#also I love my old computer I love that it still works it's a relic of its era

[iro-rautatiski]

The History of Ruin's Heir

What's "Ruin's Heir"?

Ruin's Heir is a fantasy comic, published at ComicFury by me.

After the gateway to the realm of death has been shattered, the balance of the world has been disturbed, slowly being eaten away by the deadly matter know as "the ruin". Vervain, a young wolf, finds that he has a deep connection to the Grimgrove and its ruin. In order to prevent the inevitable, he must find his True Name.

First page was published 9th April 2023, but the history of this story goes way back to the year 2011. I have now written some of it down, mostly for myself, but if you have found yourself curious and want to give it a read, I welcome you with warmth.

Nemorosa and Vervain

2011 - Parantajan oppipoika

The beginning

At this point in my life I had spent about three years watching YouTube animated series about dogs.

I also did create my own series, several, even before this one, but never published those anywhere, and sadly I do not have them anymore. 2010 December I got my very first own computer, and I got absolutely hog-wild with the new-found freedom of interwebs.

At the age of 12, I finally created my very own YouTube account.

I of course had to create my very own dog (or in this case, wolf) series. I pulled out my trusty MsPaint, and started to work without too much thought about the plot, or anything.

Just wanted to do something, probably came up with the designs at the spur of the moment too.

Juniper and Vervain

The series was called Parantajan oppipoika, until I changed the name to Apprentice, thinking that... English is cool? I don't think though that I ever succesfully released an episode with the new name, so Apprentice didn't really stick. So Parantajan oppipoika it is.

The series had 2 finished apisode, third one was left unfinished.

Which sounds kinda underwhelming. But despite its short visit at the time, Parantajan oppipoika would leave a mark in my heart that was waiting for its next opportunity to shine.

Story

Vervain, young member of the wolf pack, dreams nothing more than being a healer's apprentice. When the day comes that the pack's healer, Clover, chooses her apperentice, Vervain is very excited and hopeful about the end result. But he is left dissapointed, when instead of him, his friend Dandelion is chosen. Some days after the ceremony, Vervain notices that Dandelion seems very tired and absent, barely responding when he asks her anything. Without his knowledge, Dandelion has been suffering from the nightmarish visions she started to get after she was appointed as a healer's apprentice. Next evening, Vervain follows a raven, who guides him to find Dandelion at the forest, killed by a bear. Clover blaming herself, believes this was a sign that her decision was a mistake, and appoints Vervain as her new apprentice.

Poor Dandelion...

Inspirations

At the time, I have just got into Warrior Cats, and it was also very clear with Parantajan oppipoika. Pack's structure, nature themed names, and concept of the healer all came from there. I also remember that Vervain's name was taken straight from Watership Down, from the character with the same name.

Videos etc.

Not much material is left from this time, which is a big shame for me personally, as I would love to see the first 2 episodes again.

Though, some materials are still intact, and I'll cherish them.

The first opening of Parantajan oppipoika.

To this very day I still associate this song to Ruin's Heir. Kinda hoping that someday I could animate something to it...

Unfinished "new" opening

I remember being very, very proud of this one. And honestly, good for you, 12-13 years old Iro, you indeed did good. I think the development between these two openings are visible already.

Unfinished episode 3

(with a placeholder music, I think the original had The Lion King music), pretty short, but oh... the relic....

I think this is all I have to say about the first version of this story, for now.

Hassireeee, Veervain

2013 - Hour of the Wolf

The resurrection

Parantajan oppipoika went to the slumber for time being, and I didn't finish episode 3. If I remember right, I didn't do much with these characters after cancelling the series.

But, in 2013 they returned. I started to work on the reboot, called "Hour of the Wolf"

I literally forgot it was called that. Anyways.

I must admit that I don't remember much specifics from this era, I found an outline for the planned episodes so nevermind about not remembering.

Once again, I was planning on making an animated series, but this time with less success than before. Not a single episode were finished.

But looking at the outline, there was a plan for 16 episodes in total.

Some aspects from 2011 version were kept, but some were also dropped. Vervain didn't want to be a healer anymore, and whole concept of healers seemed to be absent from this version in general. Instead story now focused more on the relationship between Vervain ja Raven, and also war that our main pack, Tyrmäinen, was having with "Bonefangs" pack.

Even though a lot has changed since this version of the story, it did an important groundwork for its future. A lot characters that exits nowadays, were created back then. Even some plot points, though with drastic changes, have stayed in some form.

Sedum and Bracken

Goldenrod, Bracken, Nuphar (down), Sedum, Woundwort, and Majalis

Characters

Sedum and Bracken were old faces from the 2011, but most of the pack's youngsters were created 2013. Nuphar, Pillwort, and Majalis are still part of the cast today. Twins Woundwort and Golderod were part of the story for a long time before being cut 2022.

Vervain and Raven

Vervain bond with ravens was now strengthened. Especially with this one raven, who was also his father's old Guardian, and only thing that the villain, Elder, was truly afraid of. Raven's characterization, and purpose for the story has changed several times after this, but presence of the Raven has been kept strong ever since.

Story

After the death of Dandelion, Vervain finds an injured wolf named Juniper. She is taken in, and she warns the pack about approaching rival pack, Bonefangs, who she also was part of formerly. After the presence of bonefangs has been made known, security measures are tightened, and atmosphere in the pack gets heavy. At the same time, Vervain meets Raven, who seems to be his, and unknowingly to him, his deceased father's Guardian. War between the two wolf packs goes on, until tragedy strikes the pack, and it's rumored that among them there's a traitor…

Elder, Vervain, and Raven

As I'm reading this outline now, I'm thinking "damn, I really did read Harry Potter back then didn't I?"

Some of the plotlines were almost straight from there...

Videos

Unfinished opening

Unfinished episode (I think)

Didn't get far, but cool.

2015 - Kaarnen Herra

The new era

I still quite like this name I had. It's translated "Lord of the Raven", and I pretty much got it from Lord of the Rings. Good naming technique I would say.

Apparently I started to do reboots every two years.

Once again, I wanted to make a youtube animated series. Because I never learn.

Though this time I learned a little bit, and opted out from making a fully animated series, and instead used minimal amount of pictures. Episode 1 was still left unfinished, because the workload still didn't fit me.

Nemorosa and Vervain

This is probably when this story started to have more online presence. I'm still surprised when people leave a comment somewhere and actually know Vervain's name off the bat.

Even thought this is probably the point where magic wolves' hold over my brain capacity got stronger than ever before, it's also the era where I feel I made my biggest mistake and regret with this story. It was when I put feathers on their heads, unknowingly enforcing racist stereotypes about native people.

I always struggled to find justification lore-wise for why they even had those, so when I finally realized and decided that this whole thing actually comes from a very harmful place, and should be removed, I myself felt very relieved.

This is the time in my life I did a lot drawings and videos about Kaarnen Herra, but I can't say that I would feel comfortable sharing all of it so freely nowadays.

Story

Life at Tyrmänkä's pack has been ever so peaceful, until a weird strom rises. Vervain notices that this has made his friend Dandelion restless, and when he sees that she has went to the forest alone, he follows. Vervain stumbles on to the scene, when Dandelion is trying to bind down an angered spirit, costing her life. Spell however has got its hold on Vervain too, and slowly it rips more and more away his life. One way to save his own life would be to void the spell and release the spirit, but that would possibly cost his pack's life if done so. Luckily, helpful Raven and a stoat named Portimo wants to help him to find another way to save himself...

Vervain and Bracken

Characters

This version brought many new characters, but for this I wanted to showcase these two selectet characters, which I feel have been more influential. Portimo and Tormentil.

Tormentil and Portimo

Portimo

At first there was supposed to be three stoats, capable of merging into one big stoat monster, but at some point, three turned into just one character. (Stoat monster was however apparently kept at least some time after this, for some reason.)

I can't remember where the idea of having a villanous small stoat came from, but I thank the past me of this. Nowadays it's hard to think of this story without Portimo.

Portimo changed a lot tings about the plot, and was even some sort of main villain of the series. Kuilunka, formerly Bonefangs, then became more sympathetic, although still antagonistics.

His name by the way is just a old finnish name for stoats. So his name is just Stoat 👍

Tormentil

Tormentil is a mix of old and new, as her intial inspiration came way back from 2011, from Parantajan oppipoika.

Back then Elder (who was named Vomitflower back then.... I have found no proof that such flower exists, but it might be inspired by the plant called ipecacuanha).

Anyways, Elder/Vomitflower had a sidekick, whose trope was "even more sadistic than the boss". Back then her name was Cactus-spike.

Cactus-spike got a massive overhaul designwise, and a new name, since I didn't want these wolves to know what cacti are. She pretty much became a new character, but fullfilling the same initial role as previously.

Her role also grew a lot from what I originally planned, mostly because I got a such positive feedback from her, and I wanted to utilize her potential more.

Videos

Opening

Unfinished episode 1

2019 - Goodbye animation

Finally I came to the conclusion that I can't work on this story in form of animation, and instead decided to try dip myself back into the wolrd of comics.

And by back I mean that I used to do a lot comics when I was 7-12 years old, but stopped working on those after getting more into doing animations instead.

There were actually two tries, before I started to publish pages publicly. First one I treated more like a test from the beginning, to see how it feels to work on the comic.

Page 1. Ohto Page 2. Nemorosa and Vervain

End result was: It felt pretty nice. My confidence towards this new approach grew, and decided that this would be something I wanted to try in the long run.

I stopped this first run after 12 pages, reworked some aspects of the story, and started to work on the real deal.

But I clearly still had some things to learn....

2020 - Setback

The plot got very big changes, with the threat of the apocalypse looming over the characters now. As I wanted to strengthen to conflict within the world, and make it affect the characters.

With these new additions, some new characters were also brought in (or old ones totally reworked).

Everhalo and Ruinkeeper

New characters

Raven's character got a total overhaul. Now instead of being Vervain's companion, she became the Spirit of death, and was named Ruinkeeper.

This change also later contributed to why story's name was renamed Ruin's Heir (or the finnish name, Kalman lapsi). As I felt that no one would feel any lordiness over this Raven anymore, so I felt that it didn't fit anymore.

With the Spirit of death, there was also added Spirit of life, Everhalo. Who seems to have his own agenda in the grand scheme of things.

_

I worked on the first chapter, year had passed already and the chapter was close to the finish line.

I had done 34 pages, but finishing the last 7 pages felt too much.

Tormentil, Elder, and Ruinkeeper

I believe that I did a mistake in complicating the backgrounds for the actual comic. Instead of doing a lined work like I did back in my first version, I tried to give it more painted look. So now it didn't feel so good to do anymore, and I felt like I had to do something differend...

So I did what you're always told to not to do when working on comics, and started over.

2022- Ruin's Heir

This is the version I finally started to publish to ComicFury.

The scene did had some chages, but the basic idea was kept same. Tormentil needs to kill Ruinkeeper.

Some pages were reused, and the color palette kept same.

Tormentil, Elder, and Ruinkeeper

I do count this and the previous version of chapter 1 in the same era, as the actual story has no big changes made between these.

Two characters had redesigns though, Elder and Vervain

Elder (old and new)

Vervain

Changing Vervain's design especially felt like I was about to do a crime. But just how with the name change, I just felt that his older design didn't work with his character anymore. Even though I had grown very attached to it.

Luckily, I can say that I'm now quite happy with his design.

The End

At this very moment I'm writing this paragraph, I'm working on the chapter two, with the last six pages work in progress. So far my feelings toward making this comic has been very positive, and it's one of the rays of joy that I have at the moment.

I admit it's one my fears that what if someday I'm not able to work on it anymore? But I guess it's no use to worry too much about the future, while still having this very moment at the hand.

Will I change my mind about this comic in two years? Could be plausible, when looking at my past set records of reboot after reboots. But it's okay, and I'm trying to follow my principle, which pretty much is "follow your heart, it's yours after all".

[newtlesbian]

Omg your old machinery collection + computer assembly sounds so cool please do not restrain yourself <3 id love to hear you talk more about it

oh kisses you kisses you kisses you. i love to collect old crap irl and to build things. maybe favorite thing about building computiez is i love wire management/organizing. so proud of making sure when you open it up its still as pretty as the front. ill pop that bad boy open and straighten your shit right out whenever people let me. gently gently brushing a girls hair for her oh so sweetly

and i collect anything tbh. any format of physical media is one i love like movies games music whatever i can get my hands on. bought records long before i had a record player. little machines are cute to me. ancient little relics from long ago i would unearth from thriftstores as a child. having to dig for it in piles. excavating. no money for new just things that were already way older than me when i got them used as a kid and now even more. but like i said theyre Cute theyre Sturdy theyre Dependable. and to character analysis mode myself its probably looking for stability and positive memory after losing most of my possessions or some gay shit. but the reality is i just like em :) the things i have currently all still work :) the section of a thrift store thats a wall of plastic baggies full of interesting remote varieties will never let me down

something fun is old games. not just cartridges or sweetest little console/old pc frisbee frisbeasts. the little machines are more fun to hear about. i have a good variety. for one i have such a deep fondness for old plug n play games and how the casings are so unique and goofy and colorful and chunky chunky. they have personality and good looks the whole package <3. something i rarely was gifted but adore. little animals on a leash to me with their wire <3 also non plug-in games. li still have a handheld lcd screen animal facts biology trivia game i loved that i cant seem to find online. so newtcoded of me. loved little educational machines and the purely games ones

and not just old ones ive got newer ones as long as theyre Some Interesting Cute Little Hardware. this posts going on wayyy too long but theres tons of throwback-style game stuff that i think is fun. like different flat darling little handheld animals to miniature version of arcade cabinets. i used to have a bunch of cheapo ancient fast food prizes people threw out. but, again, lost possessions. ill have to rebuild. but a neat newer one is a tetris game only sold in china mcdonalds thats in the shape of a Chicken Nugget. and Uh Yes the box looks like a food container. Yeah. cutest little beast i ever did saw. an angel sitting in the palm of my hands

[notreblogs]

I ripped some songs from Magic Carpet 2 : The Netherworlds, recorded straight from my Sound Blaster AWE64 sound card on my good old Pentium MMX Windows 98 computer; because I was missing those sweet background tunes from my vgm playlist and nobody had ripped them apparently.

This game uses a special soundfont which is exclusive to AWE32 sound cards so it cannot be emulated on DOSBox right now (I think).

I love this game and I love my AWE64. Wish they could make a remake of this, or a sequel. Not an “inspired-by” fangame, I want an actual game that plays just like this not just an adaptation aaaaaaaaa i m a g i n e   i t 

[swooning-for-harvey]

The Collector

Bucky Barnes x Any Reader (no pronouns/description)

Fluff no triggers.

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

You had just found a beautiful, retro handheld radio on your way home from work. You've always been fascinated by vintage items. Anything from household appliances to books, you like to collect them. You like to think they have a new lease of life in your home, with someone new appreciating them. One of your favorite things to collect are typewriters especially, they are such an interesting piece of history. Something in the evolutionary line between paper and computer, the vintage keyboard.

Your boyfriend has always been more accepting of your collection than others from your past. He also sees and understands the beauty of the items in your collection, which is one of the reasons you fell in love with him. He has always been an old soul, very refreshing to be around and easy to communicate with. He never played any mind games like other people these days.

It begins to snow gently as you get off the bus at he corner. As you reach the door, you realize you can’t get your keys with your arms full of groceries and the new radio. You are about to set the bag down when the door slowly opens from inside.

“Need a hand there?” the familiar voice laughs as he pushes the door open fully.

“If you wouldn't mind, darling” you reply, leaning your arm with the radio out towards him.

“Of course my dear” He says, in an almost silly voice, but somehow still charming. He takes the radio from you and then reaches for the Grocery bag hanging from your elbow. You pull away as he does this.

“I got this, don’t worry, lets get inside it’s freezing out here!” You say, shuffling your way through the doorway. As you set the bags down on the kitchen counter you feel warm arms wrapping you from behind.

“welcome home doll” He says softly, chin resting on your shoulder. As you step back, slowly turning, you place your hands over his shoulders.

“What a warm welcome it is” you say softly, before leaning in to kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, comforting on this cold day.

“So what vintage relic have you saved today?” He questions you, eyes soft and glistening from the light of the fireplace across the room.

“Take a look for yourself, recognize this style? Or too modern for you?” you smirk at him, reaching to hand him the radio.

“Haha, very funny” he mocks, but upon closer inspection of the technology he shakes his head in defeat.

“Actually yes, this was after my time” He says with a small frown, moving the radio around in his hands. You look at him for a moment, encapsulated by his expression of curiosity and bewilderment. He catches you gazing and steals a quick kiss. You just continue to look into his eyes and he comes back for another, kissing your cheeks softly, his lips lingering.

“your cheeks are so cold, you need to come over here for some cuddles” He says almost scolding you. Smiling, you take the radio from him and place in on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. You sit down on the sofa and admire your new collection piece. Bucky soon joins you and puts his arm around you. Leaning your head on his shoulder you smile, content.

“It’s still not as old as me” He jokes, gently running his hand through your hair, removing flakes of snow.

“I’m the oldest thing in your collection” His voice quiet with a hint of sadness.

“Yes, but you're the most treasured thing in my collection” you retort, sitting up to look him in the eyes as they still glisten from the flicker of flames. He says nothing, but blinks slowly and leans forward. His lips meet yours once again, his hands reach out to hold yours in your lap as you share this gentle moment.

“I love you too” his words floating from his lips as he pulls away.

This was your favorite piece of history.

[queenlua]

hey, i started following you recently and ur bio says ur a hacker? any tips on where to start? hacking seems like a v cool/fun way to learn more abt coding and cybersecurity/infrastructure and i'd like to explore it but there's so much on the internet and like, i'm not trying to get into anything illegal. thanks!

huh, an interesting question, ty!

i can give more tailored advice if you hit me up on chat with more specifics on your background/interests.

given what you've written here, though, i'll just assume you don't have any immediate professional aspirations (e.g. you just want to learn some things, and you aren't necessarily trying to get A Cyber Security Job TM within the next three months or w/e), and that you don't know much about any specific programming/computering domain yet.

(stuff under cut because long)

first i'd probably just try to pick some interesting problem that you think you can solve with tech. this doesn't need to be a "hacking" project at first; i was just messing around with computers for ages before i did anything involving security/exploitation.

if you don't already know how to program, you should ideally pick a problem you can solve via programming. for instance: i learned a lot back in the 2000s, when play-by-post forum RPGs were in vogue.  see, i'd already been messing around, building my own personal sites, first just with HTML & CSS, and later on with Javascript and PHP.   and i knew the forum software everyone used (InvisionPowerBoard) was written in PHP.  so when one of the admins at my RPG complained that they'd like the ability to set multiple profile pictures, i was like, "hey i'm good at programming, want me to create a mod to do that," and then i just... did. so then they asked me to program more features, and i got all the sexy nerd cred for being Forum Mod Queen, and it was a good time, i learned a lot.

(i also got to be the person who was frantically IMed at 2am because wtf the forum is down and there's an inscrutable error, what do??? basically sysadmining! also, much less sexy! still, i learned a lot!)

the key thing is that it's gotta be a problem that's interesting to you: as much as i love making dorky sites in PHP, half the fun was seeing other people using my stuff, and i think the era of forum-based RPGs has passed. but maybe you can apply some programming talents to something that you are interested in—maybe you want to make a silly Chrome extension to make people laugh, a la Cloud to Butt, or maybe you'd like to make a program that converts pixel art into cross-stitching patterns, maybe you want to just make a cool adventure game on those annoying graphing calculators they make you use in class, or make a script for some online game you play, or make something silly with Arduino (i once made a trash can that rolled toward me when i clapped my hands; it was fun, and way easier than you'd think!), whatever.

i know a lot of hacker-types who got their start doing ROM hacking for video games—replacing the character art or animations or whatever in old NES games. that's probably more relevant than the PHP websites, at least, and is probably a solid place to get started; in my experience those communities tend to be reasonably friendly to questions. pick a small thing you want to do & ask how to do it.

also, a somewhat unconventional path, but—once i knew how to program a bit of Python, i started doing goofy junk, like, "hey can i implemented NamedTuple from scratch,” which tends to lead to Python metaprogramming, which leads to surprising shit like "oh, stack frames are literally just Python objects and you can manually edit them in the interpreter to do deliberately horrendous/silly things, my god this language allows too much reflection and i'm having too much fun"... since Python is a lot of folks' first language these days, i thought i'd point that out, since i think this is a pretty accessible start to thinking about How Programs Actually Work under the hood. allison kaptur has some specific recommendations on how to poke around, if you wanna go that route.

it's reasonably likely you'll end up doing something "hackery" in the natural course of just working on stuff. for instance, while i was working on the IPB forum software mods, i became distressed to learn that everyone was using an INSECURE version of the software! no one was patching their shit!! i yelled at the admins about it, and they were like "well we haven't been hacked yet so it's not a problem," so i uh, decided to demonstrate a proof of concept? i downloaded some sketchy perl script, kicked it until it worked, logged in as the admins, and shitposted a bit before i logged out, y'know, to prove my point.

(they responded by banning me for two weeks, and did not patch their software. which, y'know, rip to them; they got hacked by an unrelated Turkish group two months later, and those dudes just straight-up deleted the whole website. i was a merciful god by comparison!)

anyway, even though downloading a perl script and just pointing it at a website isn't really "hacking" (it's the literal definition of script kiddie, heh)—the point is i was just experimenting a lot and trying a lot of stuff, which meant i was getting comfortable with thinking of software as not just some immutable relic, but something you can touch and prod in unexpected ways.

this dovetails into the next thing, which is like, just learn a lot of stuff. a boring conventional computer science degree will teach you a lot (provided you take it seriously and actually try to learn shit); alternatively, just taking the same classes as a boring conventional computer science degree, via edX or whatever free online thingy, will also teach you a lot. ("contributing to open source" also teaches you a lot but... hngh... is a whole can of worms; send a follow-up ask if you want that rant.)

here's where i should note that "hacking" is an impossibly broad category: the kind of person who knows how to fuck with website authentication tokens is very different than someone who writes a fuzzer, who is often quite different than someone who looks at the bug a fuzzer produces and actually writes a program that can exploit that bug... so what you focus on depends on what you're interested in. i imagine classes with names like "compilers," "operating systems," and "networking" will teach you a lot. but, like, idk, all knowledge is god-breathed and good for teaching. hell, i hear some universities these days have actual computer security classes? that's probably a good thing to look at, just to get a sense of what's out there, if you already know how to program.

also be comfortable with not knowing everything, but also, learn as you go. the bulk of my security knowledge came when i got kinda airdropped into a work team that basically hired me entirely on "potential" (lmao), and uh, prior to joining i only had the faintest idea what a hypervisor was? or the whole protection ring concept? or ioctls or sandboxing or threat models or, fuck, anything? i mostly just pestered people with like 800 questions and slowly built up a knowledge base, and remember being surprised & delighted when i went to a security conference a year later and could follow most of the talks, and when i wound up at a bar with a guy on the xbox security team and we compared our security models a bunch, and so on.  there wasn't a magic moment when i "got it", i was just like, "okay huh this dude says he found a ring-0 exploit... what does that mean... okay i think i got that... why is that a big deal though... better ask somebody.." (also: reading an occasional dead tree book is a good idea. i owe my firstborn to Robert Love's Linux Kernel Development, as outdated as it is, and also O'Reilly's kookaburra book gave me a great overview of web programming back in the day, etc.  you can learn a lot by just clicking around random blogs, but you’ll often end up with a lot of random little facts and no good mental scaffolding for holding it together; often, a decent book will give you that scaffolding.)

(also, it's pretty useful if you can find a knowledgable someone to pepper with random questions as you go. finding someone who will actively mentor you is tricky, but most working computery folks are happy to tell you things like "what you're doing is actually impossible, here's why," or "here's a tutorial someone told me was good for learning how to write a linux kernel module," or "here's my vague understanding of this concept you know nothing about," or "here's how you automate something to click on a link on a webpage," which tends to be handier than just google on its own.)

if you're reading this and you're like "ok cool but where's the part where i'm handed a computer and i gotta break in while going all hacker typer”—that's not the bulk of the work, alas! like, for sure, we do have fun pranking each other by trying dumb ways of stealing each other's passwords or whatever (once i stuck a keylogger in a dude's keyboard, fun times). but a lot of my security jobs have involved stuff like, "stare at this disassembly a long fuckin' time to figure out how the program pointer got all fucked up," or, "write a fuzzer that feeds a lot of randomized input to some C++ program, watch the program crash because C++ is a horrible language for writing software, go fix all the bugs," or "think Really Hard TM about all the settings and doohickeys this OS/GPU/whatever has, think about all the awful things someone could do with it, threat model and sandbox accordingly." occasionally i have done cool proof-of-concept hacks but honestly writing exploits can kinda be tedious, lol, so like, i'm only doing that if it's the only way i can get people to believe that Yes This Is Actually A Problem, Fix Your Code

"lua that's cool and all but i wanted, like, actual links and recommendations and stuff" okay, fair. here's some ideas:

microcorruption: very fun embedded security CTF; teaches you everything you need to know as you're doing it.

cryptopals crypto challenges: very fun little programming exercises that teach you a lot of fundamental cryptography concepts as you're going along! you can do these even as a bit of a n00b; i did them in Python for the lulz

the binary bomb lab is hilariously copied by, like, so many CS programs, lol, but for good reason. it's accessible and fun and is the first time most people get to feel like a real hacker! (requires you know a bit of C beforehand)

ctftime is a good way to see when new CTFs ("capture the flag"s; security-focused competitions) are coming up. or, sometimes CTFs post their source code, so you can continue trying them after the CTF is over. i liked Stripe's CTFs when they were going, because they focused on "web stuff", and "web stuff" was all i really knew at the time. if you're more interested in staring at disassembly, there's CTFs focused on that sort of thing too.

azeria has good ARM assembly & exploitation tutorials

also, like, lots of good talks out there; just watching defcon/cansecwest/etc talks until something piques your interest is very fun. i'd die on a battlefield for any of Christopher Domas's talks, but he assumes a lot of specific x86/OS knowledge, lol, so maybe don’t start with that. oh, Julia Evans's blog is honestly probably pretty good for just learning a lot of stuff and really beginner-friendly?

oh and wrt legality... idk, i haven't addressed it here since it hasn't come up in my own work much, tbh. if you're just getting started you're kind of unlikely to Break The Law without, y'know, realizing maybe you're doing something a bit gray-area? and you can cross that bridge when you come to it? Real Hacking TM is way more of a pain-in-the-ass than doing CTFs and such, and you'll learn way more with the latter, so who cares lol just do the fun thing

[pidgieee]

★, ☆, ♡, ♦, ☯, ♒, ☼ , ൠ for Yuma and Yusaku pls :D

Put a symbol (or several) and a character/characters in my ask box, and I’ll give you a headcanon.  Yes.  Do it.

★ - sad headcanon

Yuma: It’s sometimes hard keeping hold of all the relics from his parent’s explorations. He bonds with III over cherishing the memories each object holds, while missing the person he got them from.

Yusaku: When he found out about Revolver’s identity, he had a moment where he wanted to cut off Kusanagi in order to leave with Revolver. Season one he was so focused on revenge, on the ideal of saving his special person - I can see him losing all drive and will to keep fighting even if just for a moment. Guilt from leaving Jin would hurt him, as well as dealing with Ai, so Revolver’s rejection of their future was a relief to him.

☆ - happy headcanon

Yuma: Once he’s old enough to drive he goes on regular roadtrips with his sister and friends. They usually go camping or touring around big cities while cycling through different duel tournaments, but Akari loves being able to do her job while also spending time with her brother.

Yusaku: He likes to feed the strays on his route to visiting Kusanagi. It starts because of a throwaway comment by Ai, but it quickly becomes a habit. Scrappy gets the tinned good stuff because she always waits patiently as the other cats eat.

♡ - romantic headcanon

Yuma: Absolutely weak to any sort of forehead or cheek kiss. He gets flustered really easily, and can’t stop giggling when given an ounce of affection from anyone.

Yusaku: When he wants attention he’ll purposefully sit as physically close as possible to his partner and just stare. Won’t say anything. Just wait until they pick up the vibes he’s giving out. Too hard to talk feelings out.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Yuma: He gets very into urban exploration. Brings a camera and everything, and even though Astral warns him about danger, he insists that he’ll just befriend any ghosts he meets. Like that’ll work :p

Yusaku: Gardening takes a huge amount of commitment, but he gets a small cactus just to give himself something to do. One becomes two, then 3 plants, then he has a little patch of potted plants in his room he’ll take care of. Ai names them all.

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

Yuma: Massive fan of fortune telling. Kotori takes him once and he loves hearing about how his week’s going to be, because it’s usually positive. He can’t handle the cold well, though - hard to find energy in winter blues and he’ll spend a lot of time just trying to warm his hands up.

Yusaku: He loves just tinkering with objects. In the middle of a conversation? He’ll have some device in his hand to fiddle with commands on a computer chip. Conversely he doesn’t like when his hands are empty. He needs stimulation to keep his brain switched on in conversation.

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Yuma: Akari teaches him to cook one day so he can prepare his own duel food. Still ends up buying convenience store bentos or asking others, but its the thought that counts.

Yusaku: If not for convenience, he wouldn’t eat hot dogs as much. It’s just more efficient to have something while he’s at Cafe Nagi than stopping by a proper food joint.

☼ - appearance headcanon

Yuma: His fashion sense only gets worse with age. Or better depending on how you view it - eventually going full hawaiian shirts, three quarter shorts, you name it.

Yusaku: Post-canon Ema takes him proper clothes shopping so he has more than a hoodie and a school uniform. He sticks to muted colours but really digs asymmetrical clothing; odd socks, wearing jeans at different leg lengths, etc.

ൠ - random headcanon

Yuma: He becomes an unofficial babysitter for Haruto, and it’s how he spends most of his time with Kaito. Orbital breaks the ice initially, but over time they seem to get along well enough to talk without it fizzling out. On more than one occasion Orbital’s “slipped” and told Yuma how much Kaito appreciates it. He swears it’s not intentional - Yuma knows otherwise.

Yusaku: He spends a few nights thinking about Windy’s origin. What was he like? Who was he friends with? Would they have gotten along if they met? Jin echoes his sentiment, and when they talk about meeting up with other lost kids, they always leave a space for Windy’s origin and Spectre (who scarcely makes himself known, unsurprisingly)

[looking back on some of these, they’d make great material for future works. must remember to save some of em for later]

[sparkliingdust]

Here’s a bit of Steve Rogers tea I’m going to spill today...

I think the parodies of Steve knowing about future events and trying not to say anything to Peggy are funny....but also stupid when taken to the extent that people actually believe Steve is an encyclopedia of every U.S. event like the Donner party or even JFK’s assassination.

Fans claim that Steve would be too used to today’s technology to want to go back to the 1940s and to discredit his ending in Endgame.  We can, or at least I, primarily look to The Winter Soldier for reasons against this.

First, Steve opens up a notepad and pen to keep track of the things people tell him to check out. Of which, he didn’t watch anything nearly close to the 1940s like I Love Lucy (which is always in re-runs) and he did’t check anything mega-popular either like Star Wars or Star Trek. He’s disconnected from both the era that came after his and what the cool kids are into today. It’s also important to note that seconds after he writes down Sam’s suggestion, Nat texts him.  Even the most basic cellphone (I still have mine from 2012) has a notepad app. I can’t believe something as harmless as random movies and tvs are something that SHIELD would prohibit him from storing in the phone. So, why doesn’t he use it? Because his whole life isn’t on his phone like it is for us these days, and he’s hugely old-fashioned.

Secondly, we have to think about Steve’s apartment. It’s also a relic of the past - not just the furnishings like a mantle for a would-be fireplace, but the record player, a minimal amount of belongings, books about war, etc. He has a direct connection to Tony Stark and SHIELD (that probably set him up in his apartment), and yet it’s not decked out in the latest gadgets. This reflects not only Hawkeye building a life for himself in Age of Ultron - something he and Tony struggle to do when they’re not working - but also that the Avengers still have their own personal preferences of what makes them comfortable despite the tech they have access to...And Steve shelters himself like he’s in the 1940s as much as possible.

Thirdly, if he hasn’t checked off anything from that list he keeps, what does Steve do in his spare time? We get the impression between the attack in New York to The Winter Soldier, that he works non-stop. And because of the timeline in the film, we don’t get a huge idea of what he does when he’s not on a mission. But, I think it’s relatively the same routine as when Steve sets out after Fury shows him the helicarriers - he goes to his part of the Smithsonian museum, talks to Peggy, visits Sam at a meeting for veterans, and rides around on his motorcycle. All of these things are either reminders of the past (the first three) or something that gives him space from the rest of the world (the last hobby). So, Steve still relatively sees himself as an outsider and finds it hard to acclimate.

We also then have Age of Ultron - Steve has a look of pained yearning when Sam asks about if he found a new place yet (he didn’t) but home is home. Steve’s consideration of where home isn’t necessarily a place - it’s an era or people who remind him of his “origins” as well as a part of himself where he felt most comfortable. By the end, when Tony suggests Steve find a life for himself, he says that he’s home. In the background, we hear military members chanting despite the fact that there is no military training at the Avengers compound. He’s throwing himself back into work training the new Avengers, and pretty much  aims to supplant his identity as a soldier into trying to have a normal existence.

This goes a step further into Civil War - he’s officially moved into the compound and gets pretty good with tech. I mean, he knows how to turn on/off a tv, has a computer, etc. On his desk, he has his old drawings from The First Avenger. So, he’s acclimated to living in the compound. But a majority of his plot in Civil War is preserving a part of his past - which is Bucky. But Bucky isn’t a thing - he’s a human being who understands the horrible things he did as the Wnter Soldier, who suggests he shouldn’t be protected from the government for what he did, and who certainly isn’t the same Bucky from the 1940s that Steve wants to constantly go down memory lane with. We can say that Steve found a place in the world - but it’s not exactly balanced or fulfilling.

And then we have Infinity War, where he’s basically just rogue and hiding in the shadows of the world, and Endgame, where he fights the biggest battle he can fight and takes the chance to finally go home.

So, what does Steve actually know about history? I think it’s mostly war-related events. When Fury approaches him in The Avengers, Steve says “When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost.” I think this eludes to the fact that he might’ve learned specific events that happened during and after World War II -  the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Pearl Harbor, Vietnam, Korea War, the War in Iraq, 9/11, etc. 

However, what he learned of these things were succinct. Not to say that Steve isn’t intelligent, cultured, or emotionally capable of learning everything...but what would Steve gain learning about the horrors of humanity - or the way that memes make it seem like he memorized 70 years of event? even the triumphs of humanity are either inventions (tech that Steve uses when he has to / whatever’s convenient), politics (which he probably knows enough of to get the gist about) , or personal interests (which we see he has no interest in as far as entertainment is concerned). I mean, he wouldn’t be able to use so many of the finer details in his current life, where he’s basically working non-stop. I don’t see Steve pouring over files of SHIELD when the only ones he had in The Avengers were that of the people who were closest to him - Stark, Carter, The Howling Commandos. And what point would he probably feel like crashing the ice was pretty useless except to stop a part of World War II and didn’t deter so much that came after it?

I think Steve knows but not as much as we do. And a lot of the latter is projection. Antis act as if Steve lived through the things he might’ve picked up on here and there. But that’s impossible. He can’t retroactively relive history when we goes back to the 1940s because he’s not a human Wikpedia. In one of my headcanons, I believe that when Steve returns to Peggy, he uses his reputation as Captain America and his experience as a retired vet to protest the government moving forward - joining people at sit-ins or Martin Luther King Jr in the fight for civil rights because of his friendship with Sam; that he speaks up for homeless vets when Vietnam rolls along; gets into hot water with the government speaking out during the McCarthy era, etc. I feel like as he actually gets to live his life, he still participates actively in history. (which falls into the alternative timeline). And that gives him the opportunity to remain Captain America, just one that gets to put his mind and beliefs to good use instead of just his body. 

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 56

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Peach led the way towards the bunker. It looked mostly the same as the one built near Mistral. Dented in places from the Grimm, a sign that there was nobody home. Merlot wasn't here at least at first inspection.

The front entrance was just sitting open, though. It wasn't torn into like I would have done. It seemed from an open fuse box that somebody had wired their way inside.

They had to know about electronics much more than I did to do something like that. And it wasn't likely that Merlot would have to wire his way into his own facilities. Unlikely but not impossible. Especially if he hadn't visited in a while.

A harsh wind howled around us. It was quickly whipping up into a blizzard. I pulled my pipe out and smoked it. I struggled to get my lighter to work and I sniffled against the cold.

"This is it. But it wasn't open the last time I was here," Peach said. "Well not here here but near enough to see it."

"Stay here Peach. Be on your guard," I returned. "I'm not sure what we'll find inside. Merlot is rather famous for his experiments on the Grimm."

"On the Grimm? Why?"

"Why indeed. I suspect that he likes it but I haven't had the chance to talk to him about it. Maybe that changes today."

I rather doubted it but it was always possible that he was really here. Somebody had wired that door open.

Neo took a step forward and together we walked into the laboratory. Some Grimm had made their way inside and we collapsed on them easily. I pulled my shorter longsword and Neo used her stiletto. I cut down a creeper and paced my way over a hexagonal tiled floor. The lights were on unlike the last place we'd been to so I didn't need to use my soul to cast light on the place.  

A Beowulf came upon me and I easily sliced it and it disintegrated into ash and the usual Grimm goo. My heavy boot falls rang out against the tile. Even Neo's heels disturbed the sound of the place with little clacks. It was as somber as a crypt inside.

I stomped on a Creeper. I easily crushed the small monster under my heavy boot. They'd gotten inside and had started to tear the place up a little. Some of the glass tubes were broken and frayed wires sparked.

I felt a warning in my soul. My sixth sense called out to me.

"Someone is here. Or was here very recently," I murmured to Neo. There were giant tubes and inside them were Creepers. They were frozen in a strange blue fluid. It wasn't glowing from within like the experiments in Mistral had been, however.

It was incredibly macabre, even these monsters in the tubes rather than the malformed 'human' Grimm of Mistral. The chamber we were currently in was tall and triangular. But it went on past these white and blue suspension pods and deeper inside. Large electrical lights were on above us. They must be dust run, this far from civilization.

The laboratory had to be totally independent of the rest of Atlas and Solitas.

A creeper oozed from the blue liquid from one of the recently broken pods. It was blue instead of white but only in places. The transformation was splotchy and incomplete unlike the green ones we'd run into near Mistral.

It let out a groaning noise and crawled toward me and I put my sword down through it and into the hexagonal tiles. The ground sparked beneath where I sliced it up after the Grimm dissolved into goo and died.

A voice was coming from further in. A low male voice from the baritone of it.

"Come on. Let's see who's up ahead."

As I walked I sliced apart the tubes we came across with Creepers in them. They disgusted me. Perhaps I saw a bit of the experiment that had created me in these. It made my blood boil with hatred. Not just for the Grimm and their ilk but also for Merlot. And for whoever was making noise up ahead.

It also, and I realized that it probably wasn't healthy, made me hate myself.

I didn't like me. That had been true before I learned the kind of monster I really was. I wasn't my biggest fan. I hated what I had to do to get by.

Even before I killed Ren and Nora I hadn't been fond of me. I'd gotten what I deserved more often than I had bad luck. I was disgusted with myself. At Beacon, I hated my weakness. I think that was when it really started.

When Ruby loved me I couldn't believe it. How could she? How dare she, an angel like her, love a monster like me. How could she do that to me? It was, in a self detrimental way, incredibly cruel of her to care about me so. Even before I knew what I was I had been like that. I loathed myself and it fucking showed sometimes.

But then again smoking wasn't healthy and I was doing that. I was also hell bent on this path of revenge. Had been bent on revenge for a long time now, between Cinder and Merlot. I probably just figured something else would kill me long before smoking did. My lifestyle plus the enemies I had made ensured that I was probably going to die young. Salem sort of sealed that deal for me, too, by being an immortal goddess.

My self hatred was there. It was present even in the things that I loved and in the relationships I formed with the people who loved me.

Then I started killing people. I became good at it too. I hated me for that even more than ever. I hated hiding it from Ruby when I killed Eminence and her Seifer.

Now that I knew that I had been right to hate me all along though… now that I knew I really truly was a monster… Now that I was doomed to die fighting with a goddess in my brain after she made me kill my team I just had all the more reason to hate myself.

If before I didn't like me, then of late I despised myself.

I tortured people now. I hurt them because I could and they… they couldn't stop me. I'd chosen blood and violence and when Wutai burned I'd thought about finishing the job just because I could and they couldn't stop me.

I wanted to kill Raven Branwen. She'd never done anything to me personally. Except through Vernal she'd never done me wrong but I wanted her dead all the same. Still, I wanted her dead. She'd only narrowly escaped me and I hungred for her blood as much as I did any of the others just because I could. I knew it was wrong.

I wanted to destroy Cinder Fall. I wanted to eviscerate her for all that she had done. For what she did to me personally when she took Pyrrha from me. Whatever could have been, whatever had been supposed to be, it was no more because of her. She took that from me. I was robbed.

Her minions like Emerald and Mercury would have to go too. That went without saying but they weren't at the top of my list of people to nix. If I ran across them and they got got, so be it. But I wasn't hunting them like I was the others.

Tyrian I had killed for so much as looking at Ruby wrong. The wounds he'd left on my body was meaningless beside what he had wanted to do to her. He tried to take her from me and bring her to Mother. He had to die for that. He did die for that, whether he himself knew that before the end was irrelevant.

Ren and Nora wouldn't want this for me. Pyrrha wouldn't have wanted this for me. She wouldn't have wanted me to seek my revenge against Cinder either but damn it, I wanted that too.

I'd chosen blood over friendship in my heart a long, long time ago. Especially relative to how old I was. One year old and I was committed to revenge.

Ruby's love had been too much for my Grimm blackened heart to bear. In my depths I wanted the boot and the sword. I wanted it.

Mother needed to go too. I wasn't sure how yet. I wasn't sure when but she'd suffer by my hand. As much as she was capable of suffering. However much that was she would experience it. I was going to cut her into pieces.

She had her fingers in my brain. It made me want to slam my head into the wall over and over. There was nothing I could do about it. Her claws were in me. Nothing could keep me safe from her. I was born doomed to go through this.

My cursed father Merlot who even now I hunted would also know my spirit. He would know what it meant to bring a monster into this world. He would know what he had truly wrought. How dare he? How could he?

It was all their fault and I hated them as much as I hated myself. I was a sword. I was meant for this vendetta. My power which allowed me to grow stronger with each beat of my hatred would allow me to strike them down.

We grew closer to the voice. A low aristocratic murmur. It was distant in this place and echoing beside our footfalls. We would be upon the source at any moment.

I suspected it wasn't Merlot but it could be. It could be… and then I'd give him to Neo. Or worse or something, anything worse. I'd split his limbs. I'd tear his eyes from his skull. I'd-I'd… I was working myself up into a tizzy.

I exhaled lowly and slowed my beating heart. It wouldn't do me any good to get jumpy. I breathed in and out, nice and deep as we crept up on our target.

This hall contained suspended Beowulfs now. I continued to spear them. I refused to be cornered by these monsters should the worst come to pass. Whatever purpose my father had intended the blue fluid to have on them was rendered utterly meaningless. Just as I would one day rend his heart.

I moved around a corner, and out a blast door. I came out into a huge open room sword and shield at the ready. I gazed up over a series of computers up at a man in a deep navy blue suit trimmed in yellow. He was speaking into a scroll and abruptly stopped at my presence.

He tapped a few buttons on one of the computers and a shimmering barrier appeared between us. Sealing me and Neo into the cavernous room and himself in the smaller control room.

"And who are you?" His voice boomed into speakers that surrounded me.

"Are you Merlot?" I demanded.

He laughed. "No, I'm not mad Merlot. Now what's your name?"

"I'm Jaune Arc," I announced.

"You… you're Merlot's creation. You're Salem's son!"

I glowered through the barrier at him. "I gave you my name. What's yours?"

"You have… you have the relic of knowledge! I thought your sisters would reclaim it."

"You know my sisters?" I demanded.

"My boy," he drawled. "I created your sisters. In my own laboratory. I suppose if Merlot is your 'father' then I am your 'step-father.'"

I stared at him. "Your name."

"I don't see the point in giving my name to a failure . In fact, I don't see much point in continuing this conversation. I will be taking that relic, however."

"Not from in there, you're not." I glared and turned my semblance on. "Come fight me."

"Oh," he mocked with a lazy yawn. "Shiny." He started tapping away at one of the control panels before him.

"Neo, do you think you can teleport in there and shut this barrier down."

She looked at it and shook her head.

I guess there needed to be a little bit of open space for her to move through and that shimmering barrier allowed her none. Some semblances had rules like that. Like mine had plenty of laws. Mine was even defined by its rules.

A gate began to open up in the floor in a spiraling fashion. I hadn't really taken stock of it but it was earth beneath my boots rather than the hard hexagonal tiles that made up the rest of the facility.

From the pit a giant Deathstalker emerged. It was slightly splotched blue like so many of my wretched father's other wretched specimens in this place.

It was enormous, at least as big as the one in initiation, if not a little bigger. It lowered its brightly colored stinger at me and I raised my shield and sword. It slammed it's stinger forward but I met it with the cold hard strength only my semblance could provide. I didn't budge. Back in initiation I'd been pushed back by that Deathstalker's claws but I was so much unbelievably stronger now than then.

I slashed out from behind my shield at the stinger where it met the rest of the white, blue, and black tail.

It screeched at me as I bit deep into its vulnerable flesh and it pulled back. It came at me with its claws but Neo and I vanished with our speed. She backflipped over it, picking at it's exposed eyes as I slid at it hard and sliced at its mouth.

"Neo cut the tail!" She landed next to me and I saw her nod. The tail was now hanging by a twist of flesh and little else. It was vulnerable there. I doubted we'd hammer the stinger into its own head, probably kill it some other way.

I dashed forward and I met its claws. I held it steady while Neo flipped over it and cut its tail off. It screeched again and the Deathstalker reared back.

I cut at its claws where they met dark flesh and the blueish pincers retreated from me. It then charged me and slammed my body against one of the grey walls. I pushed back against it with a heavy boot.

The tail came around and smashed me in the chest, knocking me to the ground. I picked myself back up and met the pincers again with my shield. I slashed around it, trying for the eyes and mouth but it must have seen that trick before because it held me far away with the pincers.

Like an oversized lobster. I tried again to take off one of the pincers. I bit deep into the black flesh between blue and white flesh and it flailed pressing against me.

Neo flipped into place again and stabbed it in one of its eyes. It roared with rage, the mouth parts frothed with spittle and I felt nothing but disgust for it.  

This thing was just reminding me of better times with my friends. Not that I had anything against Neo, in fact I probably had the least against Neo out of anybody alive on the planet. She just wasn't a good replacement for my teammates and friends. She just didn't do it for me like Pyrrha, Ren, or Nora could. You know? It was nothing personal. I'm sure she felt the same way about me and Roman.

I dived and brought my sword down two handed against the claw and took the tip off through the armor. The tail came whipping around and I jumped and hovered in the middle of the air and Cross-Slashed its face and tail.

It writhed to get away from my combo and it screamed in agony as I took its tail off and left deep gouges in its carapace near its face.

There wasn't that much room for it to escape me from. I was guessing things in here with it were more locked in with it and less having it locked in with them. I was turning its usual situation on its head.

I stabbed down through an eye as I fell and it writhed and tried to shake me off. I twisted Crocea Mors and shattered its shell around where Crocea Mors was buried.

It cried and began to dissolve into dust and goo.

I walked up to the barrier that guy was on the other side of and banged on it four times. Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong. I began to recharge my semblance.

"Little pit, little pig, let me in." He began to back away from his control panel. I stood and charged for a long time. I got my hands on my semblance again and swung at the barrier as hard as I could, burning my semblance with it in a wild attack.

The barrier failed for a moment and lights on his side of the barrier blared.

"I'll huff and I'll puff." I menaced from outside. "What's it going to be Mr. Man."

He ran away, the enormous coward. I couldn't believe it. He was just leaving us locked in here. I charged up my semblance and rattled the barrier until it broke. I banged at it over and over again and then I Cross-Slashed it after putting my sword together with the shield and getting the broadsword. But whoever the man with the mustache was, he escaped.

I swore and I screamed and I slashed up some of the computers in my rage before I had the sense to calm down and remember I might want to look through them.

Then I marched down the passageway after the mustached man. It eventually led out a back entrance to the laboratory. I sighed. He was stone cold gone. Along with any chance I had of learning about my sisters.

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-WG

[god7072therescue]

Mysme Fluff Week 2020 Day 3/ Household Chores

Hello everyone!! I know its been a loooong while, but I am wanting to dip my toes back into writing and reviving this blog! I thought the perfect way to do this is to contribute to the amazing fluff of @mmfluffweek. We all need this right now, right? So here is one of my contributions to this hella cool project! 

The fic is about Zen cleaning his apartment when MC is about to move in. Hope You guys like it! 

You can find my master list here! 

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Zen wore a large grin on his face as he stared at the time on his cell phone. It was almost midnight, early in the evening for him. A picture of MC and himself holding one another in a playful embrace let out a bright light among the dark space around him. He watched a minute pass before he turned his phone off and leaned back into his chair with a content sigh. 

Tomorrow was finally the day MC would be moving into his apartment. Not just staying the night, nor staying for a weekend, but actually living with him. She would never have to pry herself away from his too tight hugs when she would have to return home again. The thought made Zen feel giddy, almost like he was back in high school reading through theater scripts for the first time. 

His eyes scanned over the apartment, trying to imagine the little touches she would add as she made herself at home. How many of her paintings would she hang on the walls? How much of his and her stuff would have to be put in storage so the two could live in a harmonious space? Whatever the answer was, he knew it would be the best because MC would finally be living with him. This would become their home. 

However, the longer Zen inspected the apartment, he began to notice some aspects that would need to change when MC arrived. Has his place always been this messy? There were empty beer cans laying on the ground along with sheet mask wrappers from the nights before. Were those crumbs on the carpet always there when MC stayed over? Dust was on almost every surface, especially on his dinosaur of a computer. Would he finally be able to get rid of his outdated computer? MC had jokingly mentioned that she would be bringing her PC with her to replace Zen’s relic of a computer. He pouted playfully at the time but was secretly relieved because damn the thing was terribly slow. 

A rising feeling of urgency began to rush through him. Did he expect his jagiya to come live in this? This environment was no place for MC! MC deserved to arrive to a spotless apartment to create her new home with him. He called her his princess on a daily basis, but this new palace is definitely not worthy of her. As he pondered the thought longer, he came to wonder how in the hell MC dealt with this constantly cluttered space. He could use his busy lifestyle as an excuse, but MC was just as busy as he was and still managed to keep her apartment decent at least. 

Zen sprung to his feet in a slight panic as he realized just how little time he had to clean the apartment before her early morning arrival. If he worked efficiently and effectively, he could manage to make the apartment bearable. This meant Zen could not afford to find items he thought were lost and stand around to reminisce about them. He threw his ivory hair into a ponytail as he began to make a mental list of what to focus on first.

Thus, began the long evening of Zen’s cleaning journey. His journey consisted of and is not limited to: 

Making a valiant effort to avoid nostalgia but failing miserably every time he would find a lost photo or ticket stub 

Wondering how one man could consume so much beer in a short amount of time

Quickly throwing out cigarette boxes found in mysterious places

Being amazed at how much of his and MC’s hair was found lying around 

Throwing out all of his sauces because they were expired

Hastily washing, drying, and folding laundry 

Putting the dinosaur computer out of its misery 

Creating a coin jar for all of the loose change he found

Cursing Yoosung for the amount of potato chip bags and crumbs under the cushion of the couch

Sweeping, mopping, and vacuuming in a near sprint

Tripping over the vacuum cord multiple times 

The bathroom

By the time Zen considered his cleaning activities dealt with, he collapsed into clean bedsheets at 5:00 AM. He was startled awake by a loud knock on his apartment door. The sudden, loud noise caused him to jolt out of bed with a loud curse. “Hyun? Are you awake?” The familiar voice soothed the panic in Zen’s chest. It was his MC at the door, waiting to be let in one last time before she had a key of her very own. Just the thought of it brought a lopsided smile to Zen’s face. “Give me a moment, jagiya!” He had his teeth brushed, deodorant on, and a baseball cap on his head in record time before he greeted his jagiya. He laughed lightly when he heard the light pings of a mobile rhythm game MC had played around him a good bit. When he opened the door, he reveled in the sight of her angelic face scrunched up in determination. “Now you give me a moment, “She muttered in sheer concentration, “I’m about to beat this level.” He leaned against the doorway as he watched her. She looked ready to put in some work based on the outfit she chose for the day. Her hair was thrown under a baseball cap, an old paint stained T-shirt he’d seen her take naps in, and a pair of his old grey sweatpants she took from him early in their relationship had never looked so beautiful on her. MC let out a soft “yes” in victory then quickly put her phone in her pocket. Her eyes looked joyous when she lifted her head to speak with him, but they quickly turned concerned when she saw the dark circles under Zen’s eyes. “Zenny, did you get any sleep last night?” She brought her hand up to softly cup his cheek, “You look exhausted.” Zen was caught up peering deeply into the depths of her warm eyes before giving MC a sheepish smile, “I was too excited to sleep.” That was not a lie. He just didn’t want to tell her he spent the entire night frantically cleaning. Her face was slightly flushed in worry, but all of the cleaning he had done the night before was all worth it. Her being happy and comfortable was what mattered most to him. Losing a few hours of sleep was a small price to pay.

His eyes roamed over her face to memorize exactly how she looked before him. This was an important milestone for the two of them, he wanted to make sure he captured the moment. Maybe they could take a picture as a memento if she was not too tired after this.

Over the course of their relationship, Zen wondered if she could get anymore beautiful with each passing day. Today was not an exception. Her face was bare, probably because she knew she would be sweating during the day. She had always been self-conscious without make up, but he could not understand why. She was stunning regardless. He had always told her he would find his jagiya gorgeous whether she wore makeup or not. She looked at him with a glowering expression before standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. The feeling of her soft lips caused him to lose his train of thought for a moment, so much so, he missed the bill of her baseball cap forcing his own to fall off of his head. She giggled as she leaned back to see his bed head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” The timbre of her voice was playful as she picked up his hat for him. She handed it back with a content sigh. The look on her face was one he recognized from their time together. This relaxed expression was what she wore when she was curled up on the couch reading her favorite book with a lit candle on the nightstand beside her. This expression meant she felt comfortable. At home. 

He took the hat from her gently and placed it back on his head. A newfound energy was flowing through him as he looked down at her serene, beautiful face. He was ready to experience the scenarios he had imagined of her making a place in his home and it looked like she was too. “You ready to start our little adventure, jagiya?” He held out his hand to her as he pushed himself from the doorframe. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it lightly, almost in an unspoken promise. “I’ve been looking forward to this for months, Hyun.” 

Hearing his name from her lips filled his chest with pride as he began to lead them down the hallway. “Then let’s make it happen, jagiya.” 

With the combined determination of the couple, they were able to move all of her belongings into the apartment by late afternoon. Zen made a point to carry as many boxes as he could to show MC how strong her prince is. He also didn’t want her to overexert herself; his princess deserved to be taken care of. 

Now thoroughly exhausted, Zen sat on the couch as he watched MC unpack her belongings while humming to herself. Little trinkets she had collected over the years were piling up on Zen’s coffee table as she organized them by which room they would be in. She looked as if she was already at home. The domestic aura was enough for him to let his mind wander towards the future. Is this what having a family meant?

MC had always had this effect on him, no matter where they were or what they were doing. He didn’t feel the constant need to defend and fight for the right to be loved as he did when he lived with his parents. Since the beginning, MC had always supported Zen and made him feel valued. Hell, after one week she had made him feel more loved than he had ever felt in his life.

This milestone felt like a second chance at finding and building his own family with her. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when MC plopped on the couch beside him, pulled her legs underneath her, and leaned into his side. She rested her head on his shoulder as he immediately placed his arm around her. 

“Did you clean the apartment for me, Hyun?” Her voice was laced with appreciation as she lifted her head slightly so she could study his face. 

His cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment as he pulled her closer to him. “Well of course, jagiya, my princess deserves the absolute best.” She kissed his cheek before nestling her head back on his shoulder. “It looks wonderful, Hyun. Thank you.” He felt her relax into his side as she looked around the apartment herself. There were still many boxes that needed to be unpacked and almost all of the rooms needed to be rearranged, but they both knew it would all be worth it in the end. 

She took his hand in hers and began to idly stroke the inside of his palm. The feeling of her fingers grazing against his skin brought him a sense of peace. He made a soft noise of approval and placed a small kiss on the top of her head. This was exactly what Zen imagined every day since the two had started dating. Just the two of them enjoying each other’s presence, not thinking of when one would have to leave the other. 

“Let’s have a relaxing night tonight, Hyun,” MC said in a tranquil voice, “The boxes will be here tomorrow.” Zen’s heart melted at her suggestion. “That sounds absolutely perfect, MC.” The evening consisted of face masks, take out, massages, and a movie marathon before the two dozed off in the each other’s arms on the couch. Just as Zen was dozing off, thoughts of MC feeling like home drifted through his mind.

[first-son-of-finwe]

So this is my “leaving the fold” essay, which I mentioned some time ago. I wrote this mostly for myself because writing things down always helps me make sense of them, but quite a few people expressed interest in it, so here it is. 

I was raised as quite a strict Orthodox Christian, and the religion is a huge part of my mum’s life. This is mostly my experience of its ideas and processes, and how and why I ultimately decided to leave. It’s a bit rambling, all over the place and very long, but I kinda wanted to post it somewhere, so 🤷

TW for mentions of abortion, alcoholism and general conflict.

When I was twelve or thirteen, my parents and I set off on one of our regular trips to Russia. We used to do this every year before time and money became restricted, and one of our compulsory stops was always a large, sprawling monastery on the outskirts of the city of Nizhny Novgorod.

It’s a place of smiling nuns but very strict rules, where God forms a part of every sentence and church is mandatory for both mornings and evenings. It’s a place of communal meals, harvesting vegetables and milking cows, ringing bells, and lots and lots of praying. For me, it was a taste of pure rural life. I loved running through the fields, swimming in the pond and helping out with the manual tasks of running a communal settlement. I gasped in delight when I saw the lone horse in the field. Deep down I was never meant to be a city kid, and being at the monastery fuelled my dream of living the simple life.

But the fact that we were there purely for religious reasons? That was only an afterthought. An obligatory thing I had to go along with, because the adults expected it. Perhaps I tried to feel the same spirituality they seemed to experience, but I never quite got there.

I put on the headscarf, held the candle, wrote the names of my loved ones on prayer notes for the living. I bowed to the icons, made the sign of the cross when everyone else did. But I never truly connected.

One year on the day of a particularly significant celebration, a huge icon was carried over a horde of kneeling worshippers, and my mum told me to kneel down and pray for my dad to recover from his alcoholism. And so I did.

This is something I’d been praying for for a long time. It’s something I was told to pray for at every holy site, and before every relic. And no, he’s never quit drinking.

But I already knew that he wouldn’t, even as I knelt, closed my eyes and begged whichever saint was on that icon to help my dad quit drinking. I simply knew that it didn’t work that way.

I knew it the same way I knew that Santa wasn’t real. Every child seems to have experienced a shock-horror moment upon learning that they’d been deceived, but I recognised him for what he was right from the start - a story. For someone who’s always thrown themselves wholeheartedly into stories and fantasy, I’ve always had a very clear distinction between fact and fiction - though I’ve also not been so close-minded as to think that there isn’t a grey area in between.

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I don’t think I ever truly believed in their version of what was supposed to be happening.

But I think my moving away from Orthodoxy truly began the day I heard my mum on the phone to her friend, who was at the beginning of a difficult pregnancy and was considering an abortion. She and her husband were on different pages with regards to this, though I don’t quite remember who wanted what. My mother’s advice was this: “Well you should really listen to your husband, because you know that a husband’s word is God’s word.”

Even being the believer that I was then, my immediate reaction was complete shock, followed by a thought process that went something like “Are you joking?? SERIOUSLY?”

And of course, it was hard not to think of my own father in his worst moments of drunkenness. So it seems “God’s word” is actually a whole lot of slurred, barely comprehensible nonsense occasionally sprinkled with some insults. That’s really the logic we’re going with here? And beyond that, how can you hand such a deeply personal decision to someone else??

When I went away to university for three years and spent considerable chunks of time away from my mother’s influence, my skepticism only deepened with every day. I couldn’t reconcile the science-driven environment I saw around me with the ideas being propounded in church. Sincerely believing in the Adam and Eve story, in this day and age? It didn’t compute.

Having said that, I would certainly not call myself an atheist even now. I think it is just as presumptuous to assume your absolute knowledge of the infinite universe and declare it contains nothing, as it is to declare that your religion is the only correct one. I find many things about the Christian God to be extremely convenient (just so happens to be an old white bearded man, oh fancy that), but I am certainly not convinced that there are no intelligent forces in the world, whatever shape they take. We are simply not in a position to know these things, and I’m okay with that. 

In turn, I treat anyone who claims to know them with intense suspicion.

Ultimately, leaving Orthodox Christianity was a long and painful process (I say ‘was’ in the past tense, but the truth is that it is still ongoing) filled with guilt, second-guessing, deliberate habit breaking and an extremely distressed and persistent mother. But my reasons for it boil down to four key things.

Their ideas did not match my ideas. I will never believe that women are obliged to be submissive to men. I will never believe that being gay (or in any way not straight) is a sin. I will never believe that Eastern Orthodoxy is the one true faith among all the other hundreds and thousands of faiths that exist on this planet. Living with your partner without being married is not a sin. Eating some chicken on a lent day is not a sin. A woman on her period is not “unclean.” Their ideas of good and bad, right and wrong seemed so incredibly outdated and arbitrary that it became hard to take anything they said seriously. And I felt so uncomfortable standing there, surrounded by people who I knew believed in all of this wholeheartedly.

Despite the religion branding itself as ‘Christian’, I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of the priests or worshippers talk about helping others. It is not on the agenda. People walk into church and think that because they’ve said their prayers, abstained from meat and dairy and then said their prayers some more, they’re now good people. But what have they done to make anyone’s life better? Who have they helped? Who have they listened to, cared for, understood? It’s not about that. It’s about making yourself feel good because you recited the Lord’s Prayer before eating your lunch.

The process of participating is extremely rigid, and trying to remember all those rules and traditions is honestly just stressful. Which hand do I kiss? How many times do I have to make the sign of the cross before approaching that super special icon? Do I have to touch the floor, or is that optional? Oh, everyone is kneeling...I guess I should kneel too. Once, I accidentally addressed the Archbishop as ‘Father’ and got a slew of disapproving looks from everyone around me. I think perhaps people find a certain kind of comfort and stability in routine, but having one imposed on you when you’re constantly unsure of the rules is not a pleasant experience.

Sometimes there is a very thin line between a religion and a cult, and Orthodoxy is toeing it a little too closely for comfort. I’ve seen it overpower people’s rational thinking and tap into their most powerful emotions in a way that’s honestly quite frightening.

The first step to leaving was progressively going to church less and less. I’d only ever really gone because my mum demanded it, but now, I put up a bit more resistance. I got screamed and yelled and cried at, and at first, of course I gave in. But little by little, I began to get the message across that I was simply not interested anymore.

Then, I deliberately made the choice to break certain habits. We always faced a row of icons on the wall and made a sign of the cross before leaving the house, and coming back in. It was such an ingrained habit that I did it automatically, and for the first few months, I had to physically catch myself in order to stop. That came with its own sense of guilt and hesitancy, and with the feeling that hey, now God is mad at you - hope a brick doesn’t fall on your head when you’re out there without his blessing.

The next step was removing the cross I’d worn around my neck ever since I’d been christened as a baby. Even now I can’t not wear something around my neck, so I have a little key necklace there in its place. Having a bare neck just looks too weird to me.

That cross came off and went back on at least three times. Each time I’d be persuaded, guilted, given the simple but effective phrase of “just do it for me.” I’ve removed it for what I hope will be the last time, and “just do it for me” won’t cut it anymore. If I converted to Islam tomorrow, would it be okay for me to ask someone to wear a hijab “for me”, even though they don’t share my faith? No, it wouldn’t. Religion and expression of religion is a personal choice, and not something you can strong-arm your adult children into.

Now, I’m in a fairly comfortable place where I’ve shed most of that initial guilt and am happy with my choices. I’ve even been back into church a couple of times just to meet a family member, only catching the end of the service - and even then, I’ve been reminded of exactly why I left. My mindset is simply too far removed to find any spiritual value in Orthodoxy.

Does my mother still try to get me into church? Yes. Are the attempts extremely mild and infrequent, compared to what they used to be? Yes. On one hand, I’d like to have a deep conversation with her and explain all the reasons why I have no interest in the religion anymore, but on the other hand, I know it’ll likely make her extremely upset.

Perhaps it’s better to just let it be.

[exxar1]

Episode 11: New Believer, New Faith, and a New Vow

2/7/2021

- 1 -

Good morning! It’s a beautiful Sunday here in Las Vegas. I have much to talk about so I’m just going to get right into it.

           It’s hard to believe we’re already a full month into the new year. This year for me has been very rewarding thus far. For starters, I have had no trouble keeping up with resolutions 1 and 4. (For a refresher, you can scroll back through my previous posts to the one from New Year’s Eve.) I have found time each day to read my Bible and pray, and I have had little difficulty in maintaining a pleasant attitude and a smile in my daily encounters with my co-workers and customers. As expected, though, that latter one has been tested a few times by the occasional sour apples that woke up on the wrong side of the bed. But I’ve surprised myself every time by my patience and my ability to keep a calm and pleasant demeanor. (Those of you who have known me for a long time will understand how truly remarkable that is for me.) It’s simply another testament to the power of God to change our basic attitudes when we are willing to let Him.

           I’ve also made great strides in resolution #3, and that’s where I’m going to spend the bulk of my time on this post.

           Have you ever sought something – therapy, a particular medication, advice from a friend or colleague – thinking that it might help with one problem, only to be pleasantly surprised that one, the result helped in many other ways you hadn’t anticipated; and two, that the change/outcome/counseling exceeded your initial expectations by such a great magnitude that you couldn’t believe you hadn’t sought this help long ago? That feeling has been with me for over three weeks now, and it’s only getting better with each session.

           One of my first tasks in tackling resolution #3 was to consult a pastor on this issue of homosexuality and the Bible. I needed to know what God really said in His Word on this controversial topic, and since I have yet to find a home church here in Las Vegas the only pastor that I am casually acquainted with is Mark Sjostrom of the church in which I was born and raised back in Twin Falls, Idaho.

           For those of you unfamiliar with Twin Falls or this particular church, allow me to forge a brief rabbit trail here to give you a short history. Grace Baptist Church was founded in 1975, and, back then, it was just a one-story, oblong, red-bricked building, its main auditorium forming a bubble at one end, at the intersection of Eastland Drive and Falls Avenue on the eastern edge of town. It’s still that same building today, only now there’s a massive, two-story gymnasium/classroom on the other side of the back parking lot, and a third, smaller, two-room annex that sits behind the gym. The first of those latter two structures was needed in the early eighties when the church launched its own private school, Twin Falls Christian Academy. I was in kindergarten when the gymnasium was under construction. I have many memories of watching my dad and some of the other men in church up on the scaffolds, putting together the walls, while I waited for my mom to pick me up after school, which was held in the various Sunday school rooms in the church. A few years later, I would be attending high school in the classrooms above that gym.

           In the years since I have grown and left Twin Falls, I have come back to that church on the occasional Sunday morning worship service when I’m home for a vacation visit. I’ve always had mixed feelings every time I set foot beyond the threshold of its main doors (see my previous posts about my struggles during my teen years.) It’s the same feeling you get when you come back to something that is at once familiar and strangely comforting, but also brings with it unpleasant memories and the pain of old wounds that have never quite healed.

           Grace’s pastor since 2005 has been Mark Sjostrom (pronounced ‘shos-trum’), and I didn’t know him that well when I decided to consult him on this issue. Our only interaction thus far had been a brief handshake and a greeting after those sporadic Sunday morning worship services, and I wasn’t sure he would even remember me when I nervously texted him a brief ‘Hello’ a month ago. He responded within a few minutes, and I re-introduced myself and then gave a short explanation of what I needed. We agreed on a time and date for a phone call, and I emailed him the next day with a longer explanation of what I needed to talk about with him.

           That letter was a  somewhat detailed account of what most of you are already familiar with: my struggle in high school with keeping my secret of being gay while trying to fit in socially and eventually declaring myself an Atheist after being expelled from school my senior year a month before graduation. It was probably about 2 pages, and I was now very nervous after clicking the ‘Send’ button. I suppose now is a good time to tell you something else about me.

           I have been one of ‘those people’ for all of my adult life. You know who I’m talking about: the people who silently judge the other customers in the book store who pause to browse the Self Help section; or the people who quietly scoff when anyone talks about their latest therapy session with their friends or coworkers at lunch in the break room. I’m glad I don’t need self-help or therapy, I’ve always thought. But, then again, good for them, I guess. I’m glad I have all my issues worked out, and I’m a stable, normal adult. I’ve never had any issues that were so bad I needed to get help from an armchair counselor’s latest best seller or a psychiatrist’s couch.

            Hhmmm. My life, lately, has been chock full of irony.

           When the time came to dial Pastor Sjostrom’s number my level of nervousness was up to a ten out of ten on the anxiety scale. I hadn’t felt like this since high school when it was opening night of our Agatha Christie play, and I was one of the main cast. I had prepared a detailed outline of what I wanted to discuss, and, after a few initial pleasantries, Mark quickly put me at ease. I was pleasantly caught off guard by his relaxed, casual personality. I found immediately that he was very easy to talk to, and my anxiety level dropped to a ‘three’ in the first five minutes. Pastor Sjostrom is definitely one of those people who has found the right calling. His warm, personable demeanor made me feel like I was talking to an old friend over coffee at Starbucks, and after about ten minutes of getting to know one another, he brought the conversation back around to my letter.

           Here’s where my second surprise occurred. Mark was bluntly honest. I had told him that I believed I was saved in 1985, when I was seven, after the evening service of one of our church’s mid-summer week long revival meetings. “Neal,” Mark said rather pointedly, “after reading your description of your life after high school, I gotta say that it doesn’t sound like you were saved. Your behavior and your atheism doesn’t reflect the change that is described in the Bible.” He went on to explain that salvation is a change brought about the presence of the Holy Spirit in the new believer. There is a desire to learn more about God and His Word. There is a desire to serve him and to live one’s life in surrender to Him.

           I had to pause and think about that. And, doggone it, you know what? He was right. And the reason I knew that was because I had only to look at the last four months of my life, even more so since I had returned from Christmas vacation. That desire – that hunger – to know God had never been present in my life until September 17, 2020. That was the night I surrendered to Christ in an awkward, fumbling prayer on the way home from work. Ever since, I have had nothing but a desire to read my Bible and change my life. I told pastor this, and he agreed. It was evident now that I was truly saved. That evidence was lacking in my youth and my adult life up to this point.

           My third major surprise of that initial counseling session – yes, that was what is was – was when pastor told me he was assigning me homework for our next weekly conversation. He wanted me to read the book of 1 John. He explained that we would eventually get to the issue of homosexuality, but that we needed to cover this ground first. I agreed  to the assignment, and we hung up. I glanced at the clock in the upper corner of my computer screen. We had talked for almost an hour. I immediately reached for my Bible and opened it to 1 John. I read the whole book in about ten minutes.

           1 John is a primer for the new believer. John states clearly and succinctly what makes a Christian a Christian. Chapter 1:9 was immediately familiar to me from my Sunday School days: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” So was chapter 2:9: “He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness, even until now.” John goes to say in chapter 5:2: “By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God, and keep His commandments.” And, finally, verse 20 of that same chapter: “And we know that the Son of God is come, and hath given us an understanding, that we may know Him that is true, and we are in Him that is true, even in His Son Jesus Christ. This is the true God, and eternal life.”

           Yep. All of that book made perfect sense. Part of that was because I had absorbed so much of God’s Word in my youth that it had sat in the deep recesses of my brain for all of my life, and much of it had begun floating to the surface in the last several months – like debris from an ancient wartime submarine that has been recently dislodged from its ocean grave. Except that these artifacts – Bible verses, fragments of sermons, some of Mr. Walker’s proverbs from Bible class – were not dirty, soggy, disgusting relics. They were bits of priceless treasure, and I’ve been rediscovering them in dribs and drabs ever since.

           I have had three sessions with Pastor Sjostrom, and they are each the highlight of my week. I very nearly broke down after hanging up from our first talk. I felt a combination of immense relief, peace and calm. Not to be overly melodramatic, but it was if something had dislodged in my very soul, like a sliver of wood just beneath the skin that has never quite come all the way out. I realized with immediate clarity that I was getting far more than just a pastor’s opinion on a particular issue for my book. I had stumbled on to something else, something I needed far more: spiritual counseling and guidance for my new life as a child of God.

           I am a new believer.

That seems so strange to say out loud. I was raised in the church. I had at least a third of the Bible memorized by the time I was twelve. I knew all the major stories from the Old Testament – the creation of the world; God’s covenant with Abraham; Jacob, Esau and Isaac; Joseph sold into slavery into Egypt and God’s eventual deliverance of the Israelites from their captivity there; the introduction of the ten commandments and the Mosaic Law; Esther, Ruth, King Saul, David, the Book of Psalms, the prophet Isaiah – I knew all of it by heart by the end of my days in elementary school. Same for the New Testament – the birth of Christ; all of His teachings and parables; His death on the cross; His resurrection after three days; the founding of His church after His ascension back to Heaven – it was all as familiar to me by the time I walked away from high school as the mathematical precepts of basic addition, subtraction, division and multiplication.

           I had assumed all this time that I was still saved. I thought I had really, genuinely believed in Jesus as my savior that long ago night in 1985 when I was seven years old. And maybe I did. But, for whatever reason, the Holy Spirit had not come into me back then. I was not truly saved. (This is perhaps worthy of a more detailed discussion and analysis later on down the road.) Whatever the case, I am most definitely a new believer now. The Holy Spirit is alive and well within me, and I have only a single desire and purpose: to know the God that created me, and to serve him with all my heart, soul and mind.

           Pastor and I did discuss my homosexuality issue in our second talk, and that, along with the extracurricular reading I’ve been doing on this topic, has enabled me to finally reconcile what I couldn’t in my teen years when I first fought with this problem.

 - 2 -

If I am gay, and God – through His written word – has condemned what I am as a sin, how can I be His child and serve Him as he commanded me to do? That’s the question I’ve been wrestling with anew for the last few months. I began this new journey in last September with the premise that I was born gay. I’ve believed that my whole adult life. I proceeded from that assumption through all of my reading and research these last few weeks. But if God made me this way, why would He then condemn as an abomination the very thing that I am? Is He not contradicting Himself? How can this be?

           Pastor Sjostrom asked that very question in our second talk. He then went on to answer it by explaining that my unnatural desire for the same sex was a cause of the Fall, when Adam and Eve disobeyed God and ate of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. This is what led their descendants to the sins of idolatry, fornication, sexual perversion, and many, many others. Yes, I was born gay. But that’s not how God made me. There’s a very distinct difference.

           His explanation corroborated what I have come to discover in the last couple weeks as I’ve read Two Views on Homosexuality, the Bible, and the Church from the Counterpoints series. Author and editor Preston Sprinkle gathered four prominent Christian authors, scholars, and theologians to discuss this issue – two for and two against. I will not go into great detail of what these authors debate and discuss, mainly for the sake of page and time, but also because this issue is not anywhere near as complicated as it seems.

           All four of the contributing authors to the Two Views book have used the following Bible verses/passages as the foundation of their arguments:

1.)   The creation story in Genesis 1 and 2.

2.)  Genesis 19:4-11 (Sodom & Gomorrah)

3.) Leviticus 18:22 & 20:13

4.) 1 Corinthians 6:9-11

5.) 2 Corinthians 5:17

6.) Romans 1:18-32, emphasis on verses 26-28

7.) 1 Timothy 1:9-10

Those authors have also drawn from extra-Biblical material such as the writings of Philo, a Jewish historian who was a contemporary of the apostle Paul; the Apocrypha; the writings of Saint Augustine; and various other books – most written in the last 50 years – on sociology, sexuality and anthropology in the ancient world.

Here’s an example of one of one of the arguments for the church’s endorsement of homosexuality. One of Two Views’ contributors, Megan Defranza argues that there were many people in Biblical times that were born with no distinct male or female genitalia or other defining sexual characteristics. These “intersex individuals” were often referred to as eunuchs by the people of that time, and many of them were used as sex slaves. Megan claims that Genesis 1 is “…a theological account describing creation in broad categories, not an exact scientific inventory of all of God’s good creatures.” She goes on to say that Adam and Eve were not the exclusive, ideal models for all of man and womankind. They were, rather, just the broad categories; that the birth of eunuchs and other such of types of intersex people prove that God would welcome the church’s acceptance of gays, lesbians and transgenders since they have been born that way, and their sexual desires are natural to them. She claims that God was not condemning the eunuchs and other similar people in those verses/passages I listed above. Those condemnations were for the ones who had turned deliberately turned away from God to worship idols and indulge their sinful lusts.

There’s a lot more detail to Megan’s argument, especially regarding the eunuchs and their forced sexual slavery to their male masters, but it’s not worth going into here. The other three contributing authors give similar arguments, citing external sources in addition to scripture, to support their particular view. Wesley Hill and Stephen Holmes, the two that are opposed to the church’s condoning of homosexuality and gay marriage, give the stronger of the four arguments. Two Views opens with Megan’s and William Loader’s essays (the other author who falls on the affirming and open acceptance side of this debate), but by the time I reached the end of their arguments, I already knew which side of this issue I was going to fall on.

Wesley Hill and Stephen Holmes – as well as Pastor Sjostrom – present a much stronger, sounder case for why the Christian church, no matter the denomination, should be condemning ALL forms of homosexuality as clearly as God does. My own Bible reading and prayer showed me this after only a few weeks. I don’t really need to read all the other books on this topic to know the truth. To be completely honest, I had a pretty good idea of what the end of this journey would look like before I even started it. All the verses from Genesis, Leviticus, Romans, 1st and 2nd Corinthians, and 1st Timothy that deal with this specific issue are quite clear. It is stated over and over: homosexuality is a sin in the eyes of God. Paul stated it best in 1 Corinthians 6:9-11:

“Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of our Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.”

That word “effeminate” in the KJV is translated from the original Greek word that Paul used: arsenokoitai. This is a compound word: arsen – male; koite – bed. “Male bedders”, in other words; those men who sleep with other men. In the NIV translation, the word “effeminate” is replaced with the phrase “men who sleep with other men”. The only other passage that Paul uses that word is in 1 Timothy 1:8-10 (NKJV):

���But we know that the law is good if one uses it lawfully, knowing this: that the law is not made for a righteous person, but for the lawless and insubordinate, for the ungodly and for sinners, for the unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, for fornicators, for sodomites, for kidnappers, for liars, for perjurers, and if there is any other thing that is contrary to sound doctrine…”

The meaning of these two passages is quite clear: those that practice any or all of those sins listed will not inherit the kingdom of God. They are not true believers and followers of Christ. And thus, any church that not only allows its homosexual members to remain in their sin, but also performs gay marriage, is not a true church of God.

And such were some of you.

God has commanded those that follow Him and declare His name to turn from their wickedness and be transformed. Those that believe on His name and repent of their sins will no longer practice those sins listed in the passages I quoted above. That’s the meaning of the phrase, “…and such were some of you.” Well, I have definitely been transformed. I can feel the Holy Spirit working in me. And, because of that, I have no other choice. If I am to be faithful to my Lord and Creator, if I surrender myself completely to His will, I must take a vow to turn away from my sin nature. I cannot indulge in the “lusts of the flesh”, as Paul says in Romans, if I am to call myself a true Christian. I am now a child of God, and His will alone must govern all I say and do.

But, even more important than those passages I listed and quoted above, is the book of Genesis, chapter two. God created Adam first and then He decided it wasn’t good for man to be alone. So God made the woman out of Adam’s rib, and he called her ‘Eve”. Then, in verse twenty-four, God said, “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” This chapter, more than any other passage in the Bible, clearly and explicitly demonstrates what God had intended from the very beginning. The only natural desire of the flesh was for the opposite sex: man for woman and woman for man. That was God’s original plan.

Unfortunately for us, Adam and Eve did not resist the serpent’s temptation to eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. After the Fall, their perfect, pure natures were corrupted by sin, and that corruption was passed unto their children, and their children’s children. Part of that corruption was the perversion of the natural, normal sexual desire. Men lusted after men and women for women. Even though the subsequent passages in Genesis which describe mankind’s deplorable state before the Great Flood never state it specifically, it is not unreasonable to assume that more than just homosexuality was a problem. Bestiality, pedophilia, rape and incest were very likely abundant among the first few generations of man, as well as the worship of false idols and complete rejection of God. Why else would God have felt the need to punish his creation by wiping them from the face of the Earth, save for Noah and his family?

As the old saying goes, ‘God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’. I’ve always hated that pithy, snarky retort whenever I had to defend my sexuality to anyone who tried to tell me I was living in sin. But it’s true. God created only Adam and Eve; not Adam and Steve; not Melissa and Eve; not Adam, Eve, and some other non-gender, non-binary person.

Just Adam and Eve.

Man and woman were joined in holy matrimony and, until the Fall, they lived in perfect peace and union with their Lord and Creator. Anything that deviates from that original, holy standard that God still demands of His children today, is a sin. That includes homosexuality, bestiality, pedophilia, incest, idolatry and devil worship, to name a few. Anyone that willfully practices or engages in any of those things and does not repent cannot call himself a true believer in Christ. Nor can any church that not only openly endorses homosexuality but also performs gay marriage can call themselves a true church of Christ.

So then, what now? If I accept that my sexuality is a byproduct of my sin nature, and that God, in fact, did not make me this way, how can I best serve Him? I’m still gay. That hasn’t changed. (And, yes, I’m sure. I’m watching last week’s episode of The Resident as I write this. Matt Czuchry and Manish Dayal are among the best male eye candy on TV right now.) I still desire a physical relationship with another man. (Either of the aforementioned actors would be especially nice.) But that desire – as well as the act – is a sin. God has made that clear in his Word. After some more talk with Pastor Sjostrom, I finally came to an answer – or, at least, part of one.

 - 3 -

I mistakenly assumed that after I asked Christ into my heart, after I surrendered myself to God, that my sin nature would be transformed. I thought what many torn, conflicted gay Christians and their family have thought: with enough prayer, genuine repentance, and strong faith I would no longer be a homosexual. God would change my unnatural desire, and I would be sexually attracted to women instead of men. I would throw out all the symbols of my gay pride that I had collected over the years – t-shirts, bracelets, baseball caps, the rainbow colored Apple watch bands – and I would begin my new life as a heterosexual man. 2 Corinthians 5:17: “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” Yes, it would be hard at first, but God and I would make this work, glory hallelujah amen!

But that’s not how salvation works. Yes, there was a transformation, but not quite the kind that I was expecting. It’s hard to put into words exactly what I felt in the weeks and months following that quiet prayer on that car ride home from work late the night of September 17, 2020. I knew for sure that something was different. To begin with, there was an almost instant peace and calm that settled over my entire being. All the anxiety, the fear, and the worry about the state of the world around me that had been plaguing me for many weeks melted away. In its place was a quiet, firm assurance that, no matter what happened from then on, I was in the hands of God. He would take care of me.

And then, in the days and weeks that followed that moment of salvation, I began to feel more than just spiritual peace and tranquility. The first was a hunger – an insatiable, ravenous desire to read my Bible. I had only the app on my iPad, and I started with Genesis 1. Every night, before bed, I would read two or three chapters. And then I would pray. It was awkward and nothing like the prayers that I heard time and again from my dad or my teachers in high school or my pastor back then. I stumbled over my words, I repeated myself, I kept forgetting what I wanted to say. And I still felt weird doing it. It was like I was talking to myself. But I kept praying nonetheless.

Gradually, as Christmas loomed closer and closer, and the more I read my Bible and talked to God, I felt something stronger inside of me. But it wasn’t anything physical, like an emotion. It was…something else, something in my soul. I imagined this new feeling as a few drops of red ink falling into a bowl of clear water. At first, the drops fall straight down, coloring only a little bit of the water. But then the ink begins to slowly spread, crimson tendrils that stretch outwards, eventually turning the whole water into the color of blood. That’s what it felt like was happening inside of me. My soul – the very thing that made me me was being changed from the inside out. And it felt damn good!

It was after my Christmas vacation, after ten days of rest and relaxation with my family in Idaho, that I noticed an even bigger change. When I returned to the daily grind of my two jobs, I realized that my whole attitude – and, by extension, my whole outlook on life – had been transformed. I was no longer the angry, anxious, frustrated, fearful man that was always pissed about something – usually the people who were my customers. Before, I was short tempered, impatient, always inwardly complaining whenever those around me were being difficult or annoying me in some way. Now, however, I was at peace. The difference in my new attitude from the old was as glaring as night from day. I greeted my customers with a smile. It was no longer an effort for me to be patient with the difficult ones. Nor did I feel the need to rant and rage on social media about the problems of the world, as I had been doing practically non-stop before I became saved.

It was like being wrapped inside joy, as if joy was something tangible – like a big, soft, warm blanket fresh from the dryer. I had to constantly check my reflection because I was sure I had a giant, stupid grin on my face all day long. And that feeling only got stronger the more I continued to read my Bible – now an actual book that I had bought from Amazon – and pray. That, too, was getting better. I no longer stumbled over my words or forgot what I wanted to say. The hunger to know God, to build a new relationship with my Creator, overshadowed everything else in my life. I lost interest in many of the things that had once taken up all my time, like watching TV or playing video games. All I wanted to do every night when I got home from a busy day was to open God’s Word and keep reading.

But there was one thing that didn’t change during all of that wonderful transformation. I’m still gay. The desire for that sin is still there, as strong and lustful as ever. Everything else about me seems different. I am, indeed, a new creature in Christ. So why am I still gay? Why is this particular thorn still lodged firmly deep in my flesh?

I still don’t have an answer. But I do have a theory. The transformation of the new believer in Christ is not like wiping the old operating system of your ten year old iMac. With a computer you can install a whole new operating system that’s free of the bugs, viruses and malware that plagued the old system. The hardware is still the same old hardware, but the software is brand new. Your computer has been transformed. It performs and operates like a new machine.

But we humans are not machines. We are creatures born of the Fall. Being saved in Christ has made us like new, but the old self – the old, corrupt nature – is still there. The old operating system hasn’t been wiped away. Rather, the new OS is now installed, and the two systems are at war with one another. Why is that, I wonder? Why doesn’t God simply transform our sin nature by wiping it way when He fills us with the Holy Spirit? Wouldn’t that be easier – and more complete – than  forcing us to constantly battle our old selves in order to remain faithful and obedient to Him?

The honest answer is, I don’t know.

What I do know is that God, in His infinite wisdom, has chosen not to remove this particular thorn in my flesh. I am still gay.

           The thorn in my flesh. Yeah, that phrase sounds familiar. In fact, it’s been rolling around in the back of my brain for several weeks now.

In 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, Paul writes of the “thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan sent to buffet me.” Those four verses, more than any other Bible passages that I’ve read and also read about, have continued to echo within me ever since the beginning of this journey. Many pastors and scholars agree that that the thorn Paul speaks of was of a spiritual nature, not a physical. Paul says that he “…besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.”

The thorn in my flesh.

What if I am in the same seat as Paul? What if my sexuality is the ‘thorn’ in my own flesh?

I think that part of the reason that God doesn’t just snap his fingers and wipe away our old self is because, without those old, sinful desires and temptations, we wouldn’t continually come back to Him for mercy, grace and forgiveness. It might have taken a little longer for me to surrender if the outside world hadn’t melted down last year, but I have no doubt now that God has always been working in my life, and He wants my love, worship and obedience. My homosexuality is a reminder from Him that I have a choice: I can give in to my sin nature and indulge my own desires, or I can turn from the flesh, take up my cross daily, and follow Him.

God knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows our sin nature, and He knows that when times are good, when everything is going our way, we often forget Him – just as the Israelites did over and over in the Old Testament. We get wrapped up in our daily lives, turn away from Him, and give our worship to false idols instead; or we just pay Him our weekly rituals and sacrifice on Sunday, and then put aside our Bibles until the following week. But it’s during the times of adversity, when God allows the trials and tribulations of life to afflict us, that we come to Him. We seek Him because He is our only source of comfort and peace. The storms in our lives remind us that God alone can save us, can heal us. Our afflictions draw us closer to Him. And, if we remain faithful to Him, there is much reward for our devotion and service. When the storm has passed, we often find a rainbow.

The rainbow was God’s covenant with Noah and his descendants that God would never again destroy the world with a flood. In our modern world the homosexual revolution of fifty years ago took the rainbow as a symbol of pride and diversity. When I entered my adult life as an out and proud gay man, I, too, adopted the rainbow as a symbol of pride in myself. I vowed to live my life on my terms, and I wouldn’t be cowered or ashamed into silence about who I was, of what I had been born as. But, of course, I have renounced all of that since becoming a new child of God. It is NOT my life, but His as a gift to me. I live now in complete service to Him, and Him alone.

But I’m not quite ready to throw away my rainbow bracelet that I wear on my right wrist every day. It is still a symbol to me – and to everyone I meet in daily life – but not the one that it used to be. I have found a new place beneath the rainbow created by God in the aftermath of that flood in Genesis. The peace and reconciliation I have long sought has been found at last, and the rainbow is a symbol of both my old life and my new one in God’s service. I don’t find that conflicting at all, just as I have no problem calling myself a gay Christian. Until such time as God, in his perfect timing and wisdom, decides to change my unnatural desire completely, I will always be a gay Christian, and the rainbow will be a sign of my personal covenant with Him.

The process of reconciling this issue, the spiritual traveling and soul searching that I have done over the last few months, has shown me clearly that God is my Lord and Savior. He has allowed this affliction so that I would do the work that I needed to reconcile what appeared to be a crisis of faith. I wouldn’t have experienced personal growth in my life – and my faith – without this conflict and pain. Yes, it has been painful. Peeling back the faded scars of old wounds wasn’t not all pleasant. I had to go back to that fifteen-year-old kid and have a long talk with him. (See section 5 of this post.) I wrote letters to my parents and my three brothers, apologizing for the way I treated them all those years ago. I have recognized how selfishly I have been living my adult life, and the pride of my old nature has screamed fiercely whenever I bow my knee and my heart every morning in prayer. There is now a fight within me – the old nature vs. the new self – that will never let up until I die. And, sometimes, that fight will be painful. And yes, I already know that there are times when I will fail, when I will give in to the temptation to break my new vow with God. But that failure is not as important to God as whether or not I stay in the fight. And I will stay. I’m in this for the long haul, and I know without a shred of doubt that God is on my side. He wants me to succeed.

Hallelujah, amen!

 - 4 -

           Most of you have seen my post on Facebook from three days ago. My only answer from God to this twenty-four-year-old conflict has been a call to celibacy. Until such time as he chooses to change my sin nature, to change my unnatural desire into a natural one, I have made the following vow to Him:

           I take a vow of celibacy before God; that I have surrendered my life and my will unto Him; that I will not give in to the temptations of my sinful flesh; that I recognize my homosexual desire as a sin in His eyes, an abomination caused by the Fall; that He has saved my soul from eternal damnation, and I owe him nothing less than my whole heart, soul and mind.

           I take this vow on the 3rd of February, 2021.

           Amen.

 - 5 -

           I read a long time ago – probably in a textbook somewhere in college – that one of the tools therapists and psychiatrists use in their counseling of patients is to have their patients write a letter to their past selves. As I mentioned earlier in this post, I wrote letters to my family to apologize for how I had wronged them in the past. After some more thought and deliberation I decided to write one more letter, this time to that fifteen year old kid that used to be me.

           At first, I thought this a stupid idea. I mean, how much more clichéd can one get? Plus, I’ve already treaded into dangerously melodramatic waters in this post. Is yet one more emotional, sappy passage needed?

           Ehhhh…yes and no. Turns out, I had a lot more to say to myself than I thought at first, and, son-of-a-gun, I did feel remarkably better afterwards. Guess there was some genuine, therapeutic value to this little exercise after all.

           So…here it is.

 Hello.

It's been a long time.

Yes, I see you. You've been there all along, but only recently have I begun to really see you. You've been with me my whole adult life, affecting me, shaping me in ways I never realized until now. I thought I left you behind when I left high school. At various times in my life since, I've judged you, shunned you, tried to erase you, or just simply ignored you. I could never understand why you never had the courage to speak up, to ask for help. There were a few adults – or even your friends – who would have very likely sympathized and tried to help you. All you had to do was say something! But you didn't. You kept your secret, protecting it, guarding it like Gollum with his precious ring. I was the one who eventually had to reveal the secret to those around me when I was old enough and no longer ashamed of what I was.

           But now I realize that instead of judging you and blaming you, there's one thing that I should have done long ago. I never said, “Thank you.” Thank you for giving me the strength and courage to step into the world as a confident, independent adult. It was because of you, what you went through silently as a teenager, that I developed the strength and resolve to live my truth as an adult. It was because of you that I knew what I wanted in life. It was never my desire to just go with the flow, to blend into the crowd and do whatever everyone else was doing. I did my own thing. And yes, it would have been better if I had been living that truth within God's will, but God, in His infinite wisdom, decided not to work His will just yet. He chose to wait while I forged my own path.

           Part of me wishes that I could go back in time and be the adult that you needed. I would have embraced you, told you that you weren't a mistake; that God loves you just the way you are, including being gay. And, deep down inside, you knew that you were loved. Your parents told you that every day. But you always had that sliver of doubt in the back of your mind.

“Would you still love me if you knew my secret? Would you still accept me if I was gay?”

I, the adult looking back at you across the gulf of years between us, know the answer to that is a resounding “Yes! They have always loved you, no matter what!”

           Part of me also wonders how our life would have been different if you had reached out to the one person that understood what you were going through; the one that knew your pain – and your secret. It was He that made you, after all. What I can see so clearly now is that it never occurred to you to reach out to God. You only knew Him through the church, through your teachers, through your parents, through all the endless rules, and restrictions, and demands that they all placed on you. That's what you rebelled against. God, to you, was just a system, an institution that governed every corner of your life. That institution would never understand your secret, would never accept you for the real you.

           But He was there all along. He was there on those nights when you cried yourself to sleep. You were struggling to understand your pain, to understand the turmoil inside you, but you didn't have the words or the wisdom or the experience to fully realize it all. All that you knew was anger, frustration and fear. But God understood you, and He was there in the darkness, crying with you.

           I want so badly to be there now, to wrap you in my arms and wipe away your tears and tell you that everything will be okay. Because it will be. You can’t see it now, but things will get better. You will find a way through this, and you will emerge on the other side with a strength and resolve that you never knew you had within you. The rest of your life is an as-yet-unwritten map of joys and blessings, failures and setbacks, triumphs and successes that will make all of this suffering worthwhile. You will know happiness that you couldn’t dream of – most of it found within the family that you don’t understand or get along with now. (There are 10 nieces and nephews that think you’re the greatest uncle ever, for example.) God has a plan for you, and, like the father of the prodigal son, He will be there with open arms when you finally come back home. He will accept you, just as you are.

           But all of that is for later. For now, just know this: the storm will pass, and there will be peace.

           You will find your rainbow.

[knightthunderis]

Ch 9 Explanations and Revelations

“Only one from there would know everything there is to know about all the other players in the game.” the duke admonished. “I would almost say for sure that your knowledge of us is equally thorough.”

“I also correlated and memorized the history of every house family from the first lock up to present day.” Reimeiko said. “Shall I give you the rundown of every house from the beginning to the present day?”

“Heavens no, that would take centuries for the long haul as you say.” Byron breathed. “And that would build up quite the appetite.  Which reminds me, now that you are here as our guest, the royal kitchens can make you anything your heart desires.  Go on ask for anything.”

“Anything huh?’ Reimeiko asked. “How about the biggest ice cream sundae I have ever seen with three spoons and I will share it with the two of you?”

“The finest chefs in the world and you choose an ice cream sundae of all things?” Byron sneered. After a few minutes they receive an ice cream sundae as big as Reimeiko’s head and three spoons. “Alright, I stand corrected, this is actually very good.”

“That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Malachi said. After the dining room, the brothers showed Reimeiko the sights, starting with the lofty rooms that proudly displayed the Alliance history. “And here in the historic east wing, we have the national Taborian gallery.”

“In the days past, this was the throne room, the center of power where reigning monarchs would hold court.  But once the new throne room was built, this became a gallery devoted to the important relics like the Taborian crown jewels.  Those are over here.” They led her to a display case where an orb and the Taborian scepter sit glistening on pillows.

“It is very orblike.” Reimeiko replied. “The golden scepter.  Is everything themed?”

“Oh yes, pretty much.” Byron said. “They are the symbols of the crown.  Every king and queen has held these during their coronation.”  

“You know, if everything goes according to plan and you marry Prince Karyson, you might one day hold them yourself.” Malachi added.

“I know that you want to tell them that Reimeiko is already married to Karyson.” Tristan said. “But you need to wait until I can reconnect him to me and Knight Wolf.”

“I like your confidence.” Malachi said. “And here is the palace pool and deck.  Floating the days away has never been so attainable.  It is like we are at a fancy hotel.”

“If by fancy hotel you mean an enduring symbol of the strength and dignity of the Taborian government.” Byron snapped.

“This is not the Thaddea I know and remember.” Reimeiko thought. “I just do not understand what happened to invoke all of these crazy changes?”

“The parents are still working on that.” Tristan said. “We need to find out who is ruling Thaddea in Dad’s place so we can fix the main situation.”

“Why is a bathroom part of the tour?” Reimeiko asked. “Do not get me wrong, it looks perfect for bubble baths.  Why is this particular bathtub and bathroom on the tour?”

“This is the biggest bathtub in the entire palace.” Malachi said. “It is perfect both in shape and height to achieve the optimal ratio of water to bubble levels.  I will share my formula with you later.”

“Please tell me when you say that this is the biggest tub in the entire palace,” Byron asked, “that you have not actually tried every tub in the royal palace? No wait, do not answer that.  I would like to maintain some level of plausible deniability on this.”

Malachi chuckled as he and Byron led Reimeiko to the last room of the royal tour, the royal throne and hall of portraits room.

“The royal throne room looks like it was totally made for me and the future.” Reimeiko replied. “I will gain him and everything about him for the sake of the future.”

“As it should be.” Byron said. “This is where the King and Queen sit to meet with foreign dignitaries and their people.  In the old days, it used to be that people and nobility alike had to pay their respect by kneeling and touching the hem of the king or queen.  But ever since a successful assassination on a queen several hundred years ago, that was outlawed.  In fact, you must never touch the king or queen physically without their permission.  Now, if you will follow me this way.”

Byron walked away from the thrones to the hall of portraits on the far end, but Reimeiko and Malachi hung back to really look at the thrones.

“I have always wondered if those thrones were comfortable.” Malachi asked her. “I wonder if they are as comfortable as they look from here at this vantage point.”

“As tempting as trying them on for size is.” Reimeiko replied. “Maybe we should respectfully look at them from a distance although, I know it is only what you have been doing your whole life.  Shall we catch up to Byron before he realizes that we are not listening?”

Without thinking twice, Reimeiko and Malachi hurry to catch up to Byron before he could turn around and find they were not with him.

“And this portrait of King Keitaro was bequeathed to him by the Count of Evedia as a gift.” Byron said.

“Wow, King Keitaro was extremely handsome.” Reimeiko replied, “He also has a very commanding air about him and is very hypnotic. Karyson, Racine, Koridon and Garyson’s great great grandfather on their mother Seidre’s side of the family was quite the fierce protector and defender as well.”  As Malachi skipped off to scout ahead, the grandeur of everything that had been seen hit Reimeiko hard but she had to act like she really did not know anything about her Karyson and Garyson’s royal home. “Wow, Karyson was not kidding when he said he was crown prince of Thaddea, was he?”

“I would much prefer it if you did not use his first name so much in public.” Byron said. “There is royal protocol to follow you realize after all.  But I am curious, what exactly are you doing here in Taboria?” 

“Well Your Grace, have you not ever been in love?” Reimeiko asked. Byron dumbfounded and blushing caught her attention. “I knew it! Alright wiseguy, who is the lucky lady in your life?”

“There is no one.  I do not have time for such diversions.” Byron said. “It is you we are talking about.  Why are you here trying to win the hand of Prince Garyson Walters?”

Reimeiko knew that she had to be careful how she answered for the sake of not blowing her cover, but also to make sure that she did not reveal herself too soon like Daryien said although Byron and Malachi already knew who she was and where she came from.

“Byron, believe it or not, fate led me here.” Reimeiko replied. “I am not sure why fate put Garyson in my path and brought me to you, but Karyson is special. I knew it from the moment we met and I did not even know that Garyson was a prince then unlike Karyson who is from Thaddea.  And now I have this incredible chance to reconnect with him thanks to you and Malachi.  Should I not follow through and see what happens next?  Do you think it is too sentimental?”

“No, Your Highness, I think I see it now.” Byron acknowledged. “You have a certain something about you, maybe a charm, I am not sure, but I sense something very familiar about you like you have been here before.  Perhaps you do have a slim sliver of a chance after all.”

“I knew there was something I did not like about him.” Tristan growled through the earpiece. “Byron Blanchard was not always a stuck up blowhard like he is now.  Back in the days before old man Blanchard deserted and abandoned them, Byron used to be cool.  Nowadays, he is just as stuck up as his old man. I wonder if there is more that happened to make him such a stiff.”

Reimeiko chuckled at Tristan’s rogue assessment. “Do not celebrate yet.” Byron said. “We will still have our work cut out for us.  If you are not careful, it could all end tomorrow.”

“Typical grouch.  You just could not end it on a high note could you?” Reimeiko asked.  Byron shrugged as Malachi returned to them.  To herself she thought. “I hope I do not regret making this move.  It would be a shame if the man I am already married to gets caught up in a bad case of bigamy.”

“Hey what is up?  Are you two coming?” Malachi asked. “Come on, I hear it is almost time for dinner and I am totally starved.  And it will be an excellent time to see what you know about the different silverware.”

“It sounds like a party.  Lead the way.” Reimeiko replied. Later on, after the tour of the palace and the dinner, Byron and Malachi walked with Reimeiko back to her room. “You know, I have to really say that this was really fun.  We are going to have so much fun together and thank you both for picking me for your house.”

“It was the best decision I have ever made as far as I can really tell.” Malachi said cheerfully

“The dye is cast, is it not?  I suppose we shall see just how you fare in the days to come and how much you have learned tomorrow in any case.” Byron added ruefully. “Good night, Reimeiko, we will find you tomorrow to plan for the masquerade.  If you need anything, we will be in the suite next door, otherwise, sleep well.”

She returned to her room and after her things are unpacked and put away, she sat at the table on her balcony and began typing away into her latest entry in her computer journal:  After the final battle with Chaotic and Nemesira, I thought we were done facing off with tyrants, dictators and conspiracies, but it seems there is another conspiracy to face off with.  Something has happened to separate Karyson from Tristan, Knight Wolf and his memories of being connected with Reimeiko Thunderis and where she fits into his life: A video call from Pepper paused her musings.  She knew that Pepper was going to have a ton of questions knowing the truth.

[mariemoret]

Millions of Patriots have laid down their lives, fighting to protect our freedoms and our country, we can sacrifice likes on social media and cheap consumer products to save our country, our sovereignty. This is our Normandy Beach. This is the hill on which we should be willing to die.

As a coach, when your players continue to make the same mistakes over and over again, there is an old adage that says, “you’re either coaching it, or you’re letting it happen.” Either scenario places the blame for the players’ continual mistakes squarely on the coach. Looking at our politics and our society in general, and seeing how far we have moved away from the original vision of our founding, how corrupt our politicians on both sides of the aisle have become, how equally corrupt our media is, and how much power and influence we have handed to social media giants to further corrupt our politicians and media, I ask the question, are we promoting all this or simply allowing it to happen? After all that we have found out about the political censorship by Facebook, Twitter, and Google during this election cycle, and all the money they spent to corrupt our political process, why is anyone who loves America and believes in what our founding documents stand for, still using any of those platforms? Every one of the 70+ million people who voted for Donald Trump should delete their Twitter and Facebook accounts right now, and start using neutral search engines like DuckDuckGo instead of Google, for their blatant censorship of conservatives and naked promotion of Democrats. These social media giants unfairly influenced the outcome of the election with their biased algorithms skewing our searches to favor Democrats and blatant censorship of Republicans. The Hunter Biden story was censored by Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram while these platforms shut down the accounts of Republicans and right-leaning newspapers. This is the stuff that happens in third-world banana republics or totalitarian Marxist regimes. We, as people, are either promoting this Marxist/leftist take-over of our country, or we are simply allowing it to happen. If we continue to use these platforms and put money and power into the hands of the billionaires in Silicon Valley who are in bed with the Chinese Communist Party, and are using their money and power to promote politicians who are in bed with the CCP, then we deserve what we get. We will lose the American dream. We will lose the rights and protections of our Constitution. The more we climb into bed with the Chinese Communist Party, the more their politics will seep in and infiltrate our country, our politics, our psyche. Regardless of how big their economy is, do we want to live like the average Chinese citizen, slaves of the state with rigged elections and one-party rule? I deleted my Facebook and Twitter accounts about 3 years ago, and it was one of the most liberating decisions I ever made. Once I was off those platforms for about a week, I realized how much emotional control they had over me, and I also realized how unnecessary and superficial those platforms really are. We don’t need to be liked by five thousand people; we need to be loved by about five. Maybe, these platforms will be embedded into our collective future forever, and maybe I’m a relic of days gone by, but if I’m a relic, then so is our Constitution, our Bill of Rights, the American Dream. Because those platforms are working to destroy these founding principles, and our national vision. Does anyone believe that the socialist agenda that will be foisted upon us will be fair and evenly distributed? Or will it be like the free speech offered by Twitter and Facebook, only given to the like-minded? We can stick our heads in the sand and tell ourselves that China is our ally, as they steal our intellectual property, insert spies into high levels of our government and academia, buy off our political and economic elites, use unfair trade practices, manipulate their currency, enslave their people and pollute the world, just so we can buy cheap sneakers and computers which further enriches Silicon Valley billionaires and Wall Street financiers while hollowing out our middle class and destroying our manufacturing. This threat we are facing is both insidious and pervasive. But the “price of liberty is eternal vigilance.” Finish at link below

[aliceslantern]

Serendipity, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 5

ser·en·dip·i·ty | n -- the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery.

It's all fun and games until someone gets pregnant.

Modern AU, Zemyx, Ienzo is trans and AFAB.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo moves into the third trimester. Life changes forever.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

The third trimester was not nearly as pleasant as the second. Ienzo felt heavy, unwieldy, his thought processes muddy and murky. At least the weather was no longer so unbearably hot. He was again exhausted, and it was very difficult to find pregnancy clothing that wasn’t feminine. Naminé thankfully came to the rescue and sewed some things for him.

How odd, to think they had family. Not just the blood or adopted relatives, but the friends, too. Riku was continually surprised to see him. “I keep forgetting,” he said honestly. His partners, Sora and Kairi, were almost more excited about the baby than he was. “Here you are. Going domestic.”

“I’ll certainly have no shortage of babysitters,” Ienzo said drolly. “Sora, if you post that selfie you won’t have a phone anymore. Thank you.”

He was finding it difficult to work normally. Getting up and down off of his high stool at the research desk was something of a chore. Considering how frequently he needed to move around, it was an issue. While he still did love feeling the baby move, especially as the further the pregnancy went the more he could distinctly feel each little limb, he no longer was quite so enamored with this state of being.

One afternoon he was feeling more tired and sluggish than normal. He was trying to fix some kind of issue with his personal computer, one that, were he not pregnant, he could solve within five minutes, but he couldn’t think straight. The frustration actually brought tears to his eyes, and he wasn’t able to blink them back this time. And once the tears started… they didn’t stop.

Demyx found him with his head in his hands on the couch. “Babe?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I feel so slow. So stupid.”

“It’s just the hormones,” he said. “You’re--”

“I know. I know it’s the fucking hormones.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“I know.” Demyx handed him a tissue. “Why don’t you lay down? I’ll make some dinner.”

He did… and he drifted. When he woke up he felt nauseous and feverish and there was an awful ache in his back that wouldn’t rub away. He sat up slowly, with the intent of searching these symptoms, only for the nausea to immediately escalate. He barely was able to grab the living room wastebasket in time. It couldn’t be morning sickness--it was far too late for that.

Something was wrong.

Demyx poked his head out of the bathroom. “Ienzo? What’s--oh. Oh, baby.”

The tears were back. Demyx rested a hand on his forehead. “You’re really warm.”

“I don’t feel right.”

“I know.”

Dizzily, he flicked his eyes back to the clock. It was late, too late to see a doctor.

“Could it be a stomach bug?”

“Maybe--” He sniffled. Demyx took the sick from him and handed him a wet paper towel.

“Why don’t you lay back down? We can get you to the doctor in the morning.”

Maybe it was because he was so weak, but he didn’t resist, and dipped in and out of consciousness.

“...thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure who else to call.”

“Of course. It’s been a long time since I practiced medicine, but I think I can manage.”

“He was crying. Ienzo never cries. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“We’ll figure it out.” A cold hand on his face. “Ienzo? Love?”

He blinked. “Dad? What are you--”

“Demyx was worried about you. I am too.”

He tried to sit up, but Even eased him down. He was cold now, trembling. A thermometer was eased into his mouth.

“You’ve got quite a fever,” he said. “What else do you feel? Other than the nausea and vomiting?”

“Something just doesn’t feel right,” he said thickly. “My back… hurts pretty badly.”

Even felt at his back, probing gently near the ribs. Ienzo winced. “Is that where it hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Well.” It was still pretty dark in here; all Ienzo could see was the curtain of his father’s hair. “Those are your kidneys. Seems a pretty straightforward infection to me.”

“...Kidney infection?” He blinked wearily. “How--”

“Perhaps you confused the frequent urination for mere pregnancy pressure. A normal mistake. Not to mention your immune system currently has a lot to keep up with.”

“But the baby--”

“I’m sure the baby will be fine. I would like to get you to a hospital, though, to be safe.”

In a haze, Ienzo went with them. He was sweating like crazy, foggy and miserable. Even’s diagnosis was correct. They started him on IV antibiotics just to be cautious, and decided to observe him overnight due to the pregnancy. He had trouble getting into a comfortable position to sleep on the small hard bed. The baby seemed to sense his distress, kicking gently. Their heart rate seemed to be normal, judging by the monitors. The on-call OB had told him as much, and they would likely be fine.

He felt guilty. The thing he had the most control over--his body--had failed him. How could he possibly expect to be a good parent if he couldn’t even tell when he was sick ? Again, he felt the tears and covered his mouth.

Demyx, half asleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair, stirred. “Ienzo? Are you in pain?”

“No,” he said. “I just--I didn’t know. How didn’t I know?”

“It’s not your fault.” He came over to the bed.

“How can I possibly protect them when I can’t even protect them from my own body?”

“Babe, you’re spiraling,” he said. “You couldn’t have done anything differently. And you know what? You’re going to be a good dad.”

“How can you know that?”

His gaze was fervent. “Because of how much you care,” he said. “This whole time--even before you thought you were going to stay pregnant, you’ve been on top of it. The way you eat. The way you talk about them. And if it helps? I’m scared too.”

He wiped at his eyes. “You raised your sister.”

“That’s not starting from scratch, though. You and me? I think we can do it.” He kissed Ienzo’s sweaty forehead. “We can’t save them from everything. We just have to do our best.”

He hiccupped. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try.”

---

The more time passed, the harder it was to go about his daily life. Simple chores like laundry or cleaning took much longer, and he was often short of breath from the baby compressing his lungs. As much as Demyx tried to help, he also knew that Ienzo saw help as patronizing. September and October passed dizzily. Ienzo found himself often unable to sleep; if he were not getting up for the bathroom, he couldn’t get comfortable, or the baby would be moving too much to let him sleep. His nipples, despite there being very little breast tissue after the top surgery, ached, and he learned in his research he could still produce small amounts of milk.

He spent a lot of these hours organizing and reorganizing things in the nursery. Logically, he knew it was nesting, an instinctive process, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He would sit in an old rocking chair--a relic from his childhood--with a pair of earphones around his stomach. As soon as Demyx learned the baby was starting to hear, he created dozens of playlists for them in utero. Truthfully, Ienzo did not mind. Some of these nights Demyx would come get him, coax him back into bed, and rub his back until he finally fell into a hesitant sleep.

Dr. Gainsborough told him he would likely need a C-section; the baby was getting too large to pass through his hips. Privately, Ienzo was relieved. He could deal with surgery. The ordeal of natural birth seemed humiliating. They scheduled this birth for November ninth.

“That’s my lucky number,” Demyx said. “A good sign.”

He had to stop working earlier than he would have liked. Getting through the days was just too exhausting. He settled for doing what he could from home.

A few days before Halloween, he felt it, a thick, heady cramp that made him gasp out loud. But it passed quickly, just being a Braxton-Hicks. It happened a few more times, sporadically. “It’s not as if my body knows the baby is being born surgically,” Ienzo assured a frantic Demyx. “It’s just practice. Lucky me.”

On the holiday itself, however, he woke up with one of those cramps, deeper than before. They must be getting stronger the farther I get, he thought, wincing. Demyx was in class, and was due to work a Halloween concert in the evening. Ienzo had planned on spending the day with a few of his favorite gothic novels, and sleeping when he could.

This all changed when he stood up. He felt it happen, a slight pinch between his legs before the wetness ran down them, releasing a pressure he hadn’t been fully conscious was there. Janice the cat padded over and sniffed at it curiously.

“Oh, no,” Ienzo said. “No, no. You’re early.” It didn’t surprise him; Demyx was notoriously an early riser. “No, kitty, you don’t want to drink that.” As he struggled to clean up both himself and the mess, he was weirdly calm--almost numb.

I’m in labor, he thought, as if thinking it would make him internalize the truth. I’m in labor and I can’t give birth.

He called his doctor first.

“This happens all the time,” she said. “Just get to the hospital when you can. Have someone drive you. You’re in no shape. It’s going to be okay, Ienzo.”

The contractions remained sporadic. The pain was… bracing, but he’d always had a high tolerance and dealt accordingly. As soon as he knew Demyx’s class was out, he called.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” Ienzo said. “I’m afraid I’m in labor. They’re going to move the c-section up to today. Can you come get me?”

“Can I come--” Ienzo heard him take a shaky breath. “Of course. Of course. Just relax. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He sat on the couch with the small bag he’d packed a few weeks ago. Janice kneaded his stomach gently, purring. “I suppose you know,” he said to the cat. He called his parents and told them as well.

“You were early too,” Even told him. “Your mother--bless her--tried to keep working. She said you liked being kept busy. I thought she was going to give birth right on that lab floor.”

“I’d hoped to--not have to feel this nonsense,” he said, through his teeth.

“Are you sure you want to wait for Demyx? I can take you now.”

“The contractions are still pretty far apart. I want him to be there. He needs to be there.”

He waited.

How odd, it was to be in this state. In several hours this person would be out of him. It would be through with--save the next eighteen years. He contracted. He breathed. He felt the baby’s feet acutely as they moved, steadily, down.

Demyx all but threw the door open. “How are you doing?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve had worse pain,” he said.

Demyx helped him up gently. “When? How?”

“When I was in the fourth grade--” A contraction gripped him, and he needed to wait until it was over to finish the sentence. “I was riding bikes with friends. We were heading down a big hill. I lost control. Cracked my femur. That was far more awful.”

“We should go,” Demyx said. “Careful. Take your time.”

Ienzo was acutely aware that this was the last time it would only be the two of them in the apartment, and he felt an almost thick fear.

It all seemed to be going slowly and quickly at the same time. He was admitted, Even came and worried over him anxiously, the hospital staff prepared the OR in maternity. Before he’d even fully accepted that he was about to give birth, he was being given the spinal block for the procedure and eased down onto the table. “Where are you?” Ienzo asked.

“I’m right here.” He felt Demyx take his hand. The light in here was blinding. A nurse set up the draping that would hide the reality of the surgery from him. “I’ve never been in an operating room before.”

“A good thing,” Dr. Gainsborough said. “Ienzo? You doing okay?”

“Quite--it’s just very bright.”

“Ah--sorry.” She moved a lamp. “Do you want me to tell you what I’m doing?”

“Demyx is squeamish,” he said wearily.

“But you’re the one giving birth,” Demyx said. “Birth. Holy fuck.”

“No,” he said. “No, it’s alright.”

They prepped him gently, chatting happily around him, about the fact that it was a Halloween baby. He felt oddly meditative, very calm. He wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the anesthetic.

“You might feel some pressure,” Dr. Gainsborough said. “But that’s all you should feel.”

Surely enough, he could feel some tugging. She’s taking them out of me , he thought dazedly.

“There we go,” she said, a smile in her voice. “You’ve got a little girl.”

And then Ienzo heard her cry. It was this that startled him back fully into the present, a surge of endorphins forcing tears to his eyes.

“Everything looks great,” she said.

After a moment--far too short and far too long in the same breath--a wrapped bundle was being brought to his face. Ienzo had to fight the urge to grab her, conscious of the fact that he was quite literally still being operated on. He placed a hand on her, straining to get a good look.

Demyx brought her a little closer. He was crying freely. “Look at her,” she said.

“I see. I see.” His voice was unsteady. “Hi, love. Oh.”

He planted a kiss onto his forehead. “You did it. Thank you.”

[recsnrecaps]

A Love So Beautiful Episode 2 Recap: Can I Hop On Your Bike?

Netflix oh Netflix. Why do you tease me so! With that picture, I suddenly have visions of these two all grown up and married. No!! Please just let me live in their teenage past and experience their budding love.

So. The world building continues in episode 2. Jiang Chen still appears to be an emotionless robot, but the writers have crafted a believable sob story to explain his emotional detachment and why Xiaoxi is so protective of him.

I’m still not taken in with Jiang Chen’s character yet. And the issue isn’t with the acting at all. For the stoic lead, he has a generous amount of micro-expressions and his “poker face” matches his sarcastic quips. However, something in the writing/directing leaves more to be desired. The parts about Jiang Chen’s past feels like clunky exposition to me.

On the other hand, I’m really liking the second lead, Wu Bo Song 吴柏松.In any other show, Bo Song would have been the main lead. He’s a charming and sporty dude with a sense of humor. I do feel kinda upset every time he interacts with Xiaoxi though. As the second lead, he’s fated to not get the girl. But he really puts in so much more effort than Jiang Chen - it’s not fair!

At Bo Song’s swim competition, silly Xiaoxi jumbles up the characters on her hand-drawn cheer poster, leading to a "Wu Song Bo" instead. Hahaha! Later on, after the race, when Bo Song was getting harassed by interviewers, Xiaoxi and her poster comes to his rescue with a giant cheer. Bo Song appears really touched by her support, so much so that he offered to trade her for the poster.

The camera work during the dinner scene deliberately included many many lingering closeups of Bo Song's hopeful face. As well as his repeated requests for the poster. It's obvious to us that Bo Song places a great significance on what happened and really wanted a keepsake. However Xiaoxi doesn't place the same importance on the interaction. In her eyes, she was just keeping her word to come and watch the race - she was merely being a friend, and not a very good one at that (the poster typo being an embarrassing bit of evidence).

So. Storytime now. As an old codger I watch shows like this and cringe unabashedly at scenes of young love like this. I have been Xiaoxi in various situations in my life where I have been absolutely oblivious that my actions were leading someone on. I was just being myself, you know? In interactions with said guy, a sentence might have some significant meaning to the guy, but because things seem innocuous on the surface, I end up answering carelessly and hurting his feelings. 

Here, Xiaoxi is so preoccupied with her life (and Jiang Chen) that she isn’t able to be properly present in the conversation, thus completely missing the social cues from Bo Song.

Personally I find Bo Song’s attraction to Xiaoxi far more organic and interesting rather than the shoehorned Xiaoxi and Jiang Chen childhood friends next door arrangement. Perhaps it's because Bo Song is such an expressive actor. He also has such a natural chemistry with Xiaoxi, I enjoyed him popping up to save Xiaoxi and giving her bike rides. And the impetus for the bike rides are so spontaneous and fun. Early in the episode, he smoothly glided up to save her from a group of girls. And in another instance, when they needed to escape quickly from their teacher, she just mounted up on his bike and they sped away crazily. Ah, youth.

Of course, the title of this episode “Can I Hop On Your Bike?” actually refers to the bike ride that Xiaoxi wants Jiang Chen to give her. It’s establised early on in the episode that Xiaoxi lost her bike. So it’s a running gag that throughout the episode, Xiaoxi gazes mornfully at Jiang Chen whenever she needs a ride, and he always ignores her. But in end, he eventually does give her a ride to school. 

Unfortunately, the payoff is so disappointing in this episode. I don't feel inclined to root for Jiang Chen at all, not even when I learnt that he doesn't have parental support. Nor does Jiang Chen's discovery that "someone" came and looked after him when he was ill make me feel like there was any significant development in their relationship. The bike ride at the end seems more like “payment” for Xiaoxi’s care, rather than an actual joyful and spontaneous event. I personally feel like this cheapens Xiaoxi and Jiang Chen’s interaction. A key part of my inability to accept their relationship, is due to the lack of communication between them. Well, Xiaoxi tries. She has made her intentions Vey Clear. But Jiang Chen is still a closed box. And until he opens up and reciprocates, their interactions just seem awkward and forced.

On to other stuff now. This story occurs in 2005 and in this episode the directors do try make an effort to pay homage to the era. I'm reminded of my trusty old Nokia phone whenever one appears on screen. In those days, everyone had a Nokia. A phone was literally only able to be used for calling and texting. Apps hadn’t even been invented yet, so the telcos had a powerful monopoly on phone usage. Depending on your phone plan, every month you had a finite amount of call minute and text messages to make. Any extra text message past your limit would cost a ridiculous amount of money. You had to stay within the character limit for each text and ration your texts or end up with your parents refusing to pay your phone bills. I’m so glad that telecommunication these days have improved so drastically.

Speaking of communication, the Internet was a vastly different place back in 2005. As we learn in this episode, being a moderator for a fangirl website is a big honor. Back then, going on the Internet did not consist of scrolling mindlessly on Facebook. You actually had to look for the content you wanted. Thus, there were hives of activity on specialty sites, and each community developed their own form of management. Typically websites would consist of a forum section where users could post their questions and comments on various topics. For a fangirl site, this forum is arguably the most important part of the website. A moderator would have the power to highlight or sticky a post to the top, or delete and ban users.

Although Facebook was not available yet, there were various blogging and sharing sites on the Internet in 2005. As shown in the episode, QQ was widely popular in China (and still is). Each user account could access various functions on the platform which included a friends list, chat message, a personal blog and private memos.

Next historical relic spotted, the Warcraft poster pasted on the door of the Internet Cafe that the boys frequent. Warcraft was released in 2004, so that was absolutely the era of the original Warcraft game. There has been loads of Warcraft sequels since, but the poster is the classic original one. Kudos to the props team on that one.

In the previous episode, the boys spent time in the Internet Cafe as well, and I'm pretty sure that the game they were playing was Counterstrike - another massively popular computer game in that era. Counterstrike is a fantastic bonding game. Every round is approximately 2 to 5 minutes. There is almost no learning curve to this game. You literally team up with your buddies, connect to a game, and try to shoot down anyone who isn't on your team. In an hour, you theoretically could play 50 short games. It's low stress and involves loads of incoherent yelling. It's therefore really believable that the guys could become fast friends after just one gaming session. And that they would make plans to go regularly after school.

That marriage game though............ I'm not sure I ever encountered anything like that. It’s also not within my personal experience that any 16 year old guy would be interested in broadcasting his impending marriage with his virtual waifu. Haha, just my take but this mindset seems too modern for 2005.

I'll try to keep my eyes peeled for more 2005 pop culture references throughout this show.

[itslula1991]

My Jewel (In Corrections)

Before continuing, I would like to explain why I could not continue with this modest Ahkmenrah fic. I lost my previous account and not only that, I also lost everything on my computer along with what I was writing, so I had to rewrite it and make some reforms in the process. I'm not sure if it's going to be understood because I don't speak English very well. If there is something wrong, I apologize. If someone wants to follow the story closely, I will gladly label whoever wants it again, that there is no doubt in telling me. From Argentina, the south of the world, this girl says thanks for your attention  ❤️

Postscript: I wanted to wait until today to make it special, it's my 28th birthday and as a Christmas gift for you  ❤️

Genre: Adventure, comedy, romance, fantasy

Warnings: None, for now, but much later, yes, yes, yes ;D

Summary

An ancient spell causes a millenary young lady to weaken, it is up to Larry and her friends to help her find the key to return her to normal while an unknown woman, along with three known individuals, and in order to proclaim her "how hers," she try to take over a captive jewel somewhere in Egypt. (The shock of all the chaos in the girl).

Objective? The guard and the exhibits must prevent it from falling into the wrong hands while between Ahkmenrah and the girl, a romance will slowly emerge that will bear fruit over time.

Chapter 1

Egypt 1940

The tents were part of a group of archaeologists who started a very important search dedicated solely to the tracing and possible discovery of a very valuable artifact, a mummy and hopefully also the family of the mentioned one.

The man in charge was 20 years behind the aforementioned, however over time he could never find that desire.

The midday sun rose at a rapid pace while many of them, more than a dozen Egyptians, approximately hundreds of locals worked from sunrise to sunset or excavating with the materials required to find future world heritage sites, which among them It could be the ancient Egyptian tomb. The sites traveled underground were illuminated by a row of spotlights providing light, thus allowing better lighting in random areas before possible treasures waiting to be exposed.

Without further ado, we find ourselves in one of the most famous necropolis, the Giza plateau, following in the footsteps of an archaeologist, an assistant and a local.

"Gentlemen, we are at risk, a storm is coming, my men are terrified! Let's go!”, Ahmed alarmed.

"Peter, we should give up.", said Richard, the aide walking between the dunes.

"Richard, the grave around here, I can feel it."

"Please, Peter, it's been over two months now.", Richard spoke again.

"Richard, I'm not going to stop.", Peter pawned on a whim.

"Dad, dad.", the voice of a child was heard in the distance, walking through the lateral area of the great rock mound, the great pyramid. "I'm hungry, dad, can we rest? And why is there so much wind?”

“Johan, wait in that sector. If you like to taste a bite of your chocolate, do it but I must continue with this.”

"I just want you to recharge. You haven't eaten a bite or slept, Dad.”

“Johan, listen to me. Go there, son.”, the man in question pointed to his left and his young son resigned himself to obey his father.

"Peter!", Richard yelled.

And followed by Richard, Ahmed exclaimed: "Mr. Anderson!"

"What?!"

Returning to the aforementioned, Johan barely walked a few meters from the camp, descending carefully between the golden slopes and abiding by what was established by his father, the young boy unwrapped the candy and tasting the bar of its tasty chocolate, leaned back against a wall. Slowly, small cracks began to be heard first, then important cracks appeared like that until that sector of the slope collapsed. There was never time for a reaction on his part, Johan fell according to his primary pose being a figure that coughed between rocks, dust and cobwebs in the remote darkness.

"Help! Hey! ”, Johan screamed at the top of his lungs without being heard by the amount of movement and noise from outside.

After recovering from that inhospitable moment, he rose from the ground to fend for himself inside the cave. Johan went deeper walking the first few meters until he had no choice but to lie down on the ground through the narrowness of what seemed to be an interior passage and crawl chest to the ground leaving behind the little light that entered through the gap produced by such action.

By turning on his flashlight he was able to more closely detail the end of that chamber, Johan stumbled upon what seemed to be a sacred place, he could see walls covered with hieroglyphs, two rows of 6 gigantic stone sculptures, crumbs of striking corrupted colors and two lackeys who guarded the entrance to the house where their masters remained in eternal sleep.

Inside, in the background and in front, there were three ornate sarcophagi, they were two adults, a pharaoh on the right, his wife on the left of the king and his daughter or perhaps son in the middle, the sarcophagi were made of pure gold and surrounded of splendid riches among other ostentatious objects is what the young adolescent could see once he carefully descended from the low height he traced through the tunnel.

His eyes were still mesmerized by the immense room still painted in a soft and elegant Egyptian blue, from the long wall filled with ancient inscriptions that covered the total of each corner to a recessed jewel that rested in the dark painting on the back wall, the same piece was jealously guarded by Egyptian texts around him, narrating the victories of royalty.

He wanted to speak but was so amazed that only his own breathing could be heard rumbling softly when the silence of the room welcomed him. Stunned to have discovered the enclosure that his father dreamed of finding so much. His happiness was multiplied by two.

With the lack of clarity provided by the rays of the sky god because the clouds overshadowed him for a few minutes, Peter was concerned that his perhaps firstborn was not in sight or anywhere.

He realized when he saw the hole made in the wall that was not there before and asked: “What is that? Where’s Johan?”

To which a tall, tanned man with defined Arabian features, wearing a blue tunic that reached his feet, called Ahmed, yes, the local in charge of indicating where to dig and where not, hesitated to give a concrete answer when the same Father ran to the hollowed out divider plate.

"Johan?!"

Peter traced the same path like this until completing the journey.

"Dad!", Johan shouted in order to let his father know that he was in optimal living conditions.

"Son, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine!", Johan replied with a smile.

"I'm going in!"

Johan's father entered the priceless ruins by descending a staircase made of reeds, and upon observing his son safe and sound, this anguish ceased taking step by step until he reached him.

"Yes!", that man raised his arms completing his happiness. “I looked for this grave for so many years and you, what did you do? You hit right on it.”

Johan was carried by his father in his arms and the young man gave a happy laugh.

Johan muttered: "Look at all this, Dad."

He turned his gaze to the walls, lighting up the vastness of the delicious and immortalized art carved in all four corners as his father detailed the scriptures loving each part of the discovery itself.

"It is beautiful, just beautiful.", Peter muttered.

"And that jewel.", the boy muttered, pointing his flashlight in the direction of the relic, assuming his father walked there followed by the young man.

They advanced, leaving behind the mound of sand accumulated by too many centuries and scattered by the beginning of the ancient grave until it faintly lost itself on the same ground and once being close enough, that boy tried to touch it but the scream in the distance from Ahmed prevented it.

"Mr. Anderson?!"

Taking advantage of the fact that this place had a worse quality stone construction, the tunnel was not favored as a support, falling on a slope at the time that Ahmed touched the old and venerated terrain. But just as Ahmed entered, another man, an old man also burst onto the scene taking the young Johan's shirt by the lapels and this same subject shook him repeating a series of words frightening him when his father protected him.

"Hey, what's going on with you?!", exclaimed Mr. Anderson, very indignant.

"la! la tlmsha! 'aw sawf tahadath' ashya'an fazieatan!”

"Ahmed, what is he saying? What does it mean?”, asked Mr. Anderson.

"He says no! Do not touch her! Or horrible things will happen.”, Ahmed translated the words while the man continued speaking in Arabic, circumstances that Peter did not understand but having Ahmed close, nothing was impossible to know. “Also that you must get out of here immediately. For if someone desecrates the grave and unless they leave the abode of our ancestors alone, an ancient spell would be unleashed and the end would fall on her.”

"eindaha sawf taqae alnihaya."

"The end would fall on her." Ahmed said, staring at Peter unchangingly.

Johan was stunned when slowly in the dim light of that place, he looked askance at that same valuable golden object inlaid with three gemstones in blue, whose object shone with supernatural dazzle.

Being warned by an old Egyptian prophet, one should not ignore the sayings of who knows what consequences will come about through acts of irreverent desecration.

"From now on, you should know.", that man warned with the little English he used.

Mr. Anderson debunked myths, he wasn't superstitious but…

"And then whoever dares to desecrate the tomb and the queen's most precious possession, an ancient spell would be unleashed on her majesty's imprint and the end would fall on her.", Mr. Anderson translated the hieroglyphs to perfection.

The companions in the expedition of Mr. Anderson looked at each other while the native men of that country waited for one of them to listen. Johan looked at his young father somewhat fearfully but that archaeologist did not believe much even after hearing and reading the same warning.

Mr. Anderson continued: "Bring the trucks."

"Mr. Anderson, there is no time. A storm is very close.”, Ahmed alerted.

"Then hurry up. Come on, everyone work! I want them to load everything.”

Ahmed could be the native but Mr. Anderson's orders were orders and would have to be followed, without further ado, he agreed by muttering something in Arabic and instructed his men in the same mode of communication to correspond to such a task.

The father of the young boy bent on making history, arranged for the treasures to be placed in the vehicles and due to the strong sandstorm that broke out, it was not long until he ordered a second time that the artifacts be loaded into the trucks. as fast as possible since the sunset light announced the few minutes of life that were left to that day, thus obtaining the majority of relics that they could collect from said discovery that surely in the future would be exhibited as invaluable pieces in some important museum.

"Dad, I still think we make a terrible mistake.", Johan shared a possible and traumatic concern.

His father sighed and with a soft smile said: “We don't make mistakes, we make history, son. Let's go Johan.”

The Egyptian relics were still on the way to arrive in the strong sandy blizzard. And even that weird bracelet; How beautiful in itself, however worthy of strangeness, the beautiful piece with refined garments and finishes that a feminine figure used in her time in office in Ancient Egypt, was held by an Egyptian man and placed by himself in a large box of wood, where the jewel was sheltered by a soft wool blanket.

"The end would fall on her."

Ahmed looked at the box, reaffirming that old man's prediction that the worst was coming.

* * * *

Postscript: I'm editing this story because I didn't like how it turned out on the first post. I hope you like the improved version. Excuse me girls: @sherlollydramoine @xmxisxforxmaybe @txmel  ❤️

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