in defiance as he stared down pompous professors who believed knowledge was only for the elite.

“How’s the head?”

Keith rolled his eyes. The whole reason he’d had all that ale was that he was too busy investigating their latest pocket connoisseur to come in for coffee. It was a sore-head or incurable disease from contaminated water.

“Fine.” He said firmly.

“That must mean he’s still drunk!” Matt hooted, falling over the man next to him. Laughter burst out around him and Keith couldn’t help the twinge of a smirk against his lips.

“Let’s hear the latest then.” Shiro said, nudging his ribs with an elbow. He took a swig of his coffee before wincing at the bitter taste. Another secret Keith had learned: Shiro was not a fan of the stuff his life was built around.

Keith unrolled the scroll as Shiro hushed the table. Getting to his feet, Keith cleared his throat, ready to read their latest tip-off. Then his breath fell short.

This wasn’t? He couldn’t? Keith’s cheeks flamed. The quiet around him suddenly became achingly so as he processed what he was supposed to be reading aloud.

Dearest Keith, your words are as fine as that behind you so gracefully hide beneath the tail of your handsome silken coat. From afar, my admiration will eternally shine.

“So?” Shiro urged, leaning closer, “what does it say?”

Keith blinked at him. Then around at the entire table. Everyone was staring, fingers squeezing around their full cups. Familiar faces. Unfamiliar ones. Eyes boring into Keith. Matt tilted his head ever so slightly. He stretched, eyes turning down and Keith quickly squished the paper to his chest.

“It’s the Shipping Report.”

A groan erupted. Across the table, people were quick to voice their grievances until the buzz was effervescent once again. Keith quickly sat down hurting his ‘fine behind’ in the process. Blood rushed to his face. What was happening? Was it a mistake? A love letter mis-delivered? But then he was mentioned by name. He quickly drank his coffee, swallowing down the jittering in his stomach.

“Well that was disappointing.” Shiro sighed. All Keith could manage was a nod, gulping more coffee. It slid down a little too fast and then he was choking.

Shiro slammed a hand over his back, probably doing more damage than any good with his brute strength.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yep!” Keith squeaked. It was probably just a one-off joke to spite Keith.

~*~

It was not a one off.

The next day, as Keith read off their news clippings there was another stuffing between the mess of paper and ink.

Shipping Report? How romantic. Pray tell me the details of those ships that made your face light up like a lamp. Were their sails at half mast, or dare I say, full? I could return your kindness with a secret of my own.

Keith’s face exploded once again, lucky enough to have returned his drink to its place before his choke spilt the coffee everywhere.

“Something funny, my friend?” Shiro asked. Keith fought for words. He couldn’t show him the very personal albeit crass, note. But what could he say? All words were evading him.

“Just, uhh…”

“Top up, anyone?”

Keith jumped at the voice, the server ducking between them to pour drinks. Keith’s whole body sighed in relied. Thank goodness for that interruption. He fell into his seat, nearly panting with the effort of hiding his emotions. Quickly, he slipped the note into his pocket, and moved on with his reports.

~*~

The notes didn’t stop there. They kept coming, thick and fast, and Keith was beginning to get concerned he was being silently mocked.

You are a disaster waiting to occur, sweetest Keith. I shall have to end my letters with a tip-off or I fear you shall combust! O, how I long to caress one of those flaming cheeks in the warmth of my palm.

Mr Avery has been smuggling rum on the Thames

My dear Keith, I admire the confidence in which you hold yourself. You accuse with such conviction I fear if I told you a lie it would come true. I could watch you debate for eternity.

Mrs Spry sews flowers into the seams of her husband’s coat

O Keith! Your story on the wolves of London made me swoon. It is a wonder how those sharp features of yours can hide such blinding kindness. Run away with me. We’ll take the dogs from the streets and run down the sands of Scarborough, hand in hand. Lead a revolution with me.

The Apothecary forgets which herbs are for which treatment

Keith shuddered. Because, as much as he told himself these notes were all a harmless joke, his heart skipped at the words. His very own article mentioned. His stomach spiked with joy. He prided himself in his work, uncovering the down trodden and bringing light to their lives. If another person felt the same as him for those poor abandoned dogs, he wanted to meet them with all his heart. But Keith quickly stamped the thought down with fear. If this really was a joke, then Keith wanted no more part in it. His stomach was doing twists all over the place and he felt as if on a very thin ledge, one breath of wind away from falling. Falling where, he wasn’t sure. And if there was going to be no-one there to catch him, he wanted to know now. So, once his friends had left the shop, Keith ripped off a notelet and scrawled a reply.

Do you mock me, sir?

It was simple and unimaginative. But if this indeed was a joke, he wasn’t about to waste his time on sonnets. Keith’s heart raced. Maybe he could write sonnets? Taking a deep breath Keith shoved the paper under the lion before he could let the floodgates open. He could only hope it would meet its intended recipient.

~*~

Keith felt nervous as he re-entered the coffee house the next day. What if he never received another word again? Obviously, he would be thankful the joke was over. Or at least, should be. So why was his stomach doing turns like a fish slowly being encased by a net?

He lifted out the day’s letters, noticing his own had gone. He flicked through the tips offs, eyes only for that familiar script. His heart soared when he found it.

Heavens no, my Keith! The only desire I harbour is to connect to your heart with the words I dare not speak. My dearest, if uncomfortable my love makes you, burn my quill and spill my ink, for I only write to please you.

Mr Lampert carries a knife around town

Keith’s stomach fizzed warmly. And the feeling travelled all the way up his body and into his cheeks. They tightened under his eyes.

“What’s got you so happy?”

Keith jumped at Matt’s words. He quickly angled the paper away from his prying eyes. These were his words now. And he wasn’t about to share them.

“Mr Lampert carries knife.” He said bluntly.

Matt narrowed his eyes, brows tilting in confusion. “And that makes you laugh?”

Keith’s stomach fell into his feet. Maybe he should do more thinking instead of talking? He really always had preferred writing.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, before redirecting their conversation. “What are your thoughts on the new market stall?”

“The one selling foreign books?” Matt asked, before sighing to himself, “I only wish I could read them.”

The buzz was back and soon the team were all scrawling out their articles with the same reckless abandon as always. Shiro was sent running to the print press and it was quiet once again. So, Keith peeled away another scrap of paper and wrote a letter.

Stranger, tho stranger only to my form, I cherish your words. Burn not your quill, unless your intention is to carve our names into the wood of this very table, for I wish to learn yours.

Your most gracious, Keith

Mr Shirogane has no taste for coffee

~*~

Waiting for reply was like waiting for a storm. It could not be predicted and certainly not prescribed. It was as mysterious as the stranger Keith had found himself unwittingly yearning for. He squeezed through the shop although it seemed easier these days. He was arriving earlier and earlier, too eager to wait for his letters. Sliding into his seat, Keith slipped his fingers into the lion’s mouth and fished out the paper. Leaning into the wall, he was relieved to find one for him.

O my, Keith, a kindly reply after so long! I shall have to keep this paper tucked close to my heart. Your request is noble, tho I shall have to deny. For when you discover who I am, I fear you will cease to write.

The daughter of Mrs Cortez is planning a trip to Gretna Green

Keith frowned, rereading the words. Why on Earth would a name put him off? He thought he should write as much. And so, began a back and forth that only made his heart squeeze tighter. Written words simply were not enough anymore. He wanted to meet this ridiculous man.

Keith started spending longer in the Coffeehouse, watching the passers-by as he dreamed of his golden-quilled admirer. Even after their paper was published and Shiro was long gone, Keith remained. Who was he? The stranger behind the letters. Did he frequent this very table? He certainly knew of Keith’s work. And he was well-learned of the gossip crossing the streets.

“Oi! Server!”

Keith jolted. Behind him a patron was standing on his table. Pot-bellied and pig-faced, his words sent spit flying across the shop.

“My drink is empty!”

“Good sir,” The server called back, calm as ever, even as his eyes shot danger to the man, “I’ll be right with you!”

The man groaned loudly, landing back in his chair with a huff. Keith glared at him.

“Do you have reason as to being so rude?”

The man scoffed. “He’s just a server.”

“A human none the less.” Keith corrected with venom.

“A human with a job-”

“Is still a human.” Keith corrected, swinging his feet around the bench.

“Quit starting arguments, street urchin.” The man sneered with satisfaction. Clearly, he believed it to be the last word. Keith had other ideas.

“If you didn’t want an argument, you shouldn’t have come to a coffeehouse.”

The man growled. “Know your place boy.”

“My place is wherever I put myself.” Keith said with defiance, raising to his feet. The man followed suit, throwing his chest at Keith’s.

“You wanna put your face under my fist.”

“Sirs,” came a level next to them, ice cold. “This is a coffeehouse not an inn.”

The server stood beside them, full jug of coffee in his hands and head raised high. “Keep your debate civilised or take it elsewhere.”

Keith nodded, but the server wasn’t watching. His glare was holding the other man down until he slunk back into his seat. Then he curtly poured his drink before leaning over Keith.

“Thank you.” He whispered, before leaning back and sending him a wink. It burned through Keith like a torch being lit. And there was something about it. It was almost as if the expression was familiar. But that would be impossible. Keith had never spoken to the server before. No matter how many times he saw the man speak with the rest of their patrons, he avoided Keith like he was diseased. Keith had given up catching his eye long ago. But now his heart was galloping against his will. And as quickly as the server had appeared, he was waltzing away. Keith helpless to just watch.

~*~

Keith had mastered the art of blending into the background and thus had learned that once someone noticed, they didn't stop noticing. And now, he'd broken the spell, Keith couldn't stop noticing the man serving the drinks.

The feeling was only amplified as he read his daily letter.

My only Keith, your passion is a burning fire that ignites me. But I am unafraid. Any fire you set is one I wish to join, courageous and determined. You light the way to a life I long to be a part of. And perhaps, I may. See, I have caught one of your sparks and I am fostering it to become my very own.

The server’s name is Lance

The information. It was so different. Not a piece of gossip from the corner of a napkin but a solid fact. It felt like a clue. The flickering orange light beckoning one towards the last candle in a dark home. It made Keith’s nerves stand on end.

“You seem distracted.” Shiro stated. Keith hadn’t meant to drift off again. His articles were usually written in half this time. But he just couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. And the clue. Eyes continually wondering to the tanned skin server.

“Something on your mind?” Shiro asked, nudging his arm.

Keith stopped himself before he could nod. How much could he reveal without ruining their whole secret exchange? He didn’t want to share the letter. It was too personal. But he was so stuck. Keith feared he was missing something important. That the letter contained an intended cue that could lead him down a diamond encrusted path, but without it he’d just end up at a dead-end. Keith decided on a roundabout question to satisfy both problems. “If someone tells you somebody else’s name, what do they mean?”

Shiro frowned, looking at Keith a second longer. Keith said no more and Shiro sighed, before mulling over the question.

“I’d say they’d want you to talk to them.”

Keith nodded, eyes flickering over to the server. He was dodging stray elbows, effortlessly hopping over legs kicked out between benches and laughing along to another conversation. He was so at home here. Part of the furnishings. Maybe Keith could give talking to him a go? He frequented the coffeehouse so often, it really seemed strange that they hadn’t spoken before.

~*~

As the coffeehouse filtered out, Keith stayed put. And soon, the streetlamps were lit, and the bustle of the street markets was giving way to coats pulled tight and heads ducked low.

“Lance!” Keith called before he could chicken out. The server jolted, eyes wide as he turned around. Keith hadn’t meant to scare him and guilt immediately tumbled through his stomach. He bowed his head shyly. “Sorry. It’s just, you must gain a lot of knowledge here right?”

The man nodded, unwrapping his cleaning cloth and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

“And you see lots of people.”

Again, the man nodded, “sure.”

Keith felt the action a little awkward. He’d seen the server many times before. He was a happy person, loud and unrestricted. Keith liked watching him. He had a lightness to his feet, an air of dignity despite being treated like a rat by some of the patrons. He was strong. Confident. He had an innate ability to brush off the worst of comments, moving along like water. Ever the professional he wouldn’t yell like Keith, and yet still found a way to put people in their place. Keith admired that. So, he couldn’t help noticing that this particular behaviour was strange. Even so, Keith had a mission and powered on.

“Have you seen who leaves the messages in the lion’s head?”

Lance’s eyes briefly washed with shock before he quickly swept it away under a smirk, leaning up on the counter.

“Now that would be telling.”

“So you know?”

Lance hummed, sending a sly eye over to the lion.

“The lion’s there for anonymity. It would be unethical to divulge that information.”

Keith sunk back in his seat. Lance was right. Secrecy was how this system worked. If they broke that even just once, the whole system would lose its integrity.

“You seem disappointed? Why’s that?”

Keith blinked back at the server, lips parted. Why? Because he was so close to finding his mysterious admirer. The wordsmith who made his stomach warm with just a few sentences. He shook his head. The man’s secrecy should be respected.

“No reason.” Keith said quietly, removing himself from the bench. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he left the shop.

~*~

Keith hadn’t planned to leave for the Coffeehouse so early. He’d just had a rough night sleep and as a result had given up trying. Cutting some bread and cheese for breakfast, he’d watched the sunrise by the dock before heading up. A cloaked figure headed up to the door ahead of him, pressing a key into the lock. Keith hung back. It would be rude to enter during set up. So, he slunk across the street to watch the window inconspicuously. That’s when he noticed the figure remove some paper from behind the front desk. He watched as they grabbed one of the candlesticks and headed straight to Keith’s seat. They bent down, orange flickering over the gleaming golden lion. Keith chest tightened. His paper lover.

Keith raced across the street before he could stop himself. Throwing the door open, he came to an abrupt stop as the figure turned around. Cloak falling free, the man gaped at Keith. Tan skin, a mess of brown hair and perfect pink lips. Keith recognised him instantly.

“Lance.” He stammered. “You’re my-?”

And then the shock dissipated. Warmth spread through Keith’s veins, face softening with the flow. Lance was his secret admirer. Wonderful, radiant Lance. Keith was only too happy to give him his heart along with his words. His whole being. He ventured across the room.

“Why did you write letters?” Keith asked, stepping into his space. “You could have spoken to me.”

Lance glanced away, then back again, before staring at the floor and sucking on his lips.

“You don’t remember do you?”

Remember what? Keith bent down to catch his eye, shaking his head. Lance sighed, cheeks turning the faintest bit red.

“You asked me to.”

Keith blinked. When? He was pretty sure he’d recall such a bold act.

“When you were drunk.” Lance elaborated. “I wrote it to tease you, thinking you’d remember. But you didn’t.”

Keith’s memory of the day was blurry at best. He remembered the morning after much more clearly, though the details of his vomit could have gone a miss. But the drunken mess beforehand? It slowly formed in his brain, but it was swirly, like he was watching from underwater.

“And you looked so funny when you read it, all red-faced and flustered! I had to send more.”

Lance bowed his head in shame. “And when I realised you had no recollection of the event, I took advantage of being just an ink stain on paper. It was just so liberating. I was always too scared to speak to you in person. This way I could tell you how I felt and all those embarrassing things…”

He trailed off and now his whole face was red. Keith’s fingers twitched at his sides. He understood that second letter now. There was nothing more enticing than the red of shy skin. He wanted to touch it, taste it, kiss it. His stomach suddenly filled with overwhelming longing.

“Look.” Lance said sharply, raising his head with those steel eyes Keith couldn’t stop watching from across the room. Now they were on him and his heart raced. “It was inappropriate and I am sorry. I will not disturb your patronage any longer with my unwanted feelings.”

Keith shook his head, fighting a smile. If there was anything Keith wanted more, it was for his patronage to be disturbed. Lance’s feelings weren’t just wanted, Keith needed them. He had a face for the words now and the two collected together in his heart, pushing it forward with desire. He wanted all of Lance’s words, written and spoken. He wanted to flirt between drinks, support his arguments and have his icy demeanour by his side when he was about to lose control.

Stepping forward, Keith reached out and cupped Lance’s cheek. It was warm and soft and leaning into him.

“I’ll forgive your inappropriateness.” Keith said softly, “If you’ll forgive mine.”

Then he leaned forward, close enough to feel Lance’s hot breath across his lips. He met his eye, awaiting response and Lance’s turning to sparkling curves. Then lips were on his and Keith gave himself to them. The kiss was soft but raw. Passion growing like the warmth unfurling in his chest. When they parted, Keith felt a little giddy - tipsy from their touch. Lance smiled widely, every inch of his face soft and Keith melted all over again. He giggled, pressing in another peck for good measure.

“Let’s go for a walk. After your shift.” He said, bringing his hand down to clutch Lance’s. The other nodded, squeezing back.

“Sure.”

#klance au month #historical #klance hisorical au #klance love letters #klance fluff #klance fic #my writing #my post #I was not supposed to spend my whole day writing!!#i have coursework #I am banning myself from writing until i can get it done.

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dailyaudiobible · 6 years

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10/08/2018 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 10:1-11:23, Colossians 3:18-4:18, Psalms 78:56-72, Proverbs 24:28-29

Today is October 8th. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It's great to be here with you from the rolling hills of Tennessee. I hope it's a lovely day wherever you might be on this big blue planet that we call home. We're diving into our work week. And it doesn't matter what we're diving into, the rhythm continues. The scriptures speak into our lives everyday as we go through them in their entirety in a year. And we're clearly in the back half of things at this point. So, we've been reading from the Amplified Bible this week, which is just yesterday, but that's what we'll read from this week. Jeremiah 10:1-11:23 today.

Commentary:

Okay. Idolatry. That's an ominous word, right? We've encountered it countless times as we move through the Scriptures. And we've read stories about it, we've listened to mighty condemnations of it, we've witnessed the repercussions of it. But now that we're moving through the prophetic books, there's no way to escape it. It's everywhere. And that can seem disconcerting because idolatry isn't usually a part of our everyday conversation. We don't think of idols, which is essentially what idolatry is. And today in Jeremiah we were given a very fitting description of what that looked like in Jeremiah’s time. He said, For the customs and decrees of the peoplesare mere delusion and exercises in futility. It is only wood which one cuts from the forest to make a god, the work of the hands of the craftsman with the axe or cutting tool. They adorn the idol with silver and with gold. They fasten it with hammers and nails so that it will not fall apart. They are like scarecrows in a cucumber field. They cannot speak, they have to be carried because they cannot walk. Do not be afraid of them, for they can do no harm or evil, nor can they do any good. So,, most of us can listen to a description like that and exhale a sigh of relief because we've never created an idol of this nature and we would never conceive of worshipping such a thing. However, the issue wasn't so much the physicality of the idol. It was the expectation of what the idol could do for the person if they would give their heart in worship to it. So, with that in mind, just about anything could be an idol. If we expect to live our lives ultimately sustained in any other way than through a relationship with God, than we are creating an idol that cannot talk, cannot see, cannot walk, has to be carried around and then expecting it to bring us life. So, we should consider, idolatry isn't an issue that makes God nervous about his own sovereignty. He doesn't look down upon the earth and the things that people will give themselves to and get nervous that he's going to be dethroned and no longer the sovereign Almighty God. No matter what we worship, there is only one God. But our giving of ourselves to what is a false will keep us from him. And then we will both miss out on the most precious and essential thing. The thing that he has literally moved heaven and earth to give us: a relationship. And when we think about it in those terms, it's heartbreaking, because it really does become a question of what else would God need to do? Why is it that we will put our faith and trust and give our hearts in worship to what is false when God has moved heaven and earth to be here with us? So, let's make this personal. Let's think about our children. If one of our sweet little children one day informed us that we are no longer their parent, we would certainly find this hurtful, probably deeply troubling. If we then found out that they had taken a stuffed animal and built a shrine for it out of toys in the closet, believing it had become their true parent, what would we do? We would be incredibly alarmed by this, especially since we provided all the toys. But if they then stopped talking to us altogether and carried the stuffed animal around, believing that it would parent them, we'd probably be calling in mental health professionals because something would be very wrong, something would be going very sideways. This is fundamentally the place that Jeremiah and the other prophets were speaking from. So, in our example, if one of our children did this, we would still be their parents even though the child had given affection and allegiance to something false, they would still be created in our image. We are their parent. That because we brought them into this world, our hearts would be broken for them. We would do everything possible to pull them back from what was deceiving them and back into the relationship with the family. This is essentially God's position towards idolatry. Come back! Return to me! And we'll see God saying this over and over as we move through the prophets because the alternative is a path that leads to destruction. We would never let our children walk down that path willingly. So, let's consider today what it is that we are turning to for life. An honest assessment. Spend the day watching yourself, observing yourself. What are you turning to for life? Is it food? Is it your investment portfolio? Is it your job? Is it the car that you had to have? What is it? What is it that we're turning to and trusting in that has no power to save us? Because when we do this we become the little child in our illustration and we're betraying our true source of life, which is backward to the way we were created. It's foreign to who we really are. And as we'll continue to see as we continue to move through the books of prophecy, this will get us nowhere.

Prayer:

So,, Father, we acknowledge that. And on an intellectual level we know this. And we don't always understand or realize the subtle shifts that happen inside of us. The hopes that we have and the ways that we put all of our trust in a certain kind of outcome. And that we try to invoke you to make that outcome happen, which gives us clues to the things that are pulling our hearts in all kinds of different directions. And at some point, we put our trust and our hope in these things and not you. This is idolatry and we have to confess and ask your forgiveness. We acknowledge this will get us nowhere. You are our only hope. So, come, Holy Spirit. Show us. Help us to be aware and observant of ourselves so that we can see the things that are pulling our hearts toward idolatry. Come Jesus we pray. In your mighty name, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what's going on around here. So, certainly stay connected. Check in. Check it out.

Pray for your brothers and sisters at the prayer wall.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There is a link on the homepage. If you are using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996, Spring Hill, Tennessee, 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi. This is Bremmer from London, the UK calling in for the call from Steve in Toulouse. Steve, I am so pleased that you are starting up a church in Toulouse, church 21 as you call it there. My wife is French. I’m quite familiar with the fact you can be quite __ in France when it comes to funding a family of faith. So, I will be praying for you, your efforts to get resourcing, and of course volunteers, that you’ll actually be able to run your services every week. God bless you Steve, Bremmer from London.

Hello DAB family this is Chantey calling from __ Detroit and I’m calling with a prayer request that is long overdue. It is for someone that is potentially my brother, his name is Raymond and he is 15 years old right now. He’s living in a boy’s home because his mother lost her right and my dad signed over his right and both of them are not for sure if he is my dad’s son. My dad had an opportunity to have a paternity test done but he didn’t show up, of course, to have it done. He has, like social, anxiety and it’s really hard to get him to go anywhere. So, long story short, I want to be there for him and I want him to come stay with us, but I have reservations about his behavior and the fact that we don’t know for sure that he’s my brother. And anyway, just pray for him because he’s really going through a hard time. He’s not able to speak with his parents and he’s able to speak with me only for 10 minutes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And he’s just really struggling and he just…he needs comfort and just…he needs help right now with what he’s going through. So, I’ll be calling back in for more on that. But thank you all so much for your prayers.

Hey everybody, this is Pelham moving to Coleman, the Dough Master Addicted to Christ. That’s been my spiritual name from the beginning when I started calling in to the DAB about 10 years ago. It’s been a while and Brian’s reading today, which was Asaph, that’s what he talked about. When he started talking and he almost laughed to say, some of the stuff that Asaph is facing, we all do from time to time but I think Brian wanted to say we probably all are currently, if you’re listening to my voice. Brian does’t want to say that because that kind of sounds a little intense, but who’s not facing one of those six questions? And Brian, thank you. What an incredible word today. Like, you read my mail literally, said the two things that I was thinking. Thinking way back, some of the things that the Lord is done to sustain you, when you think maybe He’s giving up on you. Boy, if you want to look at my life guys, let’s see, I went to the Daily Audio Bible reunion because of Jesus. I didn’t have any money and I didn’t have the ability to do anything except…except wait on the Lord, who wanted me there apparently, to meet some wonderful people. And I was thinking about thanking a bunch of people with this call, but for me to make a thank you call, I need to start at one minute and 13 seconds to basically give me time to say hi and start lifting names, starting with Jesus and ending with Jesus but it would human names that would be lifted. And you could just say Jesus for everyone, cause when people do the things that they do for Jesus, it’s Jesus working through them and you can see it. I can see Jesus working through Annette in Oklahoma City. I can see Jesus through the big man himself down in Australia Mr. Mike, the big Australian. I can see Jesus through all these people, through the DAB, through people you work with, and see on the street. So, wow…

Good morning DABbers. Love lets the past die that moves people to new beginnings without settling the past. Love does not have to clear up all misunderstandings. Love prefers to tuck all the loose ends of the past rights and wrongs in the bosom of forgiveness. It pushes to a new start. Holy Father, we pray for the gift of forgiveness, so we’re not shackled to the past. Help us to absorb evil without calculating how to retaliate. Thank you for loving us first with Lord Jesus as our example. In His precious name. Amen. Love you DABbers, Diana, Arizona. Bye.

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secretblogofthedepressedanon · 3 years

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April 23, 2021

I keep losing my cool at things that don’t require that, and I don’t like it. I am recognizing the pattern & the problem easier now, but I still can’t seem to get myself out of it when I am in it. I try, but it’s like once I get all wound up, the ‘off’ switch is rendered useless for a period of time. The impulses are so strong and I am so amped up. Like my fight or flight response is on 10 and the only thing I can do now is dive right through it. I dunno.

Today, it was dumb and I just got overwhelmed and when I got overwhelmed I got angry. Why do I always get angry? Why is that the emotional response? Either way I don’t like it.

I guess I just feel like I need somewhere to properly redirect it. Like I get anxious or irritated or whatever about something, and then I have nothing to do with it. Nowhere to put it. I guess I need a creative outlet, but really how is that going to help when I get pulled into a mess like that suddenly? Where I don’t have the ability to just go paint or draw or whatever it is that I want / need to do. I need something else, something I can do to cool the impetuous anger as it is happening, not later. Not after I have made a mess of things.

I guess really that’s one of my issues, I get irrational and impulsive and I make a mess out of things and then I cannot unsort it. It’s an ugly cycle I have repeated before, over and over and I really feel like it is getting old. To tell you the truth, I just feel like I am a ball of emotions that I cannot control, understand, or follow. Everytime I think I understand, something new crops up or I present the *same bullshit* with a new process / thought cycle every fucking time and I hate it.

What is my issue with letting myself be happy?

Lol like why do I self sabotage so much?? What is my god damn deal?

He won’t put up with this forever. I wouldn’t anyways. He is endlessly kind and understanding and patient in ways that I, reasonably, deserve but... I feel like I don’t. I feel like I am undeserving and wild and neurotic and just absolutely out of my mind. Logically, I understand that that’s just my brain telling me those things because it is in unhealthy. I understand that I am just doing my best, and that I deserve unconditional love & kindness...

But when I look at him when I am out of control. When I am just upset and losing my mind I just feel like he is so good. So kind and strong and sincere and level and he just doesn’t deserve the way I behave. And I really am trying to do better, learn more, and become emotionally / mentally well. I really am. And I can see the progress I am making. And yet.. I just feel like I keep failing him, as if by not being able to regulate myself I am just hurting him. And it isn’t fair to him. I know he chooses to be here. I know he loves me, genuinely. And I know he wants to help me, and that those moments are not all of who I am. I know he sees so much more to me than that... But I just can’t help but to feel like this cycle that I am stuck in... He doesn’t deserve to have to be there for this. He doesn’t deserve to have to watch me struggle like that, or watch me lose control or be that way. I want him to be with someone who can help him in the ways he needs, as he has done for me.

I want to be that person more than anything. And I am working on it. I am trying so hard, I am doing the shadow work and I am confronting the things within myself that scare or disappoint me. Really, I am. But I still just feel like he could be leagues & miles ahead of where we are now if he didn’t have me weighing him down or dragging him backwards.

Is that just more of my brain talking, or is it the intelligence & awareness to know that I am fucking up? I don’t even know anymore.

I need to get into therapy. I know I do. I am working hard, and its good, but I cannot do it alone. And asking for help isn’t bad or wrong. It’s just taking care of myself & doing what I need to do to make it through life without struggling with this forever. I deserve that. I deserve to be free of this bullshit, of this fucking absolute shitshow of managing my own brain and emotions. I deserve to be able to navigate life with the proper tools & abilites to take care of myself, and my own mental well being.

And it’s time I do what I Can to take my own energy and my own health and make it fuckin better. I am gonna grow dammit.

I changed my twitter handle today to reflect that statement. Lol I feel like I am opening up in ways I never thought. I mean, first of all, truly baring my soul on the internet is totally never what I imagined for myself. I guess really I should have always expected it, I basically grew up online lol. Outside who? Bitch I was on myspace when I was 10, I spent more hours on internet forums and Neopets n shit than I ever did with my family. And repeatedly, I was made to feel bad about it by them. Now, I understand that I did some things that were way way too mature for my age, I know that in my desperate search for community and belonging, I was taken advantage of in ways. The internet is a dangerous and scary place for kids, especially improperly supervised, depressed, lonely, and desperate kids. I am lucky I am alive, and haven’t had anything exceedingly dangerous happen to me.

That being said, they should have seen those things for what they were. Loneliness. A need for friendship, a need to be understood, to have real human connection. I was far too young to understand and communicate those needs, and due to the absolute neglect of my family, I had yet to learn that (and am still working on learning how to recognize and express those needs) myself. But them? My mom? My father? They were adults. They should have seen how desperately and seriously I needed help.

It was their responsibility to make sure I got help, to make sure I was properly loved & taken care of. And they didn’t. And that is their fault. Their failures to help me are on them. Their inability to give me the proper care and love and childhood that I needed... That was on them. And that is how and why I turned to the internet.

I mean, fuck, the internet taught me so much that they never did. I learned about sex and relationships, money, life all on the internet. I have lived behind a screen, a secret identity all its own for many many years. I have hidden myself digitally all throughout the years. If you knew where to look, you can find evidence of me growing up everywhere. Little digital snapshots in the life of me.

I wonder what that would look like. If I could go back over all the things I have ever done on the internet. How many hours I spent on websites like Gaia or StumbleUpon or Pinterest or Reddit. How many times have I shared parts of myself for strangers on the internet, praying for an audience, just waiting for someone to see me. Someone.

How ironic, then, is it that I met the man who really sees me, all of me, in a more tangible physical way? I spent so long aching for someone to find me any other way, never once imagining that if I met him that way.... It could work. I guess that has a lot to do with the neglect I suffered in my childhood. No one ever taught me how to have confidence in the things I do, or in myself. Hell, I can probably count on my hands how many things about life my parents taught me.

As I heal and grow and look back on my past, I wish I could do so much of it over again. Like, I don’t really because I ended up in a place that is doing so much for me, but at the same time... If I had this kind of knowledge / emotional health then.. Imagine where I could be now? As strong and capable and determined as I am, as much work as I have put into surviving... Imagine the woman I could be if I didn’t have to. If I could’ve developed healthy habits and traits from the beginning... If I could have channeled that energy into something more, something better... who would I be now? How different would my life be if I hadn’t been robbed of my right to a happy & healthy childhood? If I didn’t have to ask myself ‘why aren’t I happy’ as young as six?

For goodness sake I can remember wanting to run away from home as young as then. I literally remember packing a bunch of stuff into some walmart bags into a backpack. Telling myself I would leave after nightfall. I didn’t even have a plan, I didn’t know where I would go, what I would do. And so even then, in my underdeveloped, underloved child mind, I knew I had to stay.

In my dirty, neglected, God forsaken home. I stayed.

Where I was lonely, where I didn’t know healthy love, where I ached for someone just to want me, I stayed.

I mean, it wasn’t that conscious of a choice. It isn’t like I had the emotional intelligence then to tell you what I am now. But even then, I could tell you I was unhappy. I wouldn’t have had the words for why, though.

I wouldn’t have been able to tell you how lonely I felt, how much I felt I didn’t belong anywhere or with anyone. But that’s how I felt. I felt misunderstood. Invisible. I couldn’t understand why my siblings never wanted to spend time with me. Why my father would never come out of his room. Why my mom spent all of her time on the computer, playing internet games with her friends. They were all so caught up in trying to be happy for themselves, that no one had time to care about my emotional needs.

Yeah, I was fed. I never went without clothes or toys or food.

But all of my most defining moments, happened without any of them. The moments that made me, me.

I think the reason I find those cheesy coming of age shows so unrelatable (not that I don’t enjoy them, they get me as much as they get others) is because to me... That family dynamic is unrealistic. It feels fake, like who actually lives like that? What kind of kid actually comes home to cry in their mom’s arms about high school breakups, or middle school crushes? It feels unreal, because for me it never was a reality. I basically figured out how to exist within the parameters of my own mind and body. Most of the things I know about being a person have to do entirely with how I exist within myself. The curves and treads of my mind. My soul’s wishes and whispers and secrets.

I have to learn how to grow. How to exist more on the outside of myself. How to take up more space. I have to learn to be loud about who I am to just be myself, unashamed and unstoppable. I was not created to be afraid of myself, I was created to be the full sunshiney, hopeful, sarcastic, witty, kindhearted, generous woman I am becoming.

#my post #long post #me #my feelings #my thoughts #growth #growing #changing #happiness #journal #journal post #feelings #feelings post #anxiety #depression #childhood issues #self love

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