#Partially born out of how sad Ava was

[zany-brainy]

Random Thoughts: I don't think Beatrice would travel (or at least wouldn't go globetrotting) after Adriel's defeat and Ava's departure. There's a few reasons.

Beatrice might be feeling more free to embrace who she is and figure out more about herself outside of her upbringing and role within the OCS but I don't think she'd want to go very far.

Perhaps when Ava told her to live her life she meant for Beatrice to travel the world, to climb mountains, and see sights. Maybe she wanted Beatrice to take a boat down the Amazon, to surf off of Bondi Beach, to meet Mickey Mouse in Florida, and swim in the Blue Grotto.

For Beatrice though, living right now means preparing and learning more in anticipation of the oncoming threat. And learning as much as she can about Reya, her realm, and any others that might be like her or Adriel. Hardest of all is doing all that outside of the OCS but in ways it allows her to pursue these goals in ways that her sisters might not be able to. It also allows her to remain in contact with Jillian Salvius, who distances herself from the OCS for obvious reasons. She's great help in directing Beatrice towards information and the former nun hopes she can help keep the grieving mother grounded.

For Beatrice, living starts small. She doesn't leave the country, too worried of being very far from her sisters. She also wants to learn more about the place she's lived for so long while locked away behind the literal walls of the Cat's Cradle and her own figurative walls. She wants to connect to people the way Mary made look so easy.

Research and training still take up so much time. Especially when Jillian comes calling with a new invention or breakthrough she'd like Beatrice to consult on. But Beatrice finds time to connect. She teaches. Short lessons in self defense in the evening hours at a local dance studio. But it's between these responsibilities that Beatrice partakes and lives.

Little victories, as Ava liked to call them. Little rebellions as Beatrice still thinks of them. Her parents never allowed her many sweets when she was younger. Now Beatrice finds herself indulging in Bubblegum flavored, double scoop, sprinkle covered ice cream here and there. And yes, it mostly just enforces that Mint Chocolate Chip is her favorite but in her mind she can see the snarls her mother would shoot her if she bore witness to some of the overindulgent treats Beatrice had been sampling.

Impulse purchases weren't a consideration for Beatrice but after a particularly trying day at Jillian's lab, she finds herself buying a guitar. It only has a little bit to do with Ava once saying she'd look badass with one and a lot to do with her former classmates' insistence on the pointlessness of the musical arts. Beatrice is awful at playing guitar. Her fingers can't quite find the music and sooner than she'd like she finds herself hiding it in a corner of her apartment.

Silly nicknacks like refrigerator magnets, little figurine statues, and the like were mostly just clutter but Beatrice finds herself picking them up here and there. She holds onto cups and receipts from new restaurants and ships she visits. Mementos of where she's been. It's no great adventure around the world but each little new something Beatrice holds onto makes her feel like she's living a little bit more every day.

She moves cities every few weeks. New places and people, new opportunities, hopefully new leads. New receipts, a new magnet or shot glass. Beatrice still didn't drink but the glasses were small and inoffensive enough not to cause clutter.

She still mourns and still worries and prepares but in between these big responsibilities, the duties she retains in different ways than before. It's silly and insignificant but she lives in these little moments, growing and changing in little ways. Beatrice finds herself waking up later than she ever had in the past, 6:00AM. She doesn't immediately clean every dish the second it reaches the sink.

It's small and ridiculous but these changes were unthinkable to her before. It's not living big or loud or adventuring but for as small as each change is, it's something Beatrice never saw coming. Hell, she gets an Instagram just to take pictures of food and animals she comes across as back up for whenever she has to ditch her current burner phones. They're all little victories day in and day out as she works and trains and learns.

And one day, after what seems like far too long, Beatrice gets to share it all with Ava, whose eyes light up at all the funky shotglasses that line their cabinet. Ava, who insists on what restaurants and cafes Beatrice has to take her back to. Ava, who instantly takes over what she now deems as their Instagram account and shares all their victories going forward, little and big.

[nauseateddrive]

4 POEMS by Jake Sheff

Elegy for Dog I: A Failed Acrostic

January was tired when it became king. Apples here love being red in the spring, Casting shadows against the stone architraves our Kapellmeister will never live down. You Stole Apollo’s cows, and let them graze to show me Heaven’s template. Where do failed heroes go? Eucalyptus cupolas and polar icecaps Frame the downtrodden gods. But you weren’t Freakishly wrong, as I so often am, on your

Joyride through nearly twice eight years, Á la someone far from beauty’s stepmom. Copper coin or grimacing sun? I’ve got 20,000 Kor of crushed grief on this threshing floor. Shark-sparks of sadness flood the impetiginous air… How, and why, do clouds cobblestone Entire days, and lakes, when you’re not here? Fixing every broken thing, poets go where Ferns and geraniums baptize the morning.

“Jur-any-oms,” is how you’d spell it; After all, a dog’s a dog, and wisdom knows futility. Cassations make a rusty brew, to drink the truth of truths, and Kill whatever ceases wanting to be new. Stewardship, the color of gravity’s silence, naturally Houses every “glur” (a glittery blur); go chase what plays Eternal games. I hear the swans by Rooster Rock. Your handsome Face, its happy handsomeness, in memory’s eye, goes in and out of Focus; in love’s better eye: your goodness neath its everblooming ficus.

Gravity and Grace on SW Murray Scholls Drive

“Impatience has ruined many excellent men who, rejecting the slow, sure way, court destruction by rising too quickly.” Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome

The traffic lights control the people’s actions, but Not their feelings, as the limits of philosophy Collide head on with the nose of a Dalmatian.

I tell you, the day is stress-testing itself, and these Sidewalks wish that it’d just gone straight. Geese Take this sky-hairing wind for granted, as they

Land on the lake like memorable speech on The sensitive soul. Time is never sharp, but it’s Cutting something in the credit union. Maybe

It’s dancing a back Corte for the woman in line Thinking about the taste of limes from Temecula As she waits for the teller. Air Alaska and that

Haunted pie in the sky are not the only reasons For all the volatility in the air today. Rushing And perfectionism both produce a loss; behind

The Safeway Pharmacy, you’ll see the small Smells of both, sloshing around to the ticking- Sound of the ocean’s tides. I must admit, I am

Frozen in place by the sight of steam from Joe’s Burgers; it is poetry’s pale tongue, rising in And arousing the air. This neighborhood’s street-

Lights are more serious than kokeshi dolls. Lights From its windows outshine poison dart frogs. Maybe to forget about life for awhile, the lamps

Are focused on The Population Bomb? ‘Easy Tiger,’ all these incidents whisper. Each day’s A sign twirler’s dais; each corner a promise

Of something more in a different direction: it isn’t A marriageable daughter or impoverishment, But inguinal ingenuity plays a part, and that isn’t

Bad at all. What oaths and paths went here Before Walmart? What voices were voided by The liquor store? What are vague’s values

When the library shares a parking lot with a 24- Hour gym and a cargo cult? Gas stations satirize                                                                           The Queen of Hearts; I tell you, it makes every

Question seem incidental. Treaty-breakers in Pajamas swing on the swing sets. Was August That full of angst? It feels like autumn went too

Far on accident. Desertification, in a sugar tong Splint, takes a shot of ouzo and talks shit About the death of Brutus, but my Bible-thumping

Memory – on a ski hill in Duluth – is also too busy Watching some ducks on the lake to notice; and Desertification makes a face at me like a Swedish

Film. Poets make for poorly picked men to Familiarity’s paymaster-general. The Calvinistic Rain is an ill-starred attempt to make mayonnaise-

Fries just for me, but I must admit, it all seems – You know – cybernetic. And step-motherly as all Get out, if you ask the trees. They prefer “You

Can’t Hurry Love,” by The Supremes, to any Changes that take effect in one to two pay periods. Pretext ricochets; a perfect reverse promenade.

At Summer Lake, When the Vegetables are Sleeping

Cruelty drinks all the wine, and never gets drunk On these shores. When Summer Lake speaks, In every word, an introduction to the world. I am

Easily duped. The greatest duper duplicates my pride, Which always lingers, in the hallways of my heart And beneath the surface of Summer Lake. The sky is

Supplicating, it’s literally shaking. An hour passes Faster here, the hour always held too dearly dear In paranoid and ivied walls. The ducks can do

An unwise thing correctly, and it sounds more like Dusty than Buffalo Springfield to the enokitake Sold in Springfield, Illinois, which is the opposite

Effect it has on the wild mushrooms on these shores. On cables capable of love, the geese convince The weather to taste like kvass today. Basically,

Another Cuban Missile Crisis drowned itself just Now. The clouds might ask themselves, ‘Is lowliness Allowed here?’ To which the crows might ask,

‘Does omertà sound like lightning?’ The answer’s Oubliette is ten times worse than impotence. Summer Lake isn’t smart, but it stays quiet, like

Someone too smart to say all they know. ‘Whoa, Sweet potato,’ the capital gains tax mutters To itself, knowing that what matters doesn’t mean

A thing. Some say the lake bottom’s sands receive Commands from Hearst Castle, others say Its hands are King City’s hands, and still others

Maintain more sins have been than grains of sand Times secondary gains, and that explains The beauty and industry that none can see but

All can feel on these shores. (Some possibilities Play possum, or get opsonized by hate; this one snores Like Rip Van Winkle.) This orb-weaver spider is

The Milton Friedman of Summer Lake, the wind On her web is Grenache from The Rocks District Of Milton-Freewater AVA for the eyes. The day is

Stereotypical, although it feels like three days In one…But for the lake’s good counterfactual Questions, I would forget that some die young,

But most die wrong. I’ve tried to pick up Summer Lake’s reflections in three lines or less, but The hardest truth is your own impotence. Oh,

It’s hard to hand your power over to a thing No one can see. Hopped up on distinctions – not The obvious distinctions – Summer Lake is pretty;

Cold, but pretty! In the distance, with so many Intercessory prayers, hot air balloons are rising; Shaped like teardrops, upside down and rising.

This lake re-something-or-anothered me. Are first Impressions wrong sometimes? I am a season’s Golden calf, according to the sunlight, doing

A prospector’s jig on the surface of Summer Lake. If not for the Weimar Republic’s wooden- Headedness, I’d set down my heart-song and

Listen to reason on these shores. I never trust An activist guitar, if the weather is socially clumsy. The future is reflected on the lake: it always

Laughs at us – between its math and gratitude Lessons – and never thinks of (or gives thanks to) Us enough. The presence in the lake juniors

My ears. The day is not too baffling, nor is it Jane Eyre. Space-themed and spiritual, some autumn Leaves are swimming in the rain. The ducks arrest

My attention in the mardy weather, even though they Must know my attention is dying. The barbed wire Around my stated goal is an outcome out of

Their control. Picnickers picnic with acorns and apricots, On blankets covering Holy Schnikey’s death mask. My unsandaled thoughts thrive and increase on these,

And no other shores. They are pets for the days less Important than love, when Summer Lake says it’s Humble, because it knows the right thing to say.

Summer Lake gives the comfort of commonly held And seriously absurd beliefs to the blue heron. Nothing is wrong with this lake or anything in it,

Not even the ghost of Amerigo Vespucci. It’s all so Simple to the stiff-necked molecules of water, made out Of frogs and snails and puppy-dog’s tails. These thoughts

Are fine manna in a fine ditch. Post-structuralist squirrels Can tell my heart’s in Italy, and I’m in the intellectual Laity. Chivalry’s technician sees my shovel, and they say,

‘You’ve got to hand it to him.’ Neurocysticercosis Sets the bar high; it looks at this park, and thinks The smartest monkey drew the perfect landscape.

That’s this maple tree’s previous disease, its precious One. It unfurls the ferns of my firm and foremost Beliefs, I’m told, to partialize insufferable vastidity.

We Install a Sump Pump on (What Used To Be) a Holiday (Take 2)

The oppressive heat was born a fully grown Man. I admire the result of its effort, but Despise the means of achieving it. My wife Asserts her individuality in the gunk; her Body’s allegations aren’t too soft or hard today. Her self-interest seems to have drowned in the vortex.

Our little garden knows flippancy with regards To privacy is unwise. The stepping stones can Only blather, as slugs draw nomograms on Their faces. My wife’s body speaks Proto-Indo- European in the vortex and denim overalls. Marc Chagall’s The Poet studies her. He calls her

‘Innocence: The opposite of life! A criminal with A badge!’ I hand her the tools of a crude and Rudimentary faith, and she says, ‘Jill, great books Make fine shackles.’ Her arms only have An administrative objective in the vortex, but They are where good things come from.

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician in Oregon and veteran of the US Air Force. He's married with a daughter and whole lot of pets. Poems of Jake’s are in Radius, The Ekphrastic Review, Crab Orchard Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. He won 1st place in the 2017 SFPA speculative poetry contest and a Laureate's Choice prize in the 2019 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Past poems and short stories have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing).

[inctlife]

How did Johnny and nct react to Elijah being deaf?

johnny was quite calm about it bc he knew elijah wasn’t fully deaf and ofc would be able to hear his voice, his mum’s voice and music and also bc his wife lowkey freaked out so he knew he had to be calm

for the boys, there was just this kind of weird atmosphere from johnny after elijah was born and he came back to work so mark was all like “dude, you okay” and so johnny sat down and was like “truthfully, eli can’t hear very well, he’s partially deaf” and all the boys were like “oh shit johnny i’m so sorry” but johnny was lowkey fine he was just sad bc he had to leave you and eli by yourself

as eli got older though, his being partially deaf stunted the amount of time it took for his words and speaking habits to develop so you all took teaching eli how to talk very seriously and eli’s hearing doctor gave you these little flash cards to help him and ALL the boys LOVED doing it, even ava and jasper tried to help

[bigfan-fanfic]

OC Details - DA OC Canon Posse + MGITs

From @3n-vee‘s “Extremely Detailed OC Ask Meme”

For Tash Adaar, Owain Bonneville, Henry Lucas, Cal and Ava Hawke, Morgan Walker, Aster Amell, Katie Cousland, and Reyn Caron

I started with Tash, then decided to only do the fun ones and add more characters. *shrugs*

The Basics

1. Age, Birthday, Star Sign (Tash only)

12-13 at the beginning of Inquisition, 15 at the end of Trespasser. Born 18 Guardian, 9:28 Dragon. Sign: Fervenial

3. Orientation and Relationship Status

Tash is a child, but when he is older, he will find he is gay. I kind of ship him with Kieran so that everyone is one big happy familly (Aster is cousins with the Hawkes, Cal adopted Tash, who eventually marries Kieran, son of Morrigan and Morgan.)

Owain is also a gay man who I have not yet settled on a canon relationship for. but whom I ship quite hard with @herald-divine-hell‘s OC Amayian Trevelyan

Henry is a panromantic asexual man whose relationship status I have not decided yet. Perhaps Cole.

Cal is a bisexual man married to Varric. 

Ava is a straight woman married to Sebastian but also in a polyamorous relationship with Fenris. 

Morgan is a biromantic and demisexual man in a committed relationship with Morrigan. Although I also ship him with @herald-divine-hell‘s OC Alexandra.

Aster is a homoromantic graysexual man married to Alistair. 

Katie is a bisexual woman and single. 

Reyn is a demiromantic bisexual man who I might decide to put in a relationship. 

6. Headcanon VA  (Tash only)

Unknown - although Tash does have a Marcher accent, slightly less thick than Blackwall’s. 

7. Occupation (Tash only)

Former Lord Inquisitor, Lord of Ylenn Basin, and Heir to the Viscount of Kirkwall - also Knight-Enchanter?

12. Own any pets?

Tash has a pet fennec fox named Harold. 

Ava and Cal have a mabari pet named Socks. 

Aster has a mabari hound that originally belonged to the late Elissa Cousland that he named Barksy, although to anyone besides Alistair or Aster, he must be referred to as Ser Barksy or Lord Barksy.

13. Have any kids?

Morgan, of course, has Kieran with Morrigan. He wouldn’t mind more if she was up for it. 

Cal has officially adopted Tash with Varric as of Trespasser. 

Ava and Sebastian are trying for an heir to the throne, although she may already be pregnant by Fenris. None of the others have children.

Owain, Aster, and Katie will want children eventually. It’s more complicated for Alistair and Aster since the Ferelden throne passes by blood. Aster wouldn’t mind taking care of Alistair’s child by a surrogate should circumstances prevent adoption.

Reyn doesn’t think children will happen for him, as a Warden, but should a child be born, he will love and care for them above all else.

Henry is undecided on children. As is Tash.

15. Can they sing? Can they dance?

Tash loves to dance and sing. He’s an average singer, but was trained well in court dancing, and enjoys making appearances at balls and events. 

Aster is more clumsy than a drunken druffalo, and is terrible at dancing, but he’s a surprisingly good singer, who would sing many duets with Leliana back during Origins. 

Cal and Ava only sing when drunk, although Ava learns to dance well. 

Owain both dances and sings like a trained bard. 

Reyn and Katie never sing, but both are passable dancers. 

Morgan likes singing to Morrigan and Kieran, and dancing with his wife (and occasionally with Zevran or Leliana), but isn’t comfortable with very many others. 

Henry can’t dance very well, and can only really sing in a crowd, but does both on his own anyway.

18. Have any special keepsakes?

Tash keeps a pair of specialized horn cushions Josephine had commissioned for him at Skyhold and finds them wonderful to sleep in. He also adores the handcrafted chess set he whittled with Blackwall. 

Owain will keep anything given to him or made for him by his lover, wearing it if possible or at least keeping it nearby. 

Henry has his phone, with all the memories it brings. It has long since lost its charge, but he keeps it close anyway as a reminder. 

Morgan has the ring given to him by Morrigan, as well as a smooth river stone that Kieran inscribed with the same rune Morgan has tattooed on his bicep. 

Aster still has the rose Alistair gave him, enchanted to never lose it’s beauty. It reminds him of his husband’s sweet nature. He also has a small figurine of a Circle mage that an older apprentice in Kinloch (Anders) made for him when he was very sad one day.

Katie has her charm bracelet from before she came to Thedas which acts like a talisman for her to know that she really did come from another world. 

Reyn has a scarf made for him by a stable boy he loved before leaving his family estate for the Academie des Chevaliers and a Dalish wedding ring given to him by an elven bride who he spared before going into exile and joining the Wardens.

Interests

19. Hobbies (Tash only)

Singing, dancing, writing, doing paperwork, chess, listening, dog care, designing fashion and furniture for the Inquisition, collecting Orlesian masks, and attending Orlesian theatre.

21. Fave food(s) and drink(s)

For some reason, Tash loves the notoriously awful-tasting Orlesian pastry known as the “Exquisite Misery.” It serves as an inadvertent power move in Orlesian circles, but his absolute favorite food is fresh-baked bread (reminds him of his home). Tash also enjoys hot cocoa ever since the Iron Bull shared some of his supply.

As a rule, Aster likes sharing Orlesian charcuterie with Alistair as a picnic in their chambers or the courtyard when they can get away from affairs of state. He’s also partial to fruit juices.

Morgan, Henry, and Katie all wish pizza was a thing in Thedas. There is a dish similar to it in Antiva, but nothing quite resembling it. Katie has gotten the closest to having actual pizza, being a noblewoman with cooks she can instruct. Morgan has inadvertently addicted Morrigan to coffee when he found out how to make it using magic. Henry likes water, but it’s hard to find a stable source of clean drinking water in Thedas. Katie adores tea.

The Wardens don’t often have fine food, and Reyn misses petit fours. He enjoys his personal Warden liquor mixture - Commander’s Concoction.

For Fun

37. Do they have any phobias?

Tash is a timid person in general, and is afraid of miscellaneous things from spiders to dolls with buttons for eyes. But no real debilitating phobias. 

Cal, Ava, Aster, and Henry all fear spiders.

Owain hates heights.

Nugs freak Katie out.

Morgan and Reyn feel fear, but have no phobias.

43. What pokemon would your character be (if they’re already a pokemon/gijinka tell us what they are, and how that’s affected them)?

Tash Owain Henry Cal Ava Aster Morgan Katie Reyn

44. What’s their pokemon team? Try to pick all 6.

Tash Owain Henry Cal Ava Aster Morgan Katie Reyn

45. Theme song (and a playlist if you’ve got it!)

Tash: “Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift or “It’s a Good Day” by Kay Starr

Owain: “Dog Days Are Over” by Florence + The Machine and for romance: “All You Need Is Love” by the Beatles

Henry: “No Rain” by Blind Melon or “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding

Cal: “Dream On” by Aerosmith and for romance: “I Can’t Help Myself” by the Four Tops

Ava: “Royals” by Lorde and for romance: “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” by Taylor Swift

Aster: “Can You Tell Me How To Get to Sesame Street?” (2000) and for romance: “Love on Top” by Beyonce

Morgan: “People Are Strange” by The Doors and for romance: “Beauty and the Beast” by Angela Lansbury

Katie: “I Love It” by Icona Pop feat. Charlie XCX

Reyn: “The Wanderer” by Dion

46. If this character was in a musical, what would their motif be (what kind of instruments do you hear, what’s the tempo, ect).

Tash: Simple peppy flute that gradually becomes joined by other instruments to form a full-sounding orchestra with complex melodies. 

Owain: Slow, sad piano that is joined by violin and becomes strong and anthemic. 

Henry: Plucked cello strings. Inquisitive.

Cal: Brass section, room for improvisation. Bright and joyful.

Ava: Oboe and Bassoon, deep and reflective. 

Aster: Fiddles and flute, playing simple fast-paced dance music.

Morgan: Orchestration accompanied by electric guitar - shouldn’t work together but it does here.

Katie: Sharp woodwinds and guitar. Very formal, almost like wedding dance music.

Reyn: Acoustic guitar trio. Perhaps Spanish guitar. Contemplative and sexy.

The Deep Lore™

49. What are some themes tied to your character’s story?

Tash, Aster, Henry, Katie- Loss of Innocence

Owain, Ava - Self-Acceptance

Cal, Reyn - Mutual Pining/Unrequited Love 

Morgan - Found Family, Parenthood

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story, Part 38

On the last day of school, I decided not to go. Nobody could make me go on the last day of school. I stayed home instead. But I started feeling this deep sense of loss around noon, and I decided to climb to the top of the hill to look down at the high school as it was getting out. I found a place to sit, where I could watch all the seventh graders that I used to be running out of the school, scattering here and there to walk or ride the bus home. I watched the stoner kids descend underneath the bridge. And I watched Jason walk alone. He had such a distinct walk, and such a distinct orange hoodie that I could recognize him a mile away. I felt a strange sadness sitting on the hill looking down. It was the end of an era for me. It had been a very difficult year, but it would be remembered forever. I had never been changed so much. And I knew the things I had had before, I would never have again. I recognized this now. I could now look back at my life and see all the loss I had endured, and I wasn't quite fifteen yet. There was something deeply sad about watching Jason trudge on alone, unaware of my spying eyes.

In the summer of 2004, I became the silly sort of person who carries around a book of poems I wrote, and I told everyone that I was now a poet. Fortunately, I didn't let people read the poems, for had I done so I would have been making an even more tremendous fool of myself than I had been previously. I now wore this gray green jacket, which I now referred to as my 'poet's jacket'. I felt wistful and free when I wore it. For the first time in my life, I had built up serious walls (the trademark for most adults). In order to survive after the damage had been done, I had to sort of reinvent myself somehow. After I had found out about Ava and Zack, my appetite had increased dramatically as well. It was a good way to numb the anxiety and hopelessness, and chase away the pain of it all. Love is somewhat of a drug, and once the love had gone south, I was left with this constant feeling of incredible lack. If I even began to mentally face that lack, I felt this incredibly painful feeling in my chest, and it would be hard to breath or know why I should continue to breath at all. I don't believe the holes that lost and unrequited love leaves ever disappear. You have to fill them with something. I filled those voids in myself with food and music in great abundance, though it was never quite enough.

Ava was now coming to my house all the time. I resented it. I would tell her she wasn't allowed, and even get my father to concede to it, but she would have her mom drive her home anyway and then 'conveniently' have no ride back. But I didn't have the guts to tell her to go away. And it was all about her now. She didn't even pretend to think I mattered at all. One day, she called me and asked if she could come over. My father said no, and I relayed the message back to her. I fell back to sleep and woke up forty five minutes later with her laying on me. It felt intrusive somehow. I got in trouble for her being there. And no matter what I did or said, it didn't seem matter because she gave so little regard to anyone's feelings that weren't her own, she didn't even notice what other people felt at all anymore. She was a mindless machine of chaos that I couldn't stop. I partially hated her. I would fantasize about seeing her fall off bicycles falling face first into concrete, or getting rejected by boys. But then apart of me couldn't not like her. She had been my best friend. It was hard to see her face and hate it.

This created cognitive dissonance and I just couldn't figure out how to act. I didn't want to lose the friendship, even though it was dead. And I had lost my identity and had very little dignity, so I gave up. It was actually easier for me to just go limp and bend to her wishes. I didn't feel good enough about myself anymore to tell her to fuck off. In the course of the eight hours every weekend, I did my time trying to entertain her every single day, and she would drink the entire gallon of milk in the fridge. My father would come home, and he was always baffled that all of the milk was gone, and I would always lie and say I had done it even though I have never really liked milk all that much.

Ava had hooked up with and lost her virginity to Tyeson eventually. She had eventually just called him, arranged a visit, and the deed was done. She hung out with him for a few weeks, but then he picked up, got into his van and left for another town, and the story was now concluded. So now, all she could do was talk about sex. Nothing else interested her. She would write pages and pages of poetry about penises and sex and give them to me to read. I didn't really mind reading them, other than there now seemed to be nothing more to her than moodiness, impulsive greed, fucking and gallons and gallons of curdled milk. She felt she was now a goddess and I was her disciple. Strangely, I just didn't care. I didn't care if I lost my virginity or not. I was so far off the main road in life, that I kind of wondered if I ever would. She liked to tell me that nobody would ever love me. That if I ever met someone, they would never want to have anything to do with me once they knew me, and she could never see me getting a job or making anything of myself. I felt so small inside, that I just believed it. Nobody would ever love me and I was capable of nothing.

. Then, her sister, her mother and herself all went down to Cabo in Mexico. Ava started smoking weed with her sister down there, and from this point on sex and weed were her entire life. Liking it was never enough. She had to broadcast that she was a pothead for all the world to see. It was the new her. She became some cartoon stereotype of a hippie – like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. She would watch Dazed and Confused over and over again. Talk in the manner of one of the stoners in Dazed and Confused. I didn't mind so much as I thought it was incredibly baseless, and kind of exposed how shallow she was. I did however feel a little jealous of her at times. Not because she lost her virginity, not because she smoked weed, or that she looked like Gwen Stefani, but she seemed to have a future. Ava wasn't going to go to Kendrick High School anymore. She was done with this place, and was ready to experience the Moscow High School instead. From there, she had college paid for. As soon as she was able to get her license, her parents had bought her a new car, and she had a never ending gas card. The things in life that Ava wanted, she could achieve. Ava was a tourist. She had come into my difficult struggling life, a life where I had very little to look forward to, where everyday I felt like the hope and optimism I tried to have was beaten down into nothing. She had taken what she could get, and she was just leaving me like an empty husk. And she could go on and do new things, be a new person. Her homelife wasn't perfect, but her parents had money. I was a nothing born from two dysfunctional factory workers.

Ava felt so comfortable stepping on me now, that she opened up my CD case and started taking my CD's out and rubbing them and destroying them on the wood floor. There was no good reason to do this, other than she felt like it, like a small child. I was disappointed, but I just let it go ultimately, or more aptly, I internalized the grudge. She then stole Pepsi's collar – the last thing of Pepsi's I owned to remember her by, other than the occasional dog hairs I might find in the corners of my room. She only wanted it because it meant something to me personally. It was a way of showing her dominance.

She began to take my arm and randomly bite me, not as hard as she could, but hard enough to leave dark bruises all over my arms. I almost had more gray, purple and yellow skin than pale peach. It wasn't a sexual thing, at least I don't think it was. I let her do this, and often put my arm out to assist her. This behavior on both of our parts summed up our friendship quite well. As I let her do this, I would study her, and myself. I studied the power dynamic. And I related to something about my own personal nature in doing this. Part of the reason I let Ava bite me, or hang around, part of the reason I had been so attracted to difficult things like Zack to begin with was that I was beginning to realize was that I was the type of person who enjoyed pain.

Pain was familiar to me, it had been an old friend of mine really. And when I was in pain, so many parts and pieces of myself seemed to become exposed in a way they never would when I was happy. Happiness was boring. The fact that Ava biting me was degrading only added to that pain in a sense. The pain created a certain light inside my mind, and it gave me a strange intriguing divergent sense of exhilaration that life seemed to flow out of, contradictory as that may sound. There is this place in the cross hairs between pleasure and pain, and it's an interesting place to live. I had spent so much time in that place, I was beginning to see it as a strange ideal. I never thought I wanted it, but once I left, there was a voice that always told me to go back.

The reason that Ava bit me was that she had decided she was a vampire. To back this story up. Teal had a boyfriend that lived over in Washington D.C. Ava had taken a fancy to Teal's boyfriend, Lee, and Lee was really into this cult of people who lived down in New Orleans who strongly believed they were psychic vampires, people with a supernatural ability to suck the life energies out of common people around them. Ava immediately identified as a psychic vampire, and thought of herself as one. For some reason biting was considered delightful to some of these vampires and Ava needed to bite someone. So to her, I was like a human that was allowing her to take my energy away. I was the piddly human who was so much weaker, but had the elixir she needed to radiate energy and attract people to her.

Ava eventually stole Teal's boyfriend. She started talking to him online, and calling him. She went over to visit. When I heard about this, I didn't feel very bad. Teal had been all about Ava wrecking my personal life. I didn't approve of Ava, but there was nothing I could do about this. Ava was on a roll, This was her life now. And when this happened, Teal turned on Ava, Sarah and myself. She said that we had corrupted her and made her into a bad kid. Which was pathetic. She sited smoking as something we had forced her into – when neither Sarah nor myself ever smoked. She sited listening to Led Zeppelin as something evil, which was hilarious. She sent Sarah strange mean spirited emails for years after. I have no idea why she roped Sarah into it. Perhaps she had a problem with Sarah anyway, and had decided to make Sarah partially responsible? Or perhaps Ava had lied and said something about Sarah. It was never easy for me to tell, but I had disdain for Teal and was happy to see her gone.

Ava and I went swimming down at the old swimming hole that summer, just us two. Sarah didn't want to be around Ava anymore, and was spending an increasing amount of time on the CKY forums talking to the people of that small reality chamber. I might have been hoping that the vitality of the previous year might return to me once I went to that spot again. It didn't really work that way. As Ava and I swam, we saw someone going through the brush to the swimming hole as well. It was Double D. I explained Double D several parts ago. He was the strange kid we went to school with who wore the cape, thought he was a Dragonball Z character, who had an undying obsession with Britney Spears. He was very strange looking. He had black pupils, never blinked and a mouth that went straight across his face from one end to the other. Ava and I looked at one another, but we decided not to be rude and to just continue swimming. Had we tried to leave it would have looked really shabby.

Double D got into the swimming hole. He talked to us a little bit. I don't remember about what. He then started saying that he could murder the both of us there away from town, and nobody would ever notice. We kind of laughed him off. He seemed half serious, and it was bothering me, but I didn't want to react at all, or give him any kind of indication that I was bothered, hoping he would realize it wasn't winning the crowd over. He then started talking about how he was going to drown us. And with that, he started into the water coming towards us. Ava and I screamed and tried to swim away. He had this mindless look on his face. He kept saying 'I'm gonna drown ya.' and looking intently into our faces. It wasn't clear to me if he was joking or not, but either way if he wasn't going to attempt to drown me, than he most certainly intended to dunk me.

Ava climbed the other side of the creek, and climbed up some rocks. He didn't follow us up there. He said he was just going to wait for us to get back down, and that he had all day. He swam down there waiting for us like an alligator. After twenty minutes or so, he started to get bored. He said he had somewhere he needed to be. I was skeptical, but from above we had the vantage to see him leave and walk away. I waited until he was far out of site, before I climbed down, got our things and went home.

I didn't realize it, but Ava had brought weed. She was hungry too and she wanted to go to the store. So we walked downtown to the market. While she was down there, she met up with a group of other stoner girls, and I ended up following behind as they all went down behind the store to the creek bed area and smoked weed. They offered me a drag, but I didn't really want to smoke, so I refused. Then the girls went home and I was left with Ava stoned out of her mind. We walked to the store, because she said she was hungry and thirsty. But then she was starting to cry and insist that her feet were ten feet long. I have no idea if she was making this up to be melodramatic or not, but I was very skeptical, since a few puffs of weed cannot make you hallucinate, generally speaking.

She was crying and acting like a complete idiot. I was trying to calm her down. She then started trying to smoke more weed. And I looked over and there was a cop parked across the street. She had just pulled out her pipe right in the most heavily populated areas in the town, there was a cop, and I didn't want to get in trouble. She was mindlessly telling me that nobody could see her. I got a little mad then. I really didn't want to get into trouble for this. Then my father's suspicions of my drug use would have been founded on something other than his own crazy imagination. I decided that the best thing I could do was walk away. She followed me. When we got to my house, she was even more hungry, and thirsty. Allison and David were home, and they couldn't stand Ava. She would always demand that they put her shoes and socks on for her. She often asked them to make her food. She started demanding they give her food and drink. She drank our entire gallon of milk and a good portion of our soup and toast. She eventually called her mom and got a ride home. I was so glad to finally see her go for the day.

It was pathetic I knew, but I had no courage to contact Zack myself, and I was missing him terribly. I was in this very hazy state that I had troubles admitting to myself, where I simultaneously wished that I could get over him for once and all – puffing up my ego and trying to remain indifferent, and at the same time, I wished to be around him always, and to live a delicate life fully entrenched in my own feelings. For the most part, I truly had chosen to let go. I knew he had a girlfriend, I knew my 'friends' had messed the whole thing up for me completely. I knew I didn't want to be his friend or counselor. But had this deep seated faith that there was a reason that Zack and I found one another, and that reason, if things were meant to last, would bring us together again, whether we understood fully what that meant or not. So I gave up trying to control the situation or anyone in it. I felt very strongly that I had to keep my feelings to myself. Half the reason they had become so emotionally invested is because I was emotionally invested. Nobody in our group had ever been so passionate about anything as I. And it made others want what I wanted. I had to throw them off my trail by being coy about my feelings. Even Sarah could never know.

I was missing him a lot though, so I suggested to Ava that she call him and see if he wanted to hang out one of the days. It was awfully pathetic, to still be relying on her, of all people. I felt like asking him personally would have been too forward. There was no natural way for us to proceed anymore, and Ava had basically lost her teeth in the situation. Honestly, it was as down as it could be. There was no going down any deeper, and nothing left to lose for me. My dignity was a deflated balloon.

Ava called, he agreed, and came over to my house one evening. I was secretly elated. Ava was still up to the same old routine, pushing her way between us. He was immediately interested in my father's old Gibson guitar. Promising to be careful with it, he began playing it and he wanted to record a tape, seeing as Allison had recently received a karaoke machine/radio/tape recording machine. He went into this impromptu song, which was half a joke. It only had one verse. He played my father's guitar and would sing jokingly 'I'm A BIG MAN!' and then as back up singers Ava and I would sing 'He's a big man! Right after. The grand finale came with a disorderly Nirvana inspired screaming session from Zack. It was a ridiculous song. But we recorded it, and I had glowing pride for it. I wanted to keep it and cherish it, save it in a box where I kept about twenty letters Zack had written me and a picture of him I stole off the school wall. But Ava stole it. She promised she would bring it back the next day, but every time we asked for it she said she lost it or would bring it tomorrow. Sarah and I both knew she had it, and was just hiding it from us. I was nettled with frustration, but there was no convincing her to be honest. And thus the tape was lost forever.

Everyday I just felt sicker and sicker. I think I reached this point where I wasn't even fascinated with being bit anymore. I was tired of petting Ava's head as she demanded me to and telling her that she was beautiful and perfect. I complained about Ava a lot to Sarah, and Sarah finally told me that she didn't want to be friends with Ava anymore. Sarah started to intentionally ignore all of Ava's phone calls. When Ava banged on Sarah's door, Sarah would not answer. Ava began leaving insane messages on Sarah's answering machine, filling the space of the answering machine over the course of a few evenings with screaming rants, apologies, sad sobbing. All of it had to be ignored for good and all.

Looking at the way Sarah had decided to cut Ava off, I did some soul searching, and I knew that I hated Ava. Not in a way that I was mad, but my hurt had turned into disgust. I hid that feeling from myself most of the time, but when Sarah acted out on it, it helped me draw the line of where I stood personally. Despite being a glutton for pain, uneven power dynamics, and a sense of guilt and want for things to be made right again, I knew it was time to end it with Ava. Our friendship was dead. I hadn't wanted to admit this to myself, but it was over now. She had killed it, and I was attempting to embalm it and pretend it was still standing and full of life. Ava, be she a psychic vampire or no, was draining me to nothing. Yes, she was funny, and fun and surprising. She added character to my life. But she was a beast, and she cared nothing for me at all.

So I started ignoring Ava too. I hid from her in my house. And I followed suit with Sarah and stopped answering the phone. The phone would ring for three hours straight. She would leave messages of all kind, self pity, anger, crying, denial, back and forth it would go. Eventually she stopped calling. I sent her a message over the internet, explaining things in a way that she might better appreciate. I pointed out all the potential for new friends she had up in her new school. I explained to her that I didn't want to do drugs, and she did. I intentionally played up the dialogue in such a way to make myself sound lame and her future seem exciting, like she was going to find all she ever dreamed of, and I wanted her to be happy. Even in my deleting her from my life, I thought it was funny that I put consideration in her feelings. I didn't want to hurt Ava, and maybe I did want her to find something good in life. This way, she would be able to feel good about our parting ways, rather than rejected. I turned the table and pointed the arrow at her rejecting me instead. It was an act of compassion, because I knew that even though Ava did it to herself, she had a crippling feeling of rejection, having burned everyone she ever knew sooner or later. She felt deep down like she was poison. And a violent end of a friendship, relationship whathaveyou is not a classy or fitting way to end something.

She wrote me back, and we ended it on good terms. I agreed to still hang out with her once a month or so. I thought perhaps in the future we might still make plans to go to a concert together if it was a band we both enjoyed. She admitted to me that I was probably the best friend she had ever had up to that point, and maybe the best friend she ever would have, because she knew she would destroy everyone who came close to her, and in many ways she was a deeply lonely person since she felt like every relationship she had with anyone would be temporary and she would have to always move on to find new people. I was relieved to hear that in her own way, she was coming to terms with what she had done to me. It was more honestly that I would normally have received from her. And maybe she was relieved, having a sense of knowing that she was getting what she had coming to her.

From then on, I gave all my friendship to Sarah. Having lost any sense of trust for family, I placed my need for family, my need for someone to not betray or fail me, all on Sarah's lap. I began going up to her house more often. It was funny. We had started high school off together, and we had gone through a good number of other people. All of them had gotten distracted, or fell away in some form or another, but there was still us two. Weeding out everyone I knew, Sarah was the person who understood me the best. And I think Sarah really did take this very seriously. It was a strange dynamic. In many regards, I looked to Sarah as someone who had more social skills, who wasn't as floored by other people, who could have a calm sense of practicality that my mind could never accomplish.

I wanted to be in a band with her. I was excited to be in a band together. And Sarah looked up to me, as she saw me as someone who had to deal with real pain. Sarah, as I have mentioned before, suffered from a very apathetic sort of depression, but she never had anything very bad happen to her. As a teenager, she was now aware that pain had some merit that added something to your life. But there was nothing outwardly in her life that attacked her and this left a void. She felt a misery without having a cause. Her life was seemingly stable. Her mother wished she would do more chores or get better grades, but she never lost control with her, and was fairly reasonable in her expectations. I on the other hand had real problems. I could not casually pretend I did not. And Sarah admired that. It gave me a credibility. I had something to say, I had ideas. I was absolutely unable to get those ideas across, unable to reach others, I had – and still have zero charm. Sarah seemed lost in the realm of ideas, but had an abundance of natural charm. By my estimation, I felt we would make a good team.

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[txketwo]

1. Where were they born? What is the story behind their birth, if any?

the boy was born in a hospital, his mother < kaida adiuto > nearly died giving birth to him as the opposing void magics had nearly torn the poor woman apart. this is why adiuto woman typically aren’t the ones seen having children, it is typically the men. that said, he was born a healthy baby, who never cried too much and felt only completely safe in his mother’s arms. 

2. Has their living situation changed from when they were born?

he has always known the farm, the land that his parents had bought and lived off of ever since the start of his life. there had been times where he had to change schools because of his more animal like instincts causing him to get into tussles with other kids. but other than that, there living situation hasn’t changed much. 

3. What occupations did their parents have when they were born? Did this job influence your muse in any form?

they were heroes. they are heroes. his mother saved the world from chaos by risking her life countless times and yet the news constantly reminds him that humans think that she was the reason for the new uprising in magic and monsters. he decided when he was young he would follow her footsteps. to become a hero. to help lift the weight off of her shoulders. 

4. Did they have any childhood enemies? Any friends? Enemies that became friends?

he had many enemies. kids of KNiGHTs, kids that would pick on him and his sister. they were different after all, so different in fact that the boy eventually dyed his bright red hair black to avoid being called out as an adiuto. yet, there was a friend - a close friend. Nickolas. a boy who was like a big brother to him. until the day he was murdered. 

5. What sort of religion was practiced in their home? Did religion play a role in their upbringing?

there isn’t a single set religion in the house. it’s just a culture. if you take from the land, you give back. if you are to do anything you understand that there will be a cause and effect. his parents don’t follow religion < partially because one is a god and the other is a slayer > but, the culture in the house has given the boy strong virtues to stand by. 

6. How many siblings did they have? What was their relationship like? Were they an only child who wished for siblings? 

he has one older sibling. Ava, who is much more like their father than he. they are close knit. so much so that the boy will regularly talk to her in sign language in the middle of class, or come visit her while she is studying hard. the two squabble a lot over stupid things, she is a daddy’s girl, he’s a mama’s boy. but they are family, through and through. 

7. What is their fondest memory? Their worst?

there are quite a few fond memories, just as there are several worst of the worst ones. in truth though, those that are spent with his family and close knit friends are always there. 

well, as for the worst. murder and anger follow those thoughts. 

8. If they could name the worst moment of their life, what would it be? Did this change them as a person or change how they perceived the world, themselves, and others?

it was the day he watched his best friend die. Nickolas. he was a boy that had gotten adopted by a human family, and their neighbor saw him as a threat, as Nickolas was a shifter. one day while the two boys were hanging out, getting snacks, KNiGHTs had come to take Nickolas away. 

and Niall followed. wanting to save his best friend. but it was too late. gods it was far too late and he still forever thinks it was his fault. 

9. If they were to make a timeline with their life events, which ones would they list? Which would they leave out? 

he would list all the happy things, leave out the sad. it was the way he was taught - that the past is the past and the future is meant to cherish the happy moments. 

10. What was the hardest lesson they had to learn as they got older?

that he needed to grow up. there were a few lessons that pained him through his ages, but he realized after watching his mother go through her pains, that he needed to grow up so he could hold the weight of the world for her. so she could rest. 

11. What occupation did your character want to have growing up? Is this the same as what they wish to be, or are in, now?

he was okay with pretty much any sort of job, though he always was interested in being a detective, it just never seemed to come to the limelight. 

12. Did they face any kind of bullying or abuse growing up?

yes, the bullying by kids was not kind to the once ginger boy. 

13. Are there any moments of their past they keep secret?

the death of their friend and maybe the many times they helped his mother < without her knowing > control her own VOID magic by using void himself. that and the .... scary thoughts about a past life he has had. 

question source.