#after everything he��s done and said why they hail him as a god is beyond me

[uglymanchronicles]

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

Legit the recent Tales of the SMP gave me Clue Vibes that I just had to write this out. You're welcome. So I decided to take the characters, give them backgrounds and motives for murder. Same campy fun that the Clue Movie has.

Sir Billium Blade the Third: A man of many words that include mostly making fun of commoners and poor people. Having come into his wealth when the Nether Portal closed for a while, his family used the gold they had to become rich rather quickly. He travels in his spare time, never staying in one place for a while. He's made enough enemies on his travels and possibly enough to kill to get rid of another.

His houses are filled with many objects he comes across in his travels, many of which some people love to get their hands on. Many that should belong in museums but sit ideal as objects of his wealth. it is also stated that there might be proof that he has ultra motives for his occasional get-together, covering up past murders in his home?

Traits include - Smart, Wealthy, and Charming. Cunning? Devious? and Silver-tongued?

Mister Boo (The Butler): This boy grew up only knowing servitude, his life was to the Blade Family. And still, yet he has to pay off his family's debt to the Blade Family for passage to this part of the world. Basically, an indentured servant. So long as he follows the rules, life isn't so hard, and Sir Billium rarely comes to this mansion. He's a man of few words if he is even allowed the speak. And has enough of a grudge to the Blade Family to kill for a taste of freedom. But, would he even have time to plan for murder with all the things that need to be done?

He knows this house like the back of his hand, all the passages, hidden rooms, and knows how to get from one end to the other without being seen. His main job is to make sure that the house is spotless and always ready for guests, along with serving Sir Billium.

Traits include - Quiet, Reserved, and Shy. Undetectable? Calculative? and Unforgiving?

Lord Sebastian Halo: To this man, fine wine is just one of many luxuries that only the rich can understand. Having gotten his wealth through means of deceit and trickery of those lesser than him, the Halo Family name is one that is both feared and praised. Having made the majority of the magical inventions still used to this day, Sebastian enjoys the high life of his family name through drinking and partying to his heart's content. However, he's also a man who knows all to well the people his family has stepped on to get where they are. And of the secrets that could kill to tear down his family's prestigious name.

The Halo Family is not a clean name, it's one bathed in the crushing of dreams and blood to get at its high standing. One being that Lord Halo, the founder of the family, made deals with darker beings to get the best deals. Also that he sacrificed people to this god for power as well. Proof of this is hard to come by, but it's very true. And one might also question the sanity of this family.

Traits include - Mysterious, Adventurous, and Witty. Ambitious? Delinquent? and Obsessive?

Oliver Arecaeshire Smichalist Cumbucket: Growing up in the land of Britain, a miserable island one might say if they don't live in it, Oliver has seen plenty going on in his small world. From wars, to family functions, and even betrayal. One might dare say he's well adverse in the arts of manipulation and conning. His family wealth comes from the Casino and the business *cough*Monopoly*Cough* they have on the gambling of people. He's lived long and seen many things come and go to have become jaded to life, but still eager to prove his families name to all, even if it is a silly name.

This family, though silly in name, has many secrets to hide. From bribes to the government to keep their hold on the gambling of people. To making sure alcohol was not outlawed so they could continue to drive up sales on the small island. Laugh if you will, but this family holds an iron grip on their area. Though not near as wealthy as the Blade Family, they are still high class. Oliver no doubt is aware of what might happen should his family's secrets get told. And it's has been thought he has killed once before.

Traits include - Discreet, Intrepid, and Eccentric. Liar? Paranoid? and Manipulative?

Lady Lyaria Chu: A beautiful and seductive women in her own prime, and heiress to the Chu name that hails from the west. She is well aware of her statue and well aware of how many suitors would fall at her feet for a taste of such wealth. It might seem odd that she has married three times and each of her husbands have mysteriously vanished. And that each of her husbands leaves everything of their name to her. Having no children, and being only in her late 20's Lady Lyaria has much to look forward to her in her youth and beyond. Her family name goes far back in the western area, having started as simple tailors that now make dresses for the wealthy everywhere.

Lady Lyaria had met Sir Billium when he visited her family's area and got to know him very well. Finding her seductive methods worked little on the cold man. But indeed they struck a chord with each other in their shrewd way of thinking about how the lower class is. It's a wonder to many about her ever-increasing wealth and expansion of her company could be due to the fact she murders her own husbands. But if word of that ever got out, she might have to silence a few people herself.

Traits include - Beautiful, Seductive, and Flirtatious. Ruthless? Greedy? and Narcissist?

James Napity: Coming from a lower wealthy family who only know of the Blade Family due to contracts with them through the Assassins Guild. James fought tooth and nail to make sure he and his family were safe from harm that could come to them. But in the end, it truly was all for not. Peasants revolted, and though James's family had done nothing to these wretched commoners they still sought to burn down his house. His family died as a result, and his wife blamed him for the fire, leaving him. His bitters grew to the lower class after that, the only kind-hearted man grew cold and hateful.

Before this though, he had met Billium as a childhood friend, though they rarely, if ever, got along. James found the other to be rather mean spirited and violent for his taste, but now he can see why. Though his family only has connections to the Assassins Guild as their dirty little secret, they haven't really used this since the time his great great great grandfather was head of the family. Since then, they sought better ways to grow their wealth and look where that got them.

Traits include - Calming, Perspective, and Philosophical. Wrathful? Jealous? and Cold-hearted?

Sir Karl Jacobs: What a strange man, no? His name hasn't ever been heard, yet this streamer is said to be rather wealthy. Not much is known about him which makes him even more enticing to the guests. He seems to just be here at this party for fun and nothing more, getting to know each of the guests. But isn't that just the thing? A strange man shows up from nowhere and seems to suddenly start murders at a party? Who's to say he's not here just to gain wealth through their deaths?

Karl is just a happy go lucky man and portrays as such. But have no idea how even he ended up here and just hoping to understand why he's here. Karl sets about to solve this murder while knowing he's a suspect himself.

Traits include - Funny, Happy-go-lucky, and sweet. Strange? Sly? and Thoughtful?

(Did include Drew as he’s pretty straight forward, unless you guys can think of something.)

[sippin-on-red-wine]

High Tide | Chapter 8: London

Title: High Tide, Chapter 8 | London Author: @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: No smut in this chapter, again, sorry! Characters: Ed Sheeran x Kendra (original female character) Word Count:  2,293

Kendra……

He’s not over her.

It was time to go home.

The realization was stark, black and white. And I had been here before. This crossroads. Leaving my old life behind, blessed with the means to be able to do so. It had been the best decision I could have made for myself, though I still carried some guilt around it.

It was an anxious, eerie kind of calm. My entire body was buzzing, but I somehow felt in control, cool and collected. I flitted about the penthouse gathering up my few personal belongings and stacked them neatly inside one of the paper bags that the concierge had brought me. I sat down at the dining table with my cell phone and began looking for flights home.

Should I talk to Ed? Say goodbye? I don’t think I could see him in person, but I could call. Or text. Yeah, maybe text. The hell am I going to say? Maybe I should just wait. Call him when I get home.

I went to the British Airlines website, since that was the line I came in on. I quickly navigated their little digital schedule, finding a flight to NYC that was leaving in about four hours. Okay, no problem, I can get a connecting flight from there. Or drive. How far is it? Six hours or so?

I added the flight to NYC and began the checkout process, the website asking for my personal information. I furiously tapped out my name, birth date, and address when it hit me:

I don’t have my passport.

It’s at Ed’s.

I paced around the suite, hand clutching at my forehead in the most cliche way possible. What do I do?

Options: Go get it yourself Call Lauren and ask her to bring it. Ha, like Ed would let her do that alone. Call and talk things over with Ed Why do all of these options include talking to or seeing Ed?

US Embassy it is.

All jokes aside, a funny thought began to creep into my head. My gut instinct was to run; but now, I couldn't. Not without facing him first. I'd just about hopped directly on a plane back home, but that was all out the window now.

What a cruel trick of fate.

I just wasn’t ready to speak to him. But that didn't mean I should never speak to him again. The thought of never seeing him throw his head back in laughter, or feeling his fingers lace up between mine… it was crushing.

I must have paced for a solid 30 minutes, debating back and forth with myself, before I came to a conclusion.

I’m going to stay. For now. I need some time.

Ed……

I woke on the living room sofa, morning light filtering in through the large panes of glass that lined the walls. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and reached forward to grab my glasses off of the coffee table. Everything came into focus; Lauren was sleeping on the adjacent couch. I guess she didn't want me to be alone.

I didn't want to wake her, it was because of me that she hadn't gone to sleep til nearly 4 in the morning. I slipped off the sofa and padded quietly upstairs to my bedroom, wanting to brush my teeth and have a scalding hot shower. The water won't wash the shame away, you prat.

My heart sunk impossibly lower as I came 'round the corner and saw Kendra's suitcase and bags leaning up against the wall. Not more than 24 hours ago, I had happily carried all of her things up here, at her request. “I cannot sleep on a couch again tonight, Ed, you're being silly.”

I'm sure she had to have felt a bit weird about staying here, the home I had shared with another woman. But she trusted me.

My fingers twitched, and I suddenly was craving a drink. Your coping mechanism.

No. You can’t do that again. What would she think?

I reached in my pocket, pulling out my phone. I checked, foolishly, to see if Kendra had tried to call or text me. Wishful thinking.

I didn’t want to fall into another spiral, or pity party. Booze had always been a coping method for me, but I just didn’t want to go there, not again. And so I opted for the next best thing -- work.

I tapped out Stu’s number and hit Call.

Kendra……

As it turns out, if you’re confused and upset and a bit melancholy, London is the place for you. It’s supportive, playing up that ‘melancholy’ bit with its eternal gray skies and foggy rain. But it’s wonderfully distracting, too. So much art and history and architecture and FOOD.

My tactic was simple: shoot for the least amount of downtime possible. And so, I established a routine. I’d wake, dress in a basic, cozy outfit, and head out the door. I stopped in a little corner cafe that was on the next block over, and grab coffee and a pastry to go. I jam-packed my days, moving from one thing to the next. I shopped, and rode a triple-decker tour bus, and spent hours wandering through museums. I walked through neighborhoods, explored markets, snapped photos of parks and buildings and cars and pedestrians. I’d tuck in to a pub for a comfort food meal, and then head back to my suite.

After the first couple of days, Ed had stopped calling and texting incessantly. He called once, each day, now. He always left a voice message… but I couldn’t bring myself to listen to any of them.

I knew that he was sorry, damn it, I just wish he hadn’t done anything to be sorry about. I was angry; angry with myself for letting my guard down in the first place… angry with Ed for putting a big asterisk on our time together. Would I ever be able to see him the same way again?

I had a lot of questions, and no answers. In a true-to-Kendra way, I was living in full-on denial land. Running from this place to the next, telling myself I was “exploring the city”, when in reality, I was just trying to tire my brain out enough to shut Ed out of it. I would have to see or speak with him eventually, it’s not like I could go home without my passport. He probably didn’t even realize he had it.

I was scared shitless; that was really what it boiled down to.  I hadn’t even known him that long, but there was something about our connection that was just… not of this world. Was it one-sided, all along? Is he still in love with her? Was I just a coping mechanism for him, much like the drink he had favored until the night you found him all strung out after a bender?

Okay, okay - get it together, Kendra. These are not good thoughts to be having while you’re sitting in a pub, eating lunch amongst business men and ladies alike. Where to, next?

I had been itching to have a go at the London Eye, and so I paid my lunch bill and spilled forth onto the busy London sidewalk to hail a cab.

I directed the driver and settled in. The radio caught my ear right away -

*Intro Music*

“We’ve got Ed Sheeran in the studio with us today to talk about his upcoming American tour. Ed, welcome -- great to have you as always, even on short notice!”

“Thanks, pleasure to be here.”

Hearing his voice made my pulse quicken. He’s supposed to be off work til tour -- why is he doing promo all of a sudden?

I clued back in -

“..seems like you’re putting out one hit wedding song after another after another. People call you the King of Romance, d’you know that?”

He chuckled, a nervous kind of laugh. “I’ve heard that being said, yeah.”

“I mean we’ve even got this photo of you, barefoot, holding your lady’s broken shoes leaving a party earlier this year. You gotta cut that out, man, you’re making the rest of us look bad! Nobody compares to the perfect boyfriend Ed Sheeran!”

“Mate, if only it were that easy. I’m just a person, I make mistakes too. I write love songs - yeah, but I’ve also hurt people. People I really care about.”

“Miss?” The cab driver’s voice filled the car, snapping me back to reality. He was pulled over to the curb - we were at the entrance for the Eye. I paid for my ride and climbed out of the cab, Ed’s voice still floating out through the speakers.

I was winded; I hadn’t expected to hear his voice. I plopped down on a little bench seat and pulled out my phone.

*I want to see you, Ed, I really do. I just… I need to know if you’re still in love with her. And I need you to be sure. Please take some time to work it out. Friday, 8 o’ clock. I’m at the Corinthia. I’ll leave your name at the desk.

Friday night had come and I was in shambles. My entire body felt like a blinking neon sign, on-off-on-off, as my veins contracted and expanded with every beat of my petrified heart. Would he come? Had he realized he wasn't really missing anything? Is he still in love with her?

Ping! went the elevator and I thought maybe my stomach had just dropped out of my body. The door opened. And there he was, face hidden behind a thick layer of copper beard, his eyes a dark ocean blue.

He stepped out of the lift, and I opened my mouth to say something. But he didn’t miss a beat.

“It's you, Kenn. It's only you. God, I've never been so sure about anything in my life, I'll spend every damn day proving myself to you.” His voice was strong, his animated hands coming to life. “Just say the word, say it and I'm yours. Actually? Nah, you don't have to. I'm already yours. Whether or not you want me.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear. The doubt melted away as I saw the man before me, steady in his words, white-knuckled as he tried to express how true they were.

“Oh, Ed, of course I want you, I’ve missed you s--”

He takes two steps toward me, his arms a bright slur of colors, my body willing itself toward his. His hands came up to cup my jaw, the pad of his middle finger resting beyond my ear. His lips settle firmly on mine and this kiss is somehow both soft & firm, frenzied yet unhurried, passionate and just purely, simply, sweet.

He breaks away - swallowing down a huge gulp of oxygen. “Kenny, I’m--”

“-- I know, Ed. I know.” and I know my words won’t soothe his worries as well as my lips will and so I take him back into my arms, pressing my lips to his as we both hold onto each other, keeping one another afloat.

I walk him backwards, into the master bedroom, until we reach the bed. He's showering me with kisses, every inch of my skin is a target for his plumped lips. His hands guide me gently until I’m lying in the center of the bed, his mouth on my skin every second of the way. He kicks off his shoes and climbs in.

He’s holding himself over me, caging me in. I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, dragging my fingertips up his back as I move to free his upper body, craving the warmth of his bare skin.

He pauses his oral assault of my neck, just long enough for me to pull the shirt up over his head. My fingers catch on something - what's this? Gauze, a patch of medical gauze taped over his left shoulder blade.

“Teddy -” I questioned.  “What is this?”

My question elicits a sigh, he's hesitant to answer. Was he hurt?

He pushes his body weight up, swinging his leg over me, sitting on the edge of the bed. With another sigh, he pulled his tee shirt completely off. The London moonlight filtering in through the glass pane of the window helps confirms my suspicion - it is a patch of gauze, a small vertical rectangle.

He turns a cheek toward me. “Would you like t’see?” He asks, taking a deep breath in, followed by a slow exhale.

I crawl toward him, sitting in an upright position behind where he's perched on the edge of the bed. I tucked my hair behind my ears before carefully peeling away the medical tape

I pull away the gauze, Ed is silent. I drink in the sight before me: vibrant ink, fresh, the surrounding skin still speckled pink from the irritation. It’s a playing card, the Queen of Hearts. All black and red, elaborate design.

“It’s beautiful… what does it mean?” For once, my mouth is one step ahead of my brain. I quickly cover the tattoo up again, patting the tape back in place. My pulse quickens.

He turns toward me. His hand reaches out to my face - out of habit, I think. Muscle memory, even. But his fingers re-route once he realizes my hair is already neatly tucked behind my ear.

“It's for you, Kendra.” His eyelids fluttering as he stares right into my dark eyes. “From that night, at the concert. That night… I knew I loved you.”

“Oh, Ed --” I started, reaching for him.

“You don’t have to say it back, Kenn, that’s not… not why I showed you.”

“I want to. I love you, Teddy. I knew it that night, too.”

Thanks for reading! This is the last you’ll hear from Ed & Kendra, at least for a while.

[dontshootmespence]

Grandma’s Choice

A/N: An anon request where Spencer is dating the reader (new relationship) whose family is from a Hispanic country, I chose Guatemala, and she is very excited about introducing Spencer to the culture of her parents’ homeland. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8 @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @hogwarts-konoha @lukeassmanalvez @rmmalta @yoinkpeter

                                                               ----

Y/N: I know we’ve only been dating for a couple months but...would you consider meeting my parents on the 15th?

After sending the text message, you waited nervously for Spencer’s answer. It’s not like two months into the relationship wasn’t a good time to meet the parents, but your parents were intent on meeting him soon, and they wanted to meet him on a particularly important day for your home country - Independence Day. On September 15, 1821, Guatemala finally gained their independence from Spain, and every year since, proud countryfolk would celebrate through a special race through the streets, fireworks, delicious food, and dancing. You and your family took part in the festivities every year and you were nervous (but also very excited) to show Spencer how proud you were of where you came from.

S: I’d love to. You met my mom already. But I’m definitely nervous to meet them. What if they hate me?

As you looked out the window, where there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, you couldn’t help but laugh. Why would they hate him? He’s adorable.

Y/N: You treat me with respect. You’re brilliant, kind, funny and caring. There really isn’t anything more they could want in a man for me. We’re going to be taking part in some Independence Day festivities. Is that cool by you?

S: Of course! I could ramble about Guatemala’s Independence Day, but I’m sure you know it all. I’ll be there.

You did, but you wouldn’t mind hearing him ramble about it. Listening to him talk could’ve been considered a pastime for you. 

Y/N: Thanks, Spence. It means a lot to me.

Now, you had to find a way to narrow down all the things you wanted to show him. There was such a rich culture to explore, and you wanted to show him all of it.

                                                              ----

Just a few days later, you met up with your parents at their home before going to pick up Spencer. “Okay, now I realize that I am your one and only, but be nice to him. Also, he tends to ramble a lot, but he knows everything about everything, so he’s very familiar with the history of this day. Can you be nice to him?”

You spoke to them both, but stared at your father. He had a bad habit of coming on a bit too strong and rude when it came to your previous significant others. “Be nice to him!”

“He has to be good enough for my baby, and then I’ll be nice to him.” Ugh. Dads. 

For the last time, you checked the time on your phone and turned to warn your parents one last time. “Be nice! I’m going to pick him up now. We’ll meet you there!”

“See you soon, sweetie!” Your mother called. “This was going to be interesting.”

                                                             ----

After knocking on the door, you patiently waited for your boyfriend, taken aback by his lack of speech when he opened the door. “You look beautiful,” he smiled.

That’s right. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing you in Guatemalan clothing, and today you were wearing your traje, a traditional dress that you’d made yourself (well, with your mother’s help) over the course of many years. While going to college, working a crap job to help put yourself through school, and eventually obtaining your full-time job, you worked on your traje - one you would wear on special occasions for as long as you lived. It consisted or a blouse, or huipil, a skirt, or corte, and faja, or belt, all of which came together in a whirlwind of color to dazzle neighbors, loved ones and strangers alike while simultaneously telling the stories of the past. 

The one you’d made with your mother was probably one of the most intricate you’d ever seen, but you loved the design your grandmother used to wear and had done everything you possibly could to make the design as close to hers as possible. A replica dress (she’d been buried in hers) and the locket she’d left you, kept her with you whenever you wore them. “This is beautiful,” Spencer said as he stepped toward you. “D-Did you make this?”

“Not by myself,” you laughed. “My mom helped me, and it took years between work and school and everything else.” Your traje depicted the legends of the conquest of the town of Nebáj (where your ancestors hailed from) by Pedro Alvarado, the conquerer of Guatemala. The repeating bird designs embroidered in a plethora of different colors, represented to vanquished chieftain, Tecún Umán, whose soul the quetzel bird took to paradise. All around the birds were horses and soldiers used to represent the conquering Spaniards. There was no color you could think of that wasn’t included, and everything was intricately woven together on a white base blouse that made everything pop. The skirt was embroidered at the bottom much the same as your blouse, and you truly never felt more beautiful then when you were wearing it. “I’m glad you like it though. It’s very close to the one my grandmother made for herself years ago. It reminds me of her.”

For a moment, you got sad. Your grandmother was your everything and you missed her very much. Spencer stepped forward, sensing your sadness and wrapping his arms around before placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry I never got to meet her.”

“Me too,” you sighed. “She would’ve loved you.”

Grandma was always on the hunt for knowledge. She never wanted her mind to get frail, and it didn’t; she stayed sharp until the day she died. But she absolutely would’ve loved hearing Spencer ramble about anything and everything.  “Ready to go?” You asked.

“I’ll follow your lead.”

About a half hour later, you met up with your parents at a local festival just outside of DC where people were celebrating with a contemporary Mayan performance showcasing the xajoj q’ojom (the Kaqchikel “music/dance”) of Grupo Sotz’il, a world-renowned Kaqchikel Maya ensemble from Guatemala. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. It’s very nice to finally meet you both.”

“So this is the boy my little girl keeps talking about,” you mother said, grabbing Spencer by both of his cheeks. You’d forgotten to mention the fact that Spencer wasn’t great with touch, but he was handling it all in stride. “You treat my baby well and we’ll be fine. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Spencer gave your mother a smile before turning his attention to your father, who, beyond your expectations, just extended his hand to Spencer, who took it and gave a firm handshake. “What my wife said. Treat her well and we’ll be fine. Otherwise I’ll have to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

“Dad!” 

“What!? I have to instill the fear of god in him a little bit.” 

Spencer smiled as he tried to keep himself from laughing. You were utterly embarrassed. “I completely understand,” Spencer said. “I would never, ever think of hurting her. I can promise you that.”

Finally, the embarrassment washed away. Just in time for the performance, which they’d dubbed the Heart of the Earth after the original show. Spencer watched in awe as masks and colorful costumes told a beautiful tale. It wasn’t a big show - no flashy equipment or tailor-made costumes to tell the tale. It was all stripped down so to speak, and it was all the more beautiful for it. Even the instruments were handmade. For the entire 60-minute runtime of the show, Spencer was transfixed, occasionally giving your hand a gentle squeeze to let you know he was paying attention.

Once the performance was over, everyone gave them a standing ovation, and the ensemble invited the audience down to ask any questions they had about the instruments, the performance or Mayan culture in general. “Mom, Dad and I are going to grab some food. You wanna try something?”

“Do you mind grabbing me whatever you’d like me to try so I can go talk to the performers?” He asked. Spencer was genuinely the best boyfriend in the world; he wasn’t just doing this to impress your parents, he was truly interested in your culture and it warmed you from the inside out like Chicken Pepian. Mmmm. Speaking of, your stomach was growling as if to remind you it hadn’t been fed saved for the apple and small yogurt you’d had this morning. 

“Sure, babe.”

As you turned to go grab food with your parents, you saw them eye your boyfriend one more time. “Is he just doing that to impress us?” Your father asked. “Because if he is, it’s working.”

“He’s not just doing it to impress you, Dad,” you assured him. “Spencer genuinely thirsts for knowledge. Kind of like grandma.”

“She would’ve liked him,” he replied. That’s when you knew your dad really liked him. If he thought his own mother would’ve liked Spencer, then that was good enough for him. Your father had never liked one of your significant others that quickly. Spencer was golden if your dad liked him. 

On your way to grab food, your parents started asking about Spencer, wanting more details about how you met (online, both of you had taken a chance on online dating), where your first date was (local park, Spencer made a picnic) and if you wanted to marry him (you did, but you were only two months into the relationship, so you weren’t going to say anything just yet). Then they started asking about his job, which they knew about, but they didn’t know to the extent he was in danger on a daily basis, and you weren’t about to scare them and make them think that anything could happen to you (it could, but it was a risk you were willing to take). Thankfully, delicious smells distracted you all so you didn't have to lie to them. Your parents took some food to snack on as they went on their way to meet up with a couple of friends. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye,” your mom said, “and have fun with your cute boy.”

“Thank you mom. I’ll take to you later.”

Your stomach growled intently as you picked up some of basically everything on the table for you to eat and Spencer to try. “Hey babe.” Spencer was still talking to performer’s ear off, but he wrapped it up as soon as he heard you.

“Where’d your parents go?”

“To meet up with friends. They like you. My dad said his mom, grandma,” you said, grabbing the locket around your neck, “would like you, so you’re golden. Grandma’s choice means you’re in.” Leaning up, you placed a kiss on his lips, careful not to get too hot and heavy for fear your parents would be right around the corner. 

Spencer heaved a sigh of relief. He’d been really worried. “Oh thank god,” he said, resting his head against yours. “Now...food. What is all this?”

One by one, you introduced him to some of your favorite dishes and foods. Spiced mangoes, seasoned with chili and lime. “This one is Chicken Pepian, isn’t it?” He asked. “That’s pumpkin and sesame in the sauce?”

He knew your favorite dish. You were definitely in love. “It’s the national dish of Guatemala. After tasting everything, I might have to go back and get more of that.” You let him try Kak’ik, a Mayan turkey soup spiced up with coriander, achiote and chile peppers. Guacamole, which was unlike any other he’d ever tried. And some Tres Leches Cake, which was smooth, rich and delicious. “I’m going to need more cake and more of the Chicken Pepian,” he said, smiling. 

After you were both filled to the brim with chicken and cake, dancers of all skill levels began to flourish in the streets. Down about 75 feet away, your parents were gliding back and forth hand in hand. If you could have that kind of love at their age, you would consider yourself blessed. “I can’t dance for shit,” Spencer said, extending his hand toward you, “But I can try...for you.”

“I’ll teach you,” you laughed. “Plus, this kind of dancing you really don’t need to have any skill for.”

“So I’m good.” 

Nodding, you grabbed both his hands in both of yours and began swaying back and forth to the beat, occasionally bursting outward so that he could spin you. You stepped on his feet a couple times, and he did the same to you, but you were having fun. “Wanna go out for All Saints Day too?” You asked. “We celebrate that too - with kites and more delicious food. We tend to take our lost relatives’ favorite foods to their graves and eat at the cemetery. You can meet my grandma.”

“I’d love that,” he replied, tilting your head up with his index finger and pressing his lips to yours. “Will you wear this again?”

“To see grandma? Absolutely.” You would’ve dressed in your traje every day if you weren’t so worried about ruining it and having to make a whole new one. “It keeps me close to her, as does the locket.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence while you continued to dance clumsily to the music. Spencer looked down to where your parents were, giving them a small wave as he twirled you. “Do you think that could be us?” He asked sweetly. 

You knew there was a reason you were head over heels for him. “Definitely.”

[sherereadssthemanuscript]

The Past is Beyond Our Control

#ChoicesCreates Round 21, Prompt was - What if…

Book: Endless Summer

Rating: M (Death, Accidental self harm, PTSD, Sensitive themes)

Genre: Angst

Pairings: Jake x MC (Taylor), Grace x Aleister, Zahra x Craig, Diego x Varyyn, Sean x Michelle 

Words: ~2000

Summary: What if… two words people often think of when they know… their alternate decisions could affect the outcomes of certain situations… Alas, The Butterfly Effect is unstoppable just like time itself. We can only learn to cope and move on.

A/N: WOW. we have been doing this without fail for 21 weeks, I couldn’t be more impressed @hollyashton , this week’s host is @catsrtheboss !! If anyone noticed this title is a line from Until Dawn… don’t tell Sony I don’t want to be sued… anyway this fic is heavy stuff, very angsty, actually, nothing but angst and sadness but enjoy nonetheless haha. Also since ES is in itself incomplete some scenarios were made up by me, some idols prophecy happened, some didn’t , just a head up!

Grace

It’s been 2 months since they were rescued from La Huerta… not all of them survived and not all the bodies were recovered…

Grace’s mom was desperate to get her usually cheery and curious daughter back… 

“Grace Tamara Hall…” the middle aged woman read off of her patient’s medical report. Her thick glasses positioned comfortably on her nose.

“Not gonna lie, I was honored when Blaire Hall chose me to be your psychiatrist, she cares about your well being a lot, sweetie”

Grace snorted knowingly, never meeting the doctor’s eyes. The doctor sighed flipping through the pages of her patient’s report.

“Look… whether you want to face it or not, and I am assuming it’s the latter, you have PTSD, my dear. Post Tr–”

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I am not stupid and I am fully aware of my condition” Grace mumbled while rubbing her temples

“Oh… well… What if we try–”

“What if… I think about these two words often.” Tears welled up in her eyes as her bottom lip started trembling.

“I was… suggesting… maybe you could tell me the source of your regret and I will help you… I promise, Ms. Hall…” The doctor said, her voice sounding more sincere than before

Once again, Grace was in the lab located inside mount Atropo. She was on the ground , her entire frame shaking after seeing three of her friends being hailed by bullets… She and her friends failed to input the right password which would deactivate the protection protocols.

Aleister

She couldn’t believe it he was… no more… Their feelings… Their spark… it never had a chance to become a fire. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to hug him… to run her hands through his platinum hair… To gaze into his deep, thoughtful baby blues… instead she was staring into his lifeless eyes, and watched as the color drained from his already pale skin. 

Grace was paralyzed with fear, anger and despair, IRIS’s cold, heartless, mechanical voice rang in the room , breaking her panic attack.

“Directive 1908… Revival procedure available…”

These words gave a her a glimpse of hope… before…

“Password input required.”

“No…” Taylor mumbled “We can’t risk this input bullshit anymore! Look what happened to our friends!”

“Taylor… what if we can save them… save him!” Grace’s voice was cracking. She sounded miserable and… slightly selfish… and she knew it.

“Grace, it’s too risky!” Michelle shouted.

“We can’t just do nothing!”

Grace ran to the computer. She thought of all the things the password could be. Her first two attempts were failures, now was her last chance… she entered her last guess …

IRIS clicked for a second “…Input Invalid”

She felt dizzy… she failed … she failed her friends and she failed herself. She couldn’t hold back her tears.

IRIS’s cold expression softened and the robot looked at her direction.

“I am… so sorry… Grace…”

A spark of electricity glistened down the hologram’s cheek like a teardrop.

“Emergency s-self destruct initiated.”

Her orb started smoking as her image distorted, her face turning into a grimace of agony before disappearing, shutting down the lights in the room with her.

“And just like that… I lost four of my friends… in about ten minutes…”

“…Four..?”

“IRIS… it wasn’t her fault… she was our friend” tears were threatening to pour down her face once again.

She wiped her tears. “Dr. Williams I appreciate this… I do… I know my mom payed a lot for my appointments but I… I can’t do this…” she stood up from the comfortable cushion and headed for the door.

“Grace… after a traumatic experience… closure is essential… you can’t shut everyone off. It will worsen both your physical and mental…”

Grace didn’t buy any of it, she was determined to leave, she opened the door and threw a glance at Dr. Williams once again, her expression was calm and professional.

“Ms. Hall, the past… is beyond our control… you’ll have to accept it or you will never heal.”

After a moment of consideration… Grace was out the door.

Zahra

It’s been two months since they were rescued. Two months since they left that… God forsaken island… it’s been one months, twenty seven days, 6 hours and 23 minutes since the last time she was outside. She basically barricaded herself from the outside world, from her friends, from her family, from her guilt. It’s been two months, fifteen days, seven hours, and forty three minutes since the last time she saw him…

at this point moving in a group was becoming dangerous, Sean, Jake, Yvonne and Craig were preparing themselves to explore this fucked up place even further. Turns out there’s not just a couple of mythical creatures in this place, maybe tens or even hundreds of different species. Exploring the fauna wasn’t their mission though.

“Do you guys have a deathwish?!” Michelle protested. “Whatever we do we should always do as a group. No splitting up have you learned NOTHING from 90s horror flicks?!” Sean just stared at her , listening to her rant before wrapping one arm around her and pulling her into a hug.

  “Please… be safe… I almost lost you here once already…” Michelle cried.

 Zahra watched all that before moving her gaze towards Craig. His eyes were on her as well but noticing their eye contact he quickly looked away. Everyone knew what they were attempting was dangerous and… probably pointless… whatever they were attempting, she didn’t quite catch.

Do something… Zahra thought to herself…

“Craig…” she approached him and  caught his attention.

“Hey…” He said. They stared longingly into each other’s eyes.

  “Craig, I…” his hand brushed hers softly.

   And… of all the things she could have thought of… their past good times… their past laughter… their past intimacy… she thought of how he abandoned her… like an old toy he didn’t need anymore when he found a better hobby. She pulled her hand away from him

  “Try not to fuck everything up, imbecile.” She left his side but kept throwing occasional glances before they left… he was gritting his teeth… was it anger ? was it regret? She would never find out.

She was sitting in the middle of her room. She moved all her furniture away one day and just preferred sitting on the ground from then on. The silence was deafening. Sometimes she swore she could hear her own blood flowing in her veins.

She kept staring at her phone screen. Specifically at a picture of her and Craig, after his first game in the football team, her hands were around his neck hugging him close and his hand was around her waist.

Zahra blocked her phone and stood up. She Kept circling around the room , thinking of what she’s done. She could have kissed him… she could have told him that she cared about him and wanted to be a part if his life again once they were safe. She could have said…

I love you.

  But she didn’t. And the last thing she ever told him was an insult… one he … never deserved…

“Didn’t he now?” she whirled around. Staring back at her was her reflection in a mirror. But it wasn’t her it had a malicious face full of anger.

“Don’t you remember?!” The reflection shouted. “Did you forget how he forgot you. How he threw you away?!

Zahra turned her back to the mirror hoping the hallucination would stop

“Sh-Shut. Up.” “He didn’t need you. I bet he made fun of you with his new friends. The pretty little cheerleaders. Honestly, even though I knew he had no taste, didn’t think he’d replace you with those Barbie dolls

  “That’s not true… He didn’t –”

“Oh it is. He was a traitorous, irresponsible, idiot and deserved whatever he got. He was a waste of spa–”

  “SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH" Zahra’s fist collided with the mirror shattering it in tens of pieces.

She was shaking and breathing heavily. She didn’t feel the pain kick in though, until she saw how blood flowed down her entire wrist, soaking her jacket with the warm liquid. Might have damaged a vein. She collapsed on the floor and reached for her phone.

She hasn’t called anyone in one month, fourteen days, six hours and nine minutes…

 "911… help, please… I’m b-bleeding…”

Sean

He has left the football team. Although both his coach and the team were trying to change his time but he was determined… he wasn’t playing without  his best friend.

Not like he would have anyone supporting his decision. He could contact the survivors but it wouldn’t be the same.

Michelle

 He couldn’t believe she committed suicide… she knew what she was doing, it was definitely suicide. He shouldn’t have blamed her for Craig’s death…

“Sean, quick! Michelle went outside!” Taylor alerted him. He rolled his eyes.

 “Why should I care?”

 “Wh-what are you talking about, she could get herself killed.”

 “Why. should. I help. her. Did she do anything to help Craig? She could have helped him, he was crying out for her…. But she just stared and did nothing” Sean hissed in anger.

 “Sean, that’s not fair, she was paralyzed with fear!”

 “Oh yeah? maybe she’ll get paralyzed again outside and you’ll drag her back?!” He stormed off.

For the most part, he blamed himself for her death. He didnt care enough. He never did. Maybe thats why their relationship kept failing. But he did have strong feelings for her and kept trying again.

He didnt want to admit it but he had weak rational thinking. He usually went with his gut or momentary emotions. He also didnt want to admit but if it hasnt been for his idleness… and inaction… his friends might have still been alive.

No more. 

He'd rejoin the team. He loved football… he would not develop more regrets… he's had enough.  

Varyyn

After his revival ritual performed by Uqshaal, Varyyn was told that the Catalysts fulfilled their destiny and saved their tribe.

He was also told that not all of the catalysts made it…

Diego

They died together but unfortunately the Vaanti revival ritual would never work on a human 

It was unfair… unfair that he’d get to continue his life and become a king but Diego would not and without him does it even matter?

He convinced his mother to bury Diego next to former kings and honored warriors He deserved to be honored like one of them.

The Vaanti had festivities dedicated to the bravery of the catalysts for weeks to come.

It was a bittersweet feeling but Varyyn was glad that time will now be their only enemy…

“I am very proud of you, Varyyn” Uqshaal said putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you”

“Are you ready for your speech in front of our tribe?”

“Yes… I am…”

Taylor

She wished she was stronger… She wished she could have saved them all… she was supposed to be a leader yet she failed the group. 

Her choices led to disastrous results, she tried to contact the survivors but they kept saying they were… busy… yeah, sure…

She couldn’t help a little offended but she didn’t blame them, the experience scarred all if them deeply at this point she didn’t think surviving was worth it. She missed her best friend, Diego.

They left him for six. Fucking. Months. And at the end still weren’t able to save him. She kept rewatching the stupid videos they would film out of boredom He always seemed so positive… so careless. She knew it wasn’t true but he was always a great friend.

She felt like a monster sometimes because even after the whole thing she could still laugh sometimes and have nice dreams. Was something wrong with her? Was that just her own special little way of going… insane?.. What if she died too? And this was just a figment of her dying mind… what if every…thing died because of her?

Jeez, if Jake was here… he’d give her a nickname, something like Courage the Cowardly dog or some other paranoid character

Jake…

God, she missed him. His one liners and snarky remarks. His little smirk that could make her either roll her eyes or feel butterflies having WWE fights in her stomach. His last moments still go in a continuous loop in her mind.

“Princess… don’t freak out but… I think I am dying…” he was coughing out drops of blood. Everything happened so damn fast she didn’t even realize what happened

“Jake please… no, don’t leave me I can’t do this without you” she cried against his jacket, cupping his face.

“Don’t say that– you’re– you’re so smart and incredible… you could pull this off all by yourself you– I am in so fucking in love with you, Taylor” he blurted out clutching his side. “

Jake… no, please…” She kissed him passionately, like it was the last time because… frankly it was. She felt the metallic taste of blood but it didn’t bother her at all. She knew that if she let go… he’d be gone…

He will never be gone, he’ll always be in her heart, in the back of her mind, grinning cockily, calling her princess for the first time. But she needed to let go. Outside of La Huerta… she had no power over time and she’d need to learn to let go and move on. Or she’ll always, subconsciously be… in one of those time loops… unable to get out.

An incoming call broke her from her gaze, it was Sean, she was ever so slightly euphoric to hear his voice.

“Sean! Hey!” She said in a maybe a little to excitedly.

“Hey, Taylor… it’s good to hear your voice.” She smiled at those words

“Yours too, Sean…”

“I– I don’t know how this happened but Zahra’s in a hospital… Grace went to check in her to see the door smashed in by the emergency… her veins were cut… could be self harm” She was silent. Now she felt even more like a monster, laughing and genuinely feeling great sometimes while her friend suffered from depression.

“Taylor..? You there..?”

“Yeah it’s just…”

“I am going to visit her, do you want me to pick you up?”

That’s it. That’s what they needed. Be there for each other. With each other. Together they’d heal much faster than by themselves.

“Yeah, sure!”

“Great, see you Taylor” she could feel him smile through the phone.

She quickly grabbed her apartment keys and headed for the door, throwing a glance back at her room. Next to her bed… folded neatly was a certain dark green jacket. She stared at it before grabbing and putting it on. Yeah… she’d move on… doesn’t mean she couldn’t cherish memories…

[luffik]

Eyes of the Swarm - Lore pt. 2 (Founders of the Realmsguard)

This post is a part of Eyes of the Swarm, my and @zlukaka​’s visual novel in development. Any feedback/comments will be loved & treasured! 

Picking smoothly up where the 1st lore post left off, with the Swarm’s violence on the rise under the new reign of its first avatar... These events are still taking place several hundred years before the time the game will be set in.

Again we added some sketchy illustrations for your reading pleasure :)

While Belgar’s role in those early days was mostly to keep Nathan safe from harm and guide him where their god wanted them to go, the blindman had been granted the power to create items from elements present in the environment around him. Nathan’s blindness was subsiding, as promised, but it was a slow process (at first he began to distinguish light and darkness, then perceive vague colors and shapes of things). And although Nathan hardly even knew how birds looked like yet, the god that nestled in their minds had been already telling him about the flying machines that he was supposed to build soon. 

Elated but also kind of intimidated, Nathan shared those grandiose ideas with his companion, since though Belgar talked to their god as well, it was usually of other matters (the god could speak to both of them simultaneously, even on different topics, but for each of them this telepathic communication was private). 

Their god instructed them to climb atop one of the pillars and build their first outpost there. Later, those strongholds perched in the clouds, high above the towns and villages of the common folk that they surrounded with their protection, would come to be known as sky bastions, and the heroes that operated from inside them, would be hailed as the Realmsguard. 

But for the first few decades, the two chosen were working alone.

One of the first creations they required to be able to get on time where they were needed most were the flying machines their god promised. And so Nathan created the first aircraft. The design was quite basic, and would be redesigned by the Realmsguard many times in the centuries to come, but that was all they needed for now.

(as you might be guessing we will be hiring a background artist for the aircrafts and such X’DDD) 

This first flying machine as well as others to be developed in the future) didn’t even have an engine - it didn’t need one. Nathan became its pilot and with his powers, he would lift it in the air, and also anchor the fighter to the aircraft and pull him back like a magnet should he require it, allowing Belgar to fight freely from the wings and leap high up or away if needed, always certain that Nathan would pull him back. This combat system, in its advanced form, would be maintained in the Realmsguard for centuries to come.

And so began Nathan’s and Belgar’s time as the heroes and defenders of the world. For many years they effectively fended off the Swarm invasions. Often simply seeing these two patrolling the area, the beastriders would turn back and flee without a fight. 

The common folk of the towns and villages cheered and pronounced Nathan and Belgar their saviors, showered them in goods and sort of even acknowledged that there’s some god that nobody can see but who wants to protect them all (Nathan kept trying to make sure all this good they were doing is attributed to their god, and not just to them, so he always told the local population that they are just the god’s messengers). Their god was nameless, so they decided to give him a name. They called him Terry in celebration of his terrible sense of humour - he always tried to make a lot of jokes to feel more human but it would take many years before they became remotely funny. Terry liked his new name.

The god was pleased with his chosen, who also grew to become his friends. He continued to offer them his guidance and power - he would do so for as long as he could, he said. Side by side Nathan and Belgar were able to even stand against Kron, the avatar of the Swarm, though these epic show-downs happened rarely and always ended in a stand-off.

The problem was, that even though Nathan and Belgar were powerful and did not age (Terry told them that they were in fact immortal, but back then they managed not to test it in practice quite yet), they were still only two people. And so when they would be patrolling one region, the Swarm would often raid some far off town or village they had already protected before, and raze it to the ground, to teach Belgar and Nathan a lesson - they could not always protect everyone.

Those incidents had Nathan going through a crisis a couple of times, since his own story was also one of a survivor of such a mass slaughter, and he felt that he failed these people, that he was personally to blame for all their deaths. But both Belgar and Terry were reassuring him that thanks to their heroic interventions far fewer people were dying than they would have without their help. After being taught the hard way that they couldn’t be in many places at once for a time being they limited their operations to an area they could always fully protect, and they did not dare to venture far out to help someone in the distance.

They sorely needed more people to join them but they didn’t want to endanger lives of mortals. Terry promised that once there would indeed be more people with powers, and that they shouldn’t lose hope, so they waited. Unfortunately there weren’t any more people with powers just yet... or were they? Wait, what was that just now? Did they just witness some small time criminal in one of the towns use supernatural powers to extract money out of a local merchant?

Well... maybe there actually were people with powers already, Terry hesitantly admitted. Apparently, children with powers - infinitely smaller than the ones the two chosen had, but powers nonetheless - started being born some quarter of a century ago, around the time when Belgar and Nathan first made their pact with Terry. But he didn’t tell them anything about it. Why? Well, he had been waiting till those people weren’t children anymore, of course, because children shouldn’t fight, right? Well, yes, but now many of them were 20+ year olds, who probably turned into criminals by now, with their powers making such life easy and profitable for them. Marvellous.

At this point, Belgar and Nathan had a bit of a squabble with Terry, wishing he’d inform them sooner, some ten years ago at least, so they could have recruited and trained these people, and saved more lives together. Terry was sorry for this misunderstanding - the concept of time for him was still an abstract, quirky thing that he was trying to get a hang of. The quarrel ended with Belgar saying that what’s done is done and that setting criminals straight was nothing that he couldn’t handle. 

And so they set out to find the people with powers to join their cause - and they succeeded. Joining the heroes was alluring, offering a life of glory, and promise of immortality. The new recruits possessed weaker powers, since they did not serve as a vessel for a god, so as such, they were still mortals - yet Terry and Nathan had been preparing for this and by that time Nathan had almost finished constructing what was supposed to be a resurrection system, which would offer immortality to anyone granted with powers who decided to join them.

Unfortunately, once the Swarm’s avatar realized there are people with powers, he employed the beastriders to roam the world in search of them. And to Kron it didn’t matter if they took a grown men or kidnapped a toddler. The Swarm had strength in numbers, and so many people with powers fell into the wrong hands and were raised to become the first power-wielding beastriders. That time marked a start of a race between the Swarm agents and Realmsguard to get to such people as soon as possible, before the enemy found them.

Of course, the heroes still had the upper hand. The resurrection system that Nathan set up turned out to work (not 100% of the time, but well enough for now, and Nathan was already working on a perfected version). Additionally, Terry touched all the recruits that Nathan and Belgar deemed ready and worthy, and amplified their small innate powers with his divine ones. They still couldn’t quite compare with Nathan and Belgar, but they were far more effective than the people with powers snatched by the Swarm and could oppose them well.

And so began the times of the Realmsguard. The heroes expanded their operations, and more sky bastions were built - one day they would spread across most of their world. But long before that, the insufficient natural resources of their realm would force them to look beyond it.

For now, Belgar busied himself acquiring and training the new recruits, while Nathan pored over blueprints and drowned in research - there were still many ideas that Terry wanted him to set into motion, many inventions to bring to life. Such as the technology that would allow the heroes with powers to bond, which in turn would let them to tune in on a frequency needed to cross into other dimensions. This project was becoming crucial if they hoped to build enough aircrafts for the pilots and fighters currently in-training.

It was all going quite well, until one day a power-wielding squad of beastriders broke into their main headquarters and stole the reincarnation system together with the new realmshiting system that Nathan just finished working on. It was a bit of a dark day for the heroes and they tripled their defences around the headquarters afterwards, never to allow another such break in into the labs.

But there was a silver lining - it turned out that the Swarm didn’t really know how to use what they stole. Besides, Nathan had been already prototyping a new, flawless reincarnation system - he dropped everything else to build it as quickly as possible after this break-in and soon the heroes were back in action and immortal again, this time with no risk of malfunctions.

A bit more of domestic problems arose soon however, pulling Nathan and Belgar away from their work. Who was that Terry they kept talking about, and why had nobody ever seen him? Did he even exist? Their recruits began asking all sorts of questions and since Terry heard them all, eventually he asked Nathan and Belgar, if he should show himself to the people. They were both quite surprised to hear that question in their minds. They were used to their god being just a presence, sometimes golden light, they didn’t suspect he was even capable of taking form but once he asked, they encouraged him to do so - it was going to boost people’s morale for sure.

They took those words back as soon as they saw some weird glowing abomination... (well, Nathan, who used to be blind, was far less appalled by that first try). It took Terry some dozen attempts before both of his chosen sort of agreed that perhaps people won’t faint when they see him like that.

This was the vaguely human-shaped and sized form they finally settled on;

It was sure strange to see their god in front of them, but even this way, Terry could still speak into their minds and he was still present there, the form being just a partial way for him to manifest. Introducing Terry to his worshippers was deemed more or less a success. For sure, no one questioned that he was a divine creature. They feared him at first, but Terry was a benevolent and overly talkative god, and he was able to make friends with almost everyone he met. Soon his worship became better established and spread even further, becoming a counter-balance to the Swarm worship, although Terry insisted that was not the point. He just wanted to help and save lives.

And so the heroes continued to protect the world. They grew in numbers, and began to travel to other worlds - originally to acquire the materials they needed to advance their technology, but often standing up for the oppressed in those worlds that turned out to be populated - which was exactly what earned them the name of ‘the Realmsguard’ (more about that in the next lore post). 

Some more years passed before the Swarm established some sort of research department and finally managed to activate the technology they stole. And even though the battle against immortal beastriders was not a dream come true for the Realmsguard, the resurrection system that the Swarm had now was the flawed prototype, so there was always hope that if you killed a beastrider enough times, one time they wouldn’t come back. Sometimes they would also come back crippled, and run to join the Realmsguard, in hopes of being healed by Nathan’s perfected resurrection system (this in time resulted in the Swarm’s ruler deciding to execute everyone who came back crippled, before they had a chance to jump ship - a tradition that Vra and Otto still honor in the present times).

Like this, the power balance on both sides eventually evened out, and the race to get to the newly born realmshifters continued...

Thank you for reading! If you got this far, please tell us what you think! It will totally make our day and motivate us to keep working :3

And if anything made you curious to know more - please ask, we’d love to answer your questions <3!

The next episode will be devoted to realmshifting and to the relations between the legendary heroes of the Realmsguard and the two top agents of the Swarm!

Why did Kron send his two powerless second-in-commands - an old, personal advisor and the scrawny head of his research department - to fight the founders of the Realmsguard? Was it a wise move? You shall find out soon :P

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings July 12, 2020

Psalm 148-150

Psalm 148

Praise for God’s Universal Glory

1 Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights! 2 Praise him, all his angels; praise him, all his host!

3 Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars! 4 Praise him, you highest heavens, and you waters above the heavens!

5 Let them praise the name of the Lord, for he commanded and they were created. 6 He established them forever and ever; he fixed their bounds, which cannot be passed.[a]

7 Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deeps, 8 fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind fulfilling his command!

9 Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! 10 Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds!

11 Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all rulers of the earth! 12 Young men and women alike, old and young together!

13 Let them praise the name of the Lord, for his name alone is exalted; his glory is above earth and heaven. 14 He has raised up a horn for his people, praise for all his faithful, for the people of Israel who are close to him. Praise the Lord!

Psalm 149

Praise for God’s Goodness to Israel

1 Praise the Lord! Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise in the assembly of the faithful. 2 Let Israel be glad in its Maker; let the children of Zion rejoice in their King. 3 Let them praise his name with dancing, making melody to him with tambourine and lyre. 4 For the Lord takes pleasure in his people; he adorns the humble with victory. 5 Let the faithful exult in glory; let them sing for joy on their couches. 6 Let the high praises of God be in their throats and two-edged swords in their hands, 7 to execute vengeance on the nations and punishment on the peoples, 8 to bind their kings with fetters and their nobles with chains of iron, 9 to execute on them the judgment decreed. This is glory for all his faithful ones. Praise the Lord!

Psalm 150

Praise for God’s Surpassing Greatness

1 Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament![b] 2 Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!

3 Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp! 4 Praise him with tambourine and dance; praise him with strings and pipe! 5 Praise him with clanging cymbals; praise him with loud clashing cymbals! 6 Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!

Footnotes:

Psalm 148:6 Or he set a law that cannot pass away

Psalm 150:1 Or dome

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 114-115

Psalm 114

God’s Wonders at the Exodus

1 When Israel went out from Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language, 2 Judah became God’s[a] sanctuary, Israel his dominion.

3 The sea looked and fled; Jordan turned back. 4 The mountains skipped like rams, the hills like lambs.

5 Why is it, O sea, that you flee? O Jordan, that you turn back? 6 O mountains, that you skip like rams? O hills, like lambs?

7 Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob, 8 who turns the rock into a pool of water, the flint into a spring of water.

Psalm 115

The Impotence of Idols and the Greatness of God

1 Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness. 2 Why should the nations say, “Where is their God?”

3 Our God is in the heavens; he does whatever he pleases. 4 Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. 5 They have mouths, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see. 6 They have ears, but do not hear; noses, but do not smell. 7 They have hands, but do not feel; feet, but do not walk; they make no sound in their throats. 8 Those who make them are like them; so are all who trust in them.

9 O Israel, trust in the Lord! He is their help and their shield. 10 O house of Aaron, trust in the Lord! He is their help and their shield. 11 You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord! He is their help and their shield.

12 The Lord has been mindful of us; he will bless us; he will bless the house of Israel; he will bless the house of Aaron; 13 he will bless those who fear the Lord, both small and great.

14 May the Lord give you increase, both you and your children. 15 May you be blessed by the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

16 The heavens are the Lord’s heavens, but the earth he has given to human beings. 17 The dead do not praise the Lord, nor do any that go down into silence. 18 But we will bless the Lord from this time on and forevermore. Praise the Lord!

Footnotes:

Psalm 114:2 Heb his

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Joshua 1

God’s Commission to Joshua

1 After the death of Moses the servant of the Lord, the Lord spoke to Joshua son of Nun, Moses’ assistant, saying, 2 “My servant Moses is dead. Now proceed to cross the Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the Israelites. 3 Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, as I promised to Moses. 4 From the wilderness and the Lebanon as far as the great river, the river Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites, to the Great Sea in the west shall be your territory. 5 No one shall be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you. 6 Be strong and courageous; for you shall put this people in possession of the land that I swore to their ancestors to give them. 7 Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to act in accordance with all the law that my servant Moses commanded you; do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, so that you may be successful wherever you go. 8 This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it. For then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall be successful. 9 I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

Preparations for the Invasion

10 Then Joshua commanded the officers of the people, 11 “Pass through the camp, and command the people: ‘Prepare your provisions; for in three days you are to cross over the Jordan, to go in to take possession of the land that the Lord your God gives you to possess.’”

12 To the Reubenites, the Gadites, and the half-tribe of Manasseh Joshua said, 13 “Remember the word that Moses the servant of the Lord commanded you, saying, ‘The Lord your God is providing you a place of rest, and will give you this land.’ 14 Your wives, your little ones, and your livestock shall remain in the land that Moses gave you beyond the Jordan. But all the warriors among you shall cross over armed before your kindred and shall help them, 15 until the Lord gives rest to your kindred as well as to you, and they too take possession of the land that the Lord your God is giving them. Then you shall return to your own land and take possession of it, the land that Moses the servant of the Lord gave you beyond the Jordan to the east.”

16 They answered Joshua: “All that you have commanded us we will do, and wherever you send us we will go. 17 Just as we obeyed Moses in all things, so we will obey you. Only may the Lord your God be with you, as he was with Moses! 18 Whoever rebels against your orders and disobeys your words, whatever you command, shall be put to death. Only be strong and courageous.”

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Acts 21:3-15

3 We came in sight of Cyprus; and leaving it on our left, we sailed to Syria and landed at Tyre, because the ship was to unload its cargo there. 4 We looked up the disciples and stayed there for seven days. Through the Spirit they told Paul not to go on to Jerusalem. 5 When our days there were ended, we left and proceeded on our journey; and all of them, with wives and children, escorted us outside the city. There we knelt down on the beach and prayed 6 and said farewell to one another. Then we went on board the ship, and they returned home.

7 When we had finished[a] the voyage from Tyre, we arrived at Ptolemais; and we greeted the believers[b] and stayed with them for one day. 8 The next day we left and came to Caesarea; and we went into the house of Philip the evangelist, one of the seven, and stayed with him. 9 He had four unmarried daughters[c] who had the gift of prophecy. 10 While we were staying there for several days, a prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. 11 He came to us and took Paul’s belt, bound his own feet and hands with it, and said, “Thus says the Holy Spirit, ‘This is the way the Jews in Jerusalem will bind the man who owns this belt and will hand him over to the Gentiles.’” 12 When we heard this, we and the people there urged him not to go up to Jerusalem. 13 Then Paul answered, “What are you doing, weeping and breaking my heart? For I am ready not only to be bound but even to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.” 14 Since he would not be persuaded, we remained silent except to say, “The Lord’s will be done.”

15 After these days we got ready and started to go up to Jerusalem.

Footnotes:

Acts 21:7 Or continued

Acts 21:7 Gk brothers

Acts 21:9 Gk four daughters, virgins,

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Mark 1:21-27

The Man with an Unclean Spirit

21 They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. 22 They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. 23 Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, 24 and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” 25 But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” 26 And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. 27 They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He[a] commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.”

Footnotes:

Mark 1:27 Or A new teaching! With authority he

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.