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hissterical-nyaan · 3 years

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The Promise

Pairing - Bucky Barnes/Desi! Female reader

Warning - Angst, sad ending, more angst

Summary - Bucky Barnes broke one promise that meant the most to Y/N

Word count - 1.5K

A/N - This is my first ever fanfic, I am very anxious so please be gentle with me :) This was created purely to make y'all cry lol. This is a songfic of "Lag ja gale" of Lata Mangeshkar ji. I absolutely adore that song and found it quite fit for this story!!! Also English isn't my first language and there might be grammatical mistakes. Thanks to @soradragon for beta reading this and helping me complete it, you are a blessing. Love you 💙 happy reading folks!

It was peaceful in Wakanda, a cool night had taken its place from the hot humid air of the day, the stars were shining bright and serenity hung in the air. It was impossible to imagine what the next day would have in store for everyone. No one had a clue that tomorrow was the day that would change everyone's lives forever.

There was the sound of soft humming coming from the modest hut which housed the one and only the White Wolf and his lover.

Inside was you, singing songs softly in your mother’s tongue before the two would go to bed for the night. It was a nightly ritual the two of you shared. For Bucky had found your voice so soothing it would chase away the recurring nightmares that would haunt his sleep every night. Bucky Barnes was unable to sleep without his love in his arms, without her angelic voice singing for him, and without her soft hand weaving through his hair.

You had an awful day today, throughout the day you felt anxious and restless. As if your mind has been screaming at you that something bad was about to transpire. You had no idea what, but it was bad. if there is one thing you hated most, it would be not knowing what will happen next.

You liked being prepared for everything! Your distressed state made you itch for your ma's presence and her wise words. So the next best thing to feel like she was there was to sing your ma's favourite song. It was a song you had beautiful emotional memories attached to.

Lata ji's masterpiece ‘Lag ja gale’. The song that always left you peaceful.

"What's on your mind, chaand? No cheesy love songs today?" Bucky teased lightly, slightly puzzled by the song choice. Normally, you would sing more happy, sweet love songs when you were in a good mood, not to forget how out of character you acted the entire day.

"Acha? You said you don't like my cheesy songs na, so I thought today I will comply with your wish and not sing my ‘overly romantic, Shona Babu songs.’” You shot back, poking your tongue out as not to worry him. Bucky pouted slightly.

"Arre baba okay now don't pout, I was just joking. I will sing the cheesy songs again tomorrow, right now this song just feels right to me.” Hearing that, Bucky mumbled a quiet yes and snuggled deeper into you, holding you tightly and moving his head ever so slightly to listen to your voice.

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Jaa Gale Ae Ae… (Embrace me, dear, who knows whether or not this beautiful night will ever come again. Maybe in this life we may or may not meet again)

You remember the first time you met Bucky, in Shuri's lab. You were a good friend of Shuri. You were a researcher staying in Wakanda with T'challa's permission and eventually befriended the Princess. The two of you loved to talk about anything and nothing. One day Shuri told you about the Winter soldier staying here in Wakanda. You had heard many things about him, but never had you seen him in the flesh. Till you saw him come into the lab, bruised and eyes swiming full of emotions, but the distraught was the most clear in those blue piercing eyes.

It was at that moment that you had decided you would help him, and try to soothe the aches and scars that had been covering his fragile heart. He was put in the cryo soon after your first encounter, but you couldn't help but think about him often.

Ham Ko Mili Hain Aaj Ye, Ghadiyaan Nasib Se

Ji Bhar Ke Dekh Lijiye, Ham Ko Qarib Se

Phir Aap Ke Nasib Men, Ye Baat Ho Na Ho (I have been given today, this time by destiny. To your hearts content see me closely, who knows, if your destiny, may present this situation again.)

Six months later, Bucky came out of the cryo and on his request, was given a small hut away from the palace in the fields. You often saw him, with his tiny herd of goats. You remember how one tiny goat - which Bucky had endearingly called Steve - was the one who caused you to talk to Bucky. Maybe that's why he was still your favourite goat, afterall he was responsible for giving you the love of your life.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Your phone rang suddenly. Bucky moved his head from your lap as you moved to get the phone, it was your brother who was calling you. It puzzled you, it was nearly midnight in India. "Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." You went numb...The words didn’t make sense, you couldn’t make sense of them... Ma papa? No, no this can't be happening. You...you just talked to your mom a few hours ago! Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, holding you so close. He whispered some words into your ear trying to soothe you. But you couldn’t hear them, your mind just kept repeating your brother’s words inside your head like a mantra. That’s when the tears fell, soaking Bucky’s shirt. You didn’t remember you screamed.

Paas Aaiye Ki Ham Nahin Aaenge Baar-Baar

Baahen Gale Men Daal Ke Ham Ro Le Zaar-Zaar

Aankhon Se Phir Ye Pyaar Ki Barsaat Ho Na Ho (Come closer to me, as I will not be able to come to you every time. Put your arms around me and let us cry our hearts out. Who knows, if our eyes will ever see these tears of love again.)

You couldn’t imagine what you would be without Bucky, your Bucky. He was your rock, You couldn't live a day without him. From the day you confessed your love for each other till today, not a day has gone where he wasn't showering you with love. Even through all his trauma and pain, he did his absolute best to be there for you, his sweet, sweet Y/N.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Remembering the past left you in an emotional mess, you didn't even realise when the waterworks started.

"Chaand? Hey, no shhh why are you crying? Is everything okay? Talk to me."

"Bucky?"

"Haan chaand?"

"Promise me that you will never leave me." You uttered in a broken whisper

"I promise."

He broke that promise. Bucky Barnes broke his promise and left his chaand. It happened so fast, the Avengers fighting Thanos, and suddenly everyone turning into dust.

You felt helpless and scared, numb and cold. what was happening? Bucky had told you to not come out of the palace unless told. He didn't want you to be in harm's way. No, his Y/N was too precious, he can't risk it. You reluctantly agreed, but you weren't of much use on the battlefield anyway. You just hoped your love would return to you very soon.

Steve broke the news, and your whole world collapsed in front of your eyes.

"Steve, no..no it can't be... please tell me you are lying. This isn't the time to joke around! Where is he!?" you couldn't help but scream at him. All your dreams, hopes and future with Bucky shattered. He was gone, in just a snap. It couldn’t be real, this was a sick joke. that had to be it. A sick joke…

But deep inside, you knew it was real. All of it was real. The world around you seemed to crumble, all of it came down, it was as if someone let a glass cup fall and it shattered in a million pieces. Unable to be put back together again…

Now you had no one, no mom and dad, no Bucky...He was your rock wasn't he? He wasn't supposed to go...

After a few days, Steve offered to take you to America with him. The least he could do for his pal was to make sure the girl who had his heart was taken care of. But you couldn't go, it was too painful. Brooklyn will always remind you of Bucky, and you promised him when the time came to go back to his home, you will go together. No, unlike him Y/N L/N knew how to keep her promise.

You went back to India, to start a new life. A miserable one. If only you would have known that the last song you’ve sung to him would come true.

You never sang your mother's favourite song again

Tagging - @spiderrpcrker @a-dragon-under-the-stars @lil-stark @jacquessouvenier @soradragon (I hope you won't mind me tagging you!) And I also hope you liked it :))

Translations (please let me know if I forgot to translate something) -

Chaand - Moon (an affectionate term in this context)

Acha - Really (in this context, it can mean many things otherwise)

"Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." - "Y/N please come fast here, mom and dad were in an car crash, I am so sorry but we couldn't save them" (ma = mom, papa = dad)

Haan - yes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #desi fic #marvel fanfic #Bucky Barnes x desi reader #indian reader #marvel #mcu #idk what other tags to use 🤦

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themousefromfantasyland · 4 years

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The Creatures of Yuletide: The Jultomten

“Midwinter’s nightly frost is hard —

Brightly the stars are beaming;

Fast asleep is the lonely yard,

All, at midnight, are dreaming.

Clear is the moon, and the snow-drifts shine,

Glistening white, on fir and pine,

Covers on rooflets making.

None but the Tomte is waking.”

“Tomten”, Viktor Rydberg

We all know Christmas is a magical time. I’m not joking, Christmas is literally a time of magic. Because of the pagan Winter Solstice celebrations that Christians absorbed into their holiday, the holiday season is a time when multiple creatures, sprites and monsters can roam through the Earth into our homes. Some are peaceful, some are terrifying. Santa is the most popular and modern of these, having roots in the Yule Father himself, Odin. In my last post I talked about the Yule Goat and his connections to the older pagan traditions. Today, I will talk about some holiday sprites that used to travel with him during Christmas time, but later came to replace him almost entirely as a gift-giver in Scandinavian tradition. I’m talking about the Tomte and the Tomtar.

Quick note, these sprites have many names depending on the country, so for convenience sake, I will use the Swedish name and call them Tomte, singular, and Tomtar, plural.

The Tomtar are dwarf-like beings from Scandinavian lore. They are often described as little old men, three feet high, with a long white beard, wearing grey, brown or navy clothes with traditional boots and sporting a bright red cap on their heads.

The name Tomte derives from Swedish word “tomt,” or plot of land, and it means “homestead man”. This reflects their original role as household spirits, similar to the Roman Penates or Di Penates, household deities invoked most often in domestic rituals. The Tomtar were believed to be ancestral spirits of the first farmer to have worked on that plot of land. They were mischievous spirits, responsible for the protection and welfare of a farmstead. They acted more at night, where they were out of sight.

They protected and guarded the house, the properties of the house, the children and the farm animals, especially the much-valued horses. They would work hard to protect the farm, expecting only two things in return, respect, and a bowl of Christmas Porridge with a generous dollop of butter. They often slept under the floorboards during spring and summer and started waking up around the winter solstice. The Julgröt or Christmas porridge was an offer of trust and respect to the Tomte of the household, with butter being a luxury, consumed only on special occasions. It was their payment for the hard work.

As expected from any imp-like creature from European folklore, they can be quite dangerous if their demands are not met. A story tells of a servant girl, that jokingly, hid the butter at the bottom of the bowl. He didn’t kill the girl if this is what you’re thinking, but after not finding the butter, he became so enraged that he slaughtered their best cow. After learning his mistake, he stole a neighbor’s cow to give to the family, as an astonishment for his mistake. I very curious how this played out in the next day 😅

The Tomte is a mischievous spirit, and easily irritated. If you managed on offended him in any way, he could play all kinds of pranks such as binding all cows’ tails together, turning objects upside down or breaking things. Maids or farm workers swearing, dirty outhouses and stables, or not treating creatures well are all things that would incur his disapproval.

Having a Tomte in your farm was a good sign. Clean and orderly homes or farms were an indication that a Tomte spirit resided there. This was, until the Christians arrived and denounced them as demons and false gods. In a 14th century decree by Saint Birgitta of Vadstena warned against “tompta gudhi” or “Tomte gods”. All their worst characteristics were amplified, and instead of pleasing the Tomte, it became your duty as a Christian to lure these evil spirits out. If you were a farmer that was doing far better than the others, your competitors could accuse you of a having a Tomte on your farm, doing "ungodly" work and stealing from the neighbors. This could lead to accusations of witchcraft during the Inquisitions.

The once friendly dwarf-like sprites became evil heathen spirits. In "Tomten", a poem by swedish novelist Viktor Rydberg, describes well all the solitariness that these creatures must felt during these times. In the poem, a Tomte is alone and awake on Christmas night.

This poem along with illustrations from Jenny Nyström saved the public image from the Tomtar. What really captured the imagination were the accompanying illustrations. Nyström’s illustrations offered a new kind of Tomte, a mix between Tomte, Santa Claus and the Yule Goat, who traditionally delivered presents to children in Swedish folklore.

This resulted in a shift in Tomte’s persona. Influenced by the emerging Father Christmas and Santa Claus, a new gift-giver Tomte was born, the Jultomten in Sweden and Julenisse in Norway, who would visit children accompanied by the classic Yule Goat. Later he would steal the goat’s job as a Christmas gift-giver.

Jenny Nyström became one of Sweden’s most productive painters, producing hundreds of illustrations for Christmas cards and magazines. She was able to combine Swedish folklore with uplifting images that appealed to people of all ages. Her Jultomten had a family and nissar, helpers.

Thanks to commercialism, the Jultomten became more and more like the American Santa Claus over the years, as the Jultomten became a single jolly old men in a red suit delivering gifts to children. However, differences still exist between these two figures.

When children write to Father Christmas in Sweden they write to Tomte, not Santa.

The Jultomte lives in a forest nearby.

He doesn't come down the chimney at night, but through the front door, delivering the presents directly to the children, just like the Yule Goat did;

Before he hands over presents he asks, Finns det några snälla barn här? (Are there any good children here?),

He is not overweight;

If he rides a sleigh drawn by reindeer, instead of just walking around with his sack, his reindeers don't fly;

In Sweden, Denmark and Norway some still put out a bowl of porridge for him on Christmas Eve.

The use of the word Tomte in Swedish is now somewhat ambiguous. Often when one speaks of Jultomten (definite article) or Tomten (definite article) one is referring to the more modern version, while if one speaks of Tomtar (plural) or Tomtarna (plural, definite article) one could also likely be referring to the traditional domestic spirits.

In Christmas cards and decorations you still can found the little men from Jenny Nyström's illustrations.

#The Creatures of Yuletide #christmas #holiday season #tomten #tomte #jultomte #scandinavian folklore #swedish folklore #nisse #Scandinavia #Jultomten

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filypadreams · 4 years

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Fleeting Touches

( Asmodeus x GN!MC)

Synopsis: Do you know what fleeting means? It means you should apreciate every moment while you can. Even if you get lost in illusions for it.

TW: Slight angst

_______________________________

The streets were full this time of the year, even with the cold weather. It was a race for most humans to get that last minute gift for that special someone.

Their children, parents, grandparents or significant others. For some reason it's tradition to get that one person a last minute present.

And that's always a disaster...

" Calvin Klein One... with bergamot, cardamom, pineapple and jasmin. Tropical? Or maybe Dolce & Gabanna Velvet Exotic Leather. Traditional and italian... also at good prices, I need to ask if they are antiallergenic! "

I spend 15 minutes on the line but get both perfumes and walk outside onto the sunny street. It's not as busy as the mall and I really should get home before it gets to close to one pm.

Today, faces are a blur to me.

" Thanks for the tip Asmo, I was sick of the strong scents of women perfumes and the always down to earth male ones~"

I cheerfully speak to myself while touching the 'tattoo' above my left breast.

It's a one-way communication system. I'm not even sure Asmodeus hears what I tell him but I sure do hear his thoughts.

" Ohhh, bootie alert at 12! No, wait! Delicious curves at 4- oohh...that's a mix at 9 o'clock~!"

I see a man, woman, I think the last one is in mid transitioning but I'm not sure.

" He'll be a beautiful man, I'm 95% sure!"

" Maybe it's a 'they'... not that you can hear me."

Though I agree, they look...handsome. With a nice physique, curly shoulder lenght hair, smooth skin as if rivalling Asmos' ... and who can resist a dark biker leather jacket?!

No, stop. Don't let the mark influence you from your mission MC!

Setting the christmas gifts.

I start running in the direction of the bus station when I collide with a tall lady, her black shades falling to the ground from her beautiful light pink sweater.

My head hurts. It felt like hitting a brick wall...or Beel.

Are my only thoughts as I scramble to pick her glasses and my shopping bag. Good thing it was well packed.

"Oh my~ I'm so sorry, I didn't notice such a beautiful face in this crowd. I was retoutching my eyeliner, huhu! Let me help~"

The lady crouches down next to me. I notice from the corner of my eyes that she is also wearing a black turtle neck... and has peach coloured hair...

" Asmo?!"

Darkness. A cold hand covers my eyes while the other takes the shades from mine and exchanges them with my bags...it seems. He whispers is my ear.

" Now, now. Don't ruin the surprise! I'm just a beautiful 'lady'. Hahaha."

And with that he dissapears. Everything seems to dissapear, as soon it gets dark and I'm sitted in my couch, replaying today's event.

It felt so real... I called him a lady.

Well... I don't think Asmodeus minds.

I walk around the tree, putting down colorfully wrapped gifts. That I went purposely to markets and malls to have wrapped!

Diavolo better play Santa and give me some grimm if I ever get an invite to Devildom, I blew most of my allowances with these!

On the blue corner I have vynil disks and office supplies. Getting stuff for Lucifer is hard.

The yellow corner... is a mess of acessories like shades and wristwatches and some jackets. Mammon needs a new one.

The orange corner was the cheapest but most difficult to prepare. I wrapped most of my otaku related rarities, in Devildom at least, and put them in a pile. Levi better apreciate my figurines!

The green pile was also simple. It's actually small with my old literature books. All from great authors and all trying to escape religious judgement so Satan might find that amusing.

I don't have a red corner, just baked goods on the table and two glasses of milk in case Santa visits.

I put purple pillows, warm robes, matresses and scarves around the tree. Belphie won't lose comfort soon.

And now finishing the pink corner.

There's the perfumes, some cosmetics I really don't get but my 'chest instinct' said to go ahead and...

" I hope he likes this fluffy bunny backpack!"

I kinda wanted the bunny for myself... but I can't.

The day went on so fast... why am I even doing this? Might as well call Solomon and offer him these so he can perform his rituals. I'll just wake up tomorrow to a full room of wasted money and a mountain of calories. An empty heart.

I caress the bunny when i hear rustling on my door. Something is playing with my wreath? I pick a knife from the dinning table.

" W-who's there?! Show yourself fiend!"

" Aww, that hurts to hear MC-chan..."

From the darkness into the light walks the same person I crashed into this morning.

" You better drop that knife before someone gets hurt..."

" How...Asmo, how are you here?! Why?!!"

Tears come to my eyes. It's been a while. A long while since I've seen any of them. Since I've had slumber parties with Asmodeus, self care sessions...

He shakes his head cleaning the few teardrops away with the back of his index finger and walks to the tree, messing with the gifts.

" Tears don't suit you well. Oh, you even got something for Barbatos... I'm slightly jealous, I thought you only thought about me~"

He starts opening his gifts.

" Wait! It's not even Christmas Eve. We need to wait until midnight at least..."

As I try to explain, his taller stature hovers over me, playing with my hair and putting a mistletoe, secure in it's knots. Wait... how is he so tall? The height difference is too abnormal.

" I'm afraid the concept of time doesn't apply in dreams, MC."

" H-huh?! Wha... the day... went on really fast. So you..."

I look down slightly dissapointed. The floor starts cracking and falling. Darkness and constelations starting to form under my feet.

" Afraid not. Christmas is not really part of our traditions, haha. Even if we had a great celebration that one time Diavolo proposed we did it with the exchange students.

I like the angel."

He points to the tree top.

" Oh, that... I was thinking of Beel and Belphie when I made the decision. It's my oldest decoration. I was thinking on putting a star this year but... I got a literal gut feeling to keep the angel."

I smirk at Asmodeus as he puts an arm around my shoulders, leaning me a little closer to him. We both apreciate the flashing lights from the tree. Even if it was fake. The rest of the room crumbles away and Asmo let's go of me to pick his gifts and stuffing them inside his new backpack.

" I know he was thinking of the only person that shines as bright as us two together.

Hmm, but you haven't been taking good care of yourself, MC-chan! Remember to follow the morning routine I gave you so your skin is almost as perfect as mine!"

" I haven't been feeling like...doing much I guess. I had a lot of work this year."

" Humans are always full of work. I mean me too.

Since RAD is closed for the 'holidays', we are back to our other jobs. Things get dirty real fast, so many pests! Maybe we can actually come visit during New Year's."

After apreciating the representation if Lilith, he turns to berate me, before picking a bottle of perfurm and examining it, followed by spraying some on while making a spin as he explains his bodyguard/demon threat exterminator job.

He must have loved it because he transforms, with a smile on his face and his horns move like pincers.

" I always found your demon form the funniest."

" ...Dear, I'm fabulous."

" Hahahahaha! Ok, but if this isn't a Diavolo, Barbatos or Lucifer' scheme... is it Belphegor's? You mentioned dreams, and it explains the constelations."

I look around, darkness being drilled by the light of many tiny stars.

" I think I see taurus... and of course he had ro include pisces. Mammon is supposed to be the greedy one, this is OUR moment!"

He huffes and crosses his arms. I chuckle and pat his back.

" So, I'm asleep at the same time as Belphie."

" It's night time in both worlds. You could say I'm an intruder. I was taking my immersive nightly bath as I prepared to get into your dreams~ I hope I didn't actually fall asleep, my poor skin!"

" How did you convince him?"

I wonder as he touches his arm and the parts of revealed skin as if to feel if something was wrong with his real body.

" Oh, well...he actually wanted to see you to! I also promised to take more cute pictures of Lucifer for him. But I don't think he admires his beauty the same way I do-"

The world trembles. Belphie must be waking up. And angry...

" Oh, dear! I must have upset him. This illusion will end soon and you'll wake up in your bed as if nothing happened. I hope you don't forget me."

Asmo walks closer and caresses my face. Kissing my forehead.

It's warm. Fleeting but I can feel his gestures. Even in a dream.

I slap his hand when I feel it sliding down my back a little too far.

" Ouch! My nail...ok, ok. I'm sorry! Won't happen again~"

He apologises when making contact with my burning stare and proceeds to act innocently after.

" It better not. I... think it will be difficult to forget you. Specially now. Make sure the others know-! Ahh!!!"

Another quake and I "conveniently" fall in his arms. I'm able to see his pixie sized wings batting in excitement.

" This is a cliché."

I mumble as Asmo wraps his arms around me.

" I need to go. I'm sure we'll see each other soon. You know I'll always be here. Literally. And I do hear you, you know?"

He pokes his mark, above my heart and pouts.

" ...I know... see you soon Asmo."

I pick his hand and kiss it.

Then I wake up. It's still the middle of the night. My room is cold.

There on my window sill are two roses. One peach and one dark pink.

The End

______________________________

Special dedicatory to: @shortnessangel

and @asmoluvsyou .

Bunny Backpack comes from: https://kawaiibabe.com/products/creepy-bun-backpack

(Curiosities: The perfumes are gender neutral, I can still link you the page where I found them.

The colour of the roses have a specific meaning. I can post the pic I got it from if you want.)

#obey me #obey me fic #asmodeus x gn!mc #asmodeus obey me #gn!mc #gn reader #slight angst #shikibutterfly

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huilian · 4 years

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Summary: Five times the ruby earrings changed hands, featuring: the Queen Thief thieving, Gen wrecking havoc with his siblings, a raging at the gods™ episode, an obligatory palace sneaking scene, and finally, Gen’s kids wrecking havoc (with Gen).

The woman her father was courting was wearing ruby earrings, and she hated it. She always knew which items her father had stolen, even if she sometimes didn’t understand why, and these earrings bear the mark of her father’s hands.

This time, however, she could guess the reason her father had gifted that earring to this woman. In the year since her mother had died, her father had courted three different women. To give his children a mother, he had said, but she knew better.

None of the Thief’s current children were named after him and his god. None of the Thief’s current children fated to become the next Thief of Eddis.

Not even her.

She knew she had the god’s favour. Cleverness and skill she had in spades, more than any of her siblings, and when she jumped from roof to roof, she could feel the god’s hands guiding her. But she was not named after him, and so she would not be the next Thief.

She used to hate it, as a child. She would steal as many things as she dared, and she would place every single one of them on Eugenides’s altar, praying that the god would choose her to be the next Thief, if she showed him her skill and persistence. She gained a reputation that way, of being a thief as prolific, if not yet as formidable, as her father.

Her name still remained Vassilissa. The Thief of Eddis was chosen by the gods, and no one could change their decision.

She had learned to accept it, even if sometimes, when she placed her offerings on Eugenides’s altar, she wanted to scream and rage at the god. It’s not unheard of that the blessing from the God of Thieves skipped a generation.

She knew. She had checked every single record.

But her father would not stop trying. Since her birth, her mother had had two still-births, several miscarriages, and then finally, last year, had lost her life on the birthing bed, delivering yet another still-birth. Before the pyre had even cooled, her father had searched for a new wife.

Vassi had driven off the first two women easily. They were a regular at the court of Eddis, and when they realized that their belongings had disappeared and reappeared on the altar of Eugenides, they knew what it meant.

This one, however, was not a regular at the court, and no matter how many of her jewelry went missing, she did not catch the hint. She had stayed long enough for her father to give her the ruby earrings, and that brought Vassi back to this situation.

She had to steal it. The earrings. But no doubt her father had known about her part in driving off the last woman he had courted--He thought it was simple jealousy. For all the bragged about his mind being his best asset, sometimes her father could be exceedingly foolish--, and would do everything in his power to keep her from driving this one too.

Vassi didn’t mind. She loved the challenge.

In the end, it wasn’t even that hard. Whenever the earrings weren’t being worn, it would be under the guard of her father. The simple solution, then, was to steal them when they were being worn. A shy smile to the woman her father courted, a framing of her request to speak alone as a child who would like to know her future step-mother better, and a span of twenty seconds were all she needed. She showed up to the next court session with the ruby earrings on her own ears, carrying herself with all the grace of a queen.

They called her Queen Thief, then. A thief as formidable as her own father.

Her father courted no more women after that.

***

Temenus ran with all the speed he had in his body, cursing his siblings all the way, from Xenia to Euphemia to Iris and Penelope, to Alexis and all the way to Stenides.

Xenia had stolen their mother’s ruby earrings last week. Why, Temenus didn’t know, but that started the chaos. Mother had stolen the earrings back, of course, but chaos, like the waters of the Arachtus, cannot be stopped when it has started its journey.

Like clockwork, the day after Mother had gotten them back, Euphemia stole them from her. And then Iris had taken them from Euphemia. Which was then followed by Penelope stealing them from Iris. By that time, it had become the nightly entertainment for the court, to see which one of the women from the Minister of War’s family would show up wearing the ruby earrings.

And then Mother had stolen them back, again, and Stenides, sweet, sweet Stenides, had decided that it’s not fair that only the women could play, and told Temenus his intent to steal the earrings himself. Before Temenus could tell him what a horrible idea that was, his brother had dared him to steal the earrings too.

He had to accept. He should have known that it was futile to resist the call of chaos, especially when his mother was at the very center of it.

He cursed again, this time focusing the worst of it on Stenides. Why had his brother dared him to do it? And whose idea was it to measure a man’s courage by the insane bets he took?

The ruby earrings, rattling together in his pocket as Temenus ran, weighed down his leg with every step he took. The image of his mother, grinning delightedly as she caught him taking her earrings, weighed down the other one.

She had come into the room as he had closed the jewelry box. He expected her to take the earrings back immediately, but instead, she had smiled and lifted up her hand, all five fingers splayed out. Temenus had felt his body relax at the sight, but then, she bent one finger, leaving only four splayed out.

Temenus knew exactly what that meant. He pocketed the earrings and ran as fast as he could, leaving the false key he had used to open the jewelry box in the first place.

“Why are you running?”

The voice caused Temenus to jump. He looked around, searching for the source of the voice, but found no one. Then, his mind connected the voice to a face, and he looked up.

“Because I have Mother’s earrings in my pockets,” he told his youngest brother.

Eugenides gave him a shrug. “Then why run? She’d find you anyway.”

That was true, but Temenus was not going to say that.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m your brother, that’s why.”

“So should I go help Stenides?” Gen asked, voice full of the same mischief that decorated their mother’s face when she saw Temenus holding her earrings. Truly, Gen was their mother’s child, more than anyone else, though Xenia certainly tried.

“If you don’t want to help me, then don’t,” Temenus spitted out. He has no time to argue with his youngest brother. Either Gen would help him or not, nothing he said would sway the boy from his decision. Temenus took one more deep breath, preparing himself to run again. Gen was right, he wouldn’t be able to run from Mother forever, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

Before he could run, however, Gen dropped down from the tree he was sitting on and smiled up at him. “I’ll help,” he said, the picture of innocence.

Temenus knew better than to trust the innocent face, but he had no choice. He took Gen’s hand and let his brother lead him through the courtyard and to the hidden passageways of the palace of Eddis.

When they were already so deep into the passageways that Temenus had no idea where they were, he turned around and saw that Eugenides was gone. Cursing, he put his hand into his pockets.

They were empty.

***

Eugenides looked up to the altar of his namesake, and clenched the ruby earrings tighter in his hands. He had stolen the earrings from his mother’s jewelry box just three days earlier, intending to present them to her with a smile and a glib comment about losing her touch.

She didn’t lose her touch, but she did lose her step, and the earrings stayed in his pocket throughout the funeral ritual and pyre.

The altar of Eugenides sparkled with the offerings from generations of Thieves. Near the front, Gen could see the fibula pins that were his grandfather’s offering, and scattered between them, the earrings that were his mother’s.

The ruby earrings burned in his hand.

A thief would only fall if her god drops her. So either Eugenides had dropped his mother, or…

“Or you don’t exist,” Gen said to the silent altar. He knew the sentence is heresy, especially said inside Hephestia’s temple, in front of her half-brother’s altar. But the other option was that Eugenides had dropped her. Eugenides had dropped his mother.

Gen clenched down even tighter on the ruby earrings, their points leaving indentations into his palm. Then, with a last look on the altar, he pocketed the earrings and turned around.

His grandfather’s words rang in his ears. Send a prayer as you start your work, send a prayer after you finish it, and leave a gift once a month on the altar of Eugenides. Gen had placed a gift on the altar this month, and he would do so again next month. The gods did not exist, or even if they did, they do not have any interest in lowly mortals such as themselves. But it would not do to abandon the tradition. He would leave a gift on the altar of Eugenides next month, just not these earrings.

Let the god of thieves have other earrings as gifts. This one, Gen would keep for himself.

***

With one hand outstretched, Gen carefully moved the velvet case containing the headband of the Queen of Attolia. She was beautiful, as she always was whenever Gen climbed into her chambers to look at her. Her face was expressionless, as it also always was, but in sleep, the lack of expression gave her a peaceful look, instead of the uncaring mask she wore whenever she wakes.

She suited the ruby inlaid in her headband marvelously. She would suit the earrings marvellously as well.

He had had the earrings remodelled, the design on the gold surrounding the ruby made to match the design on her headband. No one had asked what became of his mother’s ruby earrings after she died, and when he brought it to the goldsmith to be remodelled, the goldsmith did not recognize the earrings.

That was just as well.

The points on the earrings still left indentations on his hand. Gently, he opened his fist and placed the earrings, positioning them so that they are exactly next to the case.

Moonlight entered the windows of the queen’s chambers, dousing her features and softening them, making her look less like the stone statues of Hephestia and more like the girl who had danced under the orange trees, years and years ago. Eugenides wished that he could make her look like this all the time, and not just when she’s sleeping.

He stepped closer to the bed, drinking in the sight of her. A voice inside him urged him to reach out, to tangle his hand on her hair, but the more sensible voice inside him, one trained by years and years of practicing his trade, told him that to do so would be the most foolish thing he had ever done in a life full of doing foolish things.

He did not reach out. He stayed where he was, looking to the Queen of Attolia, watching as she drew in breath after breath. When the moonlight had dimmed, signalling that dawn was fast approaching, he nudged the earrings one last time, arranging them so that they looked as pleasing next to the case as he could, and climbed out of the queen’s chambers.

It would be foolish to think that the queen would wear his earrings, but then again, he made a living out of doing foolish things.

***

“My King,” Attolia said, not moving from where she was seated as her attendants did her hair. By now her attendants knew well enough the antics of her husband, and did not think if out of the ordinary that the queen was speaking to what seemed to be empty air. “Do you know where my ruby earrings are?”

Materializing out of nowhere, Attolis replied, “I thought they’re in your jewelry box?”

“They were,” his wife answered. “They are not anymore.”

Waving the attendants out of his way, Attolis made his way to the queen and placed the last of the pins in her hair. He took one look at the box, which was currently laid out on the queen’s dressing table for her to choose which jewels she would like to wear today. The ruby earrings were not the grandest of the jewelry inside the box, but they were very conspicuous in their absence.

“Oh,” the king breathed out. “She does grow bold.”

“Your Highness,” Costis called out to the seemingly empty tree in the courtyard of the palace of Attolia. “Please come down.”

No response.

“Your Highness,” he tried again.

This time, a small face appeared from between the leaves. “Shh, Costis!” the princess of Attolia said. “You’re going to get us caught!”

“Your Highness,” Costis said again, flashing back to all the times he had done this for the king. “I’m sure there is no one who would want to catch you.”

Just as he said that, however, another small figure appeared out of nowhere. “Nia!” the prince of Attolia cried out as he ran towards his sister. How he managed to evade the squad of guards assigned to guard him, Costis would never know. The same way his sister escaped hers, he supposed. “You have it!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do! Why else are you in a tree?”

The princess changed her tactics immediately, the same way Costis had once seen Attolis do. “So what if I do?”

“You said we would get them together!” Hector protested.

“You’re too slow!” his sister retorted back.

“I’m not! You just keep leaving me!”

“If you can’t keep up, then you’re too slow, Hector,” Attolis said from somewhere behind Costis. Costis did not relax though. Not yet. It was always a toss on whether Attolis would curb his children’s behaviour or give them pointers on how to escape their flustered guards and caretakers running behind them.

Well, not really. Mostly the king would give pointers.

“And you don’t leave anyone behind, Eugenia,” the king continued, walking past Costis to the base of the tree. “A good companion is rare for a thief. You must take care of them.” He tilted his head up, and Eugenia, without even looking, jumped down to her father’s waiting arms.

“He’s too slow,” the princess said again. Hector, who had placed himself next to his father, complained. Loudly.

The king let out a snort of amusement. Ignoring the complaints from his son, he extended his hand towards the princess raised an eyebrow.

Scowling, the princess reached into her pockets and took out a pair of ruby earrings. Costis felt his eyes grow wide. Those are the queen’s ruby earrings, the pair that she wore more than any other earrings. There were many rumours surrounding that pair of earrings, and Costis was privileged enough to know that some of them did have a basis in truth.

Costis expected the king to pocket the earrings himself, but, as always, Attolis’s actions could not be predicted. He pulled the princess close and put the earrings on her ears, navigating them easily even with one hand.

Costis would never tire of watching his king doing things that never should have been possible with one hand.

After the earrings were in place, Eugenides brushed a hair out of her daughter’s face and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then, after a shriek of protest, smiled and did the same for his son. The children then talk over each other, both of them eager to tell their father about the adventures they had today.

From his place behind his king and the princess and prince, Costis stood watch.

#queen's thief #eugenides #attolia irene #the forbidden sisters #(this is going to be a tag)#temenus #queen thief #costis ormentiedes #eugenia #hector #lian writes #rott #rott spoilers #return of the thief spoilers

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work-life-harmony · 3 years

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Harmony Journal/Blog Posts

9/8/21

“I Stress, Eustress, We All Stress”

It is two days past my 42nd birthday and the eve before the start of another school year. And I anticipate it is going to be a year like no other. There is a tremendous amount of uncertainty that I am feeling at the moment. Personally, I am in the thick of things trying to raise my twelve year-old daughter and blend ourselves with my fiancee and her two children. It has not been easy. My daughter has dealt with anxiety ever since she was little. Her mom passed away two months after her second birthday and it’s hard to know whether her personality has been shaped in part because of the void my wife’s passing created. Now that she is entering adolescence, a certain alchemy of anxiety, anger, and depression has yielded some chaos in our household.

That the pandemic happened to coincide with the time in her life where she is feeling the hardest is unfortunate. Did the lockdown and disruption to our lives exacerbate her feelings of anxiety and anger? It’s probably a safe bet that it did. So that has been a major area of concern and frustration for me.

On the professional side of things, although last year was difficult for many teachers, and I certainly had my frustrations, I was in a fairly good place mentally. There were some aspects to the school year that I actually found novel and enjoyed, such as the ability to sleep later, roll out of bed and teach from my kitchen table. Conversely, the new routine allowed me to develop some habits that were not healthy, including daily rituals such as making and drinking light and sweet coffee and having a serving or two of ice cream nightly between dinner and bed. Furthermore, I seemed to become a slave to my phone. Although I’ve had the willpower to delete apps such as Facebook off of my phone in the past, the last few years I became addicted to the news...and Instagram...and checking my email. One concerning consequence of the pandemic is that I’ve lost my concentration stamina. If I start something, particularly work related, it only takes a few minutes before I feel compelled to get up and do something else, even just for a half minute. Of course this breaks my rhythm of work and I’m unable to achieve any kind of flow. And, worse, sometimes I find that I mean to do something, such as check the weather, but when I open up a tab to do it, I have completely lost what I meant to do when I opened the tab. Scary!

With the start of the new school year, I intend to turn over a new leaf so to speak by approaching different aspects of my professional and personal life with an eye towards my well-being: physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. The forthcoming journal entries will chronicle the conscious changes that I am making in order to foster more harmony in my life and a stronger sense of well-being. Part of that will be my investment in activities that help me achieve a sense of flow, including but not limited to music, reading, and immersing myself in nature.

9/16/21

“Time In a Bottle”

As the school year has started, the typical looseness of my summer days has come to an abrupt end. However, there are some benefits to the structure of my school days. My body has started to adjust to my new routine, and although the school day seems to necessitate a routine, there are conscious choices that I’m making to build a healthy daily schedule. I am up at 5:30 on weekday mornings and in bed reading by 10 pm, a major shift from previous school years in which I would stay up until 11 or later watching television before hopping in bed to fall asleep. Although I’m still adjusting to this new routine (as the school year is still young), I am recognizing an easier relationship with waking up in the morning. As noted in the course, avoiding screens before bedtime contributes to a better sleep and I am finding that I am waking up more rested and ready to meet the day.

An interesting stressor at the start of the school year, before my body has fully adopted the new schedule, is my anxiety that I will somehow miss my morning alarm. I’m the first one in the house who is up in the morning, and no one is coming to wake me in time for my early day if my alarm fails me. Thus, the first week (or two) of the school year leave me sleeping lightly and somewhat anxiously. I continue to add measures into my routine, such as meditation and muscle relaxation practices to help ease my mind. Additionally, I have quieted my mind before falling asleep by acknowledging the things that I am grateful for. This will be touched upon in more depth in a forthcoming journal entry, but there is tremendous value in gratitude. Lori Santos, a renowned professor at Yale University who teaches the highly sought course “The Science of Well-Being,” acknowledged in an article for Newsweek Magazine, “Grateful people tend to be happier and show lower levels of stress hormones like cortisol. Health care workers who keep a gratitude journal show reductions in stress and depression. And people suffering from chronic pain who practice gratitude show improvements in both sleep quality and mood” (Santos). It has become an important strategy for me to ease the chronic stress and anxiety of life which gets exacerbated at the start of a new school year.

With each day, it does become easier to sleep peacefully and I suspect that soon my eyes will open a minute before my alarm rings. I am also pleased to report that rising before the sun comes up has been easier than in years past. Typically, trying to get out of bed in the dark has always been difficult and miserable. Of course, it may return to misery as winter sets in and leaving a warm bed is a shock to the system, but for now I am happy to report that the newly adopted schedule for this school year is working well.

On a more professional side of things, I have been working on my planning as it regards daily obligations. For instance, the adoption of daily to-do lists has helped me to stay better focused on items that need attention; efficient about tending to, and completing, those items; and avoid being frazzled like I have been in the past because the ideas bounce around my brain but have not been concrete since they aren’t visibly posted somewhere. The morning ritual of composing a daily to-do list has really been beneficial for me. An example of items that I’ve included on lists include: grade seven essays today, photocopy “Heroes” article, email Nina’s guidance counselor, drop two books in Mari’s mailbox, hit the supermarket with grocery list, and call the car dealership. Furthermore, I’ve been diligent about staying on top of the “house calendar” to not only make sure that all family events are noted on the calendar, but also to consult the calendar every day as part of my daily routine to see what obligations members of the household have that day and in the near future. This is an indispensable part of our lives and internal harmony. For instance, my daughter’s “picture day” is tomorrow. Since it is listed on the calendar, we can save ourselves stress and frustration by potentially being caught off guard that pictures are being taken tomorrow. Heaven forbid my daughter arrive at school with no inkling that it is picture day, likely exacerbating her stress/anxiety because she feels unprepared. These measures have been part of my process for winning back time and peace of mind.

With that in mind, it is going to be a school long objective to work on organization skills with my students. In particular, I have two sections of remedial sophomore English classes. A good percentage of these students have IEPS or other individualized plans to help them be successful in their high school classes. It is not uncommon to see a personalized modification that revolves around breaking down big concepts and keeping them on task. For this reason, we’ve established a routine of taking out binders/notebooks at the start of every class period. They need reminders, but it is with the purpose of establishing healthy and productive habits that they can carry with them for a lifetime.

9-19-21

“Love May Know No Bounds, But a Teacher Better Set Some”

The financial wizard Warren Buffet has been quoted, “The difference between successful people and really successful people is that really successful people say no to almost everything." While there’s probably a bit of overstatement to Buffet’s claim, one can’t deny that from an “American Dream” point of view that he is considered a success. Thus, there must be some truth behind his words which reinforce the Module 3 concept of boundary-setting. With the rise of technology, be it e-mail or Google classroom, students have greater accessibility to their teachers. In fact, everyone has greater accessibility to teachers. Compounded by the fact that part of last year was taught remotely, the boundaries of the school day almost ceased to exist. Fortunately, the summer has been a quiet time to turn away from professional demands, but with the new school year upon us, I feel it is going to be important to counter the feeling of always being tied to work. For this reason, boundary-setting is going to be a priority for me. My first concern is to establish that I will not be addressing professional inquiries/issues on weekends or days off. Of course, this will be somewhat of a test at the start of the school year because I’m also conscious of the anxiety that arises when my inbox fills up with issues that need attention. But branching off of the time-management piece of the puzzle, I hope to create effective solutions in my approach to time and boundaries.

When I started my career as a teacher, I recall a colleague noting that teaching is a twelve month job condensed down to ten months. Thus, the school day doesn’t truly end with the last bell. There is much to get done between planning, grading, and tending to all of the extra aspects of teaching. Even as a veteran teacher, it is virtually impossible to complete all of my professional needs during school hours. In fact, the demands of being a school teacher may feel endless at times. This is why it is so important to set boundaries. Granted, when you have children of your own, as I do, priorities tend to shift. But, even so, most caring teachers yearn to give 110% to their schools and students. The phrase that comes to mind when that happens is “slave to your work.” This is a recipe for stress and potential unhappiness, so it becomes incumbent upon teachers to set boundaries and strike a balance between personal and professional life. This school year, I feel I’ve done a nice job of making my nights and weekends sacred. I use my time at school effectively and efficiently, shying away from distractions that keep me from being as productive as possible during school hours. I have even established practices with classes that have helped in this regard. For instance, I have designated Friday as an independent reading day for my basic skills classes. While this is productive for them because it creates an environment that they can do sustained reading of literature that they choose, it also affords me time to catch up on grading and plan for the following week (which would otherwise be happening during my weekend). The items that I am not able to get to during the school day are addressed during my time at home, but I believe that I am approaching it in a more thoughtful way. On weekend mornings, I’ve been waking up early as my body adjusts to my 5:30 wakeup routine during the week. So when I’m up for an hour before the rest of the house, I can attack the items that I didn’t get to during the week. Needless to say, my approach this year has left me feeling a better sense of control over my professional duties.

9-22-21

“Shake It Off”

Several years ago the topic du jour in school districts across the country was resilience or grit. This was pre-pandemic. As a concept, it hasn’t gotten the same attention as of late, but that does not undercut the importance of resilience and the tools we need to develop in order to persevere. As noted in Module 3, a growth mindset plus stamina equals achievement. As part of my journey to better living, particularly during the stressful pandemic, I have landed on, and dedicated myself to, several areas which follow:

Developing habits of self care and compassion for others

As we went into lockdown and found ourselves somewhat trapped in our homes, particularly during the fall and winter, it was easy to lose the habits of self-care that had been so natural in our daily lives. I have consciously made an effort to develop better habits of self care since taking this course. Namely, my diet and sleep have been areas of focus. My daily diet looks something like:

-Greek yogurt with granola and fresh berries for breakfast

-A greens, apple, avocado, grilled chicken and blue cheese salad for lunch

-Apple slices, banana, flavored almonds, and/or pretzel & hummus for an afternoon snack

-Dinner varies, but is typically home-cooked and avoids red meat

Prior to this conscious change, I had no real dietary routine and I recognized the impact it was having on me physically and mentally. I was leaning hard into sugar and caffeine; beyond the damage it was doing to my body, it was adversely affecting my sleep habits. Now, however, committed to taking better care of myself, I am cognizant of the synergistic benefits of self-care, especially when times are tough.

Another area of focus, and one often taken for granted in our well-being, is the power of authentic socializing with others. While I was lucky to have a full house made up of my fiancee and our three kids which helped me not feel starved for close, authentic social interaction, I still was not feeling completely edified. Making sure to nurture my relationships, especially with students and colleagues, brings a greater sense of gratification from meaningful interaction. For instance, last school year, I noticed that one aspect of my school day that was glaringly absent was laughter. Whether it stems from banter with colleagues or the shenanigans that carry on with a loose and happy classroom of students, last year punctuated how important laughter is on the psyche. In fact, a line from one of my favorite novels, Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, emphasizes the deep importance of laughter when the protagonist, McMurphy, remarks, “Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.” While social distancing may have made us inclined to shrink away from people, so much has been lost by cocooning ourselves. A tremendous part of our mental health is the release we get when laughing. I have reinvested in that and it has led to the next area of well-being and resilience:

Building a network of positivity

As an extension of that investment into relationships is the support system of those who help to buoy me. While we know that misery often loves company, we should also recognize that happiness is augmented through company as well. One of the better pieces of wisdom that I ever found from a fortune cookie fortune was “Joy shared is doubled; grief shared is halved.” (Does one need to create an APA citation for fortune cookies? Ha!) We certainly are better off building a mindset of positivity. It can be infectious. And although as the school year neared I was having grim thoughts about what was in store for us, my network of people which includes friends, colleagues, and even students have helped me navigate to a place of harmony. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy and our brains can be unkind and counterproductive. And sometimes we lose our way which also takes a toll on our sense of being. That’s why anyone will be better off:

Finding Purpose

Yesterday, I was catching up with my best friend from childhood. I asked how his mother was doing since she retired three years ago from her position as an anesthesiologist. My friend’s response was, “She’s deteriorating.” Granted, this is a woman in her 70s, and time can be cruel. (My fiancee told me last night that she saw a shirt for sale online that said, “My favorite childhood memory is my back not hurting.”) But the real point of my friend’s words is that once she lost her daily purpose of getting up at 5:30 and doing meaningful work, she became aimless and lost the person that she had been for most of her lifetime.

Finding purpose is an important element to the senior curriculum I teach as the literature we read in my ELA class forces us to confront the universal themes of purpose and identity. So much of self-understanding and drive derives from the things that we do.

Perhaps the best figure to explore the value of purpose is the mythological figure of Sisyphus. You may know him as the guy who rolls the rock up the hill. That’s his identity, because that’s what he does. He is suffering eternal punishment for angering the gods, and they have determined that there is nothing worse than this act of futility. When Sisyphus completes his task and gets the rock to the top of the mountain, it just rolls back to the other side and he has to collect the rock again and repeat. Ad nauseum. However, the French absurdist writer Albert Camus examines Sisyphus as a representation of the everyman. We all roll our metaphorical rocks only to watch those acts be undone. We make our beds in the morning. Wash our dishes. Mow the lawn. Go to work. Day after day after day. And ultimately, we suffer for no greater good. However, Camus acknowledges that Sisyphus overcomes his torment if he has his own purpose to the seemingly futile act. When he steps up to the rock with his own personal motivation, or purpose, then it’s not a punishment. That’s the value of purpose.

Fortunately, the profession of education naturally provides purpose as we invest in our students. And beyond that, I have invested in music and relationships. These areas of my life have certainly been instrumental in creating a sense of direction and happiness.

Finally, I believe in:

Continuing to learn, experiment, and grow

Recently, a colleague noted how much she loved being a student and learning. She pointed out that if she could be a student for the rest of her life, she would do it in a heartbeat. I feel somewhat similar. And one of the best aspects of being in the world of education is that I’m consistently being exposed to new ideas and ways of thinking that have satisfied an aspect of my personality that yearns for knowledge.

When the world came to a screeching halt in the spring of 2020, eager to quench my desire to improve my knowledge and skills, I found just what I was looking for online. After some searches for guitar instruction on the internet, I stumbled upon a fellow with a channel on youtube that has been somewhat life-changing. His avuncular disposition and clear explanation of guitar theory has helped me to become a better guitarist and feel a newfound confidence in my playing. Upon reflection, I’m happy that I dedicated myself to improving my skills because it has paid great dividends and underscores the value of knowledge, experimentation and growth.

I feel lucky that a few of the ideas noted above are organically interwoven into the life of an English literature teacher.

9-26-21

“The smell of gratitude” - Sensory Awareness, Attitude and Thankfulness

Yesterday, I stepped outside in the morning and immediately recognized that it was a glorious day. An early morning autumn chill was in the air (my favorite time of year), and the sun dappled the earth through its magnificent golden rays. Shortly after breakfast, the family hopped in the car and headed north to Warwick, NY. When we reached our destination, my fiancee and the kids hopped out and spent an hour on an alpaca farm while I drove into Sugar Loaf, the neighboring hippie town. There, I walked along the main drag in the middle of town and basked in the sunshine between dropping into the different stores. After picking the family up, we drove back into town and had a delicious lunch before heading home mostly along back roads that traced the shore of a lake that crosses the boundary between NY and NJ. It was sensational; the only thing that could have made it better is if the foliage had started to turn.

Days and moments experienced, like yesterday’s outing, force me to return to the lyrics of Neil Peart whose words echo from his band, Rush’s, wonderful song “Time Stand Still”:

Freeze this moment

A little bit longer

Make each sensation

A little bit stronger

Experience slips away...

Time stand still

Of course, time doesn’t stand still, so it becomes necessary for us to savor the big and little moments of our lives. Akin to the Scottish poet Robert Burns’ remark in his poem, “To a Mouse”:

I backward cast my e’e,

On prospects drear!

An’ forward tho’ I canna see,

I guess an’ fear!

We are so busy worrying about our past and futures that we forget to live in the present. With this in mind, I’ve been practicing the art of savoring. Right now, as I write, there is the wonderful aroma of pumpkin muffins in the air. This morning, I relished the hot water pouring down when I took a shower. And even though I’m allergic to animals, I still felt and savored the buttery softness of the teddy bears made with alpaca fur that the kids got when they were at the farm.

There are many areas of our lives to be more present and “tune into” in order to achieve a deeper appreciation for the present moment and increase our happiness and well-being. And, following the advice from the Harmony course to spend time in nature, I find this to be the best time of year to do such a thing. Thus, I have been spending extra time outdoors, smelling the autumnal air and savoring the beauty of the natural world. Fortunately, I’ve had the pleasure of teaching Romantic writers whose ideology turned away from the harsh, cold logic of the Age of Reason and towards the wonders of the natural world and the emotions of humankind. Several poems I teach underscore the value of nature; perhaps no poet celebrates the natural world more than William Wordsworth. He characterizes the peace found in nature when he says in “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey:

how oft—

In darkness and amid the many shapes

Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir

Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,

Have hung upon the beatings of my heart—

How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,

O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,

How often has my spirit turned to thee!

I, too, have looked to nature, both literally and figuratively, to counterbalance the “fever of the world.” I will continue to do so, especially on these glorious autumn days. And in times when I cannot be out in nature, my spirit can still turn to it and find some internal peace with recollections of how sublime Mother Nature can be.

9-29-21

Crisis - “A season to build resiliency”

The subheading to this journal entry comes from an Edutopia article written by Jessica Cabeen, “How School Leaders Can Frame Tough Decisions.” It’s certainly an optimistic mindset in relation to times of struggle or outright crises. Entering my seventeenth year in education, I could never have predicted what the state of education was going to be over the past few years if I had never lived it. If we are to understand “crises” as events that cause us to change our routines and threaten our safety, the pandemic certainly fits the bill.

I’ve had a few other crises since becoming a teacher. The most recent one was a crisis wrought and then averted by Mother Nature right as this school year was beginning. When Hurricane Ida swept up the eastern coast of the US, those of us in the metropolitan area had no real warning about the amount of water that the storm was going to dump on us. At around 8:30 pm, I went into my basement to see streams of water pouring through the basement walls soaking the basement floor as the sump pump struggled to keep up with the quickly rising water table. Ten years prior, I had a similar experience with Hurricane Irene. (It dawns on me now that I must really take note when a Hurricane named after the letter I bears down on me that I need to be alert.) The morning after Irene, I woke up to the items in my basement floating around like they were in a bathtub. With Ida, I made a mad dash to remove the items from the basement that I could and tried to shift my thinking of helplessness to acceptance.

You can’t fight Mother Nature. Thus, I took solace in knowing that I salvaged the things that I could and to not fret about the things that I couldn’t control. This is perhaps a difficult thing to do, especially in a situation like this as we are naturally conditioned to protect our abodes. But the mindset is vital part of our wellbeing. One of the moments from the course on Harmony that really resonated with me was the transference of anxious energy into positive energy. Rather than feel confined by the heightened energy of anxiety, simply telling yourself “I’m excited” can have a real positive effect. Certainly, saying “I’m excited” about a hurricane is a ludicrous connection, but attempts to assuage the mind can bear fruit. In the middle of the madness as Ida was wreaking havoc across NJ, I made a conscious attempt to soothe myself and accept what the fallout was going to be.

From there we are able to learn and grow, and our resilience is definitely tested. Although we may struggle and even suffer, we have the opportunity to learn and grow from our experiences. Additionally, when we go through our own trials, we become empathetic.

Given the extreme negative impacts that trauma can have on individuals, especially young people, crises take on a more serious consideration because it’s not just the present crisis that needs attention; the ramifications for the long-term also need to be addressed. Sometimes checking in is an important step to help others. For that reason, I spent a couple of class periods talking candidly with my students about their feelings regarding the pandemic. Not only was it eye-opening, it was also greatly appreciated by my students. Quite a few students remarked that none of their teachers bothered to check in with them. They carried on with business as usual, even though the students had bigger things on their minds than math or chemistry or history. Since then, and with the endorsement of the Harmony course, I have made it a priority to emphasize and invest in the human connection with my students and the other people in my orbit.

Although the course emphasized a distinction in the connotations of balance and harmony, I do believe that a conscious balancing of different aspects of my routines and choices has led to a more harmonious life. The school year is off to a great start...a better start than I had hoped. And, ultimately, I feel a stronger sense of well-being, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Cited Sources:

Burns, Robert. “To a Mouse.” Poets.org, https://poets.org/poem/mouse.

Cabeen, J., 2021. How School Leaders Can Frame Tough Decisions. [online] Edutopia. Available at:

<https://www.edutopia.org/article/how-school-leaders-can-frame-tough-decisions> [Accessed 29

September 2021].

Gilbert, D. (2021). Stumbling on Happiness: Think You Know What Makes You Happy?

Alfred A. Knopf.

Kesey, K. (1672). Ken Kesey: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Mass Market

Paperback); 1989 Edition. Ken Kesey.

Rush. “Time Stand Still.” Peter Collins, The Manor, Oxfordshire, 1987.

Santos, L. (2020, December 22). Laurie Santos, Yale Happiness Professor, on 5 things that will

make you happier. Newsweek. Retrieved September 16, 2021, from

https://www.newsweek.com/2021/01/08/laurie-santos-yale-happiness-professor-5-thing

-that-will-make-you-happier-1556182.html.

Wordsworth, William. “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the

Banks of the Wye During a Tour, July 13, 1798.” Poets.org,

https://poets.org/poem/lines-composed-few-miles-above-tintern-abbey-revisiting-banks-

wye-during-tour-july-13-1798.

#balanceandharmony

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inorganicone2230 · 5 years

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Aos Sí (Part 1) Yandere!Erasermic x Fem!Reader

TBC in Part 2

Summary: You've just moved to a small, quiet town to with hope of getting some peace and quiet, unbeknownst to you, you've attracted the attention of two individuals who have no intention of letting their newest interest go unaware of them for too long. It’s been so long since they found someone they can agree on and they are willing to do what ever it takes to keep it.

Warnings: Not meany for this chapter, just some light stalking/chasing, and some suggestive implications.

As always, a huge thank you to @talpup for all the brainstorming and for just being an awesome friend in general! I know how much you've been looking forward to this one. lol

Grams shop sat wedged between a cheap liquor store and a small rundown café. Chipped red brick and stain glass windows in colors of blue, green and purple gave the place a warm glow on the inside, the colors reflected off the shelves and made anyone who entered the shop believe as if there was real magic being woven into all the items showcased inside. The store was small and dimly lit, it’s shelves and walls lined with items that were purchased online or special ordered from people Grams had met during her early years traveling the world. Sometimes she would even put out items that she had handmade herself, though that was a rare occurrence. These days, if someone wanted one of her personal items, they had to know to ask her and pay a little more for the extra care and work that went into them.

Working in a novelty shop was a rather interesting experience and like with all jobs, it has it’s pros and cons. There were days when it took every ounce of your willpower not to roll your eyes at the love struck schoolgirls that came in asking about charms to get their crushes attention and other days where you were happy to talk to a customer about the interesting myths surrounding the use of tarot cards. It was all about attitude with you and how your mood affected your work ethic for the day.

Grams was under the firm belief that one need only believe in magic to make it real, which, while a perfectly charming notion, was not one you yourself held. Grams had every excuse in the book to believe in all that hocus-pocus nonsense, she was the one who owned the shop after all, it would be strange if she didn’t believe in it at least a little bit. You on the other hand, you had no such tendencies. As much as you loved her, you only worked here because of how well she paid you and if the pay wasn’t good, then family or no family, you would have been employed elsewhere.

You still had your own expenses to pay after all, even if they were relatively small ones.

Today was a Sunday though, which meant that the shop was as quiet as a graveyard, it also meant that with the lack of traffic in the place today, you were free to close up a bit early and head home. Grams insisting that you take the next few days off.

“Are you sure Grams? I can come back tomorrow and help you with inventory, I really don’t mind.” You said, shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your purse while Grams went around checking the windows and locking the doors.

“Nonsense! I may be old (Y/N), but I’m still capable of running my own business without help. I live here, but there’s no reason for you to spend all your free time in this place. Enjoy your youth while you still have it, lord knows you’ll wish you had when you get to be my age.”

Your shoulders shook as you let out a hearty laugh. The old bat was barely into her 50’s, as far as you were concerned, she was still young and spry. “Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted.” You said, waving as you walked out the door. “Have a good night, love you!”

“I Love you too Sweetheart, be safe on your way home.”

—————

The walk home was a quiet one for you tonight in the small tourist town you now called home and you took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air while you bask in the peaceful silence. It was quiet now, but in just a few weeks, the streets would be packed with city goers wanting to escape the hustle and bustle of their busy lives in exchange for a taste of the peaceful countryside. Winter was only just now ending, the snow had only just finished melting and the evening air still had a bite to it, but you didn’t mind, it was just another reason why you were so happy about your decision to move out here.

When Grams had called you, explaining that she would like to have some help around her shop for pretty decent pay, you had jumped at the opportunity, especially when you were told that there was already a place available for you to move into, a small cabin that a friend of hers owned. It only took a few short days to pack up your worldly possessions and before you knew it, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a moving truck and on your way to the next chapter of your life.

Three weeks later and you were feeling pretty good about this spur of the moment decision.

But if you had to be honest, it did all seem to be too good to be true, you kept looking over your shoulder half expecting someone to jump out and yell “Psych!” at any given moment. But so far everything had been fine, the only thing you were expecting to cause you any kind of inconvenience wasn’t even due to start until the weather warmed up.

The owner of the cabin let you live there rent free on the condition that you keep an eye on the high fence that surrounded a small patch of privately owned forest, it was a habitat for a few rare species of bird and apparently there was a rather large pond out there that the local kids liked to try and sneak off to party at. All you we’re supposed to do is call the cops if you noticed anything suspicious going on.

Easy peezy lemon squeezy, right?!

The cabin was on the edge of town and surrounded by a grove of maple trees, away from any neighbors and the owner was getting up there in age, so being closer to town was better for him, which is why he was now letting you live there. You had tried to offer him some payment regardless but he refused to take it, said that any family of Grams was family to him and family never pays.

“I really need to buy a bike. This trek will be much easier with a bike.” You mumbled to yourself as you approached the front door, glancing around the quiet area nervously, half expecting a serial killer to jump out and start waving a knife at you. “Note to self, include a flashlight and pepper spray with that bike.” You said as you quickly slipped inside and promptly locked the door.

You breathed a sigh of relief now that you were in the safe confines of your new home and proceeded to go about your nightly ritual of slipping into some soft spandex and a tank top before making yourself a quick dinner. You still had a bit of unpacking to do, but since Grams had given you the next few days off, you figured you could procrastinate for one more night and relax with a cheesy horror movie.

—————

Sometime later, you awoke to a strange sound in the otherwise silent room. At first, you thought it might be the TV, but the room was dark, indicating that the device had automatically shut off on it’s own.

Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you realized that the sound was coming from outside. It was faint, but it almost sounded like a flute. Stumbling towards the door, you cracked it open just a bit to try and make out the sound a bit better.

But…

As soon as you open the door, the sound was louder than before, almost like it was right next to your ear. Your mind goes blank and you can’t think or feel anything, all you know is that this melody is so sweet and so entrancing, that you could listen to it forever and never tire of it.

Before you knew it, your feet are carrying you through the gate and into the forest. You didn’t feel the cold, nor the branches that left the occasional bloody scratches on your exposed skin, all you could do was follow that wondrous sound straight to its source.

On and on you walked, further and further into the dense trees until at last you came to a clearing. The same clearing that held the aforementioned pond, a body of smooth, crystal clear water that perfectly reflected the full moon in all its glory, surrounded by lush green grass and patches of wildflowers with scattered petals fluttering in the warm breeze.

It was only when the lovely sound faded away into silence that your mind suddenly snapped back into reality and you felt a sudden onslaught of terror despite your picturesque, and very out of season, surroundings.

Your mind swam with so many questions and the sheer force of emotions overtaking you at that moment threatened to make you pass out at any moment.

How had you gotten here?!

When had you gotten here?!

What was going on?!

Fear seized hold of you as you realized that you couldn’t remember how you had reached this place or how long you had been walking. You couldn’t even remember what direction you had come from when you entered the glade.

Snap!

The sharp sound of a snapping branch and two deep chuckles immediately snapped you back to the present and you spun around, a frightened yelp slipping past your lips, only to come face to face with two men. At least, they looked like men, they were still relatively hidden by the dark shadows, having not stepped into the bright moonlight just yet.

“W-Who are y-you? This is p-private property, you need to l-leave now before I-I call the cops.” You wished that your voice sounded stronger, but you were still so confused and scared, that weak threat was all you could muster.

The two men chuckled again and looked at each other before turning back to you and, was it your imagination or were their eyes glowing? That had to be your imagination or a strange trick of the light… right…

The one on the left spoke first.

“I think you’re mistaken Little Dove, we’re not the ones trespassing here, you are.”

Before you could speak, the one on the right spoke next.

“You’re the one that’s wandered into our territory Kitten. If anything, I think you should be the one getting punished. What do you think Zashi?”

Something about his tone unnerved you and you weren’t sure if it was a conscious decision or some primal muscle memory, but you turned to run. You didn’t care what direction you were going or where it would lead you, all you cared about was getting away. Something in the back of your mind and in your gut was telling you that you had to get away from these two. No matter what.

You had made it maybe 10ft away from them when you felt yourself collide with what felt like a wall made of solid flesh, the force of your collision sending you flying back and when you opened your eyes to see what it was, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Somehow, they had managed to get in front of you without making a sound and now that they were standing in the moons light, you were able to get your first real look at them.

And what you saw both horrified and fascinated you all at once.

Both were absolutely gorgeous and dressed in normal clothes, jeans and t-shirts, but it was the rest of their appearance that had truly caught your eye.

One had long blond hair that fell down to the middle of his back, and swirling green eyes that glowed eerily in the dark and his ears, his ears were tall and pointed, like an elf in some fantasy movie. His smile was large and twisted, sharp canines were clearly visible and they flashed dangerously when he tilted his head to the side as he regarded you thoughtfully.

The second was as dark as the other was light. His black hair fell in messy waves around his shoulders and neck, a face full of stubble and the same pointed ears. His eyes glowed as well but red, like the color of fresh blood and whereas his partner could pass for human if not for the ears, he could not, not with the dark, spiraling ram horns that jutted out on either side of his head.

“What are you?” You managed to squeak out as you began to crawl backwards, only to be halted as vines slithered out of the grass like snakes and constricted around your wrists and ankles. No matter how much you struggled and pulled though, they would not break.

“That’s a very good question Little Dove. But before we answer that, I think we should introduce ourselves first. You can call me Hizashi.” The blond says, his voice is soft and melodic and you feel yourself relax just a little bit before catching yourself and putting up your guard again.

The dark haired one gives you a different feeling all together when he flashes you a sultry smile and introduces himself as Shouta. His voice is deep and echoes in your ears and you are ashamed when you let out the tiniest of whimpers as you clench your thighs together.

They both smirk at that, as if they know exactly how your body is reacting.

“Now, what’s your name? We gave you ours, I think it’s only fair we receive yours in return.” One of them says, their voice dripping with honeyed words.

But when you go to open your mouth, the only sound to escape is an ear piercing scream as the fear you’d been feeling finally bubbles over and and consumes you.

The sound rings out for a split second before more vines erupt from the ground and wrap around your face, covering your mouth muffling anymore sounds you tried to make as you thrashed and struggled and cried for release.

“That certainly wasn’t very nice. And here we were being so cordial with you.” Shouta says as both he and Hizashi tower over you, their eyes racking up and down your form in a way that does nothing to hide what they are thinking about.

“I mean, we already know who you are and what your name is, but you still could have been polite enough to introduce yourself before you screamed like a banshee.” Hizashi says, his words doing little to soothe your already racing heart.

“But,” Shouta continues, his red eyes locking with yours. “if you can avoid screaming again and speak like a good girl, we’ll uncover your mouth. Can you do that for us? If not, then we’ll just leave you like this for however long we want.”

You nod your head frantically, you’re willing to do anything at this point to get out of this situation and you feel the vines immediately retract. You steel your nerves and do your best to control your voice when you speak next.

“P-Please l-let me go. I won’t come b-back, I s-swear, I d-don’t even know h-how I got here.” You sobbed quietly.

Your plea went completely ignored,

“Oh, my apologies.” Says Hizashi and you look up to see him holding a set of pan pipes. “That was my doing. We were eager to finally meet you so I just decided to get your attention with this. Did you enjoy the song (Y/N)? I composed it just special, just for you.”

“How do you know my n-name?”

Shouta knelt down and reached out to stroke your face, uncaring for how you turned your head and fought to get away from his touch.

“We’ve been watching you since you first moved here, it’s been so long since anyone interesting has lived in that cabin and we have been waiting for a chance to finally talk to you.” He smiled and again, you felt your libido spike as you clench your thighs together when a sudden wave of arousal clouded your senses.

“Ease up on the compulsion Shou, Save that shit for later.”

“Says the one that couldn’t wait to get her out here.”

They went back and forth like this for a bit before your fearful crying brought their attention back on you and they regarded you with more gentle expressions.

“It’s been a rather long night, so why don’t we just cut to the chase.” Hizashi said as he to, knelt down on your other side to join his counterpart. “We’re willing to let you go back to the cabin safe and sound Little Dove, but only if you’re willing to give us something in return.”

Something about his voice calms you down and you find yourself speaking before your brain has a chance to register what your mouth is saying, you’re so sleepy and all you want is to go back to bed and forget this craziness.

“Anything. Say it and it’s yours, just let me go.” Your tired eyes are wide and look back and forth between the two smirking creatures as you try and figure out what just happened, even as your mind becomes cloudy with sleep and you feel yourself drifting off against your will.

“Perfect.” They all but purr as both reach out, each taking a lock of your hair from the nape of your neck to braid and cut off with a knife that each passes to the other so they can retrieve their prize.

You don’t even have the energy anymore to feel frightened by the weapon or to ask why they took your hair of all things. All you can do is close your eyes and let their voices carry you deeper into a dreamless slumber.

“We’ll see you again very soon Kitten, there’s no getting away from us now.”

“We’re going to have so much fun, just you wait and see. We’ll take such good care of you.”

First chapter is done and out of the way! Hopefully the rest will come to me a bit easier. lol

I hope you all enjoy this newest story!

#yandere!erasermic #yandere!erasermic x reader #yandere!aizawa #yandere!hizashi #yandere!aizawa x reader #yandere!hizashi x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #aizawa x hizashi #yandere bnha #fey #fairies #light stalking #suggestive themes

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ellipsesarefun · 4 years

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DAMIRAE DAY 5: Soulbond

A/N: SO THIS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE I SWEAR HAHHAHAAH. It’s probs the coffee talking but damn. Finished this baby todaaayyy after reviewing for a subject (and damn is this a weird day because writing and studying feels like two different worlds) so this will be queued to post on the 14th or 15th? Maybe I’m too excited but it’s been awhile since I’ve been excited to write something.. Been awhile since I’ve used 1st POV. This is probs a bit messy :( But I’ll edit some stuff out someday..

May not be participating anymore but I hope to come back to DamiRae <3 It’s been a comfort to me during my study breaks.

------

There are some things about my magic that I cannot fully comprehend nor explain.

Ever since I’ve healed the young Robin, I’ve been receiving vivid dreams. I can’t fully grasp the images but the emotions that wake me to reality are always filled with heartaches, pining, and desperation. I never bothered to clue anyone in on what they are. Kory knows I have dreams but I can never tell her what happens in them because I don’t know how to describe them.. Damian has his ways of knowing. The little bird never lets me forget that. But he never asked, just implied. And I never said anything, merely let him draw his own conclusions.

I’ve been harboring feelings for him for a long time but I never acted on them for a number of reasons... Sometimes, we were romantically and sexually involved with other people. Other times, there never seemed to be a time and place to voice it out on the open. The moments we spent alone meditating, reading together, flying during my nightly rituals are the moments I cherish too much to let him feel my burden.

But out of all the reasons I've expounded, My father is the center. Even when I have created an enchanted fortress created out of his and my own demonic magic (with the help of Constantine and Zatanna), I still fear that he may one day break through those chains and destroy Earth... and kill Damian. Trigon senses the bond between us and it disgusts him.

His insults hit right through my own insecurities. I mean technically, he is trapped in crystal that’s stored in a small box that I carry around but damnit there are times when his thoughts crowd over to mine and... it terrifies me.

The mechanics of the bond isn’t the “if he dies, then I die too” but more of “I feel his presence more than I let on”. I still have no idea if it also might be the former, but the latter is one that I experience often. I don't always know what he is feeling (I may be an Empath but I have my mental barriers to maintain). It's only when he's in danger do my senses burn right through my barriers. It probably comes with this strong sense of protectiveness within me, a desperate need to keep him safe... and it’s becoming a little too obvious.

Throughout the six years as Titans, training with Damian has gradually become a torture... Every urge to shot turns into every urge to shield him from the pain... Every scar he receives fuels my anger against those who dare to hurt him, especially the enemies we’ve faced during missions and/or patrol.

The last one was worse. I arrived at the scene with him on the floor, body tainted with bruises and then..

I saw him on the floor.. suddenly burnt into ashes.. face barely recognizable... I heard my screams of agony, despair, and heartbreak as I watched my other self enveloping him in what seems a spell..

I love you...

And it wasn’t a dream but a memory... It all felt so real, like I was in Apokolips (what the hell is Apokolips?) once more and the Earth has crumbled to its fucked up state and he was gone and I needed to save him (from what?)...

I didn’t even stop to comprehend what it was and I lost my control.

AZARATH. METRION. ZINTHOS!

...

I blacked out, I think, and now I find myself back in the infirmary of the Titans Tower. Not a single glimpse of a sunlight reached the room and nothing stands out from the dark except a figure sitting beaide me.

"Hi." Is the only greeting I offered. Damian stands and turns the lights back on. He sits back down, burning holes into my skull. I squint at the brightness and immediately force myself to focus at some place that isn't him.. I couldn't bare to look at him.

I hear a sigh but I let my gaze linger at the clock far longer than I liked, matching my breaths with the ticks and tocks of the arrows of the clock. His agitation prickles at my senses like a thorn to my side. The damned urge to come and wrap him in my arms gradually resurfaces once more.

He clears his throat just in time, like he already knew what I was thinking and I look down, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat pooling my cheeks.

“Look,” he says and I pause my train of thought, “You and I both know there’s more to this that letting your demon lose and almost killing Dr. Light, so let’s not beat around the bush.” I couldn’t look at him, I just can’t bear to.. But I nodded, just so he knows that I’m taking his words seriously (and I always do)..

I might as well tell him..

“I’ve been having nightmares ever since the first time I healed you.” There’s movement from my periphery but I ignore it, “Of you.. dying...” Silence is his only answer so I continued.

“It wasn’t that bad at first but through years it’s been difficult to fight this desire to protect you all the time.” I haven’t reached the most important part yet and I’m already feeling the rising tension in the air. He holds up a hand, and I wait for him to speak as I try to calm my heartbeat.

“Raven, I was trained by the League of the Assassins. I know how to handle myself-”

“I know you do, Damian.” I cut him off, hearing my voice rise a bit,

(And I realize later that he didn't need to say this because damnit the smart ass saw right through me. He only did so to bait me into confessing.)

“But these aren’t nightmares.. not really. They’re from another timeline.” I let out a sigh. This conversation is beginning to exhaust me but he needs to know. I turn to him this time and he’s not holding back his own concern etched on his face. He gets up from his chair and sits at the edge of my bed. My gaze drifts to his hand. I remember a lingering feeling, probably from another memory of that timeline, that he’d reach out and hold my hand in his.

“There was a war.. We were around at this age..” I continue, “We were trying to stop someone and... you died in the process. I revived you.. brought you back from the dead.” I watch him watch me. Not a single gasp was uttered nor any ounce of surprised was showed on his face. I didn’t sense any of that. There was so much I can pick from that unreadable frown.

Longing, concern, understanding.. and it’s only occurred to me that he knows. He’s known this whole time. I was too engrossed to what he felt and what Trigon may do that I didn’t stop to read through his actions. But does he...

No.. I shouldn't ask... not when I haven't laid all the cards out..

"We have a bond.. sort of." I say, and he nods, confirming of his own assumptions, "But I'm not sure if this will get us killed. So far the pain inflicted on you does not mean I receive the same kind of pain. It just fuels my drive to protect you."

"And you think that this was a result from our previous affections to one another in that timeline." He concludes.

"We never really spent time together as... together." I say. It feels out of the blue but something about what I said needed to be heard, "You left for the League of Assassins. You offered me a place there because you had feelings for me. I would have went with you if Trigon hadn't threatened me to kill you if I stayed..."

I face him, feeling this odd confidence swelling within me. "I do still have feelings for you. And Trigon still wants to kill you so.. that hasn't changed.."

There is a slight elation and giddiness within me as I catch a mixture of bewilderment and amusement on his features. But my heart begins to soar as I watch a tiny, tender smile drawn by his lips.

I've seen that smile before.. a couple of times. There were only glimpses of that smile during our many glances throughout the years, hidden beneath the layers of his mask.

And now the last of his mask has finally come off.

"Raven," he says and I feel the tingle in my ears at the sound of my name, "You should know by now that my perseverance exceeds the fear of being devoured by demonic conquerer of worlds."

I frown at him. "You sound so sure of yourself..."

"You've defeated him twice, Raven." He reasons, "In this timeline and probably in other timelines. You were lucky, you say, but now.. you're--no, we're, more than four times as lucky."

"Damian.. where is this all coming from?" I ask, because he makes it sound so simple. Like he's up against merely a strict father who wouldn't let his daughter marry the person she loves in those cheesy romcoms. But this isn't a romcom. This is Trigon, for Azar's sake..

"He isn't called a Conquerer of Worlds for no reason!"

"And that doesn't stop you for creating a tiny fortress that entraps and gradually diminishes his demonic magic instead of trapping him in a crystal and sticking it to your forehead from your other timeline. Look Raven,” he continues, “You and I both know that there’s something between us? Why wait for the inevitable?” Why wait till I leave for the League of Assassins? Why wait till the possibility of Apokolips comes around again? He leans in and his bright green eyes search my own.

I keep my frown on my face, not wanting to give in to his charms. He throws back a smirk because he's fucking...

"Insufferable. That’s what you are." I spit the words at him, only halfheartedly at best. He laughs. The cheeky fucker is laughing me.

"But I'm a kind and generous soul." He teases with a grin on his face. And shit, I can't fight my own my smile any longer. He reaches out and I meet him halfway, entwining our fingers together. I haven't affirmed anything but the gesture already is the answer. Our answer. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time. Might as well take the chance before it’s too late.

Something magical, his aura perhaps, loops with my own. I close my eyes let the magic guide me.. and him. A meadow materializes itself and I find him in the distance, his smile warm and inviting. I extend my hand to him and he mirrors my actions. A raven flies out of my hand and another one out of his. At the same time we open our eyes and-

The magic suddenly bursts forth into a kaleidoscope of colors, a plethora of shapes of any kind. They all coalesce into a giant raven. A white raven. It soars above us, circling around the room with a happy tune. It eventually disappears into a sparkle of fireworks. We laugh and turn our gazes to one another.

With foreheads pressed against each other, we guide our silent conversation with twinkles in our eyes and smiles forming on our lips. It's like those typical chessy lovebird montage things people see in romantic subplots. It might be the calmness of the air or the sleep edging its way through my train of thought but I can sense our heartbeats in sync. A lullaby to my woes, perhaps, but someone like me can hope that this bond is knitting our souls into a comfortable blanket, however mysterious and unpredictable it may be.

Trigon's box rattles on the table. I almost forgot that it was there in the first place. I feel his presence, cursing disgusting words at the edge of my aura but I pay no heed.

After all, I'm a billion times luckier now.

#damirae week 2020 #damirae #Damian Wayne #Raven #ellipsesarefun writes #life is just.. a mess #Someday I'll comeback to this #queue

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atamascolily · 4 years

Text

Shield of Lies, continued.

What would my mother think of me? he wondered, and it was the first time such a thought had ever confronted him.

Luke, you really suck at introspection, don’t you? Like... NEVER in TEN YEARS have you EVER wondered about your mother? Sigh.

Shortly after the reorganization of the government, Nanaod Engh had given Luke keys to most of the real treasures of the New Republic—the central data libraries maintained by various branches of the General Ministry. Thanks to Admiral Ackbar’s intervention, Luke also carried the highest-grade security clearance held by any civilian.

Between the two, Luke had—potentially—a great deal of information at his fingertips. But the access he had been granted was a courtesy, not a necessity. Luke’s most urgent curiosities were in areas of little interest to bureaucracies, and he had never found reason to make much use of the favors extended him.

But he found himself with reason now.

Speaking of lack of imagination.... SIGH.

Luke returned to the pilot’s couch and curled up sideways in it. “How do people become part of the circle?”

“Curiosity is not sufficient—which I hazard you know. Some are born to it. Some come to it. Is it any different in your discipline?”

“Born with the gift, do you mean, or born to someone who already belongs, to a trained adept?”

“Is the gift not in the blood?”

“Sometimes it seems that way. Sometimes it seems as if the talent goes wild, almost as if the Force chooses its own,” Luke said, turning on his back and propping one foot on the control panel.

“Why, what do you mean?”

“Look at the way the Jedi are coming back,” said Luke. “The Empire hunted us so relentlessly that most everyone who escaped thought they were the only Jedi left. But it isn’t just that a few solitaries who were hiding have resurfaced. I’ve found students with no family history whatsoever, in species that were never represented before in the Order.”

“Some of your number may have been adventurous travelers,” said Akanah. “On Carratos, I heard many jokes about how the Emperor spent his evenings. If a Jedi sleeps alone, surely it must be by choice, as it is with you.”

LOL, Akanah doesn’t know about Callista. Or Gaeriel. Or anything else about Luke’s messed-up love life.

“Are you saying that you expected me to warm a bed with you?” Luke said. “I didn’t think that was our bargain.”

“No,” she said. “I never expected that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That Luke Skywalker could have a hundred children by now. A thousand.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No—that’s the simple truth. There are different rules for heroes and royalty, and you’re seen as a little of both. You can’t be unaware of that.”

Luke frowned and looked away. “I don’t know how to be a father to one child, much less a thousand.”

“You wouldn’t need to know,” she said. “Their mothers wouldn’t expect it. They would be grateful enough for the gift.”

“I’d expect it of me,” he said, and firmly steered the conversation back on course. “We were talking about my being an honorary member of the circle—”

Again, I’m surprised by Luke’s lack of imagination--and offers--given how people at the spaceport viewed him. Did none of them really think, “I would totally bang this dude?” WHY IS HE SO SURPRISED?

Also Luke, just say “fuck,” it’s okay, I promise.

“We were talking about my being an honorary member of the circle—”

“Not honorary,” she corrected. “Novice.”

“Novice, then. But there’s an exception in your oath for people like me?”

“Every adept has the right to judge and the duty to teach,” she said. “I’ve made my judgment.”

“And the rest?” Luke asked. “We’ve had many hours together—why haven’t you started to teach me?”

“But I have,” she said. “I’ve asked you to think about what you know and believe. To go beyond that, the novice must ask for the door to be opened. But you aren’t ready to think of yourself as a student again—not yet. You run too well and easily to go back to crawling.”

#accurate. Luke spends most of this book so convinced he knows everything and yet he can’t figure out why he’s so stuck in a rut.

“No,” Luke said, shaking his head. “To be a Jedi is to be a seeker. A Jedi is always learning. It’s only on the dark side that one becomes obsessed with knowing, and impressed with doing.”

“There’s a touch of the dark side,” Akanah said slowly, “in the way you cling to the privilege of killing, and resist the teaching I’ve offered you. A hint of a mind that has settled on answers and resents being challenged with new questions.”

Luke toyed with the lacing on his longshirt as he considered her words. “You may be right,” he said finally. “I found the Force at a time when what I needed was power. I wanted a weapon to protect my friends, not enlightenment. I was thinking of war against the Empire, not peace with the universe. Perhaps something of that lingers in how I see myself. I’ll think on it.”

“Good,” she said. “Your words give me hope. And hope is the beginning of everything worthwhile.”

I have no idea how the chronology lines up with the other plots and honestly it’s hard to care. This is the most interesting part of the book to me, and I’m STILL reeling at how late in the game this is.

He then took advantage of the open space inside the bay to work his first complete set of Jedi training drills since leaving Coruscant. Working both with and without his lightsaber, he patiently went through the complex exercises which brought him to a profound state of restful clarity.

It was in this state that he felt most keenly the truth and the wisdom of the simple words: There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is the Force. The peace, the knowledge, and the serenity were gifts that came with his surrender to the Force and with his connection through the Force to all that was.

Sustaining that clarity was always the challenge. In the isolation of a Dagobah, the Jundland Wastes, or a hermitage on a frozen shore, an experienced Jedi could preserve that inner state indefinitely.

But the chaos of the real world was another matter. When ego returned, so did will. The surrender became tainted, the connection flawed. The clarity gradually slipped away under the continuous assault of elementary drives and passions. Even the greatest of the masters needed to perform the practice regularly lest they lose the discipline that made them what they were.

GAH. WHY IS IT ALWAYS DUALITY WITH YOU, KUBE-MCDOWELL? WHAT ABOUT A MIDDLE WAY BETWEEN THE “TAINTED WORLD” AND “PURITY OF ISOLATION”. What about “entering the market-place with gift-bestowing hands”? And nothing ever stays the same “indefinitely”!!!!!

The drills were as much a test for the body as for the mind, and the docking bay’s newly sanitized shower brought a blissful peace to muscles that were telling Luke they had not been properly exercised in too long. He stood for a long time in the place where the six needle jets converged, letting the water flowing down his body become another meditation.

Yeah, maybe you should have thought of that in your hermitage-quarantine-sulk thing??

I’d forgotten about the bookstore full of Jedi forgeries!!!

The offerings included Emperor Palpatine’s Principles of Power, a private publication for Imperial Moffs; the Sith book of offerings and rituals; the H’kig book of laws; and the secrets of forming Bilar-type claqa group-minds, among others—with a special discount if Luke took any three or more. Most of the documents were undoubtedly frauds, and none tempted Luke beyond idle curiosity over the skillfulness of the fraud.

And the Jabba’s palace re-creation OH MY GOODNESS:

But making his way to the outgate, Luke turned a corner and was taken aback by the brilliantly lit exterior of a club bar called Jabba’s Throne Room. Performing Nightly—The Original Max Rebo Band, said the scroll. Visit Jabba’s Guest Quarters with a Pleasure Slave. Face the Mighty Rancor in the Pit of Death—

Driven by an outraged curiosity, Luke joined the line and paid the membership charge without haggling. Inside, he descended a curving flight of stairs into a remarkably faithful copy of the throne room in Jabba’s desert palace on Tatooine. Some of the dimensions had been stretched to accommodate more tables in front of the bandstand and around the rancor pit, but the architecture and atmosphere were authentic.

“Why, it’s just like the Palace Museum,” [he] said to the tall and elegantly dressed Twi’lek barring the way at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m afraid my master Jabba is away on business,” said the Bib Fortuna look-alike, nodding toward the empty dais. “But I’m having a little party in his absence, and I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.” His head-tails stirred in signal, and one of the scantily clad dancing girls hurried to him.

“Yes, Lord Fortuna,” the server said.

“Oola, this is a friend of mine,” said the major-domo. “Treat him well. Find him a seat at my best table.”

The same fiction was carried through everywhere else—an Ortolan keyboardist leading a jizz-wailer trio on the bandstand, the roaring of the rancor underfoot, an annoying Kowakian monkey-lizard skittering around the room stealing food and cackling rudely, even a carbon-frozen Han Solo hanging in the display alcove. But a busy kitchen was concealed down the corridor to the servant’s quarters, and the price card “Oola” left for him included various services available upstairs in the guest quarters and downstairs in Jabba’s dungeon.

It was tasteless and exploitative, but the music was surprisingly agreeable, the roast nerf was tantalizing, and the clientele was markedly more subdued than their counterparts out on the walks. [He] ordered a drink and the executioner’s cut of nerf, refused all other offers with a polite smile, and settled in to discover the truth quotient of The Secrets of the Jedi.

Shortly after his meal arrived, Luke’s consciousness was pricked by hearing a familiar name spoken at a nearby table: Leia’s. He looked up, fearing that the evening’s entertainment at Jabba’s Throne Room would be a dance by a slave-girl-Leia look-alike. But the band was on a break and the transparisteel dance platform over the rancor pit deserted.

I’m honestly surprised this isn’t at Galaxy’s Edge, tbh.

Shortly after, a holographic Jabba made an appearance on the dais above the main floor. That signaled the start of an elaborately scripted show that promised to involve not only “Bib Fortuna” and the dancers, but additional actors and the audience as well.

Luke took that as his cue to leave. His decision was affirmed when, climbing up the curving stairs to the street, he encountered the bounty hunter Boushh coming down them with an unconvincing Chewbacca in tow.

“Aren’t you a little short for a Wookiee?” he muttered under his breath as they passed.

LOL. Anyway, here’s some stuff on archives searches in the GFFA:

From Carratos he requested any information available from newsgrid, political, or police records on Akanah Norand Pell, Andras Pell, and Talsava. He sent the same query to Coruscant’s criminal records office and citizen registry and to the home offices of both the Coruscant Global Newsgrid and the New Republic Prime Newsgrid.

From the New Republic Reference Service, he requested a quickreport on naming conventions on Lucazec and Carratos, thinking he might parse another lead from the names in hand.

A second request to the same source asked for five-hundred-word excerpts from all matches on the key words “Fallanassi” and “White Current.” After a short debate with himself, and despite the pathetic and sensational inaccuracies of Secrets of the Jedi, Luke also contacted an information broker on Atzerri and paid a hundred credits for a search on the same keys.

He also requested a Current Terms & Conditions brochure from the chief librarian’s office on Obroa-skai. The library computers there were the only resource offering both a greater variety and a greater volume of records than those held by Coruscant.

But Obroa-skai’s generosity with its planetary treasure was limited. To protect against theft of the library, and to provide the resources needed to maintain it, accessing the records meant either going to Obroa-skai or hiring one of the library’s own trained contract researchers.

In either case, Obroa-skai was not a resource one turned to for quick answers. The official language of New Republic recordkeeping was Basic, and everything held by Coruscant was kept in one of several readily searchable data specifications. But the Obroa-skai library was a collection of primary documents, in ten thousand storage formats and uncountable languages. The most complete general index covered only fifteen percent of the library’s holdings, and all the specialty indexes combined added only a few percent to that.

Those were the principal reasons why the brochure—which Luke received within minutes of requesting it, as the first response to any of his inquiries—reported that a normal single-part library search was averaging eight days. The waiting list for terminal time was holding at fifteen days, and the backlog for contract researchers had climbed to seventy.

LOL. I should definitely use that in a fic at some point.

#star wars #eu fuckery #the black fleet crisis

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heresathreebee · 4 years

Text

Garrote part 3

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word Count: 2,700 words

Warning(s): Rated Mature, language, partying, mentions of sex and drugs. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: I am constantly mere clicks away from releasing everything I have at once but I know if I do I will lose momentum for the plot.

Edit: I. Forgot. The tags again.

@nicke0115 @1zashreena1 @mental-bycatch

The week that followed was heaven and hell. Diego went back to throwing parties nightly, fucking girls coked out of his mind, and in general trying to forgot all about Healy and his pretty bait, but Tommy Eagan was threatening war over a dead partner unless Alicia met his ridiculous demands. Thanks to Tommy's new right hand man, there was an opportunity to gain instead of lose now. All they had to do was wait and see if Dre could pull through.

There were two new numbers in Diego's phone. One unsaved that sent cryptic messages about their deal, and the other marked as an emoji rather than a name. Jazmine's texts seemed forced– like she was reaching out on behalf of Healy's instructions. So of course Diego elected to simply ignore them both. They were buzzkills anyways.

Diego was showing something important on his phone to his sister when Jazmine sent another text.

Remember when you scared off Haagen? I miss that every time I see him.

On the other end of the line, Jazmine felt pathetic sending the text. Healy hadn't even asked her to write this time, she was just so… bored. She hadn't been sleeping well, pulling double shifts involuntarily since her boss found out she closed the store when her coworker didn't show up. She carried her stress in her shoulders– the tightness in her neck caused her daily migraines and there was a new pinching sensation between her shoulder blades to accompany the rest of her pain. In the shower, she massaged whatever she could reach and thought of Diego's big hands doing it for her.

She literally shook herself to clear the thought and pelted the shower curtain with water in the process. Diego Jimenez wasn't some faux bad boy with a secret soft side– he was the leader of a cartel. If he hadn't killed people himself, he definitely had people killed for him. He was beyond dangerous to even fantasize about.

DING-DING.

Her phone called out to her from the bathroom counter and she realized it was past time to get out. Her fingers were pruned to the point of over-sensitivity and there was a rapidly closing window to apply the leave-in conditioner to the best of its use. Still, she wiped her hands on the towel to read the text.

Come out and party. Wear something nice.

Alicia boxed his ear over the last sentence but he brushed her off. Jazmine declined anyways claiming exhaustion and went to bed. There were people to socialize with already– what was the absence of one little minimum wage laborer going to do? Apparently she was important enough to occupy a corner of Diego's head. He was still bent about the way she had reacted to his identity. Who the hell did she think she was? As they discovered in the ungodly hour after the party ended, she was also important enough to drag Healy out of whatever hole he hid in.

"Diego, we need to talk."

Alicia had gone home– Diego expected she would likely never attend another one of her brother's parties as it wasn't her brand of debauchery– and she'd cleared the place out in her disgust, so his penthouse was empty for once.

"What's the matter," Diego poured himself yet another drink, "am I not being a good boyfriend?"

"We don't care what you do when you're not operating," Healy reprimanded. "But we need you to cooperate. Be a presence in Jazmine's fake life. You've been established as a rival for her affections, and you need to become an obstacle standing between the bait and the target. Jazmine walks home from work every single morning by herself. I don't know if you noticed it's been pouring buckets for three days straight."

Healy almost sounded like he was shaming Diego. It wasn't his fault she was poor. She wasn't his real girlfriend and therefore not his real problem. "Please don't make me regret making this deal, Diego. We will never get an opportunity to dismantle Haagen like this again. Need I remind you that you've got a missing child on your hands?"

Diego glared fiercely over the rim of his cup. Healy smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt and returned to his neutral position as righteous commander.

"Schedule more time to spend with Jazmine, especially in public spaces. We have it on good authority that Haagen is going to put a detail out to give him updates on Jazmine in the near future, and he needs to see you in these updates." Healy turned on his heel and reached the elevators, stopping them from closing dramatically and fixing Diego with a stare. "And no more ignoring us."

Jazmine woke up the next morning to one new notification.

I'm coming over.

"Oh shit." The woman threw herself out of bed and looked around. This wasn't fair. Cleaning day was a bi monthly ritual where she took a day off to deep clean the entire apartment, blasting music and stepping around her dog to get things done. Hercules wandered into her bedroom looking chipper as ever. "I guess we better get started then, huh?"

The fucker showed up on her doorstep not ten minutes after she got out of bed– she wasn't even dressed for the day. Her hands nervously tried to cover the broth stain on her jeans as she cleared a space for him to sit and wait while she finished her morning routine. She worried while brushing her teeth that Diego might be a psycho like her last boyfriend. Psycho enough to kick her overly friendly pet, but no sound of yelps filtered through the paper thin walls and when she finally emerged, the pit-bull was settled with her head on his lap.

Diego turned his head at the sound of a huge sigh. Jazmine was gazing at him but quickly turned when she realized she'd been caught. She began to flit about the room, picking up lost things and piling them up until she could figure out what items went where. He watched, making absolutely no move to help other than keeping the dog out of the way. Hercules– as the tag on her collar read– laid as much in his lap as he would allow.

"Buena perro," he muttered, and if she still had a tail, she would have wagged it. Growing bored, Diego rose and stalked over to the fridge. "Do you have anything to eat?"

The white void in the fridge answered for her, but she still called out, "no, it's empty."

"I'm ordering pizza."

"What about Chinese?"

Diego looked at the lonely, days-old Chinese boxes in the fridge and shivered. "I'm getting pizza." She didn't complain. He returned to the couch to do just that. Distractedly, he admired the curve of her spine as she bent over. She wore jeans again and another band shirt, this time it was a baggy Chicago thing. He licked his lips thinking about taking them off her.

Healy’s meddling had repercussions– mainly that it would made taking girls home harder, or at least less frequent. Diego still felt great suspicion towards this Jazmine, but it didn’t stop his body from wanting her under him. Or over him, on him, riding him… he tried to blink the images out of his head.

“What kind of dirt does Healy have on you?,” he found himself asking. “My sister and I have been dying to know.”

Jazmine shrugged, keeping her back to him. “No dirt.”

“So you’re just helping out of the goodness of your heart?” Pizza arrived in time for her not to answer, and they returned to their positions for further interrogation. “Anything to get that creep Haagen away from you for good? Or are you an agent as well?”

“No,” she said. She slipped rubber gloves on to begin maintenance on the tower of dishes piled on the side of the sink. She seemed to live alone– there was no reason to have so many dishes. Maybe he had been wrong in his assessment from earlier? Or maybe she was just a hoarder. “To tell you the truth, I’m about as fond of Healy as I am Haagen. I take that back– Healy’s a step up but not by much.”

“Because you don’t trust him?”

“I don’t know…” That mountain of plates and glasses seemed to disappear quicker than he expected and she began to scrub out the sink and the cleared counters, grunting with effort as she did so. “I trust I know the kind of man Haagen is, more so than I do with Healy. Partnerships like the one I have with Healy– they’re subject to change, and not always for the better. He’ll always do what’s in his best interest. What’s good for him is good for me.”

For Now. The implication that she may harbor the same feelings towards Diego was not lost on him. In fact, he stood up from the couch and approached the windows with their blinds down to peek out at the street. There was nothing quite so conspicuous as a black SUV with a mean mugging thug staring back at him. Even his own protection didn’t roll that sloppily.

Jazmine objected to the windows being opened but Diego insisted. “Need our relationship on display, right? Haagen’s got to know I’m here.”

She relented quickly and threw her gloves aside, plopping her butt on the couch to rest a moment. The leftovers in the box were room temperature but she hardly seemed to mind. God, he wanted to run his hand up her shirt just to see if she was wearing a bra. They twitched in his lap and he realized there was no way she missed the hunger in his gaze as he did.

“Did you bring those beers,” she laughed as she noticed the case on the coffee table for the first time. “Can I have one?”

The beer seemed to quell the tiny tremor in her fingers. She kicked her feet up on the coffee table permitting Diego to do the same. "What the hell are we even doing? Hanging out? What exactly is this accomplishing?"

Jazmine gave it some thought as she took a pull from her drink. "Putting on a show. We need Haagen to think I'm in love with you, like you're no good but I'm not ready to let you go for something 'better.'"

"And Haagen is something," Diego put his fingers up like claws, "better."

"He certainly needs to think he is." She noticed Hercules whining and let her out the door unaccompanied. "We've got his 'gentleman' ego to work with."

Diego followed her to the window and grasped her hips from behind. She half turned, gazing up at him with a question in her eyes. He leaned into her space to whisper into her ear.

"Those eyes Healy thinks Haagen sent to watch you? Well they're watching right now, and they're not being subtle about it."

She doesn't try to look like he expected her to. Instead, she stepped away from him and pointedly crossed her arms. "You don't look very comfortable if you're still wearing that."

She nodded her head at his coat.

"So take it off me."

That startled her. Jazmine's eyebrows lifted, and her feet shuffled when he gave her nothing but a smirk in return. Finally, she did as he suggested. She did not miss the way his hands seemed to brush lightly over her rib cage. These small, fleeting touches that left her breath audible and her stomach warm. He didn't even give her a chance to put the coat on the hangar when he dragged her back against him.

"What are you doing?" She didn't mean to sound breathless, turning her head to the side and exposing more of her neck at the behest of his pushy nose and allowing him to trail kisses on her skin.

"Putting on a show," he said against the shell of her ear.

He felt her stiffen a little against him. The tent on his pants was preventing a lot of important blood from entering his brain, but he was conscience enough to feel how conflicted she was. Diego slipped his hand up her shirt like he wanted, cupping her bare breast and sucking a mark into her neck. She allowed it, but it felt more like compliance than enjoyment. All at once and against the protest of his body, he let her go. He watched her shoulders relax and her hands find a home beneath her armpits.

Jazmine nodded in answer to a question left unasked. She did grab his hand and pull him away from the window, backwards into the tiny hall separating the front room from the bedroom and bathroom. She dropped his hand as soon as they were out of sight of the window.

"I appreciate the enthusiasm," she said. "Just hang out for twenty more minutes and you can leave. I'll text you tomorrow and we can makes plans for another 'show.' You can stay in my room while I clean the bathroom."

Diego sat heavily on her bed. Just as he was about to get comfortable, someone knocked at the front door. Jazmine brushed invisible dirt from her knees as she got up to see who it was. He followed from a distance. The peep hole was almost out of her reach, but she stood on her toes to see outside. Suddenly, the woman looked back at him with wide eyes. It's Haagen, she mouthed. As soon as her head was turned to the task of confronting him, she missed the part where Diego began to undress.

"Hey!" She flung the door open and yelped when Hercules barreled through her legs to get inside. "You... found my dog!"

"Indeed," Haagen said, folding his hands over his heart. "I saw this poor creature wandering and I returned him using the address on its collar. I am astounded to learn that he belongs to you." Nice cover story. The man continued, "since you have the day off, I was wondering–"

Haagen's wondering was cut off by the appearance of a half naked boyfriend. Diego wound his arm around Jazmine and leaned down so he could engulf her clothed nipple with his hot mouth. She gasped, pushing his head away on instinct and he pressed her into his side like a vice.

"Come back to bed, baby," he purred, then pretended to take notice of Haagen watching in the doorway. "Oh, you're that guy, right? James, Jeff, Jebediah or whatever."

"Jeremy," the man hissed through his teeth. "Hello Di-e-go."

"Right right right." An embarrassed Jazmine buried her face into Diego's nude shoulder, acting unconsciously but playing into her role perfectly. "Kinda crazy how I start hearing about you and then all of a sudden you're showing up on my girl's doorstep, isn't it?"

Haagen made a move to defend himself but Jazmine was quicker. "He found the dog, honey! Jeremy was just bringing her home, he didn't know I lived here."

"Right," Haagen cleared this throat.

Diego's smile bordered on a threatening mania-- there were far too many teeth displayed to suggest any sort of friendliness. "Life is so full of strange coincidences…"

No one missed the way he squeezed Jazmine harder. It sent a message to be sure. Vague enough for Haagen to infer whatever he deemed necessary to the story in his head. It was quite brilliant actually.

"Well I ought to," Haagen swallowed, "leave you to it then. I'll see you around the shop, then?"

"Bye–" she barely managed to say before Diego dragged her into the apartment and slammed the door shut. He kept dragging her all the way back to her bedroom, and all the while she protested being treated like a misbehaving child. It wasn't until he'd slammed the door and collected his shirt from the floor that she realized what exactly had transpired.

"Oh." She brushed the frizzing curls invading her eyes, "oh that was perfect. Healy was right to pick you."

Diego rolled his shoulders once his shirt was tucked back into place. "Come over tonight. I'll text you my address and we can capitalize on this. Wear something nice."

She was about to protest his leaving but realized it wouldn't matter. If Haagen expected a fight from the noises he'd heard, he would probably just assume it had ended quickly if he saw Diego storm out alone. He crafted his own version of events. She let the pieces fall where they lie and made arrangements to meet Diego tonight.

#Diego Jimenez x OC #Starz Power #fanfic #Diego Jimenez #Garrote #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✏

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tcpimpabutterfly · 4 years

Text

THE ULTIMATE RELATIONSHIP TAG

Status: Accepting

@streetsofsecrets said: cece and angelo 😌

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?: I don’t think their arguments ever get that serious and Cece is lucky that she got the tamest Amici, Angelo doesn’t really have that rage like his older brother or sister.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?: please, where are either of them are going to go? Melissa’s house so she can kick them out and force them to make up?

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?: Angelo might be dramatic and go to Cynthia’s apartment for an hour of two, but he always ends up coming back.

Who trashes the house?: . I can see Cece getting a little frustrated and maybe flipping something small over like a trash can but that’s really it.

Do either of them get physical?: NOOOOO! Angelo’s not even dramatic enough to punch the walls.

How often do they argue/disagree?: not very often or at least nothing too serious. Most of their disagreements are things like “I don’t like that sweater you put our ferret in.” And things alike.

Who is the first to apologise?: Angelo. It’s true, he’s a simp. He’ll slip out of the house and return with all of her favorite things. One time he came back with a whole new ferret!

Sex:

Who is on top?: Theure the type of couple that likes to experiment and doesn’t do typical positions like missionary. But, when they do decide to take a break from their wild position Angelo is usually the one on top.

Who is on the bottom?: occasionally Angelo will move to the bottom position just to observe Cece on top of him, but she’s usually the bottom.

Who has the strangest desires?: Cece is definitely bringing new ideas and discussions to the bedroom that Angelo wouldn’t even think of. He has to stop letting her wander off. Or not because they always usually end up liking her ideas.

Any kinks?: nothing too extreme or at least not on Angelo’s side. They might pull out cuffs every now and then or some toys just for the hell of it.

Who’s dominant in bed?: you would never think a himbo like Angelo would be as dominant as he is in the bedroom, but you’d be mistaken! That signature Amici passion and rage likes to show out in the bedroom. He’s a ‘hold your hands behind your back in doggy style and make you beg, maybe even smack you’ type of dominant. Not extreme, but enough that you know he’s in charge.

Is head ever in the equation?: OF COURSE! Angelo loves to give. He can spend hours between Cece’s legs.

If so, who is better at performing it?: while he is good at what he does, Cece does pull through every now and then and suck his souod out of him.

Ever had sex in public?: I feel like the club is their go to spot honestly

Who moans the most?: Cece, Angelo is more of a grunt and swear type.

Who leaves the most marks?: Angelo. Catch Cece waking up to huge hickes all over her neck.

Who screams the loudest?: Angelo when he gets to his climax.

Who is the more experienced of the two?: Angelo. He’s had his fair share of one night stands from the bar and he doesn’t mind adding to Cece’s experience.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?: Hmmm, 75% of the time it’s just casual sex but they’ll slip some soft love making in there.

Rough or soft?: A mixture of both.

How long do they usually last?: A good hour. Two if they’re really in the mood that day.

Is protection used?: loosely, they’re not too big on it but every now and then Angelo will whip it out just to try and seem responsible.

Does it ever get boring?: Never, Cece would never let intimate moments between them be dull!

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?: In the maintenance closet at work, while the bar was full too!

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?: No. Angelo really doesn’t want children at all. He would like to avoid that for as long as he can and live his life to the fullest. He’s not even the type where they end up having an oppsie daisy and end up loving/wanting more children: that one is enough for him for a while.

If so, how many children do your muses want/have?: Two just so he won’t have an only child. The ferrets are enough as it is.

Who is the favorite parent?: They’re both so lovable, even as unexpected parents, this question is so trifling!

Who is the authoritative parent?: Angelo. The Italian dad in him really comes out sometimes. Old school Italian too, you can thank his grandma on his dad’s side for that.

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school?: Angelo. The both of them honestly.

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around?: I feel like their child would be sneaky and do it on their own just like their mama.

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children?: The both of them!! They’re those embarrassing parents in the stands wearing their kids face on their shirts and screaming.

Who goes to parent teacher interviews?: Cecilia got that. Angelo hates schools.

Who changes the diapers?: Cecilia.

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby?: Angelo. Being a bartender has gotten him a crazy sleep schedule after so long so he has no problem with it.

Who spends the most time with the children?: Their schedules really aren’t that busy so I’d say the both of them.

Who packs their lunch boxes?: Angelo. And yes, he does sneak and give them more junk food sometimes.

Who gives their children ‘the talk’?: If they muussstt, I think the two of them would do it together. Using ferrets as an example of course so it’s not too uncomfortable on their end as well.

Who cleans up after the kids?: Cecilia. I feel like it’s built into her after all those years from being around Delores.

Who worries the most?: The both of them worry a lot but for different reasons, Cece a little more than Angelo.

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?: Look I’m not saying watch out for Leonel, but watch out for Leonel ! Either him or Angelo’s grandma on his dad’s side. Yes, that old lady is kicking around.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?: Angelo. He’s a big baby. Cece will just be chilling on the couch and here he comes out of nowhere to lay on her.

Who is the little spoon?: Angelo. He likes to be held, but he’ll switch with Cecilia every now and then.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?: That heathen Angelo 🤚🏾

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?: Cece but not in a naughty type of way, but in a “I still need to know that you’re into me and like me so let me give you a random hug or something to remind you.” Type of way.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?: They never stop cuddling because of uncomfortableness ! It’s usually because they have to leave for work or somebody keeps calling Angelo.

Who gives the most kisses?: Angelo.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?: They then taking care of their animals into an activity. It’s a lot of them, almost a mini farm, so they decide to do things together to make most of those tasks easier. It’s a great way for them to bond and bond with their animals.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?: On the couch as Angelo watches some new cheesy reality tv show his mom recommended to him.

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other?: Not really grope, but sometimes when Cece walks by he likes to torture her by tickling her or poking her sides.

How often do they get time to themselves?: quite often! Work doesn’t take up a lot of their time, only nightly hours really so they have a lot of time in the day to just waste.

Sleeping:

Who snores?: Angelo and his trifling self. I feel like Cece does too but not like him.

If both do, who snores the loudest?: Angelo. Cece snores softly like her dad.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?: They share a bed! Even in the earlier stages of their relationship he would invite her to come sleep in the bed with him all the time.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?: Cozy up!

Who talks in their sleep?: Angelo will every now and then.

What do they wear to bed?: Angelo just sleeps on a pair of underwear and calls it a day. Angelo lends her shirts to sleep in every night.

Are either of your muses insomniacs?: Nah, they’re just usually up really late for work.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?: yeah, when their sleeping schedules get really out of wack because of work I can see them popping sleeping pills to fix it.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?: please, their limbs are beyond entangled.

Who wakes up with bed hair?: Angelo. He always forgets to put it in a man bun before he falls asleep.

Who wakes up first?: They both sleep in pretty late, but Angelo’s usually up first because he likes to wake up to workout.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?: Angelo. He’s a sucker for romantic gestures like this.

What is their favourite sleeping position?: Cecilia all the way on top of him with his arms around her torso.

Who hogs the sheets?: Angelo. But he hogs Cece too so it makes up for it.

Do they set an alarm each night?: For work, yes.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?: Nope, Angelo prefers to keep it in the livingroom because he likes a completely dark and quiet environment to sleep.

Who has nightmares?: Neither of them. Except your run of the mill strange nightmares every now and then.

Who has ridiculous dreams?: Angelo.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?: Angelo. He might’ve accidentally kicked Cece off the bed once or twice.

Who makes the bed?: Do they really need to do that? They’re just going to slee in it again so what’s the point.

What time is bed time?: Some outrageous time like 1am or whatever time they get off of work.

Any routines/rituals before bed?: None for Angelo. He just puts his hair in a bun and calls it a day.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?: Angelo. He sits there for a good three minutes at the edge of the bed like ‘😒😐’.

Work:

Who is the busiest?: Angelo. Only because besides the bar he has to deal with all the business aspects of the bar and then family business from time to time.

Who rakes in the highest income?: Technically its Angelo because of his connections to crime, but excluding all that they make about the same.

Are any of your muses unemployed?: Cece was for a minute at the beginning of their relationship, but then Angelo offered her a job so not anymore.

Who takes the most sick days?: Angelo. There’s no way his dad needs him there every day. He’ll try and convince Cece to stay home with him too.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?: Cece. I can’t even begin to imagine what he antics that would stop her from doing that.

Who sucks up to their boss?: Neither of them!

What are their jobs?: They both work as bartenders, but Angelo doubles as a martial arts instructor for children and sometimes trains people at his father’s gym.

Who stresses the most?: Cece. She just doesn’t show it a lot but she’s not slick!

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?: Despite shitty customers every now and then, I think the both of them love their job. Bar tending is one of those jobs that won’t give you the same experiences and run-ins as any other jobs, so it’s never boring for them. Plus, they get to work alongside each other.

Are your muses financially stable?: Yeah. They’re living comfortably. Nothing too lavish, but it’s nice.

Home:

Who does the washing?: Angelo. He likes to make sure all of his workout clothes are cleaned often because you know, infections, so he just goes ahead and does their laundry.

Who takes out the trash?: Their penthouse/apartment thing has a chute in it that lets them just throw the trash down!

Who does the ironing?: Angelo. He likes his clothes looking crisp.

Who does the cooking?: They order those meal kits that come with all the ingredients and do it together.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?: Angelo.

Who is messier?: I’m going to put this one on their pets.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?: Angelo’s trifling self.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?: Angelo. He’s not used to living with other people yet.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?: Neither. Angelo got beat up too much by Romeila as kids for him to forget.

Who is the prankster around the house?: those darn sneaky ferrets!

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?: Cecilia.

Who mows the lawn?: um, neither. If anything Angelo will hire someone or call his dad over to do it.

Who answers the telephone?: Cece because she’s trying to be nosey for all the wrong reasons 🌚

Who does the vacuuming?: They don’t have carpet. Angelo despises it after growing up with it his whole life.

Who does the groceries?: They instacart that baby.

Who takes the longest to shower?: Angelo. He likes to make sure all that gym funk is off of him!

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?: The both of them honestly.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?: Not at all!

How many cars do they own?: Just one. They seem to go everywhere together anyway.

Do they own their home or do they rent?: Right now they’re just renting out an apartment, but eventually they’ll settle down into a nice house and buy it when they’re older. Or once they start having kids.

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?: neither.

Do they live in the city or in the country?: The city all the way!

Do they enjoy their surroundings?: Yeah, it’s a chill apartment complex they live in and the view is nice.

What’s their song?: Sure Thing by Miguel.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?: Call each other cause they miss each other sksjkdks, but whenever they’re away for each other it’s usually because Angelo has classes to teach, wants to work out, visit his family, or Cecilia wants to go visit Melissa and her family!

Where did they first meet?: At the bar Angelo works out.

How did they first meet?: Angelo just so happened to be babbling to customers that night and talking about Sesame Street while fixing drinks and she just so happened to be one of those customers.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?: Angelo. He’s kinda bougie just a tad bit.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?: Angelo when he’s feeling a little cocky.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?: I’m so sorry Cece, but Angelo is going to chuckle at her if she ever falls in front of him because he’s childish like that 😔

Any mental issues?: *cough* Cece *cough*

Who’s terrified of bugs?: surprisingly, Angelo is.

Who kills the spiders around the house?: He forces Cece to do it or let’s one of their animals eat it.

Who pays the bills?: Angelo. He doesn’t make Cece put in because 1. He has the money & 2. He’s the one who invited her to live with him!

Do they have any fears for their future?: Not really. They’re just enjoying what they have in the moment.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?: Angelo, he likes to give her a taste of the boujie life every now and then!

Who uses up all of the hot water?: Angelo.

Who’s the tallest?: Angelo. The Amicis are some y’all beefy men.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?: Angelo. He needs to “wash” his hair all of a sudden when she gets in.

Who wanders around in their underwear?: The both of them.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?: Angelo. He gets in his own space and just starts vibing.

What do they tease each other about?: They’re one of those couples that have a lot of inside jokes going on. One of them can say a random word like “Cake” and start busting up because of something that happened with them, while everyone else is confused because they have no idea what’s going on or what it means.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?: Neither! They both match each other’s style perfectly. If anything they make fun of everyone else’s style.

Do they have mutual friends?: Yeah! I can see them being in the same circle friends wise and knowing a couple of the same people.

Who crushed first?: Cece. Angelo thought she was cute too, but he didn’t think he would see her again like all of the other cute customers he’s never talked to again.

Any alcohol or substance related problems?: No. For a bartender, Angelo rarely drinks at all. I do believe someone could convince Cece to do crack or something.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?: hmmmm, Cece? Yeah, Cece.

Who swears the most?: Angelo by a landslide. You can thank his grandma for that again.

#( ANSWERED ASKS. )#( ANGELO ANSWERED ASKS. )#( ANGELO & CECILIA. )#STREETSOFSECRETS ( CECILIA. )#streetsofsecrets

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strwbrymoonchild · 4 years

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The Albums That Got Us Through 2020

We’ll save you the soliloquy, and get right to it: (skip to the bottom for the full playlist)

LaChelle’s Picks

Overture x Gaidaa

“Sonically, this album was very cathartic. Gaidaa’s songwriting is so imaginative and authentic, and I really love it when her voice hits those lush lower notes, her tone is like butter.”

Favorite tracks: Falling higher, Still Water, I Like Trouble

2. Rose in The Dark x Cleo Sol

“The timeless musicality and vocals are very reminiscent of some of my favorite classic soul artists like Angela Bofill, and Patrice Rushen but sound refreshing all the same. I would love to hear this project live but you know... COVID.”

Favorite tracks: When I’m In Your Arms, Why Don’t You, Rose in The Dark

3 & 4. Untiled (Black is) / Untitled (Rise) x Sault

“I can’t think of any projects more timely for this year than these two albums. They spoke to Black pain, weariness, and resilience in a way that felt mores insightful than preachy. A lot of the drums used on this project had an ancestral feel to them and the use of strings was extremely effective in giving it cinematic energy. The interludes also spoke to the difficult emotions many Black people grappled with this year while maintaining a musically rich sound.”

Favorite Tracks: Hard Life, Wildfires, Sorry Ain’t Enough, Why We Cry Why We Die, Free, Uncomfortable

5. The Angel You Don’t Know x Amaarae

“I first discovered Amaarae as a featured artist on one of my favorite music submissions of the year ‘NASA’ by Rvdical The Kid. I became entrenched upon my first listen to her first full-length project which is a mixture of afro-fusion, R&B, electronic, alté, and alternative hip hop. I love her animated voice and how effortlessly she glides over the track. I enjoy artists who can fuse multiple genres together and make them sound like a whole new sound”

Favorite Tracks: Fancy, Feel A Way, Céline

6. Last Year Was Weird, Vol 2. x Tkay Maidza

“This album had a lot of surprises on it. It’s a mixture of fun-loving R&B, raging nu-metal, and 808 thumping house tracks. While there’s not much fusion in the array of genres, I appreciate her ability to showcase her eclectic range.”

Favorite tracks: Shook, 24K, Don’t Call Again

7. Honey For Wounds x Ego Ella May

“This is a great self-love soundtrack. The pensiveness of this album is tempered by Ego Ella May’s jazzy vocals and even-keeled instrumentation. A very relaxing vibe to listen to during downtime or moments of solitude.”

Favorite tracks: Girls Don’t Always Sing About Boys, Table For One, Song For Bobby

8. Jaguar x Victoria Monét

“This album is oozing with sensuality, sexuality, and confidence. I love the lush vocal arrangements and the production which taps into nostalgia without being lazy or gimmicky. If you're feeling insecure, put on some lingerie, pour a glass of wine, turn this album on and you'll be feeling like a Savage Fenty brand ambassador”

Favorite tracks: Moment, Touch Me, Go There With You

9. Extra, Extra! x Lou Phelps

“ My boyfriend who is a Kaytranada fanboy put me onto this album. Haven’t heard a hip hop EP with such a fun, laid back like this in a minute. Lou’s big bro Kaytranada came through with the dancey vibes but you also get a bit of that classic boom bap energy that an old head like me loves”

Favorite tracks: Party in LA, Nike Shoe Box, Smiling

Dorian’s Picks

Pulp (Director’s Cut) x Ambré

"Ambré takes you deep into her world with sounds of a sweet lullaby, and a pulp garden full of hallucinating trips on a journey towards discovering love, vulnerability, and purpose. Overdosing on ‘Pulp’ has become a nightly ritual for me, no surprise as to why Ambré is my top artist of 2020."

Favorite tracks: free drugs, LUCIADA(EGODEATH), gucci slides

2. A Written Testimony x Jay Electronica

Jay Electronica's debut album, once heralded a myth by many, has finally seen the light of day, 10 years later. It sounds godly, rich in ancestral wisdom, paralleled with classic Hov features throughout. This album to me raps a soulful tune of Black enlightenment, and feels like a really lavish ode to the Nation of Islam.

Favorite tracks: Universal Soldier, Flux Capacitor, The Blinding

3. In Search of Lost Time x Protoje

"The Jamaican OG delivers a sonically wise lesson on life, what it means to live in our truths and light in search of happiness and prosperity as a free spirit. This album at many times served as a soundtrack to my life, a saving grace from my own insecurities and struggles amidst a very unsettling year."

Favorite tracks: In Bloom, Deliverance, Like Royalty

4. I Shine, U Shine x RIMON

"Amsterdam-based artist RIMON delivered a sonically pleasing project shortlisted with a blend of melancholy neo-soul/R&B influenced melodies. This project evokes raw relatable emotions and centers the beauty of the imperfect for full display. With each listen the lyrics pierced my heart and filled my memory of love lost and love found."

Favorite tracks: Out Of My Way, Got My Back, Downtown

5. Note to Self x Jah9

"Jah9's Note to Self, is a call to channel your divine form. Reggae has long been a genre that speaks to a higher force and existence. With the wild year we experienced, this project served as a guideline on how to battle those inner demons and live life to your fullest potential through faith."

Favorite tracks: Love Has Found I, Ma'at, New Race

6. SuperGood x Duckwrth

"The title is self-explanatory. Duckwrth gave us all that we deserved and dropped a bomb ass feel-good record. SuperGood gave me all the contemporary neo-funk grooves I've come to love about Duckwrth. Listening to this project made it easy to tune out all the noise of 2020 and just dance my sorrows away."

Favorite tracks: Quick, Coming Closer, Super Bounce

7. B7 x Brandy

"Brandy, now indie and seasoned in the industry, answers to no one and that's made clear with her experimental R&B sounds on B7. This project is fearless and sounds so different from previous Brandy albums, but delivers in that same angelic aesthetic and powerhouse vocals we've come to love. B7 is criminally underrated in my opinion and will stand the test of time. "

Favorite tracks: Rather Be, Borderline, Say Something

8. It Is What It Is x Thundercat

"Thundercat delivers another soothing jazzy-bassline record. This album feels cathartic, experiential in a sense, almost as if I'm listening to a score from an intergalactic movie set in some futuristic utopia. Best enjoyed with a spliff and/or glass of wine."

Favorite tracks: Black Qualls, DragonBall Durag, Unrequited Love

9. The ExPerience x Lila Iké

"This captivating debut EP from rising reggae siren Lila Iké will make anyone a believer. Her journey is compelling, spiritually guided, a modern tale of romance - the highs and lows of navigating young love. The way Lila belts out these reggae-R&B infused chunes pon ya head top is mesmerizing and sets the standard for Jamaica's new generation"

Favorite tracks: Forget Me, Where I'm Coming From, Thy Will

10. grae x Moses Sumney

“‘grae’, a two part album, explores the complexities of identity. Moses Sumney never quite submits to the boundaries society aims to box us in. ‘grae’ is undefined in sound, Moses gracefully flows from one end of the artistic spectrum to another without landing anywhere too long. What I love most about listening to this album besides Mose's falsetto is the high level of self-awareness, the screams of escapism, and determination to exist in free agency. "

Favorite tracks: Cut Me, Polly, Lucky Me

Rachel’s Picks

Instrospection x UMI

“After another year with no new SZA album, discovering UMI was a godsend. Her voice has that same angelic raspiness and lyrics that sit with you long after the first listen. What sets her and this record apart is how UMI’s lyrics recognize her own faults and the faults of others in a way that is so graceful that it never comes across as self-deprecating or accusatory. Listening to Introspection, you can’t help but introspect your life the way UMI does on this album.”

Favorite tracks: Introspection, Open Up, Pretty Girl hi!

2. Girlhood x Girlhood

“This electropop duo’s vocalist, Tessa Cavanna, has a voice reminiscent of the late artists Amy Winehouse and Sharon Jones, and with their neo-soul, 90’s inspired sound being so colorful, it’s impossible to get sick of listening to this album.”

Favorite tracks: Keep On, It Might Take a Woman, My Boy

3. Who Cares? x Abby Jasmine

“Released during the reclusive days of stay-at-home orders, Jasmine’s tracks on her sophomore album made me nostalgic for parties that were once filled with smoke, close friends, and good music. Her brutally honest lyrics, progressive production, and her overall confidence were comforting during a year of instability and empty dancefloors.”

Favorite tracks: Stay With Me, Artificial Lover, Groovy

4. Texas Sun x Khruangbin & Leon Bridges

“Two Texan artists came together and were able to use Bridge’s soulful and textured tone and the fluidity of the psychedelic-funk trio Khruangbin's sound, to create a desolate Texas landscape. Listening to the EP feels like driving with all the windows rolled down, feeling the sun’s heat on your skin.”

Favorite tracks: Texas Sun, Midnight, C-Side

5. They Call Me Disco x Ric Wilson & Terrace Martin

“In a year of so much grief, it is refreshing to hear music that sounds like it was as fun to make as it was to listen to. Wilson and Martin’s rhythmically dynamic collaboration prefaced a summer filled with social media’s fascination and nostalgia for the glittery freeness of the 70’s while still fitting into their respective genres of hip-hop and R&B.”

Favorite track: Don’t Kill the Wave, Move Like This, Chicago Bae

Lionnal’s Picks

Dinner Party x Terrace Martin, Robert Glasper. 9th Wonder, & Kamasi Washington

"These Four legendary musicians came together and gave us an album full of beautiful vocals over smooth, jazzy, soul instrumentals."

Favorite tracks: Freeze Tag, LUV U, Love You Bad

2. Burden of Proof x Benny The Butcher

"This album feels like a vintage east coast rap album. Hit-Boy’s luxury production matched with Benny’s grimey delivery is everything a classic rap fan would ever need."

Favorite tracks: One Way Flight, Burden of Proof, War Paint

3. Sin Miedo x Kali Uchis

"I didn’t know how I would take to an album primarily in Spanish, but Kali’s intoxicating and seductive vibe still found a way to draw me in."

Favorite tracks: Telepatia, //aguardiente y limón %ᵕ‿‿ᵕ%, Quiero Sentirme Bien

4. Fuck The World x Brent Fayaiz

"Brent Faiyaz’s personality is what makes this album so great. His cool and confident approach to tracks make for a unique spin on modern R&B and it’s honestly very refreshing."

Favorite tracks: Clouded, Been Away, Let Me Know

LISTEN TO THE FULL PLAYLIST BELOW

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rachelannc · 4 years

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Gilmore Girls (Credit: Warner Brothers).

Call me late to the game, but I have joined the world of Stars Hollow and fallen in love with the girls we know as the Gilmore Girls, twenty years after it first debuted, and I’m not even mad about it.

Mind you, I had no intention of binging or even finishing the entire show, but as I casually watched one episode on Netflix and found how easily-digestible it was, one episode turned into three, and then it turned into every other day, and then it became a nightly ritual and, well, you know how it goes.

So grew my uncanny obsession with mother-daughter Lorelai and Rory Gilmore’s witty banter, exceptionally close relationship and charming small town, that I became so invested in their world and was able to finish the show in the two months I have returned and been quarantined in my own little small town. (A surprise for me, as someone who hardly ever watches or keeps up with a show, let alone ever binged a show. Seven seasons? Where do I even start, I thought?!)

Twenty years ago, I was just a seven-year-old girl listening to Hilary Duff and the Backstreet Boys while watching teeny-bopper shows and everything on the Disney Channel. I never really got into soapy teen dramas until (obviously) later in my life when I became a proper teenager.

My first reaction to watching Gilmore Girls? Wow. This Rory girl seems a lot like me.

Rory, the shy and introverted goody two-shoes and bookworm who loves school and always hangs out with her single mother and lives and grows up in a small town where everyone knows each other and loves her; and me, a girl who grew up in a town called Pleasant Hill. And if those Chilton uniforms didn’t remind me more of my own private school uniform? Ha, well I don’t really know what to say.

But really, the resemblances are uncanny and watching the show made me think: What would have happened if I had watched this as a girl growing up? Would I have handled situations with boys differently or treasured my girl time and female friendships a whole lot more, if I had seen Rory and Lorelai grow up, interact, and handle regular growing pains alongside me, as well?

As a first-time viewer, the writing and pacing of the show immediately stuck out. It’s incredibly quick and entertaining, witty through and through. I appreciate all of Lorelai’s references to eighties pop culture and Rory finding refuge in classic literature and the strong female characters and feminists I had so long been inspired by, too.

Moreover, it was incredibly comforting to find another person I could see myself reflected in, onscreen, growing up and making mistakes and always trying to do the right thing, but still staying true to who she was all along.

Her experience was so similar to how my adolescence had felt and been: my mom, who had given me all I ever needed to grow up, and me, just wanting to do right by her, was always responsible and loved at school, receiving attention from boys but never really ever cared for it because I was just happy reading a book or playing my guitar, ha.

And if that scene between Dean and Jess getting into a fight over Rory at a party couldn’t feel even more familiar to my high school days — when I was caught in a love triangle with boys who confessed their feelings to me on the same night, pressured me to make a decision, only for me to see their friendships fall apart right in front of me at school. Wow, that was high school in a nutshell, ha! And it was funny to see moments like that played back onscreen, happening to Rory as she had wished for none of it to happen, yet couldn’t really do anything about these boys’ feelings for her at the same time. (I feel you girl.)

The fact Rory wants to travel and pursue journalism as well couldn’t hit it home for me any more. Her university days reminded me of my own writing articles and chasing stories for my school newspaper. And when her and Paris wanted to experience “all the college experiences,” embarking on a cliche spring break trip trying to do “spring break right,” I couldn’t help but giggle as I found myself in college as well, very well knowing I am not the party type, but decided to get “all the college experience” as well, embarking on a Vegas trip with friends which, I do have to say, was a hell of a time.

There are so many moments from the show that have stuck with me, but here are a few memorable thoughts and moments I’ve had:

When Rory said, “I cannot do this alone. I need my mommy and damn it, I don’t care who knows it!” (s3 e13) I think she was speaking for all of us.

“I don’t want to be that kind of girl. That kind of girl who just falls apart because she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” (s1 e17) Yup. Yup, yup Rory. That was me.

Lane and the Kims and their lifelong friendship was just charming, and I couldn’t help but feel for the Asian best friend and strict mom who means well.

Rory and Paris and their ongoing escapades. Man, you can’t help but love them. Their spring break trip was all too relatable: Rory drinking and drunk-calling Dean for the first time and them doing spring break even if they never want to do it again because they realize they just aren’t the partying type. “It’s a college memory. I intend on having as many college memories as possible.” (s4 e17) Yeah, all too relatable. Ha.

Also Paris being that one friend we all know who is a little too much, too bossy, too aggressive, can turn people off but is also one of our very best friends? It was also incredible to see how their “hatred” (and Paris seeming to pop up everywhere Rory was, lol) turned into a real friendship over the years. I loved seeing that.

Rory’s graduation speech: “My mother never gave me any idea that I couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do or be whomever I wanted to be. She filled our house with love and fun and books and music, unflagging in her efforts to give me role models from Jane Austen to Eudora Welty to Patti Smith. As she guided me through these incredible eighteen years, I don’t know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her.” (s3 e22) That was a moment that made me just cry and tear up, for being a grateful kid myself, but also feeling just how mushy Lorelai must have been feeling as a mother, raising a good kid, all on her own. Ugh. 😭

Oh, Dean and Jess. They represent the boys we all meet and fall in love with when we’re young: Dean, the dependable boyfriend who is ready to give you everything, support you, be there for you, and may always love you even when you might take him for granted; and Jess, the said “bad boy” and mysterious romantic who leaves you hanging onto every single word that makes you fall head over heels for him, even if you know it might be bad for you.

When Rory has sex for the first time (s4 e22): It was such a big, telling, and coming-of-age moment. And you could feel that. I could feel and know exactly how she was feeling: how excited she was, how dumb it was, how one’s feelings get the best of you even when you normally think every action through and make reasons to justify it. God. I was also afraid to see how the show would handle the situation, especially Lorelai. I’m glad she was never quite overbearing to Rory and trusts her and lets her grow as her own individual, but I’m glad she put her foot down and told her how it was not okay for her to sleep with Dean, who was still a married man. #greatmothermoment

When Rory drops out of Yale and takes some time for herself:

I couldn’t have felt more seen. Going back home, bored at home all over again, finding things to preoccupy myself with until I got bored of it and wanted to move on to the next thing, because I genuinely wanted to… that feels very familiar. And it was heartwarming to see her have this moment and want it for herself. I know it may have been a controversial choice for many, but Rory’s quitting school let her evaluate her own choices, have the space and time to figure herself out — who she was beyond what everyone expects her to be — only to realize that she really does want to be a journalist. Her whole life had been predetermined by her surroundings, and we see just how hard of a worker she is, that to have this “slip-up” is actually the best thing she can do for herself — she realizes she can be and is responsible for her own actions. To experience that in college, rather than many years later down the road, is admirable.

And moreover, I appreciate how Lorelai handled the situation. She never forced Rory to do anything or made her feel bad about her decision. Rather, she let Rory have the space and time to want to go back to Yale and school to be a journalist. She realizes that no one can make that decision for her, but her. And I loved that. Another #greatmothermoment.

Even more so, when Jess surprisingly came back and tells her he’s written a book and reminds her that “this isn’t you,” (s6 e8) that moment almost broke my heart. It reminded me of a time I felt so lost myself and a boy who once knew me would be tough on me, because he cared for me and knew who I was and always have been, and wanted me to do “better” because I was better… I think we’ve all had those people who know us very well who tell us hard truths about ourselves. And we don’t really want to listen, but a part of us knows that maybe they’re actually right. 💔

I actually really liked Logan and Rory’s relationship and the sense of trust and maturity they had built since that infamous “You Jump, I Jack” life-and-death brigade episode (s5 e7). Beyond that, Rory and Logan were completely smitten with each other the whole time. They came from worlds that were incredibly similar, yet wanted to be different. I appreciate how Logan knew and acknowledged his privilege and mistakes. I appreciate how Rory made herself clear that she is a “relationship kind of girl” instead of an “every girl” and gets a boy like Logan to stop his ways. (If I had to be honest, I was never that kind of girl, either.) When they said they’d “factor each other in,” they showed ultimate support for each other. And it’s clear that they were each other’s biggest fans. (When Logan took Rory, Lorelai and Luke out for a Valentine’s Day weekend getaway? Wow.) It’s clear they have a lot of chemistry and fun together. And Logan’s smile to Rory. Ugh.

On Lorelai:

I thought Lolelai and Jason were actually kind of cute. A part of me wanted it to work out, but I knew it never would.

Oh man, I had a fat crush on Max Medina too.

I loved seeing Chris and Lorelai stick by each other throughout all those years, and actually try to make it work. He’s a good guy who means well, and it’s clear how comfortable they are with each other, but timing was never on their side.

The letter Lorelai wrote to Luke’s defense to have custody over his daughter legit brought me to tears. Luke really was there for Lorelai and saw Rory grow up. You can’t ever take that back. Ever. Ugh.

What happened between Lorelai and Chris was bound to happen, and I was actually so happy for Lorelai to be with him. I’m incredibly impressed at how the show was able to show such a raw, real and complicated feeling of never really being “in love,” so well.

Emily and Richard: what a hoot of grandparents. I loved all their comic banter. All those Friday night dinners and the show they always put on. Richard’s relationship with Rory was so warm and comforting, and Emily’s incessant complaining and nitpicking was great. But when Emily actually had a moment towards the end explaining to Lorelai how Lorelai was able to be a single mother, independent and all on her own, while she herself has always been a wife, not knowing how to be independent, couldn’t be a more self-aware moment.

After all of this, it’s incredibly refreshing to see a show like Gilmore Girls let its characters be who they are: wholeheartedly immature and charming, unabashedly flawed yet real. And while these characters could be problematic — Lorelai is at times immature and inappropriate, yet means well; her relationship with Rory may be too codependent that Rory ends up dropping everything to tend to her mom; Rory is part of an elite society that comes from wealth and privilege; Emily constantly hates on the help; etc.

As much as the above is true, it’s still inspiring to see how Lorelai and Rory take on — and maybe even take down — their given worlds. They bicker and laugh, whine and moan, lust, laze around and criticize, but they are also incredibly real. Just as we humans can often be short-sighted in our lives, Rory and Lorelai are too. Too often we are given female characters who are either a saint or a sinner, a wife or a girlfriend, a prude or a prostitute, that with Rory and Lorelai, we get both. I think we all are at times a little annoying, yet incredibly fascinating the next. And that’s probably what has made the Gilmore Girls so beloved and such a cult-classic since its debut in 2000: Its heroines are flawed, yet deeply human, just like us all.

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Thoughts I Had While Watching Seven Seasons of ‘Gilmore Girls’ for the First Time, Ever Call me late to the game, but I have joined the world of Stars Hollow and fallen in love with the girls we know as the

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losersanddummies · 5 years

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Whatre the stuck ferret stories???? How to wiggly noddles like them even get stuck?!

So, the general rule with a ferret is that if their head can fit through a hole, the rest of them can too. This is the rule you keep in mind when you’re ferret-proofing, and it’s also a rule ferrets seem to REALLY believe in, even when the theory doesn’t quite match up with the reality. And sometimes not even their head can fit, but that doesn’t stop them from trying....

Basically, if a ferret decides a hole looks interesting, they will try to go in. They do not know the meaning of the word “consequence.”

Here’s my first ferret, Shango:

I got her in high school, and one summer my sister was home from college, and she agreed to babysit Shango while I took a shower. During that time, Shango went up the hole of a plastic light-up Santa lantern/figurine - the kind you’re supposed to put over a light bulb. And then - you guessed it - she couldn’t get back out. Luckily we were able to get her out without too much strife, but we still talk about the time Shango got stuck up Santa’s butt...

Here’s my second ferret, Oscar:

I got Oscar a few months after Shango. He was the same kind of troublemaker that Kit is - just smart enough to cause extra trouble, but not always smart enough to get himself out of it. He was also a baby when I got him, and his body grew faster than his brain. He was used to being able to fit in the holes behind the TV stand, which are meant for wires to pass through. But then he kept getting bigger and the hole didn’t, and one day he only fit halfway through the hole before getting stuck. -_- So there he was, wearing the entire TV stand as a belt and spinning around - literally twirling within the hole - and crying because he couldn’t get through. I managed to ease him out of the hole, and he did his part to squeeze his big butt through. Ferrets do this thing with their body that’s kind of like how a worm moves - it’s almost like their outer layers of skin move independently. So yeah, he got out, but he was not a happy ferret that day.

Osito was one of a group of three senior ferrets I adopted together from the GCFA in 2012. You might know him from this picture over on my primary blog:

Now THAT’s a hole he can comfortably fit through. But one day he decided to go into a hole in the back of a subwoofer. I guess he didn’t really get stuck, but I couldn’t get him out until he decided he wanted to come out. After that, the subwoofer was banished from the house.

And finally, if you follow me at my primary blog @bob-artist , you probably know Tux:

This one was almost exactly a year ago, and it was legitimately scary. I was doing our usual nightly ritual where I clean the cage and get the ferrets’ evening meal ready. I saw Tux happily war-dancing on the sofa as I was going between rooms to wash ferret dishes. Then, after ten minutes of cleaning and meal prep, I called the ferrets to the cage to get dinner. Usually, all three come running in a little pack, and they all climb into the cage together and then turn around and eagerly wait for me to give them their food. This time, Tux didn’t show up, which was strange because he’s an absolute fiend at mealtime. Nothing can keep him away from his food - or from Kit’s or Miss Rudy’s. XD

I kept calling, and he still didn’t come, so I put the other two away and started searching. I searched all over the house and then I searched outside in the dark a bit, on the off chance he could have gotten out while my dad had stopped by earlier that day. I looked under the sofa slipcovers, then I looked under the cushions. I carefully slid the sofa away from the wall - sometimes the ferrets sleep under it in an area I can’t see without moving the sofa - and I saw an odd spot of clear wetness on the floor, but no Tux. I thought maybe a ferret had spit up something earlier that day, and I made a note to check on it later.

At this point I knew something was very badly wrong. I spent about an hour looking with no luck, but I kept coming back to the sofa because it was the last place I’d seen him, and that spot of wetness was strange. I took out the seat cushions again, and this time I saw Tux’s butt - but only his butt. His head was stuck in between two metal slats in the frame behind/within the non-removable back cushions of the sofa. The wet spot on the floor was drool. His head was really badly wedged in the sofa frame, and I couldn’t get him out.

I might have panicked a little more than I should have, but I had no way of telling if he was hurt or dying or anything because I couldn’t see his head. I tried to maneuver him out of the hole, but he was stuck tight. It was a few minutes that felt like a few hours. Then, finally, I had one of those adrenaline-fueled moments where I turned into the Hulk and pulled the metal slats apart as hard as I could while simultaneously trying to blindly turn Tux’s head in a way that would give him more space. I probably only moved those slats about a millimeter or two apart (they were the solid, not-supposed-to-be-bendable type), but after I did that with one hand and shifted his head with the other, Tux was suddenly able to pull himself free, and he launched himself backwards off the sofa.

He shook his head a few times and sort of rubbed his ears, but he seemed okay. I checked him out to make sure nothing looked wrong, and then I delivered him to the cage where he absolutely gorged on the food he’d missed out on for over an hour. He didn’t show any signs of lasting injury. My shoulder hurt for a week after my Hulk moment, though. XD I still have no idea how he managed to wedge his dumb thick head so tightly between those unmovable slats.

So yeah. Ferrets, man. They think they can fit everywhere, and they do not care how many heart attacks they give you.

#replies #dummies #ferrets #long post #boringid

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chiseler · 4 years

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A Palestinian Guide to Surviving a Quarantine: On Faith, Humor and ‘Dutch Candy’

Call it a ‘quarantine’, a ‘shelter-in-place’, a ‘lockdown’ or a ‘curfew’, we Palestinians have experienced them all, though not at all voluntarily.

Personally, the first 23 years of my life were lived in virtual ‘lockdown’. My father’s ‘quarantine’ was experienced much earlier, as did his father’s ‘shelter-in-place’ before him. They both died and were buried in Gaza’s cemeteries without ever experiencing true freedom outside of their refugee camp in Gaza.

Currently in Gaza, the quarantine has a different name. We call it ‘siege’, also known as ‘blockade’.

In fact, all of Palestine has been in a state of ‘lockdown’ since the late 1940s when Israel became a state and the Palestinian homeland was erased by Zionist colonialists with the support of their Western benefactors.

That lockdown intensified in 1967 when Israel, now a powerful state with a large army and strong allies, occupied the remaining parts of Palestine - East Jerusalem, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip.

Under this lockdown, the Palestinian freedom of movement was curtailed

to the extent that Palestinians required permits from the Israeli military to leave the Occupied Territories or to return home, to move about from one town to the other, and, at times, to cross a single Israeli military checkpoint or a fortified wall.

In Palestine, we don’t call our imprisonment a lockdown, but a ‘military occupation’ and ‘apartheid’.

As for ‘shelter-in-place’, in Palestine, we have a different name for it. We call it a ‘military curfew’.

Since I was a child, I learned to listen intently to orders barked out by Israeli military officers as they swept through our refugee camp in Gaza declaring or easing military curfews. This ritual often happened late at night.

“People of Nuseirat, per orders of the Israeli military you are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately,” the terrifying words, always communicated through a loudspeaker in broken Arabic, were a staple during the First Palestinian Uprising (Intifada) of 1987.

The period between 1987 to 1993 was a virtual ‘lockdown’. Thousands of people, mostly children, were killed for failing to respect the rules of their collective imprisonment.

In Gaza, even when a full military curfew was not in place, we rarely left our small and crowded neighborhoods, let alone our refugee camps. We were all haunted by the fear that we may not be able to make it home by 8p.m., the time designated by the Israeli military for all of us to return home.

Every day, ten or fifteen minutes after the nightly curfew set in, we would hear the crackling and hissing of bullets as they whistled through the air from various distances. Automatically, we would conclude that some poor soul - a worker, a teacher, or a rowdy teenager - missed his chance by a few minutes, and paid a price for it.

Now that nearly half of the population of planet Earth are experiencing some form of ‘curfew’ or another, I would like to share a few suggestions on how to survive the prolonged confinement, the Palestinian way.

Think Ahead

Since we knew that a complete lockdown, or a military curfew, was always pending, we tried to anticipate the intensity and duration of it and prepare accordingly.

For example, when the Israeli army killed one or more refugees, we knew in advance that mass protests would follow, thus more killings. In these situations, a curfew was imminent.

Number one priority was to ensure that all family members congregated at home or stayed within close proximity so that they could rush in as fast as possible when the caravan of Israeli military jeeps and tanks came thundering, opening fire at anyone or anything within sight.

Lesson number one: Always think ahead and prepare for a longer lockdown than the initial one declared by your city or state.

Stay Calm

My father had a bad temper, although a very kind heart. When curfews were about to start, he would enter into a near-panic state. A chain smoker with obsessive, although rational fear that one of his five boys would eventually be killed, he would walk around the house in a useless rush, not knowing what to do next.

Typically, my mother would come in, rational and calculating. She would storm the kitchen to assess what basic supplies were missing, starting with the flour, sugar and olive oil.

Knowing that the first crackdown by the Israelis would be on water supplies and electricity, she would fill several plastic containers of water, designating some for tea, coffee and cooking, and others for dishes and washing clothes.

Per her orders, we would rush to the nearby stores to make small but necessary purchases - batteries for the flashlight and the transistor radio, cigarettes for my dad, and a few VHS videotapes which we would watch over and again, whether the curfew lasted for a few days or a few weeks.

Lesson number two: Take control of the situation - do not panic - and assign specific responsibilities to every family member. This strengthens the family unit and sets the stage for collective solidarity desperately required under these circumstances.

Preserve Your Water

I cannot emphasize this enough. Even if you think that a water crisis is not impending, do not take chances.

It is easy to feel invincible and fully prepared on the first day of quarantine - or military curfew. Many times, we lived to regret that false sense of readiness, as we drank too much tea or squandered our dishwashing water supplies too quickly.

In this case, you have a serious problem, especially during the summer months when you cannot count on rainwater to make up for the deficit.

Years after the end of the Intifada, my father revealed to us that many a time, him and mom used the rainwater they collected in buckets throughout the house, including the leaked roofs for our drinking supplies, even when there was no electricity or gas to boil the water beforehand.

In retrospect, this explains the many bouts of diarrhea we experienced, despite his assurances that they had painstakingly removed all bird droppings from the salvaged water.

Lesson number three: Cautiously use your water supplies during a quarantine, and never, under any circumstance, drink rainwater or, at least, keep diarrhea pills handy.

Ration Your Food

The same logic that applies to water applies to food. It goes without saying that any acquired food would have to cover the basics first. For example, flour, which we used to make bread, comes before bananas, and sugar, which we consumed abundantly with tea, comes before Dutch candy.

I made that mistake more than once, not because of my love for the imported Dutch candy which we purchased from Abu Sa’dad’s store, located in the center of the camp. The truth is, my brothers and I played a strange form of candy poker which kept us entertained for many hours. I dreaded running out of my precious supplies before the curfew was over, thus subjugating myself to potential humiliation of having to auction everything else I owned - including my small radio - to stay in the game.

My poor mother was devastated numerous times by the horrible choices we made when we rushed to buy ‘essentials’.

Lesson number four: Agree in advance on what classifies as ‘essential food’, and consume your food in a rational way. Also, if you are lucky enough to locate Dutch candy in whatever version of the Abu Sa’dad’s store, in your town, do not gamble it all in one day.

Find Sources of Entertainment

If electricity is still available, then you still have the option of watching television. For us, Indian movies, especially those starring Amitabh Bachchan, were the number one option. Imagine my disappointment when our beloved movie star, who helped us through numerous military curfews in Gaza, was photographed grinning with right-wing Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during the latter’s visit to India in 2018.

If electricity is cut off, be ready with alternative options: books, free wrestling, living-room soccer (with the ball preferably made from stuffed-up socks contributed by all family members), and, of course, candy poker.

Lesson number five: The key is to have more than one form of entertainment and to be prepared for every eventuality, including power outages as a form of collective punishment.

Find the Humor in Grim Situations

Don’t focus on the negatives; there is no point or wisdom in that. Emphasizing the grimness of a situation can only contribute to the feeling of defeat and powerlessness that are already generated by the lockdown. There will be plenty of time in which you can look back, reflect, and even bemoan your unfortunate circumstance.

But, during the curfew itself is when you actually need your sense of humor most. Take things lightly - laugh at your miserable situation, if you must. Forgive yourself for not being perfect, for panicking when you should have been composed, or for forcing your younger brother to gamble his underwear when he runs out of Dutch candy.

Difficult situations can offer the kind of scenarios that can be interpreted in two extreme ways: either extremely tragic or extremely funny; opt for the latter whenever you can, because as long as you laugh, as long as your spirit remains unbroken, your humanity remains intact.

Lesson number six: Be funny, don’t take life too seriously, share a laugh with others, and let humor inject hope in every hour and every day of your quarantine.

Hold Tighter to Your Faith

Whether you are Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or any other faith; whether you are an atheist, agnostic, or practice any form of spirituality, philosophy or belief system, find comfort in your faith and beliefs.

Since all mosques in our refugee camp were shut down, if not raided during a military curfew, the call for prayer, which we heard five times during each day, was permanently silenced.

To keep the call for prayer going, we would sneak to the roof of our houses, carefully scan the area for any Israeli soldiers, and collectively make the call for prayer whenever it was required. Volunteers included my English teacher, who was communist and claimed that he did not believe in God, myself, and Nabil, the neighbor boy with the massive head and the most unpleasant voice.

In curfews, we developed a different relationship with God: He became a personal and more intimate companion, as we often prayed in total darkness, whispered our verses so very cautiously as not to be heard by pesky soldiers. And, even those who hardly prayed before the curfew kept up with all five prayers during the lockdown.

Lesson number seven: Let your values guide you during your hours of loneliness. And if you volunteer to make a call for prayer (or recite your religious hymns) please be honest with yourself: if you have no sense of rhythm or if your voice has the pitch of an angry alley cat, for God’s sake, leave the job to someone else.

In Conclusion ..

I hope that under no circumstances you will ever hear these ominous words: “You are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately.” I also hope that this COVID-19 quarantine will make us kinder to each other and will make us emerge from our homes better people, ready to take on global challenges while united in our common faith, collective pain and a renewed sense of love for our environment.

And when it’s all over, think of Palestine, for her people have been ‘quarantined’ for 71 years and counting.

by Ramzy Baroud

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