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randomkposts · 1 year

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Im probably going to finish watch SMT imagine tonight. A seven hour movie.

For Law. Snakeman raising probably reincarnated Azura to be a better devil buster then protag is kind of cute. Snakeman just wants to be dad, let him be dad.

Im probably missing a lot of the fine details of this game, but given searching the internet has not given me the details of a neutral ending, I can live with watching this as my main interaction with it.

If you feel I need more info though, feel free to info dump to me about it in notes or reblogs.

Chaos so far seems to be a bunch of NPCs not Gaian aligned telling you that you fucked the future and brought strife and despair? Regardless of dead or alive status. As protag stares off into the bleading sky?

Is protag Lucifiers other half of the soul, or is something else going on? Reincarnation is def mentioned. No wait, egyptain gids. So set?

"It will not be long before we meet again" guess protag is going to die soon?

Time for side A land of the begining, which kicks off with Snakeman giving some useful advice, that he probably should have done sooner.

So far its a missing persons case with no solid name.

I have to wonder, what is the vending machine incident this DB owes snakeman for? Translation or misinfromation? I thpought the missing DB used male pronouns?

Sorcerers can bind demons without comps.

Is that a diffrent direction for magic, or does Raidou count as one?

Oh contained them in the human body. Like a pact? Like Rei Reiho and Hitomi/ Nemissa?

Nope, I should read the whole thing before speculating. Apparantly the sorcerer manipulated the demons with the bodies.

Like puppets?

Is this lore that will come into effect, or just rumor bait?

Anyway, so three COMPS are collected in varried state of useable, and the DB is assumed Dead. Now to get into home ii, protag talks to, and then teams up with white haired feline (?) ears suit guy

Who is being tormented by a old, possibly reincarnated family friend? Whatever, hes not responsible for protags possible drowning. He'll just play with the goat. Yah you do that budda

Ok. Was not sure what to expect, but it was not zombie tutorial devil buster lady. Er, DB. Kuroe.

"Have to protect. Don't forget"

The mind numbing terror of losing your mind to becoming an abomination.

To hold her hand? Or ease her suffering?

Well this is a zombie scenario, but she is lucid . . .

Oh. Human exparaments. Joy. Looks like the sorcerer is relevent, reincarnating, and nammed Douman. Since Heian times apparantly.

Who teamed up with Ogami

He wants timo reseruct seth. Oh yah, the law ending was kill the demon baby? I think?

Ok, suit ears is called Hiruki. Who has a family legacy of prison breaking methods. Surely he can destory Doumons barriers.

Wards. Whatevs.

But first he needs the catalyst. Gems. Sounding like the OG. Mitsudama?

No situation is too urgent for a fetch quest I guess.

But by the time its done the cosmic egg is broken. Whateves lets go

"After a thousand years the evil battle will be settled"

"The future of my descendents are in your hands." Odd proposal, but sure whynot, ill ship it. Its 1am.

"The great power will eat my soul, and be reborn and I will be reborn as the messiah" you sure you did your research there Doumon?

Yah, dragon Set destroyed the fool.

Hey combat! I've missed combat in this movie, its usually pretty short in this one, but combat music is always great and now I get to listen. And wipe the stove off.

Its nice to move around and take a break from the movie eith the sound of combat music.

So hetrochromic lady I forgot to mention comes in and grabs Sets orband says hes just a copy of the blade of god. Oh ok. Its Louise Cypher, dressed like a secratary. I thought you looked familar. Guess it was you doing the battle comentary as well as giving the code.

The power of satans other half? I thought. Oh whatever. Lucifer is always looking to hire. Funny how I finished Nocturne before 2.

Any other pre SMT 2 games I should know about?

And so Louise Cypher exits stage down, through the pentagram

Time to report, and wonder what possible good Seth would be as a military resource? Guess equivalent to a nuke.

Time to talk to Dilagent Judah, who has apparantly been stalking Protag.

And is talking about soul quality.

And here the idea of creating a savior is born. Doumon was the original intended messiah???

What?

And now Judah wants protag to repent and convert. Buffie is chaos this urn, so nope.

And it seems it will end with reporting to snakeman. Fitting. Kuroe has been avenged.

Snakeman takes a diffrent vibe from earlier. And says his (maybe) catchphrase .

"Show me your guts"

Thats a wrap, unless more is translated and posted, I guess.

It is 1:55 am. I should crash

#smt imagine #shin megami tensei imagine #shin megami tensei #random k #digital devil story imagine #snakeman #smt snakeman #smt azura #spoilers #devil buster Kuroe #devil buster snakeman #smt imagine Azura

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hawaii-fridays · 4 years

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We are the Hawaii Fridays

An essay by York Silk

We Are the Hawaii Fridays an Essay by York Silk

Hello. My name is York Silk. I am 8 years old and was born in the Sovern Naton of Hawaii. I live here with my mom, and play Blaseball with the Fridays. People say its always Friday in Hawaii and that is right because Our Lady of Perpetual Fridays makes it Friday every day for us. She is very nice just like the rest of theteam. We are not the best maybe although when the elections came apparently Nagomi was the best player in the lege. Usualy we have very good and chill vibes but Elijah who is our captain said it was melankolik. Despite that we love our team and we will miss Nagomi but she will be making lots of new fans and friends and she told me she will let me know what Saturday is like but I don’t know what that is yet.

We have lots of cool people on our team. Elijah is our captain, they like to smoke cigars and giving houses to the homeles. Juice is a new person who replaced my best friend Sebastian when the umpirs burend them with their eyes. That was sad but its okay because thats how i got on the team too. They are made out of juice. I think. Basio Fig is also a new player after Hendrics was also incineerated them toom. Basio is a tree. I think theyey are best friends with Fletcher who is a Hawaiian Honeycreeper. They are very cute and like to hang out at the food cart by wherever we put third base because we don’t have a stadium because Elijah says that stadiums are a capeltist and tcan be houses or we keep the land good and healthy and beautiful. Lastly we have terrel who is like a dad for everyone. They are very nice. They always are the most suportive but everyone is suportive. Then there is Thomas England who says their mom is from Engloand & their dad is from Thomas oregon which i think is in new england but maybe its in europe. People say his accent is fake but i have never been to either of those places so I cannot say. Then we have Christian Combs who is a jellyfish person. They are nice but they say i cannot give them a hug or else i might get hurt but they look very soft and squishy. Lastly is Bevan Underbuck who is new to the team and i don’t know about them but they came from the Jazz hands and play the flute which is very prety. I think they will be frends with Stevenson and James who i think might be together but i dnt know. They play music together for everyone when we go to bat. And the others teams too because they are nice. Those two are our pitchers.

WE allso have pitchers who are famous surfboarder Karato Bean who is very good at surving and even though he might not be great at pitching he isz good and we like him a lot because he is very good at surfing and also nice because everyone on the team is nice and cool. Karato is my hero who is not my mom or Nagomi who i sometimes call mom. Then is my good good frend Jacob! Winner! Jacob Winener! He says he is swol and a winner and we will win mnore when we are swole like him. He likes to pick ebveryone up because he is strong and because he can. Fionally but not leat is Evelton McBlase who was our home plate for a long time but then is now a pitcher because of Our Lady of Perpetual Friday and umpires insinerateing the twins Sam & Solis. That was a little scsary but its okay we kept the vibe posi like Jacob says.

And that is veryonye. Afer eerie game we have a luau with the other team to keep the vibes chill and cool and good because if people arent enjoying Blaseball then whats the point of Blaseball? I love our team and my friends and that we get to play and see so many different people and places every time we play. My favorite memory with the team is when they all came to my eith birthday party at the arcade and they surprised me by using their tickets to get me my gunblade bate. I call it the Vibe Check and its my favort. I hope this essay helps you learn about our team and become a fan because we want you to have as much fun as we do. and remember It’s Island Time!

#Hawaii Fridays #hawaiifridays #blaseball #blaseball fanworks #island time #blaseball fanfic #fanfic #work silk #writing

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backalley-requests · 5 years

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Heyyy, can I get ships with MCU and ST? (if it's possible). I'm a straight girl. I'm 5'3, with short - like just above the shoulders - auburn hair and green eyes. My style is pretty vintage I like to create my outfits looking at old photos from the 70s/80s. I am shy at first but after a while, I get very flirty and outgoing. I have a lot of hobby and I don't like to do nothing. I like to read, listen to some good classic rock songs and do many outdoor activities. Thank you sooo much 💛💛

I’m sorry it took so long! I’ve been awfully busy with school! I hope you enjoy it!

I ship you with...

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes

You’re very classic by nature and that’s something that initially draws Bucky to you. Mostly because it’s messing with his head as he gets flashbacks to glimpses through the decades he lost to Hydra. He doesn’t remember much of it, but being around you gave him the feeling he might be able to get back what he lost.

You were scared of him at first, and a little shy. You saw enough news coverage of him to know he was bad news. Bucky saw the idea of getting close to you as attoning for what he did. If he could change you perception on him then maybe he wasn’t that bad after all and maybe the man he was forced to be wasn’t really him. He kept “randomly” bumping into you and trying to strike up conversations even through you were nervous at first, eventually you grew used to it and realized maybe he was a victim of it all.

The two of you spend a lot of time outdoors doing various stuff. You enjoy the outdoors and Bucky likes being away from the city and all the noise. It’s an oasis when you guys manage to be out and away from civilization. Stuff like canoeing or rock climbing just puts both of you in a good state of mind.

You’re always on the move trying to do stuff and start new activities and sometimes Bucky struggles to keep up. But he enjoys that quick energy you give off of. His body naturally wants to be lazy but he is much happier when he does get to do stuff so being with you is exciting.

He’s really over protective of you, perhaps a little possessive at times too. He’s had people he loves taken away from him and it’s hard to imagine a world where you’re not in it. You think it’s cute sometimes and annoying other times but you get where he’s coming from and sometimes just let him do what makes him feel safer. Plus it’s kind of hot sometimes.

You have to deal with the occasional person realizing who he is and freaking out in fear. He isn’t that recognizable on the streets but some people still have memories from the time he was.

There was a knock at the door at 10 o’clock at night. This was pretty rare considering that neither of you had any close friends who randomly came over. Steve sometimes but Steve tended to walk right in when he arrived, so something about this was wrong.

Bucky’s arms were wrapped around you as the two of you watched a movie. This was meant to be a nice cuddling session although it was suddenly pulled apart by the knocking. Bucky tensed up immediately, “I’ll get it.” He said, knowing you tended to be shy around strangers.

He headed over to the door and opened it, “Hello?” On the other end appeared to be some nerdy sales rep trying to the two of you to buy a subscription. Who tries to tell stuff at 10 o’cock at night? “We don’t want any—“ he started but was soon cut off by the sound of glass breaking in the other room.

When Bucky turned back the sales rep punched him in the face. He hardly reacted to it as he used hs arm to shove him back hard enough to crack the hallway wall. He soon rushed into the living room to find you being held against your will, a gun to your head.

Bucky started walking over but was stalled when the man spoke up, “uh uh. Take another step closer and I’ll kill her.” Bucky knew better than to just suddenly risk your life. You were one of the few good things he had left in it.

“What do you want.”

You somehow managed to stay silent, afraid of dying but also afraid of Bucky getting hurt. There was few options here and while you trusted him you weren’t sure if anyone could easily get out of this. But you did have something that could help, if only the man would make a mistake.

“I can’t you too—“ the man was cut off as you realized your perfect shot was upon you, you elbowed him hard and he doubled over. You weren’t exactly helpless but he hadn’t given any previous openings. He released you as a reflex and you dove to the side to evade him.

Bucky instantly moved in and knocked him out wirh one quick punch as the man flew across the room and you ran to his arms. “I’m so sorey, I wasn’t paying attention and—“ you began to apologize quickly but he held you tight and shushed you softly.

“It’s my fault too alright, we got too comfortable.” But there was a bigger unspoken problem. That someone wanted him and knew exactly where he lived. “We should head somewhere else for now, those men won’t stay down forever.”

You nodded your head and moved to get ready. “You already know I’m willing to follow you wherever you go. Just lead the way.”

STRANGER THINGS

Jim Hopper

You’re wardrobe fits right in with the era, given that it’s the 70s to early 80s. But you’re appreciation for the early seventies starts to feel really nostalgic for him, especially cause it keeps him centered in a world that just keeps changing drastically at every turn.

At first you thought all the traps around his house were a little excessive but you soon realized he was just extremely prepared, and that his paranoia was justified. You actually learned to get really into helping him eith that, enjoying how they made you think and enjoying being out in the woods.

When he first met you it was for an interrogation. He thought you may have had something to do with a recent disappearance of a missing boy, although that was before he learned the darker truth. You were so shy that he thought you were hiding something. So he changed tactics to get closer in hopes you’d lower your guard.

Needless to say you were pissed when you realized he only got close to you for his case. He owned up to it all when he realized that you had nothing to do with it, and especially when he learned about the monsters. You thought it was less reassuring, and you stormed off. That was how you first encountered the supernatural.

You became El’s advocate. You supported her wanting some freedom and felt bad that she was cooped up for so long, especially since you knew that you could never handle sitting still for as long as she had to.

You both have similar taste in music and love driving down the road jamming out to classic rock, or at the time just rock. You’d go on long drives to take a weekend getaway off in another cabin by a lake. Sometimes to help ease the tension of the real danger back in town.

“Dance with me!” You said suddenly. You had been holed up in the house for several days and there was only so many puzzles, games, and television that could occupy you. So you turned up the radio and started poorly your dancing your way to Hopper.

He felt bad that he couldn’t do more for your right now. But he was under heavy surveillance and going outside at the moment was a recipe for disaster. He just wished you didn’t have to get stuck with him. “Oh I don’t know.” He rested his head to the side. “Dancing isn’t really my thing,” he admitted.

“Please! It’s the least you can do.” Once you flashed your puppy dog eyes at him, Hopper knew it was over. You grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet as you started to dance to the rhythm, forcing him along with you.

As he started to get into it you let go and began to move in bouncing circles to the rock song, letting your hair have it’s fun as you went wild enjoying the moment. Hopper never quite got on your level as his dancing slowly came to a stop. He was mesmerized by the way your body moved to the song. How free you managed to be even here.

Soon you stopped as you realized he wasn’t playing along. “Whats wrong?” You were panting and a little out of breath due to your intensity. You brushed your hair to the side and just behind your ear to see him better.

“You just— well you’re breath taking.” Hopper smiles at you, finally releasing a breath he just realized he was holding. “Besides, you’re a lot quicker than me.” He then chuckled.

Your face flushed red in response and you felt he place heat up. “Well you have that affect on me too.” You confessed.

Just then, a snapping sound was heard outside in the woods. A trap was just set off and something was caught. Animal? Human? Who knows, but it meant that you guys had to find out and more importantly that you got to go outside!

“We caught something!”

#mcu #bucky barnes #stranger things #jim hopper #ship requests

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pmwrites-blog1 · 7 years

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What Comes Next

Word count: 2,454 (Complete)

Summary: Lance doesn’t move his hand. “You wanna talk about it? Or we could start up the game and not deal with it right now. S’been a rough day, man. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Or-

The aftermath. They finally talk.

Keith slinks out of the lounge with his shoulders drooping. Matt pauses on his way out and sends him a worried glance. Keith shakes his head. Not now.

Reluctant, Matt follows Pidge and Hunk to see if they can corroborate Lotor’s intel about the rift. Shiro, Allura, and Coran are moving their tentative ally into holding cell for the time being. The fugitive prince complies with the smuggest grin Keith’s ever had the displeasure of seeing. He does not like Lotor.

But.

Keith shakes his head. He does not want to think about that now.

He’s crashing from the adrenaline of the fight, leaving him withered – an empty husk. He doesn’t feel grounded. It’s like his chest is trying to float off while his feet stay glued to the floor, stretching him too thin. At the same time his armor won’t let him breathe right - has it always been this tight?

He’s tired. A creeping dread washes over once he realizes how out of place he feels in the castle now. How stark the contrast is between his black Marmora uniform and the white walls around him.

Fuck he almost died today. Everyone almost died today. Shit he’s thinking about it now.

“-eith? Keith, buddy.”

He jerks at the hand approaching his shoulder. Lance drops it with a concerned frown. “Sorry,” he manages, relaxing a little. “Just jumpy.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Lance scuffs his foot and withdraws.

It’s awkward.

This is going to be a thing now, he realizes. Whatever was building between him and Lance before is scattered now. He doesn’t know where they stand anymore and he has no idea how to rebuild it. Nothing feels right. And suddenly Keith aches for it. He missed his team so much. He wishes he called them more often when he was away.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk cryptids with Pidge anymore or hold parts together for Hunk while he builds. He doesn’t know if it will feel the same when he spars with Allura or lets Coran drone on about something he doesn’t understand. He can’t even begin to think about Shiro; things have felt off balance with his pseudo-brother for months now. And how is he supposed to look Matt in the eye? He made a great first impression there.

With the Blade, he was useful. He knew his place and what was expected of him. He contributed in a way that was tangible and real. He didn’t have to worry about leading anyone anywhere. Nobody’s life hung between his rash fingers.

But he was so terribly alone. It didn’t hit him until now, Lance staring at him two feet away instead of through a screen. With Kolivan, Keith was always moving and working; no time to register his feelings, much less process them. But the coalition has won their fight for today. Everything is still now. He’s hit with whiplash.

Lance is talking to him again, sheepish. Keith almost hopes they are both equally uncertain about their awkward reunion.

“It’s really great to see you again, man. I mean, I missed making fun of your hair and junk. So, uh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to catch up a little, but you look like you need some alone time, so I’ll just –”

“No.” Keith winces at the break in his voice. “I… I really…I don’t want to be alone right now.” He takes a shaky breath. “I missed you guys.”

Maybe they aren’t as disconnected as he thought because something in Lance’s gaze catches. Perceptive sharpshooter that he is, he sees something is wrong. “Okay,” he says. “Meet me in my room after you get changed? We can play video games or something.”

“Okay.”

Their footsteps echo too loudly when they separate in the hall.

Keith knocks on Lance’s door later, readjusting to the feeling of his own clothes again. He’s still shaky and hollowed out, but the sight of Lance in his stupid lion slippers smooths him out for a second. Things can be normal again.

Something hovers in the air between them. For now, Keith sits on the bed stiffly. Neither of them knows what to say. Keith thinks Lance will just start up the game and let them ease into whatever companionship they can manage for tonight. Instead, he kicks off the lion slippers and scoots next to Keith, their shoulders almost touching. They don’t look at each other. Neither speaks for a long stretch.

“So, what happens now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think Lotor’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you’ll go back to the Blade?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“…”

Keith’s body is trying to float away from him.

“...”

“Are you okay?”

“…No.”

Keith doesn’t move. Not even when he feels tears roll down his cheeks. If he moves, he’ll collapse, that will be the end of it. He knows he’s a crier, knows what he gets like when he caves in on himself like this. Lance shouldn’t have to deal with it. He should leave. But he can’t move.

Lance breaks him with a touch. All it takes is a gentle hand on his shoulder and then he’s sobbing. His throat winds in on itself. His eyes burn and burn. He feels his nose pressed to the juncture of a neck, his fists tightening around a broad back, his lungs heaving and hiccupping against his will. He hears nothing but his own sobbing and the sound breaks him a little more. Lance’s long fingers run through his hair. He feels them like background music.

He cries.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Long enough to get sore. Keith still doesn’t move, but he starts to breathe evenly again. His muscles unclench and he sags against Lance. He feels better, even if he can barely find the strength to bend his pinky. He’s grounded, stable again.

When he finally pulls back, he’s not surprised to see Lance’s eyes watery too. He almost wants to laugh. Instead, he wipes haphazardly at his face and sighs. They resituate themselves, facing one another cross-legged.

Lance lays a hand on his knee, thumb stroking lightly, just to remind him that he’s there.

“Thanks,” Keith whispers.

Lance doesn’t move his hand. “You wanna talk about it? Or we could start up the game and not deal with it right now. S’been a rough day, man. I wouldn’t blame you.”

He bites his lip, still fighting sniffles, shakes his head. He knows he’s going to ramble. He can’t contain it so he lets it happen, feeling safe with Lance. “I missed you. I missed everyone so, so much. And now there’s all this other stuff happening, and I-I just – this is the first time I’ve had a chance to think about it since I left and it’s kind of hitting me all at once and I’m overwhelmed and I’m scared.”

Lance lets that statement ring off the walls for a moment. He looks down at where his hand meets Keith’s knee. Keith wants to hold it, so he does, squeezing it once. He isn’t wearing his gloves. Lance squeezes back, considering him carefully.

“What are you scared of?” The way Lance asks makes it seem manageable. They can break this down into a list and check things off until they’re gone. Keith’s shoulders drop.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” His voice feels raspier than usual, vowels dragging up his esophagus.

Lance shrugs. “Do any of us really?” he tries to joke. The mirth doesn’t quite reach his eyes but Keith appreciates the attempt.

“This war is so important and I should be where I’m the most help. With Shiro back in the black lion, that means I should stay with the Marmora. I know that’s what makes sense. It’s just distributing resources; it’s not complicated… But being with the Marmora means being alone again.” His voice cracks. Lance threads their fingers together tight.

“You don’t have to go back.”

Lance’s voice is gentle and Keith wants to believe him so badly. His eyes drift to the side, measuring the wrinkles and folds of the sheets. “I can’t put what I want over the mission. I won’t. But, just standing in the castle again… You guys don’t need me here anymore and I thought that’s what was best. But I can’t help but feel like I’m throwing away the only family I’ve ever had. I can’t make that right in my head.”

Lance pulls his gaze and stares him dead in the eye. “Keith, you won’t lose us. We know you care. We know you’re trying to do what’s right. We’ll always be here for you, just like Shiro said.” Their thumbs stroke over the crevices of each other’s knuckles.

“I know.” Hearing that just isn’t enough anymore. Not when he has to hold himself together for weeks on end with only Kolivan’s brutal company at his shoulder.

The castle hums around them for a while. Keith waits for Lance to collect his thoughts. He can feel how warm and ruddy his cheeks still are from crying. He doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed. Finally, Lance takes his other hand, grip unwavering and firm. “You should take Red back.”

Keith blinks. They’re back to math. Lance looks at him like it’s already decided and that’s when Keith knows he messed up. It seems an eternity ago that Lance came to him with one pinky up, the same hardened expression etched into him when he talked about best soldiers. “No way.”

Lance shushes him, lips melting into a lopsided smirk. “Look, you’ve shared your piece. Let me do mine.”

Keith’s fingers twitch in Lance’s grasp, but the other boy only clamps down harder.

“No, Keith, I’m serious. Look at me. Hey.”

Keith does.

“You’re not okay. And that’s not okay. You belong with Red. I’m not his paladin and I never will be. I don’t have the connection with Shiro that you do. He works better with you and that makes the whole team more functional. I said it before and I’ll say it again: This isn’t a participation game. And if you’re telling me that you feel like you don’t belong here anymore, I can’t let that go on. Not when you fit way better than I do. Not when this is hurting you this badly. C’mon. We’re friends.”

Lance smiles at him, brows pinched. Keith sees the way his shoulders tighten and realizes Lance doesn’t have half the confidence he pretends to.

“I’m sorry. I messed up,” he says.

Lance sputters. “What?”

“Before,” he clarifies. “When you came to talk to me about this. I said it would just work itself out and that’s not what you needed to hear. That’s not what happened.” Keith feels his chest constrict. “Lance…you don’t think you’re valuable to the team, do you?”

Lance pulls his hands away and freezes. He looks ready to bolt or make a joke, but Keith won’t let him squirm away. He’s failed to connect with Lance, to support him in return too many times now.

Keith’s almost died too many times to take it for granted. He steels himself and nearly lunges for Lance’s hands again. He needs to connect, he needs to push past this wall between them before it’s too late. Something in his core screams for it. He doesn’t want to regret anything anymore.

Keith opens his mouth and everything pours out of him. He watches those blue eyes widen and shimmer with unshed tears again. With every truth he speaks to Lance’s bravery, kindness, skill, composure, and beyond, his hands slide up brown forearms. Keith doesn’t stop there. He hammers Lance in the head with confession after confession.

“You’re our sharpshooter.” His fingers curl around biceps.

“You ground me.” Shoulders.

“You keep everyone together.” Jawline.

“And I love you.”

He’s up on his knees leaning over Lance, brown jaw cupped in Keith’s palms. He doesn’t know how he means it yet. Romantically? Probably. It doesn’t matter. Whatever way it is, it’s true. He loves Lance and Lance needs to know that right fucking now or he’ll explode. So he says it again.

“I love you. I really do. You’re incredible. And now I know what it’s like to be separated from everyone, from you . So, whatever it is that we have together, this partnership thing, I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want you to step aside, ever. I’m sick of people walking out of my life. You have to know how much you mean to me.”

Lance starts crying, but a laugh bubbles out of him anyway. He pulls Keith to him again, shoulders shaking as their arms wind around each other.

“Jeez this is way too much for one day,” he chokes out between chuckles and soft sobs. Keith holds him tighter, pulls them down onto the pillow. Lance rubs at his eyes and stares at Keith with his hair splayed over the sheets. “Your mullet’s getting longer. Won’t be a mullet soon.”

Keith blinks.

Lance laughs again and twines their fingers. “Sorry, sorry. Bonding moment, I know. I just had to break the tension before our feelings freaking killed us. See, this is the kind of emo junk I forgot how to handle without you.”

It works, and Keith finally laughs. And once he starts he can’t stop. His eyes squint shut and he fucking giggles until he can’t breathe. Lance arm slings around him until he’s wrapped up in a Lance-burrito, grin so wide it hurts as they keep laughing together, everything stressful and bad leaking out of them.

Eventually, their breathing tapers out back to normal. They lay in comfortable silence, pressed together. Keith feels like he’s home there, burrowed in Lance’s chest.

No, they haven’t fixed anything yet. Lotor’s in a cell two levels below. Keith will have to talk about his suicide run tomorrow. Lance will have to address his role on the team. They don’t know where they’re going. But they know they’re there for each other. That’s enough to rest on.

Lance’s nose buries itself further in his hair. They breathe together. “I love you too, man,” he whispers. Keith smiles, drowsy.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, we will. We’re like Space Ranger Partners or something cool like that.”

“Mm. Sleep now, work on stuff in the morning?”

Lance yawns. “Yeah. That’s enough angst for one day.”

Squished between their chests, their hands weave together again. They squeeze once, twice, a third time just for luck. They exhale together. Their ankles cross.

They sleep well that night. Their tears dry by morning.

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cawwriting · 7 years

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TordMark NSFW

Brushing off dust from a mauve colored leather bound book, Mark swallowed thickly and opened it up to do some much needed reasearch. It was almost time for him to graduate from college and he still hadn't gotten laid; he hadn't partied; and he hadn't gotten so wasted he couldn't show up to his morning classes. He had heard from all of his friends that these things were all nessasary to have a successful college experience- at least that's what Eduardo had told him. Being in the library was his element and currently searching through the auto biographies of those who also were majoring in what he was. Mark was double majoring in liberal arts and psychology.

As he found no details of any partying in any of the autobiographies he read he became frustrated and decided to consult a friend of his, a friend getting his degrees in both medical chemistry and engineering. Tord. As he walked down the hall though, he felt his pride become damaged, Tord was usually so reserved in his study he probably had as much experience as himself why would he ask him instead of Eduardo or mabye even Jon who was persuing a degree in the performing arts?

The truth is he had no answers to any of his questions and while Eduardo and Jon were close of friends from highschool, he had grown to be quite chummy with Tord over his years in college and often used time with him to study and compare different reasearch projects and as he found himself rapping at his dorm room door, he couldn't help but smile fondly at the memories that the two had shared together. "Tord? Are you home?" Mark started, hands behind his back as he waited. Not too much later and the door swung open to reveal Tord still in his pajamas... at noon? This was very unlike him, and was that alcohol he smelled on his breath? Very unlike him indeed.

Mark raised no questions to him though merely coming inside and plopping down on his bed like a casual neighbor. "What would you say is the highschool experience?" He asked, Tord swaggering over to sit and answer back to which he did promptly. "Well, I'd say it is lot of stress the ocassional fuck and some irrisposiblity poured top of that. I never did that last part, but it isn't required." His accent was thick but it got the point across well.

Mark nodded and counted the days left till graduation on one hand and then sighed. "I don't have near enough time to have all of these missed experiences before I graduate!" He exclaimed but stopped once Tord got up and walked over to a cabinent full of liqour. "You know, there are advantages to dorming with an alcoholic, Mark. If you want, lets get wasted and just have a good time and then you may say you had the college experience." Mark believed this to be an amazing idea, taking one of the bottles to cheers with him as they went back to the bed to hang out and play cards

What Mark didn't know is that Tord meant he would offer him the entire experience, all of it with no exceptions. Tord poured them both clear glasses of burning liqour and down the hatch easily it went for him, but Mark hacked at the flames he felt in his throat making his friend laugh and laugh until he fell off of the bed.

The two drank for hours, eventually turning on some music and dancing in the small dorm room, Tord was dancing right next to Mark which caused him some drunken confusion. "Nng, T-tord?" He questioned but was cut off by a liplock collision. He tried pulling away in suprise and it resulted in them both toppling over into the bed, alcohol in hand.

Tord tried to form coheret words, he didn't think that he was gay- or even bi! Or pan! But staring up at the man who had just kissed him and feeling the warmth of whiskey in his gut he found himself pulling Tord down into another one of those lip locks and his eyes were soon fluttering shut.

Having planned this, Tord just drunkenly kissed back, their lips sometimes overpassing eachother and rubbing saliva on the other's face. The kiss was sloppy and alot of the time never really met its mark but as they began sliding their clothes off the kiss somehow got more precise.

Mark was spooked, anxious, and unsure as he sat up to watch Tord leave small kisses down his firm and structured body. With a shakey hand he laced fingers into Tord's hair while Tord's mouth surrounded his length. Tord turned his eyes into slits instead of having then closed so that he could gaze up at the man he was pleasuring. All uneasinesshad left his features and he was now happily leaned back on his hands as he moaned and begged for more contact.

Tord soon got tired of this game though and lulled back very suddenly off of his dick, licking his lips and stepping over to the bedside table to pull out a condom and a bottle of strawberrt flavoured lubricant. Mark watched after his complaining died down and he moved further onto the bed to positiom himself. "I uh- nnn -Tord I've never done this." He slurred as the smaller male took his position above him.

Tord seemed to change his mind though and nudged Mark into getting up so that he could lay down instead. Once he was on the sheets he turned over onto his stomach and began instructing Mark on how to dominate him. "O-okay I'm gonna- hic" He paused a moment before continuing. "I'm gonna need you to get that condom out and just slide it on like a sock." Tord instructed.

Mark seemed to fumble eith this but after a good five minutes he had it slid on and without instruction began to attempt to use the lube, rubbing it on himself and then pausing. He didn't much want to slide his fingers into Tord, he thought it was gross and told Tord to do it himself to which he did. But Tord made sure that Mark payed for not doing it by slowly rubbing the fingers inside himself with wide legs to tease his newfound lover.

Mark swallowed and then moved into position, moving Tord's hand and trying quickly to replace it with his cock. This couldn't be that hard right? He did however have much difficulty staying in during his thrusts despite his abnormal length and thickness. He couldn't even contain his breathing or noises as he tried to start slow. Mark's hands gripping Tord's thighs so tight his nails dug in and drew blood.

Soon enough mark was spilling over the edge of his limits, screaming out Tord's name and then plopping down beside him, Tord's chest covered in climax. They both breathed rather heavily and Mark glanced over to Tord. "D-does this make me gay?" He seemed worriedx as if somthing bad would happen if this one happenstance did in fact mean that he was gay.

Tord laughed a bit and shook his head, leaning over to take a swing from a brown glass bottle. "Nah, we were just having a good time." He slurred.

"What the actual fuck." A third voice. It seemed that Tom had come home from work, the two men in bed not really having paid attention to the time. Mark squealed and pulled the blanket up to cover himself and Tord, embarrasment full on his features. "I-I-I." He couldn't help but stutter. "Stay out of my liquor." Tom grumbled, walking over to lock up his cabinet before laying in his own bed to nap.

Dumbfounded Mark started to pick up his clothing and dress. "I... I should go." He slurred, but squeaked again when Tord tugged him back into bed. "You'll get in trouble if you are seen drunk on campus... stay here." He persuaded with a voice like silk.

Mark begrudgingly layed back down with him to rest, head clouded and stomach hot. "Night..." Mark murmured and was met with a "night." In answer from Tord.

#sw tord #sw mark #sinsworld #sinsworld fanfiction

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let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol · 7 years

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New Man (Part 8)

Previous Parts & New Man on Wattpad

A/N: This part and the next are to move the story along, but they are significant to what’s about to come

It was only a kiss. One that felt so right but you had to think of your children before anything else meaning for the meantime Luke and Scott had to be kept at a distance.

Raine ran around the hotel suite in excitement. Her eyes wide in curiousness as she pressed her face up against the open window to look down at the pool area. You laughed at her actions and picked her up so that she could properly see. “Look there’s the beach,” you told her, pointing towards the water that was out in the distance. Raine rested her head on your shoulder and smiled out at the sunny sky. You knew she was getting sick of the cold weather and you were too, so you decided on taking a vacation out to Miami, Florida. Though you wanted to go to Orlando it was a lot more kid friendly. Your decision of course was affected by Danielle and two of your other friends. You sat Raine back down on her feet and began to unpack.

This trip was something that you really needed. It was to clear your head and figure out the whole Luke and Scott mess, but it was also for you to bond with your children. The last time you had gone on vacation you were pregnant with Raine. This was the first time Raine saw something other than the place she was born. You could tell how excited she was. The young child prancing around the room and singing along to the children’s cartoon that was currently playing. Your phone began to ring and you reached across the bed to grab it from the pillow. A groan left your lips when you saw Luke’s name and face pop up on the screen. “Not now,” you sighed, sending Luke to voicemail for the fifth time that day. He wasn’t too thrilled about you going on vacation. Luke wanted to be close by just in case something were to happen and the fact that you weren’t near him was driving Luke insane. There was another voicemail in your messages from Scott. Both of the guys were starting to annoy you. This whole trip was to get away from them and if they kept calling you weren’t going to get the rest and peace you needed to make a decision. “Mama look!” Raine shouted, hand hitting against the window to get your attention.

“What do you see?” you questioned, dropping down to your knees to get at her level. Raine pointed at something down below and your eyes squinted to get a good look at it.

“Pony,” she mumbled, her eyebrows furrowing in a way that Luke’s did. You looked closer and could see a carnival set up near the side of the hotel. The bedroom door opened a second later and Danielle entered your room unexpectedly.

“Y/N have you seen the bathroom in this place!?!” she exclaimed, plopping down onto your bed with a laugh. “Honestly we should have come here ages ago,” Danielle said, grabbing your phone when it rang once more. She let out a snort at the sight of Luke’s name and tossed the phone to the side. Raine’s attention was now on her god mother and she ran towards Danielle, trying to climb up on the bed to hug her. Danielle gasped in delight and reached down to pick Raine up. “How’s my favorite girl?” she questioned, placing Raine on her lap and hugging her tightly.

You pushed aside the clothes you had pulled out and laid down beside the two with a deep sigh. You were exhausted. Being pregnant and jet lag at the same time had its disadvantages. “I swear if Luke calls me one more time I’m going to turn my phone off for the rest of this trip,” you muttered. The words were said more to yourself than Danielle. She laughed at your words and then nudged your knee to get your attention.

“He’s just worried you know?” she said. You rolled your eyes in response and she shook her head at you. You were currently in a mood and your hormones were on high. “Anyway Ali and Jordan just got to the hotel. By the time you finish unpacking they should be too, so I was thinking we all grab something to eat before heading out,” Danielle said, changing the subject to put you in a better mood. You smiled at the thought of eating and quickly got up to continue unpacking. The whole trip had been planned out accordingly, but you had a separate agenda to accommodate Raine.

“There’s a carnival downstairs that caught Raine’s eye, so I think we’ll head there why you three go out and party,” you said, laying out some fresh clothes to get ready for the night ahead. The child had wiggled out of Danielle’s grasp and went back to exploring the suite. “I also have to tell Raine about the baby and right now seems like a good time to do that,” you said, picking up the folded clothes to place them in the drawer. You were staying for about two weeks and wasn’t in the mood to just pick clothes out of the suitecase. The thought of telling Raine that she was going to have a sibling was a lot more nerve wracking than telling Luke and Scott you were pregnant. Ever since she was born Raine had been the light of your life, your only child, and at the center of attention. Now that you were pregnant and going to have your second child you feared Raine would feel as if all the attention would be placed on the new baby instead of her. Danielle gave you a nervous smile and then looked towards the open door which led to the “living room” that Raine had ran out to.

“Do you think she’ll take the news well?” your best friend asked, helping you put the clothes away.

“I’m hoping she will,” you sighed, hand reaching down to rub at your stomach. You smiled to yourself and heard a gasp come from the doorway. Your head turned to see your other two friends. “Oh hey!” you exclaimed, walking around the bed to give them a hug.

“Look at you all glowing and. . .you’re starting to show, Y/N!” Jordan grinned, holding you at arms length. You looked down at yourself with furrowed eyebrows.

“Really? I honestly hadn’t noticed,” you said, “Also I didn’t think I would start showing anytime soon especially with having a cryptic pregnancy and all.” Jordan’s eyebrows rose and she nodded. Ever since you found out about the condition you had been reading up on everything trying to understand it all. You had read that woman who have cryptic pregnancies usually carry the child typically between 2 and 5 years. It was a scary thought to be pregnant for that long, but you’ve heard of some pregnancies turning “normal” and only hoped that that’ll happen to you.

“Where’s Raine? I haven’t seen her since she was what four months old?” Ali said, bringing you into a hug.

“She’s most likely in Danielle’s room,” you said, calling out for your daughter. “How have you been?” you asked, pulling away from the hug to finish unpacking. Raine ran into the room seconds later and she hid behind the door at the sight of the strangers.

“I’ve been good just doing some traveling as usual,” Ali told you, sending a small wave to Raine. She inched her way inside and quickly ran pass your friends until she was hiding behind your legs. The two women awed at her actions and after a bit more small talk everyone branched off to their rooms to either unpack or get ready for the night out.

The carnival was packed with people of all ages. Children running around, families stuffing their faces with fried Twinkies, couples kissing in photo booths. You smiled at the scene getting hit with a memory of your sixth date with Scott. Raine was rested against your hip staring up at the colorful lights with a smile. It was way passed her bedtime, but you thought it would be okay for her to stay up for something like this. You found your way into one of the photo booths and sat Raine down on your lap. “Hey Raine Cloud look!” you said, pointing at the screen which showed a picture of the two of you. Raine began to wiggle in her spot and she gave the screen a big grin as the camera started to flash. You puffed your cheeks and Raine mimicked your actions following your lead and you two continued to do more funny faces. After the pictures were taken you left the photo booth and grabbed the pictures. You sat Raine down on her feet and bent down to her level to show her the photos. “I think daddy would like these don’t you think?” you said, looking at Raine curiously. She nodded vigorously and you pulled out your phone to send Luke the pictures. It was something just to let him know you and Raine were doing okay. You received a text from him in a matter of seconds.

Glad to see my two girls are having fun. I miss you both!

You smiled at the message and then felt guilty when you thought of Scott. “You know mommy would really like a drink, but she can’t have it,” you told Raine in a happy sounding voice, picking her up to see what else the two of you could do. It was stressful enough not knowing who the father of your child was but on top of that you were confused about whether you still loved Luke and if you were in love with Scott. You found your way towards the animals since that was the first thing Raine had seen from the hotel room.

“Pony!” Raine exclaimed, wiggling out of your arms to go and pet the pony. You watched as she excitedly ran her hands over the pony’s hair then looked back at you as if she wanted to ride the animal.

“How much does it cost to ride?” you asked the person, pulling out some money. Once you paid you placed Raine on top of the pony and held her tight as the animal began to move about. For some reason it felt quiet to you. As if everything around you was fading into the background as you held on to your child. The music playing about sounded muffled in your ears and you let out a few deep breaths before looking at Raine. She looked happy as can be facial features much similar to her father’s, but only having your nose. You adored how beautiful your child was and wondered how your second one would look. If it was Luke’s child then the baby would definitely look similar to him with a few features matching you. If the child was Scott’s then the baby would most likely have his hair and cheekbones. Either way you were going to love your child regardless of what he or she looked like. Once the pony ride was over you decided on going to ride the Ferris Wheel. Knowing this was the right time to let Raine know she was going to have a sibling.

“Now I know most of this is going to go over your head,” you started, “But honestly I can tell you anything because you’ve always been such a good listener.” Raine smiled at you and banged her hand against the bar that kept you two from falling out the seat.

“Listen!” she exclaimed, going quiet once more when you began to talk again.

“Yes Raine Cloud you’re really good at that,” you cooed, smoothing back a few strands of her hair that escaped from her bun, “So if you haven’t noticed mommy’s been a bit out of it lately. The reason for that is because I’ve been tasked with a special job and do you know what that is?” Raine pouted at your words and shook her head at your question. “Well mommy is tasked with making sure that a baby grows well and healthy. . .and this baby, Raine Cloud will be your brother or sister,” you softly said. Her nose scrunched up at your words and you mimicked her expression.

“Baba,” Raine mumbled, not quite sure on what you were getting at. You smiled at her and nodded. Grabbing her hand, you guided it until it was rested on your stomach.

“Yes baba,” you laughed, “The baba is currently here cooking until it grows strong and developed. Now when the baba comes out I want you to know that daddy and I will always love you even if we get caught up with him or her okay?” You nodded your head and Raine nodded back at you. You began to laugh knowing Raine wasn’t really grasping what you were telling her, but you knew she had caught on to the fact that you were having another child. Her hand rubbing over your stomach excitedly as she kept repeating the word baba. So far your night was going well and it was only the first day of vacation. It was great to clear your mind and now that the semi hard part was over you had to do some serious thinking over how you wanted to move forward in this pregnancy and who you loved. Until then you were going to enjoy your vacation and just bond with your children.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer imagines #Luke Hemmings #Luke Hemmings imagines #5sos blurbs #5 seconds of summer blurbs #Luke Hemmings blurbs #5sos au #5 seconds of summer au #Luke Hemmings au #5sos preferences #5sos writings #5 seconds of summer writings #Luke Hemmings writings #5sos rec #Luke Hemmings rec #5sosimagines

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locshar · 7 years

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The White Princess Diaries - Ep 1 Part 2 - no - its still not him...

Ep 1 Part 2

So – Westminster then – and King Dr Who keeps pulling down all the lovely white rose banners and beautiful murrey and blue boar banners saying “Burn them!” (hmnnn –don’t I remember that line from Ep 2 series 1 about a portrait of Not Margaret of Banjo?) Now he’s on about burning snow – doesn’t that just make a lot of hot air? But he is a very lucky king because it is August in England and there is a lot of snow around. Ask poor old nude Aneur-not who apparently is still laying on Bosworth Field four days later.

It is moving in day and Dr Who takes the bouncy kings bed – forgetting the springs will have gone because it once belonged to Ever Ready Eddy and Caitlyn Stark – sorry – Mad Mags - gives herself an upgrade and nicks the penthouse suite….which is apparently ‘just through this passage…” Exit stage left…

Meanwhile….Parkin is still hiding in a loft in Yorkshire…..he’s a right pudding – obviously. And still blond. What I don’t understand is why he couldn’t have gone to court with his mother with a towel round his head. It worked last time and if anyone asked him he could say he is waiting for his new hair colour to take hold.

But hey - Lizzie-Mini-ish and Ex-Queen Sisterbeth now arrive in London and have a pool party – at least they all gather around the Pools and it is still snowing believe it or not. No wonder Parkin is going to Turney – for the weather if nothing else.

So lets all go see the king – Who? Oh yes…him. You will recognise him – he wears a crown ALL the time. Makes him feel important. And king. Just in case anyone thinks he shouldn’t be there. Or be king.

Pleasingly, we now have diddly diddly cloisters instead of diddly corridors…and “The Yorks” - as Sisterbeth is now calling herself - all get shown to a Travelodge as Mad Caitlyn has nicked all the best hotel rooms in London so she can invite all her saints to enjoy the coronation.

All the family fit into a single room with one bed. Princess Cecily immediately has a cob on and is walking round with a face like a slapped-arse. Who knows why? No please – if who knows please tell me! They are given some women who never speak as ladies-in-waiting who remind me of the ladies who never spoke who were Duchess Isabels ladies-in-waiting. Remember them? Or even her?

Rumours in the city are once again rife -and it would appear that Dr Who may be considering marrying his mother because she’s in the queen’s bedroom and he doesn’t want to marry a horse. What? Oh a whore! (sorry the medieval juke box in this tavern is doing my head in and I can’t hear what gossip this bloke in disguise is telling me – I have no idea who he is. He just said to call him Frank) Note – this bit may have only happened in my head.

Dr Who is now flexing his political savvy by revoking all English trade with Burgundy. Er - because the Duchess of York (remember the fleeting shot of her leaving England some episodes ago) was always trying to catch him and execute him. Which was some mean feat seeing as he was in Brittany and then in France and never went out.

We then hear a well known saying that I last heard murmured in Dothraki. The princes are dead. King Aneurard killed them.

“It is known!” (wink wink nudge nudge) someone murmurs quietly - hoping they don’t get done by GRR Martin for plagurism.

The stupendously loyal Earl of Lincoln is presented to Dr Who. He used to be Richard’s heir – and not his hair obviously, and the good Doctor threatens to take everything he has and says he is hair to nothing – or hair to eternity or something (well not if he shaves that beard off!) Not to be fooled by such a ploy – King Aneurard’s loyal nephew immediately pledges his allegiance to become Dr Who’s new companion which makes Duchess Dyson suck in deeply! She is disgusted and reminds all the Puddles that their sister in Burgundy would never stoop so low – but she was quite short when we last saw her so what that means is anyone’s guess. But Dr Who sneers that who cares because he has revoked all her trading privileges so nah nan a nah nah! This is a man so powerful he can enact laws without parliament. Yes Henry – you know – Parliament - it’s a big building on the River Thames! I keep forgetting you are not from around here.

Then Grasper Fatboy grabs the old lady and she is hauled off to hoover the tower apartments. Then up steps Teddy who wants his uncle back – don’t we all I hear you say. All of this is done underneath a bloody big boar banner – and Dr Who gets a bit uncomfortable when Teddy helpfully points out that one day he will be king instead. Brave boy if not very clever. As everyone mutters in shock and awe some set dresser rushes on unseen and changes the banner because next thing it is green and Teddy is so confused he is fooled into saying “God save the king.”

Teddy then loses his lands which he never had because he was under attainder anyway and they are given to the Stanleys for being traitorous bastards at Bosworth.

Now in private, Dr Who is calling Mini-Lizzie-ish a horse and saying he won’t marry her. Nay Nay I hear you say. Well – I think this is what he said as the fire in their chamber was crackling very loudly at the time. Either that or the preview audience were all tucking into Werthers Originals – which are much more original than whatever this is we are watching.

Back at the Travelodge on the A1, Young Cecily is bouncing on the bed as her mother writes a letter. Oh God not in blood this time please….and if Cecily bounces on that bed much more I am going to christen her Cobby the Castle Elf.

Relief! Queen Sisterwitch is only writing a letter to Turney to see if her son got there all on his own at around 10 years old and still in his nightie….she is worried he might not have made it (really? Whatever gives her that idea?)

Now the diddly diddly cloisters are all wet from the rain so it must be water music. Oh, I do miss Anne Neville at these moments…I can still hear her clling “Izzy, Izzy –lets get busy” as the music played.)

Whats this? Queen Woodville is meeting some young stud in the stables – and now sending him to Turney. She gives him a ring….because he is mobile – God! Could this be Son of Blackenberry? He has things to communicate!

His name is Ned – or Nokia Ned to you! Beware my son – skulking around that woman with that name you are in mortal danger of being bonked to death and not making episode 2. Unless they bring you back as Cardinal Morton as I haven’t seen him yet.

On the way back she bumps into Mad Lady Stark and I am really not too sure what she has done to her skirts since she became My Lady the Dr Who’s Mother. I think she has them stuck in her knickers to expose her saints knees as they are all tucked up at the front!

As they glare at each other in the musical cloister, they have a Game of Thrones Off – “My sons throne is bigger than your Lizzie-Mini’s throne” Hang on – script written by who?

Item: The music is very annoying as it is the original soundtrack and I keep looking up in heated anticipation but no – no fetching blue doublets or dancing eyebrows here…shame! I could cry! The music, the memories, the script….

Dr Who is now visiting Lizzie-Mini-ish and says she has to dress him – I think. Well he does appear to have put on a Ralph Lauren polo shirt under this doublet and Cecily certainly has her eyes on his Henry Tudors…

The Werthers are back and above the crackling Dr When wants them to dance for him. Well I have seen some dancing in my time but this takes the Captain Biscuit. And now that bloody banjo is back and Lizzie-Mini-ish and Cecily the House Elf they are sort of dancing like Ed Balls and Russell Grant being regaled by buskers on the Pan Pipes. All together now - Step left, step right, step forward step back, step left step right, step forwards step back…. Shake it all about. You get it…

Oh that Dr Who King bloke is a smug bastard- I want to smack him in the Tardis! He gives Lizzie-Mini a motto as he wasn’t there for Christmas and she’s a bit of a cracker. Humble pie and pestilence…sorry the insane fire crackling may have made me hear that wrong.

Dr Who gets angry because he still doesn’t want to marry Lizzie-Mini…yawn – yeah right. Then a man turns up in a rugby hat but I don’t know who he is or where he is from and as he doesn’t introduce himself I take it that he is actually Olympic de la pool….(A friend and I have seen that hat before and on a man eith beard and in a pool!) It’s a sign! Of what I am not quite sure!

As I said earlier, Dr Who goes EVERYWHERE in his crown and now he is folding his arms and sulking in a corner until his Mad Caitlyn Mother nags – sorry – tells him that he has more divinity than anyone she had ever met. Divinity? Div more like and take off that bloody crown for five minutes please - we get it! We do! You cheated and you are king! King Dr Who! Or someone…

Ooh we are now in the YewMe garden – where there is a new maze that you can use for jolly japes to lose the silent ladies-in-waiting who follow you around with knowing looks which tell you they are really spies for the Dr. The maze is not so amazing as in true form they have all had the same clothes on for days – but it is also musical. Its made out of box hedge – so it is in fact a music box.

Now the man with bad hair who no one has introduced us to tells Lizzie-Mini she has to meet Dr Who in his bedroom alone – which pleases Cecily no end you can imagine! (Well we know what she is imagining but then she has already proved she is a bit dumb – some character development needed) Oh – I have just remembered – what has happened to Tom Dorset? You know – the Queens brother who kept his eyes and ears to the ground before he buggered off and joined Chewdor? Never mind – am sure he will crop up somewhere – or as some one…

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oselatra · 6 years

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Refugees from an Ozarks cult detail abuse

They escaped from the Nahziryah Monastic Community in Marion County.

A pot of curried lentils simmered on the kitchen stove, steam rattling the lid. Shakeenah Kedem tossed salt into the stew and stirred, humming to herself. Her reverie was broken when two of her teenage children burst through the screen door carrying wild greens harvested from the nearby woods.

"We found salad!" her daughter, N'horaw, shouted, tossing the basket onto the counter. She ran back outside with her brother Alephtahb, their dirt-stained purple monastery robes flying behind them.

Shakeenah observed her children experiencing freedom for the first time in their lives.

It was the autumn of 2010, and Shakeenah and her five children, ages 18 to 25, had taken refuge in the home of an acquaintance in Eureka Springs. For the past 12 years, they had lived on a 100-acre wilderness compound 36 miles southwest of Yellville, down a long, remote dirt road. They were part of an eight-member religious order called The Nazir Order of the Purple Veil, and lived in what they called the Nahziryah Monastic Community. Because they were required to wear purple head to toe, locals referred to them simply as "the Purple People."

Two weeks earlier, Shakeenah Kedem had packed up a few possessions into a commune Jeep and, along with two sons, Niraj and Alephtahb, and daughter, N'horaw, set out to retrieve her two missing sons, Rawm and Quadish. Their father, who called himself the Rev. Baba Nazirmoreh Kadmeeayl Ben Kedem, had sent the two young men out of state to stay with another community member for being defiant.

Shakeenah was forced to turn around when she realized the few hundred dollars of cash she carried wouldn't support a long journey. She decided to go to Eureka Springs, rather than return to the compound. There, David Roll, a local carpenter, opened his home to the family. He'd previously met the "Purple People" selling merchandise in Eureka. Rawm and Quadish soon joined their mother and siblings.

"And that's how we came back into the world," Shakeenah said in a recent interview. "We were like refugees in our own country."

***

Eight years later, Shakeenah, who is 56 and living in Fort Smith, is sharing the story of the harrowing life she and her family endured under the Nazir Order of the Purple Veil for more than 28 years. And though almost a decade has passed since she fled the compound, the trauma continues. Just last year, Quadish "Ary" Kedem and Alephtahb "Amrita Mukti" Kedem took their own lives.

"People look at us and have no clue what we've been through," Shakeenah said. She detailed her experience in five hours of recorded interviews and hundreds of texts and emails over the past year.

The Bronx, N.Y., native first learned about the commune in 1981 at age 18, when she encountered a handsome young Nazir man proselytizing outside Carnegie Hall in Manhattan. She fell in love, abandoned a budding career as a vegan baker, performance artist and fashion illustrator, and followed him to a backwoods Mississippi trailer camp near the town of De Kalb.

There she met the group's charismatic founder, Rev. K.B. Kedem, along with a dozen followers, mostly women and children. Kedem established the Nazir Order of the Purple Veil in the early 1960s, according to a website maintained by the group.

Gaunt, with large, brown eyes and long, black dreadlocks, Kedem was a Black Hebrew Israelite, a name given to various small African-American religious groups who believe themselves to be the descendants of a lost tribe of Israel. Black Hebrew Israelite beliefs and practices vary widely, but some adopt Hebrew names, practice polygamy, reject birth control and keep strict vegan diets. Kedem, however, forged his own spiritual path. He preached an asceticism derived from the Essenes, an ancient Jewish sect. Later, he mixed in an amalgam of Eastern contemplative mysticism.

"It was beautiful at first," Shakeenah said, remembering her early days as an initiate at the spiritual commune, "meditating and preparing vegan meals together, gardening and harvesting wild foods, washing our clothes in the creek, playing music and chanting, making crafts to sell."

She smiled faintly, adjusting a purple scarf around her neck, a remnant of her former spiritual regalia.

Things changed in 1982, after her fiancé was killed in a car wreck along with Kedem's second wife, Ema-Gadola Kedem, and two of their sons. Shakeenah stayed on with the commune to help raise the reverend's four remaining children, then ages 8 to 17.

"There was an attraction," she acknowledged. "He was strict, but he could also be loving and playful." Two years later, the reverend sealed their relationship with spiritual vows, but insisted she remain his disciple, and he, her master. She agreed. She had just turned 21. He was 46.

Over the next several years, five babies followed. Shakeenah was forbidden to mother them, she said. Children born into the group were communally raised by women who were with the group off and on and who were rigidly controlled by Kedem.

In 1985, the commune relocated to New Orleans, where Kedem opened a bookstore and gift shop called the "Veil of Truth Center for Metaphysical and Esoteric Learning" on Ponce De Leon Street. Shakeenah, her five children, several of Ema-Gadola's children and others lived in close quarters inside a small apartment in the back of the shop. The women and older children spent their days in silence making crafts to sell in the store and on the streets.

In the late 1990s, Kedem's paranoia over an impending "Y2K" apocalypse drove him to move the order one more time. He purchased 80 acres in Marion County in 1999. His family and occasional visitors dug gardens; planted orchards; erected cabins, a main lodge and workshop; and painted everything purple — their signature color, one Kedem believed promoted enlightenment.

But, by then, communal life had become hopelessly bleak, Shakeenah said. It started back in New Orleans, where Kedem began to force members to physically worship him and prostrate themselves at every encounter, foreheads pressed to ground — or suffer severe consequences.

"He would strike, in the face, especially around the eyes," she said, pointing to a dark permanent scar on the white of her left eye. "He strangled us. Not only me, but the children. And he would often do this," she gestured, placing her hand over her mouth and nose, "almost suffocating them."

In the last year, a half-dozen other former members of Nahziryah Monastic Community have come forward on the record, describing life under the purple veil. They have said they were forbidden to speak, even amongst themselves. When addressed by Kedem, they had to respond in "Sahgole," a Hebrew-based language he had invented. Meals were limited to lunch and supper, the children given only a protein drink for breakfast. Everyone, including the young members, had to meditate for an hour at dawn, noon and dusk. If the children fell asleep or stole food, they would be punished, Shakeenah said.

"The violence would be described as extreme," she said, her eyes welling with tears. "He would lay the children out on the ground, and beat their backs with boards," she said.

Retaliating only made things much worse for everyone, Shakeenah said. Leaving, with no resources, seemed impossible. Barred from seeking conventional medical care, she tended to her children's fractures and wounds using splints and natural remedies. Family members who spoke on the record revealed scars on their heads, arms, backs and faces.

"This was my home, since I was a teenager," Shakeenah said when asked why she stayed. "This was all I knew. I had taken lifetime vows under the Nazir veil to be a renunciate."

To cope with the pain, she would pretend the abuse was a form of severe training a disciple might receive from a strict Eastern master. Even when she left the compound in 2010, she believed at first it would be a short leave of absence.

At Nahziryah Monastic Community, everyone worked seven days a week cleaning, cooking, growing food and chopping firewood. The older children and women manufactured spiritual merchandise and crafts to support Kedem. They crocheted clothing and hats and fabricated incense burners and jewelry, which the women silently sold at festivals, farmers markets and online for income. The children, however, weren't allowed to leave the compound and grew up with no contact with the outside world.

Janja Lalich is a professor emerita of sociology at California State University-Chico who operates the Cult Research & Information Center. Once a cult member herself, she's written several popular books on the subject.

"Members [of cults] don't fight back," she said, "because of the intensity of the indoctrination."

"Essentially no one joins a cult," Lalich said. "They will get drawn in by the message or leader. More than two-thirds get recruited by friends, family or co-workers. [They are] slowly brought in until they are convinced by messages of enlightenment, financial success and physical improvement."

Multiple phone calls and emails to Kedem seeking comment about the abuse allegations were not returned. He did mail a packet of spiritual paraphernalia, including bumper stickers, CDs and a written response in purple text on white paper: "Peace be to Jacqueline Froelich."

Family members said that on at least three occasions they secretly contacted authorities for help both in New Orleans and Marion County, but that Kedem managed to convince investigators who came by that all was well. Searches of Arkansas court and criminal records and calls to the Marion County prosecuting attorney revealed no complaints or arrests. Child protective services agencies in Arkansas and Mississippi said they could not comment on specific investigations due to confidentiality rules preventing public disclosure of records. Queries to the New Orleans Police Department and the FBI yielded no records, either.

***

Lalich said religious leaders in particular can get away with terrible abuse.

"As a society, and because of the First Amendment, we have a reluctance to hold religious organizations accountable," she said. "Look how long it took for the Catholic Church to be held accountable for its abuses."

Cults that are sequestered from society, she said, are only exposed by ex-members brave enough to come forward or media willing to investigate.

"A cult is a group or social movement that's led by an authoritarian, extremely domineering, narcissistic, charismatic leader who sets up a structure with systems of control and influence in order to keep the members obedient and loyal," Lalich said. "And followers over time give over their decision-making power and sense of self to this person's ideology and will pretty much do whatever that person says."

Kedem today is nearing 80. Family photographs reveal a frail, emaciated elder with graying dreadlocks poking out from beneath his purple hooded robe. Until recently, he advertised Nahziryah Monastic Community as a spiritual retreat on a website, thepurplepeople.org, and had a listing on an intentional communities directory. As of this March, the website and the listings were no longer online. Kedem continued to sell essential oils, jewelry, accessories and other merchandise on an Etsy store and a separate website.

One longtime follower, Seraph Kedem, remains with the reverend on the compound. She joined the commune in Mississippi and now serves as the reverend's caregiver — despite, according to Shakeenah, also enduring years of physical abuse.

Kedem teaches that he is "beyond time" and omniscient. Anyone in his presence, including visitors, is required to address him in the third person and to abstain from using any personal pronouns. Public records, however, reveal that he is not eternal. Born Duval Mitchell, according to his eldest daughter, in 1940, he was raised Catholic in Chicago. He converted as a young man to the Black Hebrew Israelite faith and cultivated a small following before moving south to Mississippi, leaving behind his family of origin.

Shakeenah said he also tried to leave behind his identity as an African American. "He rejected his racial identity," she said, in what Shakeenah now believes was the result of internalized racism.

Notoriously, the Ozarks of north-central Arkansas are home to a number of white nationalist groups that could also be considered cults, including the Knights Party of the Ku Klux Klan, Christian Identity and the League of the South. But aside from minor vandalism to the commune's purple mailbox by rowdy teenagers, the commune was never harassed, according to members and queries to law enforcement.

Arkansas black history scholar Guy Lancaster, the editor of the online Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and Culture, offered a theory as to why.

"Because they [the Purple People] readily assert and maintain their own difference, their own separateness, from the wider predominately white society," Lancaster wrote in an email. "Because they are not attempting to integrate white social spaces, but instead keep to their own, they do not constitute much of a threat. In fact, their obvious strangeness, as denoted by their clothing and behavior, has probably helped to keep them safe, for it increases their social distance from the mainstream even more."

"Nobody in the area trusted them at first," said Roland Pangle, a retired union electrician from Marion County who was on a first- name basis with Kedem. "The rumor was they all carried machine guns under their ankle-length purple garments."

"Nazirmoreh questioned if I was CIA, FBI or law enforcement," he said during a phone interview, laughing.

Pangle helped out with electrical repairs at the commune in exchange for browsing the commune's library, which was filled with religious and spiritual texts. While there, he had the rare opportunity to observe the community in action.

"All of the members had to prostrate themselves to Nazirmoreh every time he showed his face, and the children had to disappear," he said. "They were not to be around."

Pangle, however, said he was unaware that Rev. Kedem had a violent streak. Since learning about the alleged abuse, Pangle said he no longer associates with him.

David Roll, the Eureka Springs carpenter who opened his home to Shakeenah and her children after they fled the compound in 2010, had first encountered the "Purple People" several years earlier selling merchandise in Eureka.

"They turned my house into an ashram," he said, recalling the family's initial emergence in a telephone interview last year. "They pushed the couches back, laying out their blankets and beds, meditated, cooked vats of curry and served wild foods harvested by the kids from the hollow behind my house."

After decades of living in silence and seclusion, the youths went wild, Roll said. They stared at the television, rummaged through his house and workshop and ran through the neighborhood, all the while chattering to each other in broken English.

"Purple clothes were torn," Roll said, smiling. "They had no more boundaries."

The children also had no Social Security numbers, school or medical records — including vaccinations — or street clothes. Roll had to call on friends for help.

"We had some meetings to discuss, 'What are we going to do with this family?' " he said. Thousands of dollars in cash donations appeared, along with five offers of temporary housing. The youths were enrolled in English literacy and GED classes, and eventually took jobs at a poultry processing factory in nearby Berryville. One son was able to purchase a vehicle and start a private taxi service. Their mom made crafts and practiced natural healing arts for income.

"You know, there was an incredible innocence about all of them," Roll said. "I've traveled a lot of the world. I've never seen this situation. I've never experienced anything that innocent. This purity. But it was also slowly being revealed that it was a complicated purity and that there were some things going on here."

***

Several other former members of the community corroborated Shakeenah's account that Kedem physically abused his followers.

Atawraw Kedem Sislo, 46, was among the six children born to Kedem's second wife, Ema-Gadola, who was killed along with two of the children and Shakeenah's fiancé in the 1982 car crash. Atawraw was born in Chicago but grew up on the Mississippi commune and relocated with her family to New Orleans. She left the cult in the summer of 1991 at age 18, emancipating herself from the community.

"I didn't want to be a prisoner in my own house," Atawraw said in an interview early this year. "He had beaten me one too many times. Once he forced me to lay face down on the ground, and hit me with a board up and down my back. If I screamed, he would hit me harder, so I covered my mouth with my hand."

She said the beatings felt like near-death experiences.

"There was a lot of head trauma. I had a cracked skull," she said, showing an indentation on her scalp. "In Mississippi, he would make us kids sleep out in the woods as punishment, or stand, arms outstretched holding heavy books," Atawraw said. The abuse caused her to break out in hives, she said.

"In New Orleans he once picked up my little half-brother, Niraj, and slammed him against the wall, breaking his leg," she said. Family were forbidden to seek conventional medical care, so the child's leg, she said, was splinted with duct tape and boards by another member of the commune.

Atawraw said their father would even punish Shakeenah's babies for crying.

"And if that didn't work, he would put a pillow over their face. They had no choice but to stop crying because they were gasping for air," Atawraw said.

Atawraw said she and her siblings grew up terrorized, watching her father physically assault Shakeenah and other women in the cult.

"When Shakeenah was pregnant, he would punch her in the stomach," Atawraw said. "Or push her down the stairs. But if we voiced opposition? That was a punishable offense." Shakeenah confirmed Atawraw's account.

Atawraw and her siblings were home-schooled in Mississippi, but the schooling stopped by the time they moved to New Orleans, she said. There, the older youths were forced to make and sell merchandise in flea markets along Canal Street.

"If I didn't fulfill my daily crocheting or jewelry quota, there would be no lunch," she said. "And if the authorities came by, we would have to hide."

***

Quadish "Ary" Kedem, Shakeenah Kedem's youngest son, said in a January 2018 interview that his early life was rough and scary.

"I was choked, smothered, beaten in the crib," he said, softly crying. "Thrown up against the wall."

Ary was 5 years old when the community moved to the Ozarks — a means, he said, for his father to further isolate them.

"He spanked us with 2-by-4 lumber, brooms, shovels, rakes and picks," he said, his voice breaking. Ary also said Kedem would deprive the children of food and water for punishment.

"He would put us on a three-day dry fast, which means no eating or drinking whatsoever. And, because of that, I be waking up while everyone else was asleep to get into the fridge to get something to eat, 'cause I'm so hungry."

As he grew older, Ary said, he tried to stop the violence.

"Once, I heard my mom screaming, and saw her being drug by her hair down the stairs, helpless. I screamed at my father to let her go. He pounced on me."

He said the few visitors who came for retreats were completely unaware of their brutal circumstances. In a separate interview conducted by text message, Shakeenah's eldest son, Rawm Kedem, said he, too, was assaulted by his father.

"When I was about 2 or 3 years old, my dad picked me up and held me as high to the ceiling as he could and threw me on the floor with force," he wrote. "He would drag us from the top bunk bed and let us fall on the floor."

Rawm said his father would also burn him with lit matches, beat him with boards and starve him as punishment. "He beat one of my brothers with a 2-by-4 with nails, as well as a shovel," he wrote. "He stomped one of my brothers' head on a rock all because he did not bow down before his feet."

When asked about the abuse in a January 2018 interview, Ary's sibling, Alephtahb "Amrita Mukti," who had transitioned to female, silently pulled up her sleeve, revealing a deformed arm. It was broken by her father, she said, when she attempted to get food from the kitchen.

Amrita Mukti came out several years ago as a trans woman. The 28-year-old was months away from undergoing gender confirmation surgery when her body was discovered May 7, 2018, in her Fayetteville apartment by a landlord. Police records indicate she had been struggling with depression. Her death was ruled a suicide.

Her brother Ary's body was discovered by a passerby, two months later, at dawn, hanging from a tree in a local park. Police confirmed his death a suicide.

Separate memorial services were held for both Amrita Mukti and Ary Kedem at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Fayetteville. The services were attended by hundreds of supporters, friends and family. Their father did not attend. Shakeenah said Kedem's belief system prohibits members from going near dead bodies. At Ary's memorial Shakeenah sang, "Let It Be."

"They are free now," she said, six months later. "Free from pain."

***

Shakeenah Kedem is now married to digital artist Kedar Fentis. Today, she goes by Shakeenah Kedem-Fentis. They make their home in Fort Smith, where she works as an artists' agent and healing arts practitioner. She's also earned a following on Facebook, where she discusses her journey.

Shakeenah's mother, Joyce Jones, lives nearby, as does her daughter N'horaw "Aleen" Kedem, who is raising a child. Rawm, who lives in Carroll County, recently obtained his industrial truck driving license and is traveling the continent, his dream job. Middle son Niraj is an artist and farmer who also resides in Carroll County. Niraj and Aleen declined to be interviewed for this story.

Atawraw lives in Bentonville with her young son and is working as a solar energy consultant. She also drives for Uber and Lyft and is a food-service worker in Bentonville Public Schools.

Joyce Jones said she consulted a cult deprogrammer in the 1980s after her daughter first went missing, but was advised to not push for contact or intervene. Kedem did finally consent to a visit, one time, to the New Orleans commune in 1989.

"It was beautiful," Jones said about the commune's living quarters. "Clean and spacious. It relieved my angst." She was completely unaware, however, that her daughter and grandchildren were being assaulted on a regular basis.

Chicago artist Makeba Kedem-Dubose, Kedem's eldest daughter, was raised outside the cult by her maternal grandmother.

For years, growing up, she held her birth father in high esteem. Then she visited him at the New Orleans commune.

"I saw things I didn't want to see," she said. "I saw my father hit a baby with a stick."

After that, she said, she had limited contact with her siblings, until they contacted her for help.

"They wanted to confront our father, but were really afraid," she said by phone. "So, I came to Arkansas and traveled with them to Marion County to see him. Our father denied everything. He tried to make it seem like my siblings were lying."

Makeba Kedem-Dubose says she's recently learned from her family that her paternal grandfather also inflicted violence on his family. She believes her father suffers with mental illness.

"Some sort of God complex," she said.

In a recent text, Shakeenah wrote that looking back she realizes that her once-beloved teacher kept impregnating her to "build a following" while making her forsake motherhood and her family roots to focus completely on him.

In their last remaining days in the community, she wrote, her sons and daughter grew bravely defiant, finding ways to intercede when they heard "the Teacher" — their father — beating their mother.

"I think it was actually through me observing all of my children, and my own reactions or nonaction, that I began to realize that this man had a way of striking fear — and getting away with it," she wrote. As a young woman she never learned how to establish personal boundaries, she said.

Still, she said, some of the contemplative spiritual practices she absorbed over the decades continue to resonate with her.

"I hold onto certain values I gained through the journey," Shakeenah said. "Gems found within the rubble. The essence of a path should not be diminished because the messenger had a deranged mind and distorted teachings to his own benefit."

Refugees from an Ozarks cult detail abuse

#Refugees from an Ozarks cult detail abuse

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