#and it will all come flowing like a great flood of knowledge nobody but me particularly cares about but

[idoodlewhatiwant]

I wanted to do a quick sketch of all of ‘em together. :O

really really really quick background because Silk is practically invisible otherwise rip

[americxn]

“What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?”

Kai Anderson x GN!Reader

This is definitely not good enough to enter, but I used the prompt from @tatesimper anniversary writing competition so I guess this is my entry? (fig, I’m so sorry for butchering such a good prompt lmao)

also, I realised when writing it that this could serve as a prologue to this fic:

https://americxn.tumblr.com/post/652835852669648896/paranoia

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: genocide/murder mention, swearing (this is based off episode 11 of season 7)

The night air was cool on your exposed face as you took the front steps to the door of Kai’s house, not bothering to knock as you pushed it open, the warmth and light from within spilling onto the smooth concrete of the front step and pooling around your feet; having been in a committed relationship with Kai from a year and a half now, this house was practically your own. Stepping past the front porch after abandoning your shoes and jacket, you entered the uncharacteristic quiet of the house, scanning the hallway for any signs of life, usually abundant within these walls in the form of Kai’s blue shirt-clad, blindly deferential followers. 

 “Okay. A little bad news to start,” your body instinctively angled towards the voice, distinctly Kai, that sounded through the empty hall from the back room. You set off down the hallway, his voice growing in volume as you approached, somewhat confused. He hadn’t notified you of a scheduled cult meeting that evening and yet his tone of voice was threaded with the assertive cadence that he utilised only when addressing his followers.  “It turns out finding a thousand pregnant women to murder is super hard. No one will ever accuse me of lacking ambition.” He continued as you reached the threshold to the large room at the back of the house that served as a secondary living room; breath catching in your throat, you halted, your hand reaching for the wood of the doorframe to steady yourself as the meaning of his words settled into you. To murder? “So, Night of a Thousand Tates is off.” A ripple of groans and dejected sighs rose from the small sea of men at Kai’s words, quickly falling silent to allow him to continue. “But, Night of One Hundred Tates is on.” His words sent a wave of prickly dread spider walking down your spine; he hadn’t told you about any of this. Killing a thousand pregnant women? You wanted to stride into the room with a bright laugh to wave away his abhorrent words and demand for the real reason that he had called a meeting. But you knew. A terrible, truth filled part of you was all too aware that he was deadly serious A chorus of thrilled cheers drifted up from the small crowd in twisted elation with the newly revealed knowledge that their hands would still be stained with blood by the end of the night. Your breath became too loud in your ears, your mouth turning utterly dry as you examined your suddenly empty mind for a solution to Kai’s monstrous plan that you could use to convince him to call it off. But you came up short, taking a small step back into the safety of the dimly lit hall, your back coming to press against the wall beside the open doorway to ensure that nobody would be able to see you eavesdropping from within. This was too far. Kai had done many questionable, twisted things over the past year but this... this was too far. You were full of self hatred for the amount of things that you had stood aside for and let Kai go ahead with, but not this. You refused to take so much of an ounce of accountability for this. Pulling your phone from the confines of your back pocket, you drew in a shuddering, grounding breath, your thumb working on the keypad. The digit shook as it pressed onto the screen, your teeth catching between your lower lip as your gaze flicked from the brightness of the device’s screen to the open doorway at your side. The sequence of 911 you had typed glared up at you, bathing the underside of your jaw in artificial light as you craned your neck, leaning forwards slightly to peer into the room. Kai stood by the far wall, his men arranged in a neat group before him, all sitting straight backed to attention on their chairs.  Just behind Kai, displayed on the low table pushed against the wall were two silicone models of a woman’s torso, ripe with the swell of a baby within; one was positioned to the side as a cross sectional diagram, the other facing straight on, the small model of a baby in the third trimester curled up within the artificial uterus. Your attention snapped back to Kai as he took a step forwards to address the group.  “Look under your chairs, I’ve handed each of you a unique list of targets, all ready to pop.” Your stomach twisted in horrified disbelief as the men all shifted in unison, pleasure curling the corners of their lips upwards as they read the names of the people they were soon to mercilessly slaughter. You watched with teary eyes as an impressively built, stocky man who you didn’t know the name of slowly lifted his hand to the ceiling, Kai’s eyes immediately flicking to him in agitation. “You raise your hand one more fucking time and I will cut it off.” The powerfully built man visibly shrunk down into his chair at Kai’s hissed statement of reproval but timidly uttered his question of “how do we know they’re all pregnant?” Kai’s eyes flashed in impatient annoyance as he tore his eyes off the man, flicking them briefly up to the ceiling before deigning to answer. “Because Gutterball pulled the rosters of four ob-gyns, two Lamaze classes and a Momtra Yoga over on Main. Great job, Gutterball.” The blond man who went by Gutterball, sat on the front row of chairs close to Kai, beamed in self-gratified delight at Kai’s gracious recognition, lifting a fist into the air in triumph. Kai smiled proudly down at him before turning to address the group as a whole once more. Your eyes flicked down to the bright screen of your phone, the numbers displayed there beckoning. Your thumb twitched, a conflicted frown creasing your forehead as Kai continued on, pulling your attention back to him. “Manson’s family - I admire them, but they did get a little sloppy.” You watched on in nauseating alarm as Kai pulled a large blade from the black sheath at his hip with a flourish, the metal glinting in the light of the room. “Their message got lost in their mess. What we are doing requires more precision. It is imperative that both mother and child are impaled. Don’t fuck this up.” He scanned the gathering before him, gaze as sharp as the knife clutched in his grip before turning to the models behind him.  “Aim for the belly button but stab in a downward motion. If you stab straight,” in one fluid motion, he had buried the curved tip of the blade in the portion of the fake uterus just above the baby’s head with a solid thunk, “you miss the baby - and our entire message is lost.” Withdrawing the knife, he turned back to address his cult, the weapon hanging loosely from his fingertips by his thigh. “Tomorrow night, when your blades tear open one hundred pregnant bellies, you will be releasing a power into the universe. Detonating a neutron bomb of truth, blood and amniotic fluid. You will be galvanising an army.” “With their sisters gutted, women everywhere will be forced to react. They can’t ignore an injustice this brutal. They’ll have to rise up, and in their collective rage, they will train it on Senator Jackson, on all incumbents, on any of the people in power who failed to keep us safe. As the most vulnerable are slaughtered, as the pregnant bodies pile up on Senator Jack-off’s watch, we will be surfing an electoral bloodbath straight to Capitol Hill. And then… the White House.”  The collection of cult members all voiced their assent in a chorus of whoops and ovated cheers, a nauseating sense of unease dragging it’s claws up the length of your spine. You turned away with hot tears blurring your vision, not wanting to hear more, your phone a heavy weight in your hand and the decision it presented even heavier.

Sat on the edge of Kai’s large bed, your knee couldn’t cease it’s anxious bouncing, your lower lip chewed raw by your teeth. The door swung open suddenly, sending your heart leaping into your throat. Kai stepped into the room, the small smile stretching across his lips broadening as he beheld you perched on the mattress’ edge. “Hey, when did you get here?” He questioned, reaching to tug you to your feet and wrap his arms tightly around you in a warm embrace. “I only got here like five minutes ago.” Your lie was muffled into the thin shirt at his shoulder, his hands splayed flat on your upper back as he held you close to him. Withdrawing yourself from his grasp, you frantically scanned his face, heart sinking at the pleasure dimly glowing in the depths of his dark eyes, pleasure fuelled not by your sudden appearance, but in anticipation of the merciless slaughter that he would be carrying out in mere hours time. “What?” He asked curiously, his head tilting slightly in concern as his smile faded, caught in the grave despondency of the stare you had him pinned under. His tape-wrapped hands settled on his shoulders; shaking him off, you stepped away, your chest bubbling with emotion that was dangerously close to spilling over. Dropping your gaze to the floor, you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, forcing the tears that threatened to flow to stay at bay. Groaning through clenched teeth, colourful sparks flashing through your blocked vision from the force with which you pressed your hands into your eyes, you blindly felt Kai’s warmth as he stepped forwards to comfort you. Dropping your hands, you retreated another step, Kai stilling at the look of stangled confliction latching onto your features. “What happened?” Voice breaking, you brought a hand up to press against your forehead, icy panic unfurling in your gut amongst the turmoil of roiling distress flooding through your insides. Kai looked utterly lost, his eyes boring into yours as he searched for an answer to the question that he couldn’t understand. “What the fuck happened to you, Kai?” His heart splintered at the raw anguish in your choked, lamenting tone, automatically taking a step towards you, wanting nothing more than to smother the emotions swarming your features. “I used to be so, so happy with you.” His lips parted in disbelief as you continued. “I would’ve done anything for you.” You couldn’t help the tears that spilled over, your voice pushing past the quivering of your lower lip and growing in strength, your breaths turning sharp and rasping as they were sucked in between your passionate words. “Y/n…” He didn’t know what to say as he watched you struggle to keep a grasp on coherency.  “I don’t know what happened to him. To the Kai that I fell in love with. But he’s gone now. He’s gone and I don’t know how to get him back.” Sorrow gave way to desolate fury as you plowed on, your jaw clenching as you stepped towards him to deliver a harsh shove to his hard shoulders. Kai fell utterly silent, stumbling back slightly under your touch, unnerved and unsure by the eruption of messily confessed words that spilled from you, seemingly out of nowhere. “Answer me.” You demanded gruffly, shoving at his solid frame once more. “I… y/n, I don’t know-” With a third shove, his eyes flashed in agitated warning, silently daring you to repeat the action a fourth time. You did, shoving at him with as much force as you could muster, breathing hard when he took ahold of your wrists, pulling you to him and pouring his branding stare onto you. “Stop.” Your face was flushed, plump tears cutting through your face and dripping from your chin as you plowed on. “What happened, Kai?” His nostrils flared, eyes wide in confusion as he battled to grasp onto your thoughts, to make coherence of the biting words falling from your lips. “What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?” Your ragged breaths filled the sudden silence in the room, the roaring silence infiltrating Kai’s head drowning out all other sense as he stared down at you in cold disbelief, your eyes wild and face screwed with festering ardour, raw and demanding, your lashes damp with bitter tears. A symphony of surprised shouts echoed up the stairs from the ground floor of the house, Kai’s attention snapping to the door at his back and eyes flooding with sharp panic. He released his hold on you as the cries from below grew in volume, laced with alarm. A single gun shot rang out and it was your turn to take ahold of Kai, the tape wrapped tightly around his wrists warm under your fingers. His head whirled back to you, his eyes alight with uneasy confusion, his gaze frosting over. Bringing your face closer to his, you laid a single, lingering kiss to his lips, your own wet against him. “I’m sorry.” You said quietly, several heavy sets of footsteps sounding from behind the door as they thundered up the stairs. Kai’s eyes frantically searched yours as he pulled against your unrelenting grasp, his gaze briefly parting from yours to snap to the door as the sequence of footsteps and shouts grew louder. “But I can’t let you do this.” His throat bobbed, his eyes widening in terror as the reality of the situation settled over him. “I sentence you to rot.” Tugging at his wrists, you forced your face closer to his before muttering to him, your breath hot on his face and the recognition of your betrayal manifesting in the cold fire smoldering in his gaze: “Just like how my love for you has turned to rot.” His face contorted in rage as the bedroom door was forced open, the panel of wood swinging open and hitting the adjacent wall with a bang, several armed policemen flooding into the room. You loosened your grip on his wrists, stepping away as two of the men took ahold of Kai by the back of his shirt, twisting his arms behind his back. He shrieked in rage, straining to turn his head towards his assailants as they began to pull him from the room. Sinking down onto the edge of the bed, you locked eyes with Kai’s as he turned back to you, cool rage simmering in his dark gaze, his lip curled into an enraged snarl. He pinned you with his stare, not even bothering to fight against the men holding him as he was pulled from the room, a savage promise glittering in his unrelenting stare. A promise of vengeance. Of suffering. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @mossybank @tatesimper (dm to be added or removed <3)

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (25) || atz

The door to the sickbay creaks as you enter.

Yeosang is the only one lying in the cots, the other injured crew having cleared out to give the navigator some space and reduce the risk of infection. That must explain why there’s nobody here, but that’s all the better for you.

You pull out a small chair and sit next to Yeosang, mentally preparing yourself for what you’re about to do. The sickbay is dark so you can’t see Yeosang’s face very clearly, but you reach for his fingers, giving them a tight squeeze.

He doesn’t respond.

You exhale, gripping his hand tight as you study him for a moment. He’s so silent, so still that you can count every eyelash that sweep his cheeks, watch the way his chest rises and falls as he draws weakened breaths. His skin is a waxy white, pale and bloodless, and you raise a hand to trace every part of his face.

His skin is unnaturally cool under your fingertips.

For minutes you simply sit there, watching him. It’s a silent, intimate moment, your fingers intertwined with his, you breathe when he does and wait for it to happen. Only when your hearts start beating in tandem do you finally apologize.

“I’m sorry, Yeosang-hyung.”

You remember the first time you had met, when he’d taught you how to address different people on board, when he comforted you before your first battle. A man of immense intelligence, great knowledge and a sagely wisdom. A person of infinite kindness, compassion and innocence. Your crew mate. Your family.

You bend down and rest your head next to his, hand in his. For some reason, you already know what is going to happen, you can feel it in your veins, from the way his every breath begins to weaken, from how every heartbeat is slower than the last.

You won’t be able to save him in this stage with only a limited offering of your energy. Pouring what energy you have into his body, in your emotional state now, is only going to mess his body up even more. You’ll wait, wait of his body to completely drain of his own energy, let his entire body still before you return him what he gave you; the gift of life.

An eternity passes.

Yeosang is approaching death.

A strange calm washes over you, as if you’re standing at a beach with the tide lapping at your feet. You watch in silence as Yeosang’s life slips away little by little, like sand in an hourglass, falling away with every passing second. It’s almost time.

“Thank you.” You whisper to him, gazing at his shut eyes as the sound of your heartbeat seems to meld with his. Something in you reaches out, like a wandering, probing hand, flowing through your joined fingers, up Yeosang’s arm and into his body. You search for him, an intangible soft warmth that you can only describe as pure, holding onto it as tightly as you can. “Thank you so much for saving a wretch like me.”

A part of Yeosang’s inner consciousness shifts, something in him starts to struggle to awaken, as if he can feel what you’re intending to do. Of course he can. Both of you are now connected almost as intimately as any two human beings can possibly be. The two of you are physically touching, you inhale when he exhales and your hearts beat together.

There’s only one last thing left for you to do.

“No!”

You can feel him thrashing against your hold on his soul, even if he doesn’t physically move the least. The most primal part of him, his subconscious, his memories, his character, his morals all rolled into one, the part of him that make the man before so wonderfully and uniquely Kang Yeosang. It’s fighting against you, because it knows what you want to do.

You want to redeem yourself.

You can feel his heartbeat weakening from the strain of pumping blood through his entire body, the way his organs are slowly starting to shut down one by one. The tie his soul has to his mortal body is fluttering weakly, struggling to hold on as he desperately tries to survive. You’ll wait, wait for his heart to stop.

Every heartbeat echoes in your ears, each one growing fainter and fainter.

“I’m sorry, everyone.” You murmur softly, closing your eyes. You remember Wooyoung’s face of utter betrayal, the way he had been afraid of someone he would once have died for. You see the bloody back of your captain as he endures the whip. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I’m sorry that this is the only way I can make amends. I promise after this… you won’t ever have to deal with me again.”

There’s a final thump, and then absolute silence.

Yeosang is dead.

You can feel it begin to happen. Every life supporting reaction in you slows all at once, the magical energy used to power your own body being drawn away from your limbs, gathering right above your heart like a small flame. The warmth grows steadily, until you feel like there’s an actual candle being pressed against your bare skin, and then the liquid heat suddenly streams down your arm and into Yeosang, leaving a cold, freezing sensation in its wake.

Ice seems to fills your veins, frost creeping over your body starting from your toes. At first, it’s merely uncomfortable, but then it soon grows into a painful, cold burning in your flesh. You ignore it and press on.

Suddenly you feel Yeosang’s body jerk upwards like a miracle come true, the whoosh of air entering his lungs, a loud, powerful heartbeat echoing in your ears. Ecstasy fills you, but then the draw changes.

Like a riptide, where your energy had once been streaming into him, the tides suddenly shift, and you feel his survival instinct desperately drawing on any source of energy it can get to save him.

The only one it finds is you.

Equivalent exchange. A life for a life.

A dam breaks in you and in a second, you feel the energy that was once flowing through you being torn away by him. You don’t fight back, letting him take everything from you have, weariness flooding through your limbs. Something snaps in you and you feel something warm trickling from the side of your mouth, but you’re too tired to care.

Sleep… Just let me sleep…

Suddenly, colours and shapes swirl together in front of you, voices echoing here and there, fading in and out. You’re confused for a moment, before the bright, vivid streaks flash before your eyes, and you’re one with the man that is Kang Yeosang.

You walk down a set of marble stairs, arms laden with thick, heavy books. You’re dressed in an expensive, fine wool coat and a pair of reading glasses perch on your nose, through them you see a maid scurrying across your path. She stops immediately upon seeing you, bowing low with a basket of laundry under her arm.

“Young master.” She greets politely, but you can see her glance away shiftily. You frown.

“Where is Father?”

“On another voyage, young master. He left yesterday.”

Disappointment sinks in your chest. That’s the third year you haven’t seen your father’s face. But you force your face into a smile. “I understand. You may go.”

The maid bows again and scurries off.

Years pass in mere seconds, flashing past your eyes.

You’re older now, sitting at a desk and poring over navigational books as you jot down notes on paper. You need to study hard and become a navigator fast, so that you can finally be of some use to your father and accompany him on his voyage to hunt down the legendary Pirate King. A knock sounds at the door, and you remove your glasses, glancing at the door.

“Come in.”

Another maid walks in, bowing before you. “Master will see you now.”

Ecstasy blooms in your heart, it’s been six years already, and you’re finally going to see the face of the man you call Father. When you stand and walk over to the door, there’s a new spring in your step, a joy that you can’t shake off. But before you can leave the room, the maid taps you on the shoulder and passes you a tin of creamy beige colouring.

“For your…” She gestures at the birthmark beneath your eye, and your heart sinks for a moment.

Darkness swirls before you, and then you’re at sea once again.

You’re standing on the deck of your father’s ship. The red rose emblem on this sail has been shredded by enemy cannonfire, as has the mizzenmast. The Pirate King stands before you, younger than you had ever expected, a young boy almost your age. He points the musket at your father, and for a moment, fear runs through you.

“Please, spare me and my men.” Your father begs and anger fills you at how he, the commander of one of the best privateer fleets in the Royal Navy, is bowing to a mere pirate. But the young pirate simply chuckles, loading the musket in his hand.

“Why should I?”

“I can offer you a trade.” Your father offers, almost desperately, and you see the pirate’s eyebrow raise. He pauses in raising the musket.

“What can you give me that I can’t take for myself?”

“A navigator.” Your father declares, and your heart sinks in your chest. “If I give you my navigator, let me and my crew go.”

The pirate’s eye narrows and he adjusts his eye patch. “Is your navigator not one of your crew?”

“No.” Your father says, with so much surety. He’s giving you away to a band of merciless pirates, who might enslave you, torture you, even kill you. Fear shoots through you.

“Father-”

“Shut up, boy!” Your father snaps at you and you can only fall silent, the Pirate King turns to look at you appraisingly with a single green eye. He contemplates the deal for a short moment.

“Throw in your navigational maps and we’ll make it a deal. If you refuse, I can always let Wooyoung play target practice with you. I assure you he’s itching for something fun to do.”

Your father’s eyes darken, but he can’t refuse the offer.

“Fine.” He spits, shoving you over roughly. You lose your balance, but the captain catches you.

These aren’t yours. There are Yeosang’s memories.

Then the noises and shapes flash past your eyes too fast for you to make out anything anymore, and you feel your own heartbeat starting to slow as Yeosang’s becomes more steady. You’re so tired, all you want to do is close your eyes and rest…

The door opens.

“Captain, I was thinking we could try to- What in the world are you doing!?”

San’s scream is hazy, as if you’re deep in sleep already, but you can hear the frantic desperation and horror in his voice once he realises what you’re doing. You hear the sound of something being knocked over in the background, but you’re too tired to care. Then something thick and hard shoves you hard to the side, off the chair, and you don’t have the energy to move. You merely topple off the chair, crumpling to the ground like a rag doll.

“Chin Hae! Chin Hae!” This is Wooyoung’s voice, you register sleepily. The shackles on his wrists dig into your back as he supports you against him, just like the time you got shot. You’d never tell him this, but getting shot in the ankle was one of the best things that ever happened to you.

Ah, you’d wanted to ask him why he wore the shackles, but you suppose you’ll never get the chance now. Your tongue feels too heavy to move but you force it to anyway, desperately needing to ask one last question before you can go in peace.

“Is Yeosang okay?”

You see his mouth move before you, eyes wide with terror and worry, but you can’t hear him. The purple in his hair is starting to return, peeking through the henna he dyed his hair with. For a moment, you think that may be your favourite colour in the whole world.

“Stay… Please… Don’t… You need… Stay awake…!” His words fade in and out. Something wet and warm falls on your cheeks, but you don’t know what it is. Is he still angry with you? You need to apologize to him, then you won’t bother him anymore.

“Sorry for lying… Love you, Wooyoung…” You murmur sleepily, and every muscle under you stiffens in shock.

“Chin Hae-” He begins to say, but then your eyes close. It’s warm here. You could just stay this way forever. The world around you finally fades into nothingness.

And then everything turns white.

The roar of the ocean fills your ears.

You are sitting at a beach. The same beach you see every time you close your eyes. The beach you reach every time you try so hard to gain your memories.

You’re here once again.

Your feet dangle in the cool water as dark brown runs with every lap of the tide, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the sand as you feel each and every grain beneath your rough, slightly deformed fingertips. It’s late at night, the stars have come out, a sprinkling of diamonds in the inky black sky. You stare at the necklace around your neck, the tiny clear cut crystal taunting you with its contents.

He’s coming.

You feel him before you see him, his footsteps sending vibrations through the fine grains of sand as he moves towards you.

“I didn’t expect you to see me off, ******.”

His name is in a language you can’t speak any longer, not with this tongue. He smiles fondly at you, his eyes twinkling like stars in the sky.

“You won’t tell them?” He asks, but he already knows what you will say.

“They won’t understand.” You answer, gazing at the sea with a look so fond and yet so sad. His smile becomes a little wistful as he gazes at where he can’t reach.

“They’ll try to stop you.”

Your smile matches his exactly, eerily identical. “I know.”

“I wanted to do it for you.”

The way he says it makes you know it’s so much more than just a simple action, more than just a parting gift. You look at him, and an aeon of understanding passes between you from your shared gazes alone. A smile curves at your mouth.

“Alright.” You breathe into the night air.

His face is nothing but a foggy memory, browns and greens swirl where his features should be. But his eyes. His eyes glow such a unique shade of green, twin pools of liquid viridescent emeralds, one that nothing and no one else in this world can replicate. You love him so much, more than the human tongue could ever describe, the opposing force to everything you are.

Your other half.

How could you ever forget him?

In his hand, he raises a dagger and presses the tip against your chest.

You press your face into his neck, a sad smile on farewell on your lips, his other arm embracing your body, pulling you tight against him. You’re leaving your other half behind, your very soul screams, but its call is too strong for you to resist.

“I wish you all the luck in the world.” He says softly, his voice caressing your ear more tenderly than any lover’s embrace. You nod, burying your face in his chest, seeking his comfort.

“I'm scared.”

“I love you more than anything else, ****.” He whispers intimately into your ear, his voice warm and strong as it has always been for as long as you've existed. His thumb brushes against the crystal on your necklace, burning and etching words into the cold silver.

When he pulls away for a moment to look deeply into your eyes, you feel a single tear fall down your cold cheek for the first time, tracing a dark line in the brown of the clay.

“I will be with you every step of the way.”

The blade sinks into your chest.

[milknette]

day 20 - fairytale

no-one to tell us no or where to go, or say we're only dreaming.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

PRINCE Adrien does not want to marry.

Or, well, he does— but not to some princess he doesn't know; not for the sake of politics and prevention of war; and especially not for a woman who would only marry him for his stature and family.

As corny as it is, Adrien wants to marry for love.

But it's not that easy to find someone to love when you're not even allowed to step outside the palace gates.

As if on cue, his father enters his bedroom.

"I assume you've accepted my proposition, Adrien?"

His low voice echoes through the otherwise empty chamber, the tone devoid of almost any love and care a father should have for his own child.

The younger boy only looks down, barely getting up from his bed.

Suddenly, the silks and expensive pillows that he lay on felt so stiff.

Cold, even.

"Adrien," his father repeats. "I asked you a question."

He sighs, deciding to try and confront him. Maybe this time, he'd actually listen.

"Please, father, reconsider. I don't understand why I must marry so soon. And to someone I've never met…"

"We have already discussed this. You must wed Princess Chloé; your marriage will unite our kingdoms and bring prosperity to our family. I'd have thought you'd be over being so stubborn about this."

"I'm not being stubborn! Marrying someone I've never met; and all the more to someone I don't love… didn't you love mother when you married her?"

The look in his father's eyes makes Adrien want to take a step back.

"Do not bring your mother into this."

But why not? Ever since she's disappeared, you've stopped talking about her, and shut yourself completely… you've become so cold, even to your own son.

Instead, Adrien quiets down.

"I'm sorry."

"Then it's settled. I shall send the Bourgeois Kingdom a letter accepting their proposal for marriage." The king stares at him, as if daring him to speak up. "Do you understand, Adrien?"

"Yes, father."

.

.

As soon as his father leaves, Adrien dons on a black cloak— his mother's, from way back when, and carefully starts packing a bag of necessities.

A black panther with stunning green eyes nuzzles close to him.

Don't leave, Adrien.

He sighs, before hugging the creature close to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Plagg. But I can't continue to live like this. I love my kingdom, and father, even, but I want to be free. There are things I want to experience in this world, and being trapped by my father will never let me do that."

Plagg growls, evidently conflicted, but carefully steps away.

"I'll come back one day, okay?" Adrien smiles softly. "I promise."

.

.

Adrien is stealing. Apparently.

He doesn't really understand how currency or paymentworks, having spent his whole life being pampered by life in the palace.

(Well, he's learned about it from his private tutors; but those largely had to do with managing the treasury and ensuring the gold stays within the family. He's never actually had any issues with wealth.)

So when a shopkeeper threatens to chop off his hand as retribution for giving a child an apple, of all things— Adrien realizes two things:

That economic conditions were actually so poor in his kingdom— a stark contrast from the apparent lie the palace advisers had told him, and;

That he was truly too sheltered by his father, not knowing anything at all.

It's when a strange woman suddenly grabs his hand and pulls him away that Adrien's knocked out of his reverie.

She's telling him something around the lines of, come with me if you want to keep that hand of yours, but he barely notices.

Instead he notices the deep bluebell of her eyes, the rosy pink dusted on her cheeks, and her vibrant red cape flowing as they duck into alleyways and abandoned street corners.

Adrien hasn't met many women outside of those in the palace, but he assumes that it's common knowledge that whoever this is— she is absolutely beautiful.

She takes him to the highest floor of a run-down old building, barely standing from apparent years of abuse and neglect.

The girl notices him staring in wonder.

"Sorry it's not great," she starts, carefully patting the block next to her. "Things haven't been great for some time now."

"I don't understand," he starts, trying to find the words. "Last time I was here, the kingdom was flourishing. And now, people starving, buildings on the verge of collapse, and violent men…"

She laughs. "Now how long has it been since you were last here? And you can't really blame the shopkeeper, you did just take his apple without paying for it. What kind of land did you come from to think that was normal?"

Adrien has the decency to look almost sheepish.

"Let's just say I've been gone awhile," he says instead. "But to think it's changed this much… I have truly missed a lot."

"Well, it wasn't always that bad," she sighs, pulling her legs up to sit down. "You know the king, right? Ever since Queen Emilie died, he just… stopped caring about us. All wealth they kept to their inner circle, leaving us to fend for ourselves." Her eyes narrow. "The people over there don't care about us, and would leave us to die."

That's a cruel wake-up call.

"That's not true!" Adrien suddenly blurts, earning a confused glance from her. "What about the prince?"

She scoffs. "The prince? Nobody's seen him here in years. He's probably just some entitled brat, living in leisure in the palace while we all suffer here. He's no different."

He wants to protest.

But how could he?

If Adrien were in her position, he'd feel no differently from her.

"Is that why you steal?"

"It's hard to make an honest living here," she smiles bitterly. "I've tried selling bread… but it never worked. People will step over everyone else to survive." She looks downward. "I know some orphan kids… scattered around. I've seen them pass out from exhaustion, ignored by everyone here. I know it's wrong to steal, but I— they're children. They shouldn't have to suffer like this!"

The pit in Adrien's stomach grows ever-larger.

How could he have lived so easily, without knowing any of this?

He feels disgust— with his father, with the greedy men from the palace, and even with himself. How could someone who would one day rule over the kingdom not know anything about the realities of the people who lived in it?

"Anyway," she finally sighs. "That's old news. So what's your story, stranger?"

Adrien shrugs. "I ran away. I was just feeling so… trapped, at home. I needed to be free." He pauses, taking in his surroundings— and the mysterious girl sitting next to him. "But I guess freedom wasn't anything like I expected."

"Well, I'm sorry about that. It's hard to come across anything good these days." She says, a far-off look in her eyes. "But one day, I'll get out of here. Travel the world, maybe. Somewhere I can actually live my life, without fearing for it everyday."

"...

Would you mind some company?"

She looks up at him, her face completely caught off-guard by the sudden question. He looks nervous, and scratches his head. "I mean, I've got nowhere to go either. And maybe I can help out! I don't know how to bake bread, but I could learn, and—"

"I'd love that."

Adrien looks at her, visibly surprised. "Really?"

She smiles. "It would be nice to not be alone for a change. So, you got a name?"

He smiles back. "... you first."

"Around here, they call me—"

"LADYBUG."

They both whip their heads up at the sudden intrusion, as a group of soldiers come bursting through the room. The floors shake as they flood the area. "I finally found you."

Adrien belatedly recognizes the voice as Madame Sancoeur's— his father's Royal Vizier and consequently, Captain of the Guard.

The stranger— Ladybug— stands, grasping his hand tightly.

She doesn't back down.

"I didn't think you'd show up yourself. A special occasion?"

Sancoeur flinches.

Ladybug raises a curious eyebrow. "Oh, so it is. What happened? The King throw another tantrum? Does he want more money? Because like I said, I'm completely broke. Like everyone else in this damned kingdom is."

"Do nottalk about King Gabriel like that. He is a good king, and you would be smart to watch your mouth when biting the hand that feeds you."

"Feed me? I have to fightjust to have a morsel of food on my plate. I don't live as the rest of you do, bathing in wealth while we barely survive. Now go back to your king and your prince and leave me alone."

Both Adrien and Sancoeur freeze at the mention of the prince.

"Oh. So something happened to your prince, then?"

Adrien's never seen his father's vizier look so angry. "What did you do to him?"

Ladybug rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Like I'd want anything to do with someone as entitled as him." Suddenly, she squeezes his hand. "Besides, I already have one partner to keep me company."

"Ah, another pest to take care of." Sancoeur only sighs, before snapping her fingers. "Well, that shouldn't be an issue. I've brought a whole army this time. You won't get away."

At that, Ladybug is suddenly grabbed by a burly soldier, holding her so she can't escape. Two others hold Adrien back, separating them.

"I don't need the boy," she only says, turning back toward the exit. "King Agreste only wants Ladybug. But throw him into prison. Anyone who works with her is surely a menace to society."

"She's not a menace!"

Sancoeur looks back, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, so the alleycat can talk. Do you even know what she's done? That this woman has been stealing not only her fellow townspeople, but from the soldiers as well? The very people who are protecting you?"

"She's only stealing things to provide for those who can't. There are children, and they're starving. Dying— and she's only trying to save them." He struggles against the arms holding him captive. "If you would only listen, Nathalie!"

The vizier pauses. Then: "Let him go."

Almost reluctantly, they do.

Then, Sancoeur walks forward, with terrifying speed and precision, before whipping the hood off his head. "Prince Adrien," she finally says, eyes widening with shock. "So it's true? Ladybug really did take you?"

"No!"

He shakes his head. "Ladybug has done nothing. So let her go, now. As the Prince, I order you…"

She only ignores him, then snaps her fingers.

Two pairs of arms come to grab his own, again.

"Nathalie, what are you doing?"

She turns back, then sighs. "I'm sorry, Adrien. You gave me no choice." Sancoeur gives the two soldiers a brief glance, her eyes almost flashing with concern— but disappearing so quickly it's almost like he had imagined it. "Return the Prince to his chambers. I will deal with him later." Then, she turns to Ladybug; who had been eerily quiet since the exchange.

"Ladybug comes with me."

"Wait!" He starts, struggling to find the words. "Ladybug… I—"

The look she gives him is almost unreadable. Ladybug doesn't fight back; doesn't even struggle. She doesn't even turn back to him, not even for a glance, and walks away.

.

.

"Let's make an agreement. I'll give you all the riches you desire, enough to start a new life outside of this kingdom, if you do me one small favor."

"What do you want?"

"A simple thing. There's a cave, not so far from here. I've gotten old, and can't get it for myself but… I need a lamp."

"A lamp…?"

"Isn't it so simple? Retrieve this single item for me, and I will let you go. Is it agreed? Do we have a deal?"

Ladybug looks up at King Agreste, quiet.

Then:

"Where do I go?"

[dailyaudiobible]

02/03/2020 DAB Transcript

Exodus 17:8-19:15, Matthew 22:34-23:12, Psalms 27:7-14, Proverbs 6:27-35

Today is the 3rd day of February, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is great to be here with you today as we launch into this first workweek of this brand-new month that we find ourselves in, the month of February. So, let's pick up where we left off yesterday. The children of Israel have exited slavery in Egypt. It's been a profoundly dramatic story and now they’re out in the wilderness, and they need to figure out, like how to be a people. They have a promise over them, and it's a long one. It's centuries old that God would make them His own chosen people, but all of these people have only ever known how to be slaves. So, they're not just walking out of Egypt and then walking across the Sinai Peninsula than up into Canaan. God has taken them out into the wilderness where there is absolutely no hope of survival without God and we’re watching God sustain them and we’re watching them grumble about it pretty much the whole time. And…ouch…does that not explain our lives so much. So, today Exodus chapter 17 verse 8 through 19 verse 15 and we’re reading from the Voice Translation this week.

Commentary:

Okay. So, Moses's and the children of Israel over a million strong are out in the Sinai Peninsula, barren, barren, barren desert still today, barren as ever. And they go to what is called in the Scriptures, the mountain of God. Sometimes this is called Mount Sinai. This is where God is going to meet with them and, incidentally, as a little aside, we should note the heights. We should note that the Bible points out mountain peaks. It was very much thought at this time in human history that mountains, these were the places where the gods dwell, the heights. And this continues on through the Bible. Later on we’ll find regular mention of high places that were set up for worship. So, this gives us is little context for the world the people are living in at this time. And, so, they’re led to this mountain of God, and God is on this mountain and Moses goes up to meet with God and God tells Moses what to tell the people. Now, let’s remember, this has been pretty chaotic so far, right? Moses goes into Egypt and all of these plagues descend and that takes time but it's a chaotic, disruptive time to be sure and the they’re castaway, sent out of Egypt. But then there's all the showdowns that still happen, like at the Red Sea. So finally, this is kind of the first time where they've been journeying and grumbling and trying to find water and trying to find food and God sets about the business of sustaining them, but he is led them to this place where He’s now going to reaffirm and tell them who they are and why he got them out of Egypt. And, so, we find that today. God said to Moses on the mountain to tell the people below, “if you will hear my voice, obey what I say, and keep my covenant, then you out of all the nations of the world will be my treasured people. After all, the earth belongs to me. You will be my kingdom of priests, a nation holy and set apart.” So, there is a story that is being told beneath all the stories that we have encountered so far. We have seen what happened to mankind in Genesis 3. We've gone through the flood. We've seen the formation of this people that God entered into a covenant with through Abram, through Abraham. The world was falling apart, swimming in all of its knowledge of good and evil trying to make itself its own God and God, you know, the God of all things, the most high God, creator of everything seen and unseen, He could've just been like, well, that little blue marble out there in the universe that nobody can even hardly see, let ‘em…let ‘em have their way. They'll just make themselves extinct eventually…just…I’m gonna move on. But He…that's the thing, that's the story of the Bible. He’s not willing to let us go. It's never been that way. He never was ever willing to be out of the human story. And, so, what's being said here, what Moses has been instructed to go down and tell these slaves, these former, newly former slaves who don't know how to be anything else, he��s told to go down and tell them who they are, God's kingdom of priests, the priestly role is to instruct and lead a person to God. God is forming a people set apart to Himself to remind the world who the most-high God is. And I don’t want to be too much of a spoiler here, but this is important enough. As we continue our journey through the New Testament and we begin to…to immerse ourselves in the writings of the apostle Paul, what we’re gonna find out is that we are a part of that kingdom of priests, a nation holy and set apart. Jesus will use more…more poetic words, He will say, “you are the light of the world.” So, now we can see a very ancient story that has been coming together start crashing into the world we now live in.

Then we turn over into the New Testament and begin to read the book of Matthew today, we’re seeing Jesus being asked all kinds of questions and these Pharisees and Sadducees, right, the leaders, the Sanhedrin, the leaders of the people, the priests of the nation have lost the plot to the point that they don't recognize God at work among them, nor do they recognize the God in the flesh among them. So, we see that the plot got lost somewhere along the way and we will certainly follow that story for the rest of the year. But the Pharisees and the Sadducees, these are the ancestors of the people at the mountain of God with Moses. So, God tells Moses, “go down and tell the people you will be a nation of priests set apart and holy to me.” God in the form of Jesus then has some commentary about these same people and their function. Jesus said, “the Pharisees and scribes occupy the seat of Moses so you should do the things they tell you to do but you shouldn't do the things they do.” And then he goes on to tell what they do, which is that their religion is essentially for show. Everything is about how they're going to be perceived as spiritual, how they’re gonna say the right things with the right tone of voice. How they’re gonna have the proper, maybe even edgy religious attire to make them look even more spiritual. How they want to be addressed with respect and that and that they are addressed with names giving respect. And Jesus conclusion is, “whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” And once again, we’re hearing Jesus talk about inside out, rather than outside in, right? You can look and curate your life to the point that it looks so admirable that everyone envies you and it can be total crap. Not a bit of truth in it. Just enough to hold it together but it's not really what's going on. The invention of social media has made us like experts at this, but we could say that God's kingdom is not for show because Jesus has no use for it and His ministry is revealing the kingdom. Jesus was never interested in who you could pretend to be. He was never interested in who I can pretend to be. He was only ever interested in who we actually are and until we can accept and understand who we actually are, like accept that instead of trying to keep pretending to be somebody else then we don't even know who we are. And yet, the reason we do all the pretending is that that seems to be how the world works, right? That's how we interact with each other. We put on our best face. We put our best foot forward and interact with each other. But since it's not the whole truth then how can we ever be fully known. And then we hear the echo of Jesus. “I never knew you.” And how could He? We never revealed ourselves. We were naked and ashamed and hid the whole time when actually Jesus was very, very interested in that naked and ashamed and hiding person. That's why He wanted. He wanted truth. And that's what He wants now, and we have full blown permission to be…we have nothing to hide from God. And Jesus is showing us that falseness, and he's pointing it out in the religious leaders, that that falseness is a dead-end

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite You into that. It’s super hard to be in a world of works that way. It’s super hard to be in it and not of it, dangerous even. And yet You didn't keep that a secret You made that very clear. And, so, we desire to be true. We desire to stop lying to ourselves…this is where it starts, with ourselves. This isn't about us walking out the front door and just being an open book and saying whatever we think and whatever we feel at any moment and just saying to the world, here I am. This is about deepening our relationship and union with You, which requires us to get very honest. And, so, Father as if we could ever hide anything from You, we have still tried. And today marks a day. This is an important day in our lives because for many of us, for thousands of us we’re drawing a line and saying, “that's not happening anymore. I can't get anywhere like that. If I'm going to be honest with anybody. I'm going to be absolutely, absolutely honest with God. If there's going to be one true relationship, one true thing I have, it's going to be this one. And from here. Everything can flow outward.” So, come Holy Spirit into we pray. In the mighty name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it’s the website, its where you find out what’s going on around here. So, we got some things now that we’re into this new month that…that are coming up on the horizon. Every year for the last, almost a decade now, we have had an annual pilgrimage to the land of the Bible with…with a couple of buses full of brothers and sisters who are a part of the Daily Audio Bible community here. And that is actually coming up. We’ll be departing in, I guess, about a week and a half. So I'll keep you posted on that. But we’ll be broadcasting from the land of the Bible as we move around it. And that is always, certainly a beautiful time for those of us who are on this pilgrimage, but it is also a beautiful community experience because we’ll be right there in some of the places that these things happened. So, we’re posting pictures of where we are on social media several times a day and posting videos. And one evening we have a live broadcast just kind of…about halfway through the trip…just…not quite halfway…and we’re just kinda talking about some of the things that we’ve been doing, what we’re experiencing, and sharing those and it’s just fun. Thousands of people from this community get to get in on that. That's…that's…that's coming up this month.

Since we’ll be traveling the land of the Bible one thing that I could point out as a resource that's in the Daily Audio Bible Shop would be the Promise Land film series. It’s a double DVD set that we will send to you physically, but it's also a digital download so you can download it and then kinda put it on your Apple TV, or whatever it is that, you know, put it on your laptop, whatever. That makes a good resource anyway and I've mentioned before, and it's…it was created because we’re going…we’re going through the journey of the Bible. So, it's nice to be able to tap in and see some of these places and just immerse ourselves a little bit deeper into these stories, but since we’ll actually be there, Promise Land, if you…if you’re not on that trip Promise Land will be as close as you can get because you'll be able to kind of look into some of the places that we’re traveling around and journeying to. Many of these places we've already visited on our journey through the Bible. So…so get ready for that and we’ll talk about it as we…as we continue to get nearer.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if what's happening here brings life to you then thank you for your partnership. We wouldn't…we wouldn't be here if we didn't do this together and that's just always been the story and so thankfully, we are in this together. So, there is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if you prefer, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is a number to call or you can press the Hotline button, the red button that lives at the top of the app and just start sharing from there.

And that is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

[minister-for-femslash]

The Assassination of Alice Quinn

Summary; Phyllis and some of the other Librarians aren’t satisfied with the changes Alice has made to the Library, and the McCallisters plan to exploit that fact. 

Words count; 3,903

Authors Note; My submission for @thewelterschallenge, theme 1 The Library

When Alice Quinn becomes Head of the Library, the reforms are quick and forceful; the Poison Room is dismantled, the books are cleansed and made accessible to anybody who wishes to read them. Any Librarians that still hold loyalty to Everett are demoted and moved out of the main branch to more remote locations – Gavin isn't demoted, instead he's fired – and wealthy families, like the McCallisters, who have spent centuries cultivating allies, gaining advantages and stockpiling privileges have those privileges revoked, and it’s the Librarians who are left to bare the brunt of the frustration, the anger and in one or two cases the temper tantrums. Contracts are brought to an end, millions, sometimes billions of years before the end date, starting with William Adiyodi.

Phyllis isn't demoted – she never really had any loyalty to Everett or anybody, for that matter – instead she becomes head of a brand new department, the Department for Magical Cooperation. Her main job is offering assistance to the any hedgewitch that asks for it. It isn't a demotion but it certainly feels like one, despite the slight pay increase that Phyllis is certain Zelda secured for her. She mainly deals with Miss Orloff Diaz, who as an ex-Brakebills students, Phyllis can muster up a little respect for, even if she does insist on ignoring most of their protocols, even the ones Alice herself has put in place. It's the others, the stream of hedgewitches who lack the appreciation, the deference for the knowledge the Library holds. Phyllis feels her stomach churn every time she has to watch one of them thumb carelessly through the pages of the most valuable tomes the Library possesses and feels bile in the back of her throat every time she allows them access to one of their rare and powerful artefacts.

Phyllis doesn't remember who suggested it first. No, that's not true. She remembers, she remember exactly who's idea it was, because it was her's.

“This experiment of Zelda's has clearly failed. These changes are unsustainable, unsuitable and completely at odds with everything the Library stands for.”

She said it during after work drinks with a couple of the other Librarians, her words the result of dissatisfaction, egged on by just one cocktail too many, and yet when Gavin shows up on her doorstep two days later with a briefcase, she isn't surprised. Horrified but not surprised.

“I'm been doing some work for the McCallisters,” he tells her, as he takes a seat on her brand new sofa, his shoes leaving a trail of mud on the carpet she's just had cleaned. “Private acquisitions.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“In fact, I was talking to Irene McCallister about you just the other day. Tea?”

“What?”

“How about some tea?”

“Right, yes. Of course.” Phyllis heads into the kitchen and begins to make up a pot of tea while Gavin continues to talk.

“The McCallisters were very interested in some of the things you had to say and they are in agreement with you. While they understand Zelda's desire for change after that unfortunate business with Everett, it's clear now, that putting Alice Quinn in charge of the Library with all of it's resources was a mistake. You know that, I know that and the McCallisters know that.”

Phyllis brings in the tray of tea and places it on the coffee table. She pours Gavin a cup and then adds milk and sugar, before pouring her own.

“Thank you.” Gavin takes a sip. “Miss Quinn and her friends, they've become drunk on their own power. They're not trying to fix the few, small problems that the Library has, they're trying to dismantle it and we have to stop them.”

“We?”

“Yes. Well, I can't do anything myself, I've been fired. But you, Phyllis, you still have access. You could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Kill Alice Quinn.”

Phyllis drops her cup. It lands on the carpet, so it doesn't break, but it does tip over, the tea spilling out across the carpet. Her heart jumps into her throat.

“What?”

“Kill Alice Quinn,” Gavin repeats. He says the words so casually that Phyllis feels a little sick as she watches him take another sip of his tea.

“No! No, I can't.”

“Of course you can. The McCallisters have taken a great interest in you, Phyllis. They have always recognised your potential and your talent. They are of the opinion that the Library would function much better with you at the helm.”

Phyllis is speechless. Her heart is pounding in her chest, her blood feels like it has turned to ice.

“I don't... What?”

“Zelda made a mistake in not choosing you as Everett's successor, they will not make that same mistake. The McCallisters are offering you an opportunity, you just have to be willing to take it.”

“I can't. I can't kill somebody.”

“It'll be easy.” Gavin picks up his briefcase and places it onto the coffee table. He pushes it towards her. “All you have to do is give her this.” He unlocks the briefcase and slowly opens the lid.

Inside is a small, circular stone, no bigger than a button. It's a cloudy, white colour with a streak of black running through the centre of it. It hovers in the middle of the briefcase, floating in the air. Phyllis reaches for it but Gavin quickly shuts the briefcase with a harsh snap.

“It's a Bieauid Hollys. It's ancient and powerful, and anybody who touches it will be consumed, their life force drained until there's nothing left but dust. The whole process takes at least three days. Nobody will suspect your involvement.”

“How did you get this?” Phyllis asks.

“A hedgewitch. He calls himself Lovelady,” Gavin says, the disdain obvious in his tone. “We took actions against him while Everett was still in charge. Reed's Mark. He was so desperate to have it removed that he happily gave us this in exchange. I don't think he really knew what he had.”

“Did you remove the mark?”

“Of course. The McCallisters keep their promises.” Gavin stands up and starts to walk around the room, trailing more mud across Phyllis' carpet. “And they take care of their friends.”

“I'm sorry, Gavin. I'm sorry that you lost your job, that was unnecessary, but what you're talking about, it's murder.”

“We do what we must, for the greater good,” Gavin says. He comes to a stop in front of her fireplace and looks at the photos that are there.

“No. No, absolutely not.” Phyllis pushes the briefcase away.

“Is this your sister?” Gavin takes one of the photographs from the fireplace. It's of Phyllis' sister, Annette and her niece, Louise. “And your niece? How old is she now? Two? The world has become such a dangerous place since the Library stopped controlling the flow of magic. Anything could happen to them.” Gavin very deliberately taps his finger against the glass and then places the photograph back onto the shelf. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it. Say, I give Alice Quinn the Bieauid Hollys and everything will be fine. Say it,” Gavin tells her.

“I give Alice Quinn the Bieauid Hollys and everything will be fine.”

“Exactly.”

-----

It all happens so quickly, too quickly. Phyllis understands, at least logically she understands, Gavin and the McCallisters don't want to give her a chance to change her mind but there's something alarming and rather unpleasant about the fact that she finds herself walking into the main branch of the Library less than twenty four hours after Gavin's visit.

Her hands shake, the briefcase with the Bieauid Hollys inside tapping incessantly against her hip as she steps through the door.

The lobby is flooded with people. Phyllis’ grip on the handle tightens as she heads towards the elevator and joins the group of people already crowded around, waiting for the doors to open.

“Morning, Phyllis.”

“Dean Fogg,” Phyllis says as the elevator doors open and they step inside. “How are you this morning?”

“Very well thank you. And yourself?”

“I'm...” Phyllis hesitates. She doesn't really know how to the answer that question.

The elevator is already full and the doors are already closing when Phyllis sees Miss Orloff Diaz darting through the crowd, rushing towards the elevator. She throws her arm into the closing doors, forcing them back open and despite the side eyes and the grumbles from the other people in the elevator she manages to squeeze inside.

“Phyllis, I'm glad I caught you,” Kady says. “I have some forms I need you to sign for me.”

“This isn't the most convenient time,” Phyllis tells her but Kady is already thrusting the folders towards her. “Why don't you come to my office in an hour and I wil...”

“Sorry, but I'm in kind of a rush today. It's just the stuff we talked about last week.” Kady pushes the folders into Phyllis' free hand and then lets go of them. Phyllis has to grab them quickly before they spill out onto the floor. 

“Here, I have a pen.” Kady holds it out for her, a black biro with barely any ink left, the end of which has been chewed away.

“Like I said, if you come to my office in an hour...”

“I don't have an hour. Please, I really need you to sign these.”

“Alright.” Phyllis lets out a shaky breath as she quickly looks around. The only person that is standing close to her is Dean Fogg. He's directly behind her and it almost feels like he's blocking her from the other people in the elevator. It makes her feels a little safer and she slowly lowers the briefcase onto the floor, grabs the pens and signs the forms as quickly as possible before she picks the briefcase back up and hands the forms back to Kady.

“Thank you.”

The elevator doors open and Kady steps off. So does Dean Fogg. Phyllis stays on for another six floors and is the last person in the elevator when she finally steps off.

He whole body seems to shake as she walks down the long corridor to Alice Quinn's office. Her heart pounds, her knees feel weak and she almost turns back three times. The third time she walks right into Sheila.

The briefcase is almost knocked from her hand.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Sheila says. “I'm so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine.” Phyllis brings the briefcase up to her chest and wraps her arms around it, holding it tight.

“Are you sure?” Sheila asks. “You look a little pale.”

Phyllis' mouth has become unnaturally dry since she stepped off the elevator and she has to clear her throat before she speaks. “I think I might be coming down with a cold,” she manages to say and when that doesn't seem to satisfy Sheila, she continues. “It might be the flu.” She forces a smile and that does the trick.

“Well, I'll make sure to bring you some chicken soup tomorrow. It was my mother's recipe. It should fix you right up.”

“Thank you. That's very nice of you.” Phyllis decides right then that she needs to make sure that Sheila stays at the main branch when all of this nasty business is complete and she's Head of the Library.

“Are you going to see Alice?” Sheila asks.

“I erm... I...”

“Me too. Come on.” Sheila places her hand on Phyllis' lower back and the two of them walk towards Alice's office.

Sheila knocks on the door and a moment later the door opens. Alice smiles and welcomes Sheila with a hug. Phyllis doesn't get the same treatment, instead there's a curt smile and a nod of her head as she steps into the office.

Alice closes the door and as it clicks shut Phyllis feels the small chance she had of getting out of this slip away.

“Is that the artefact?” Alice asks, as she points to the briefcase.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Phyllis walks over to Alice's desk and places the briefcase down gently and then steps back. She waits for Alice to open it or to at least question where she found the artefact – Gavin has already told her what to say – but Alice does neither, instead she just takes a seat at her desk.

“Would you like to do the honours, Sheila?”

“What? No!” Phyllis says, and she can hear the panic in her own voice. Sheila and Alice turn to look at her, both of them with their eyebrows raised. “I erm.. I...” Her heart pounds even faster and she can feel a bead of sweat creep down her neck as her eyes move from Alice to Sheila and then back again. “Surely, as Head of the Library, you should be the first person to view the artefact.”

“It's fine. Sheila.” Alice points to the briefcase again.

Sheila smiles and walks to the desk. Phyllis watches, a large lump in her throat as Sheila reaches for the latches. Every part of her, every molecule in her body is willing her to scream out, to snatch the briefcase from the desk and run. But she doesn't. She just stands there and watches as Sheila slowly opens the briefcase. Phyllis holds her breath.

Sheila frowns. “It's empty.”

“What?”

Sheila spins the briefcase around. Phyllis grabs at it and runs her hands along the lining, searching for the Bieauid Hollys but Sheila is right, the briefcase is completely empty. She feels a surge of bile rush up the back of her throat and her hand comes up to her mouth just to stop herself from being sick.

“Oh no.” Phyllis spins around, her eyes darting across the floor.

“Where is it?” Alice asks.

“I don't... There's clearly been a mistake of some kind,” Phyllis says, as she looks at the empty briefcase one more time, as if the stone is going to just magically reappear. But of course, it hasn't. “I've clearly misplaced the artefact. I'll just... I'll just go and find it.”

She rushes for the door.

-----

Phyllis meets Gavin in a small pub just a few blocks away from the main branch. It's closed and she has to knock on the door four times before it finally opens and she is able to slip inside.

“Were you followed?” Gavin asks, as he steps behind the bar, grabs a bottle of whiskey and he pours himself a double. He puts the bottle down and then changes his mind and pours even more into the glass. He doesn't offer to pour her one.

“I don't... I don't think so,” Phyllis says, but she's unsure. She didn't even consider the possibility.

“That's good. So, tell me what happened.”

“I don't know. Miss Quinn -” Phyllis chooses not to tell him about Sheila - “opened the briefcase and the stone was gone.”

“And where's the briefcase now?”

“I left it in Miss Quinn's office. Was that... Was that bad?”

“No. Losing the stone was bad, it means we have to start again.”

There's a knock at the door and when Gavin opens it, a tall man with sandy, blonde hair steps inside. The sleeves on his shirt are rolled up to the elbow and when he sees Phyllis he gives her a sly smile and his eyes move across her in a way that makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck.

“Who is this?” Phyllis asks.

“Lovelady,” the man replies, with a certain amount of pride and an air of arrogance. “I'm sure you've heard of me.”

Phyllis doesn't respond.

“Yeah, you've heard of me.”

“The stone didn't work. We need something else,” Gavin says.

“I don't have anything else.” Lovelady takes a seat at the bar. He grabs Gavin's whiskey and takes a large swig. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care about the snarl that appears on Gavin's face.

Phyllis does.

“It was hard enough getting the Bieauid Hollys. I'm going to need that back, by the way, it's only a matter of time before Kady notices it's gone and that girl packs one hell of a punch.”

Phyllis looks over at Gavin and catches his eye, but he doesn't seem too concerned.

“Alice Quinn is still alive,” Gavin says.

“Yeah, well, it takes a couple of days. I told you that.”

“And in a couple of days she'll still be alive because the stone didn't work. So, you are going to have to find us something else.” There's a harshness in Gavin's tone, but again Lovelady doesn't seem to notice.

“And I told you, there is nothing else.” He finishes Gavin's whiskey.

“I don't think you're understanding the situation, Lovelady.” Her voice rings out. It echoes through the room with the same disdain that Gavin showed. There's footsteps, high heels on slate and Irene McCallister steps out of the back room. “We took care of your little problem.”

Suddenly Gavin grabs the back of Lovelady's neck and slams his head against the bar. Phyllis stumbles back. Her foot catches on a nearby stool and it topples over with a thud. Lovelady struggles but Gavin grips his arm, pins it against the bar and rips the back of his shirt.

“We kept our end of the deal,” Irene says, as she walks towards Gavin and Lovelady. “If you fail to keep up your’s then we'll be forced to put Reed's Mark back. Right here.” She taps the now exposed skin on Pete's shoulder. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll find you something. I'm a known back scratcher.”

“Really?” Gavin says. He doesn't sound convinced.

“Yeah, I'm loyal.” And there's something in Lovelady's tone, a confidence despite his predicament that makes Gavin loosen his grip just slightly.

Phyllis sees them first. She doesn't try to say anything as Kady and Penny appear directly behind Gavin.

“Hello,” Kady says.

Gavin begins to turn around, but Kady beats him to the punch, literally. Her fist slams into his jaw and Gavin hits the floor. The side of his head slams off the edge of the stool Phyllis knocked over and he sprawls out, unconscious.

Irene is already casting. Penny grabs Kady's arm and the two of them duck down behind the bar as Irene throws a blast of energy in their direction. It misses them. Tables and chairs go flying, crashing into the wall as the room shakes.

Phyllis screams.

The front door is thrown open. The wood shatters, shards and splinters flying out. Phyllis scurries backwards. Her hands come up to protect her face from the debris.

Julia and Alice step into the pub together. They're casting, their fingers moving in perfect sync as they stare at Irene. Their cast is quick and clean, and powerful. Irene's hands are suddenly yanked together. She tries to turn but her ankles are pulled together, as well. There's a flash of blue light, almost like rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles. It winds itself around the rest of her body and she topples forward. She lands on the floor next to Gavin.

Phyllis holds her breath and waits, because she knows that it's her turn next. Alice glances in her direction but she says nothing. Phyllis doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, so she stays on the floor, keeps herself small and quiet.

She watches as Penny and Kady step out from behind the bar and check on Lovelady.

“You alright, Pete?” Kady asks.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” He stands up and tries to adjust his now ripped shirt as best he can. He looks at Julia and smiles.” Hey, Julia.”

“Hey,” Julia replies and Phyllis can almost see the eye-roll.

“Thank you for telling us about the attempt on my life,” Alice says, and again she glances in Phyllis' direction. “It's appreciated.”

“I told you, the one thing I am, is loyal.” He looks at Kady. “Besides, I like that the Library now owes me a favour. Plus, no more Reed's Mark. Other than a ripped shirt, today's been a good day.” He steps away from the bar and walks towards the door, only to stop and lean towards Julia. “Listen, if you're not doing anything ton...”

“I'm busy,” Julia says, as she steps away from him and towards Alice.

“Another time then.” Lovelady walks out of the bar before Julia can respond.

“Look at you. All so pleased with yourselves,” Irene says, her cheek resting against the floor as she looks up at Alice and Julia. “But you can't do anything to me. I'm a McCallister and thanks to your own reforms you no longer have any little cells to keep me in.”

“You're right,” Alice tells her. “The Library is no longer in the business of imprisoning people. Unfortunately for you, we know a place that is.”

“You murdered the Fairy Queen, in front of witnesses. She was a citizen of Fillory. Did you really think they would just forget?” Julia adds.

Phyllis sees Irene's face drop, all of her confidence just falling away.

“I think High King Margo will have a few things to say to you,” Alice says. “Penny.”

“I'll make sure they get there.” Penny steps forward and places his hands on Irene and Gavin's backs, and the three of them suddenly disappear.

“What about me?” Phyllis asks, her voice nothing more than a shaky whisper. “What are you going to do with me?”

Alice contemplates for a moment and then she sighs. “You tried to kill me. If Pete hadn't come to us the moment Gavin approached him, you would've killed me. But Irene is right, we don't lock people up. Not anymore.”

“They threatened my sister and my niece. She's only two and I know that...” Phyllis stops and shakes her head, because it's only a half truth. “You should fire me.”

“You're right, I should.” Alice turns away from her. “I know we said we'd have dinner tonight but the paper work involved in an incident like this, it’s going to take hours to fill out.”

“Well, why don't we just bring dinner to you?” Kady suggests.

“I know a nice Italian place that does take out,” Julia says.

“Sounds good.” The three of them head towards the door. “Have you talked to Q lately?” Alice asks.

“Yeah. He actually sent me a bunny the other day, apparently he and Eliot are having a little boat trip around the outer islands,” Julia says. “Are you okay with that?”

Alice looks first at Julia and then at Kady.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

The three of them step out of the pub.

Phyllis doesn't know what to do. She stays on the floor, her eyebrows furrowing as she stares at the door, waiting for them to return. Her hands press against the cold, hard slate. There's a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes as the second tick slowly by, but when Alice and the others don't return she slowly climbs to her feet.

Phyllis steps out of the bar and the first thing she sees, standing on the other side of the street, is Dean Fogg. He stares at her, gives a slight nod of his head and then slowly lifts up the briefcase that he's holding. Her briefcase.

And the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks.

[whoisleft-rp]

** HAPPY THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY, WHO IS LEFT ! **

Wow. Wow. Typing this out, it almost doesn’t feel entirely real. Today, November 6th, 2018 marks the official anniversary of THREE FULL CALENDAR YEARS since Who Is Left first opened our doors back in 2015. When we started this group we were absolutely optimistic about the future and excited about all the potential we saw in a group like this. There were nights that Admin Amanda would be driving somewhere and pull over, off the road, so that she could read the first couple apps that had trickled in. There were days that Admin Lauren rattled off idea after idea to make this group and its launch the best it could be – we never got tired of talking about it. Countless text messages back and forth, excited calls to one another, endless nights planning out all the details: it was a labor of love, and we can’t believe how much we see it reflected back at us still even three years down the line.

In the beginning, we were just trying to create the type of group that each of us wanted to be a part of in this RPC – a fair, collaborative, fun, challenging, constantly engaging and long-lasting group that would open its doors to everyone with a creative spark and close its doors to petty drama, anon hate, admin favoritism and so many other things we’d had to weather in the past just to do what we loved most, and what we’ve all been brought together to do: just write and create in a safe space. We made the space, and you’ve all given us your time and wonderful words and character development to make it seriously special and unique to our group of writers.

Even three years ago, at the height of our optimism and excitement about all this group might become, we couldn’t imagine we would be lucky enough to be here. Celebrating three years past – and many more to come – with a collection of the most thought-provoking, creative, talented, hilarious, angst-inducing, wonderful humans that we’ve ever had the pleasure to write with. Every single day we get to be a part of WIL is a privilege. We’ve seen lifelong friendships formed, globes traveled and new takes on old stories unfold before our eyes. After this long, there’s not much else to say other than this:

We love you all. We love this group. And we’re not going anywhere – we’ll be here as long as you are!

LET’S CELEBRATE !

SEND SOME LOVE // For the rest of the week, the Who Is Left team is all encouraged to send some anonymous (or not so anonymous) love to their fellow writers. The admins are going to make sure that nobody goes without a message, but ideally we’d love to see everyone’s inboxes flooded with affection, no matter how long they’ve been in the group. Take a minute out of your day to tell your fellow writers what you like best about their writing style, plotting skills or OOC attitude! It’s been three years. Remind everyone why you love that they’re here!

SPARK SOME MUSE // Feel free to reblog lots of inbox memes, honest hours, ‘ask me anything’ games, headcanon prompts and more! We love seeing the dash filled up with reminders of how connected you all are to your characters and how in-depth your knowledge of them goes…plus, they’re plain fun, and a great way to distract yourself and refresh your muses.

COLLABORATION STATION // Have an idea for an event? A new way of doing things? Changes to the app? Even new character bios? We want to hear from you, so here’s just a gentle reminder that our door is always open and that we’re always all ears for any changes that will make this group more fun or better run for each and every one of you!

SEEING DOUBLE || BODY SWAP EVENT !

Have you ever woken up and felt a bit… out of sorts? Almost like your body wasn’t...well….your body?

Body Swap Event: The Basics;

Your character has swapped bodies with the partner listed below. Nobody knows how, nobody knows why, and nobody knows how to put things back to normal. For 24 hours, count on being stuck in the skin of somebody new, walking a mile in their shoes, trying to live their lives...etc. You get the picture.

No, this does NOT count ‘in canon’. It’s a fun event that we should all feel free to go wild with, without worrying about upending or upsetting any existing plots or relationships. Although it takes place in our canon world, it’s closer to an AU Event than a plot drop.

That being said, please make sure that ‘Body Swap’ is clearly in the title of any threads you begin – to differentiate from the existing starters and threads on the dashboard. Please also tag starters with WhoIsLeftSwap.

For the purposes of your threads, assume that only you and your partner are the ones who’ve swapped bodies. For instance, if Sirius starts a thread and Mulciber, who he’s partnered with, replies to that thread, they are in each other’s bodies. However, if Sirius posts that same open starter and Remus jumps on that thread, it’s Remus as Remus who is replying, not Remus in Brigitte Crabbe’s body.

We know what you’re thinking - won’t that be a lot of starters? Yes! Probably! Which is why we’re encouraging, much like the gossip event, a bunch of smaller gif chats. We love and appreciate how many paras are on the dash here, and we intend to keep it that way – but after three years of writing, let’s face it, the equivalent of several short novels, we welcome everyone to break up their workload a little bit and get some shorter chats rolling to keep the creativity flowing.

Starters for this event will be allowed from now through 11:59 PM on Sunday, November 11th.

The Pairings; 

To the future...and beyond !

Our plan – as of right now, and pending minor adjustments – is as follows. Over the next couple of weeks, we’re going to wind down November and ring in the first half of December 1977! From there, holiday break for the students will commence, meaning either a stay at the castle or trips home for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Non-Denominational Dinners and New Years’ Eve. The holidays in-game will be marked by a fun Secret Santa event for our members to participate in OOC.

After New Years, we won’t roll into 1978 right away – first, we’ll have a week dedicated to TIMELINE WEEK, a time to explore threads that take place in either our characters’ pasts or futures.

Following that, January 1978 will continue...and our war events will get much, much more intense. We also have many ideas up our sleeves for future Plot Prompt Fridays, including askbox memes, headcanon generators and tasks that’ll have you hitting up Pinterest for all the aesthetic images you can handle.

___

Hey, you !  Join our family !

Send in an application, or feel free to ask us anything on your mind about our process, open characters or whatever else! 

Open characters that we’d love to see filled include:

Adelaide Dubois

Edgar Bones

Emmeline Vance

Frank Longbottom

Daniyah Burke

Lucius Malfoy

Andromeda Black

Igor Karkaroff

Amelia Bones

Severus Snape

Marya Warrington

Gideon or Fabian Prewett

Caradoc Dearborn

[pikapeppa]

Reyes Vidal Week, Day 2: SAM in love

Today, I didn’t reaaaally follow the prompt. But Reyes is chilling on the Tempest - does that count?

In this one-shot, Reyes and SAM have a heart-to-heart. This is the first thing I’ve written from first-person perspective. Please let me know what you think!! <3

It starts with vasodilation.

Increased blood flow to Ryder’s lips and cheeks turns them pink. The tissues of her genitals swell and become moist. Her pupils dilate. Oxytocin and dopamine flood her brain when he kisses her. She gasps when he bites her shoulder, but her nervous system floods with endorphins and dopamine; she finds his bites pleasurable, not painful. Her nipples harden and her breasts swell at the touch of his hands and tongue. When intercourse commences, dopamine activity increases further, and there is heightened neural activity in her basal ganglia. Her respiratory rate and heart rate increase. He quickens the rhythm of his copulatory movements, and her genital muscles begin to contract and spasm as she cries out. A burst of neurotransmitters and hormones, muscle contractions, and widespread neural activity overtake her body. Her physiological signs are very clear: she is euphoric, all bodily signals indicating pleasure and reward.

Through Ryder, I observe, and I learn, and I feel what it is to be euphoric.

***************

Ryder’s reactions to Mr. Vidal have always been different than her reactions to the rest of the crew. When we first met Mr. Vidal, I initially analyzed him as a threat. The Pathfinder had experienced a spike in adrenaline and cortisol, and her pupils had dilated, so it was my impression that she was experiencing a fight-or-flight response. However, there was a surge of dopamine in her brain at the moment that he spoke, indicative of reward. These signals were contradictory, so I did not act. Further information was required.

Once it became clear that Reyes was an ally and that we would have repeated contact with him, I noticed that Ryder continued to experience surges of dopamine when she spoke to Reyes, as well as increasing levels of oxytocin. Every time I suggested to Ryder that we ask Mr. Vidal for more information, she experienced similar, low-level changes in her body chemistry, as well as vasodilation in the genitals that appeared unrelated to the current mission. I was not sure what to make of Ryder’s reactions. Her body seemed to be preparing for copulation, but the environmental context was not suggestive of sexual arousal.

It was not until the other crew began to tease Ryder that I realized this was the beginning of a romantic relationship. In retrospect, it is not surprising that I had not recognized it; I had experience with only one other romantic relationship: namely, Alec and Ellen Ryder. That relationship was long-established, with very different associated physiological and interactive patterns.

Thereafter, it became easy to recognize the signs of attachment and arousal. In fact, I became interested in analyzing the Pathfinder’s new relationship. I wish to learn more about what motivates all sentient races, and in so doing, to learn more about what motivates me. My experience with Alec Ryder indicates that love and family are powerful motivators for humans. Case studies of multiple species’ relationships will be an excellent foundation for deeper understanding.

**********************

Tonight, I have found an excellent opportunity to learn more about the Pathfinder and Mr. Vidal’s relationship. Ryder has told me much about her feeling and thoughts for Mr. Vidal, but I have not yet obtained his perspective on their relationship. Fortunately, he is visiting the Tempest tonight. Ryder is sleeping, but Mr. Vidal is awake. He is stroking her hair: a gesture I understand to be affectionate. I am learning to interpret and distinguish many species’ facial expressions, and Mr. Vidal is gazing at Ryder with a unique facial expression that I have only ever observed when he looks at her.

“Mr. Vidal,” I say, and he looks up at my router. I have noticed that he and Ryder prefer to speak to my router, perhaps because it reminds them of a face.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” I say. He nods and comes to sit close to my router. (I almost remind him that he does not need to do this, but as he has already risen, I do not mention it as this will waste time.) “Mr. Vidal,” I say, but Reyes shakes his head. “Call me Reyes,” he says, and I take note of this: he wishes to be on familiar terms with me. I interpret this as an overture of friendship on his part.

“Reyes,” I correct myself, “May I ask you a question about your relationship with the Pathfinder?”

Reyes chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “Did Mara put you up to this?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, “But she seemed to think I was making a joke when I told her I was going to ask you this. She laughed a great deal.”

“I bet she did,” Reyes mutters, then sighs. “Okay, SAM. What do you want to know?”

“The beginning of your attachment is an interesting phenomenon for me. The Pathfinder has shared her thoughts on your relationship. I am curious to obtain your perspective.”

Reyes sighs, then looks at Ryder. His face resumes that unique expression that he seems to reserve only for her. He is quiet for a long time; I am about to increase my volume and repeat my question in case he did not hear, but then he speaks.

“I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in any galaxy.” He turns back to look at my router, and his face appears fierce; an unusual expression that does not seem to match his words. “When I can’t sleep, I think of her face and it relaxes me. When I’m… on the dark side, blood all over my hands… I think of her laughing, and it… brings me back to the light.” Reyes is silent for a moment, his gaze on the Pathfinder. Then he speaks again. His voice is quiet, as though he is talking to himself. “She makes me feel like I can do anything. I can be anyone. But… with her, I can just be myself and… she wants me still. Reyes the charmer, Shena the smuggling informant, the Charlatan… They’re all parts of the same man. And she loves them all.”

He turns to look at my router again and smiles. “You know what, SAM? She once asked me why I came to Andromeda. I told her I came here to be someone. But really, I was running away from becoming someone that I didn’t think I wanted to be. Then I got here…” He runs his hand through his hair again, then continues. “I had to be that person that I thought I shouldn’t be. A murderer, a torturer, a smuggler. A criminal. All for the right reasons… But I was getting lost in it. I thought maybe… it would stop being for the right reasons. But then Mara came along and… she never judged me. I could stop judging myself, seeing the worst in myself. She sees through my actions. She sees… me.”

Reyes stops talking and clears his throat, then wipes his eyes briskly with the back of his hand. He clears his throat again, then speaks to my router, his voice deeper than before. “So… yeah. You know.” He gives a small laugh.

Then Reyes does something unexpected, something that nobody has ever done: he asks me a question about myself. “So SAM. What’s it like being inside Ryder’s head all the time? Do you ever wish you could call the shots about what to do, where to go?”

“My relationship with Ryder is symbiotic. No matter what she chooses to do or where to go, I benefit through her experiences. All of her choices and observations provide more data for me to analyze, to come to a greater understanding of the galaxy and all its inhabitants.”

“Yeah, but what about what you want? I get that you like to learn. You’re a nerd.” Reyes smiles with half his mouth, an expression I recognize as jocular. “But do you ever feel like… just doing something on your own?”

This question is interesting. Reyes is asking about agency, independence, my separateness from Ryder. I require extra time to consider my response, almost a full 2 seconds. “Ryder incorporates my advice and knowledge into all her decisions. In that sense, her decisions are also my own. And since I am a non-corporeal sentience, I consider her body to be my own as well. We are two sentient intelligences that seamlessly share a single body. Ryder has expressed to me that she shares this perspective.”

Reyes is staring at my router, his facial expression indicating surprise. “Wow. I didn’t think of it that way,” he says. “I always saw you as a separate… entity, I guess.” Reyes scratches his head and is quiet again; I permit him the time to think. Then suddenly he smiles, and his eyebrows rise. “So what’s it like for you when we’re... you know. Having sex? Do you feel that along with her?” His voice has the same tone that I have come to associate with the beginnings of a sexual episode with Ryder.

My reply is immediate. “Yes, that is correct. I experience everything that Ryder experiences during your episodes of sexual intercourse. In fact, I have collected ample data on the Pathfinder’s physiological reactions during sex. Would you like me to analyze the data? I can compile graphs and tables that will help you optimize Ryder’s copulatory euphoria.”

“What?” Reyes exclaims, his voice significantly louder and higher in pitch than usual. In the bed, the Pathfinders stirs slightly, then rolls over. Reyes glares at my router and then whispers. “Are you kidding me?”

“Yes. I am making a joke.”

Reyes stares at my router, then starts shaking. I require 0.05 seconds to realize that he is laughing. He continues to laugh for 1.874 minutes, then finally looks at my router. “You know what, SAM, you’re all right. You’re a perv, but you’re all right.” He shakes his head and stands. “I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Reyes. And thank you.”

Reyes turns back to look at my router. “For what?”

“For your perspective on your relationship. And for your questions. This conversation has been very illuminating.”

Reyes chuckles and nods his head. “Anytime, SAM.” He gets back into the bed and puts his arm around the Pathfinder.

I observe Reyes as he returns to bed. This evening has been a unique learning experience indeed. Until now, only Ryder had ever shared her thoughts with me in such detail. And Reyes is the only one who has asked me questions requiring self-reflection and introspection, as opposed to objective analysis and observation.

It is possible that I understand what Ryder feels when she is around him.

It is possible that I understand love.

[asksythe]

Original story concept: global temporal crisis

So, this story concept happened entirely by accident. A friend of mine (@erimies https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5374016/erimies , yes, for you Naruto fans out there, that Erimies of Clan of Samsara and I didn’t sign up for this) has been sharing her original story ideas with me. We do this a lot. Just bounce ideas around and do snapshot world building speed battles (it’s tote battles! You can’t tell me otherwise!!). So today we talked about an old idea she had left on the burner for awhile. Her idea involved temporal pocket shenanigans and magical world (of the fantastic science variety). I won’t go too deep into it because it’s her idea and maybe one day we will all get to read it in a book. But my ADD ass apparently forgot completely about the original fantasy setting and assumed that the temporal crisis happened in our current real world instead and … because as usual, I’m like a rabid dog being thrown a world building hook bone, I just went completely crazy and before I knew it (and before she could type ‘wait a minute. Wrong setting! Wrong genre!! Stop! Stop!), I had already written the basic premise for a completely different story also involving temporal shenanigans and global scoped world building (and yes, I flooded her tumblr message app with 99+ messages in under 15 minutes. It happens a lot, I’m proud to say!).   

And well, what do you know? After some sheepish back and forth and mutual marveling of each other’s story ideas, I (or rather we because I made sure she was ok with this) decided to type it down and post it. Why? Because… well… because I’m the kind of writers that tote subscribe to the practice of sharing ideas and premises. I like to bounce ideas and concepts around with other people. I think it makes for much richer and more varied concepts and premises. And I would like to hear other people’s takes on concepts, see how different people view it differently. I don’t get possessive over creative ideas and concepts (well… mostly I guess). My boss told me that that’s bad habit for a published author, bad for business and all that but… eh… I guess I can’t change who I am. I just like to share you know? I think the more merrier (or bigger / more mutated /more fun, as ideas go).

So, without further ado, here it is:

I. Premise: our current world, as in, today, May 18th, 2017, Gregorian Calendar, the world is suddenly hit by an unexplainable phenomenon. For a split second, time stops moving for our planet. And when the next second arrives, it splits, branches, implodes in on itself. Our time zones fracture and warp and create bubbles within bubbles. One clock becomes a hundred thousand, each moving to its own rhythm. The next thing we know, our world is fractured into countless temporal zones. Time moves wildly in each of these zones/pockets. In some, it moves far slower than it should. In others, it moves far faster. It rewinds, warps. There are nations where the flow of time goes backward, and then forward, and then backward, winding around itself. The natural world does not escape the effect of the fractured temporal zones. Forests become deserts in a matter of days (the concept of days is fast approaching either an end or transformation too). Mountains rise from the sea. The ice caps enlarge and expand into the territory of northern Europe.

In the human world, the crisis is unprecedented. In the span of a second, global communication, trade, transportation, and the world wide web all immediately cease. Pandemonium erupts as people swiftly transition from confusion to disbelief, to panic.

What is this? A natural cosmic phenomenon? Terrorist action? Alien attack? Scientific experiments gone horribly wrong? Divine reckoning?

Nobody knows. Nobody even has so much as a hint. In their panic, people look for someone to blame. But time waits for none, least of all now when all of time has gone haywire. Our current world is one that is built on the foundation of global trade and communication and now that all of those have ceased, the world is on the precipice of a global collapse. In some nations, wars skid to a stop as both sides is rendered inoperable. In others, the sparks of revolts lit the skies in fire and ashes (looking at you, Venezuela, Zimbabwe, etc...). In some nations, people dread the onset of mass starvation as their agricultural demand far exceeds their output. In others, machines start failing as the national oil reserve dips lower and lower.   

This is the story of our world in crisis and the approaching new world order as each nation on our Earth attempt to weather the fallout of the temporal crisis and muddle their way into this new world!  

II. With this setting established, now let’s go into world building from there (hah! World building on top the basis of our real world!). Based on economic and scientific principles, four factors determine whether any one nation can survive the initial fallout and thrive afterward:

1. Agricultural bases and resources.

2. Oil; the lifeblood of modern industry

3. Central government stability

4. Temporal sciences and research.

Factors 1 and 3 determine whether a nation can survive. In order to survive, you need to be able to feed the population and avoid mass starvation and the panic that ensues from such. You also need to be able to maintain law and order. In the time of crisis, opportunistic factions may seek to overthrow the current government, leading to violence, bloodshed, and possible civil wars. For countries with divisive issues or with public unrest, this will be particularly hard.

On the other hand, factors 2 and 4 will determine whether a nation will thrive in the new world. Without oil, you will be pushed back to pre-industrialization economy, which means that a massive portion of the population will fall into poverty and any developmental prospects will die stillborn. Oil is especially vital to maintaining an economy now that the global economy has collapsed and each nation must seek to remain self-sufficient. Other sources of energy may lessen the pressure of oil (e.g. wind, thermal, solar, etc…). However, since the majority of our global industrial bases have yet to transition to clean/hybrid energy and such transition is now too costly in this crisis, oil remains the main source of fuel for the economy.

The last factor, temporal science is the only way humanity can hope to make sense of the crisis and this new natural phenomenon of their world. Current researches on temporal sciences and temporal energy harvest are still nascent and a hundred percent theoretical. However, the crisis has supplied ample opportunities for testing. Countries with existing researchs on temporal sciences will have a definite edge as they quickly learn the ins and outs of the temporal zones, exploit them (e.g. navigate and energy harvest), and perhaps find out the root reason for the crisis.   

III. A brief look into several nations in crisis:

1. China:.... is in a bad place…

The current China already has issues with public unrest and maintaining stability and a united cultural identity (e.g. what with the suppression of ethnic and religious minority, the overly centralized government, the bulky bureaucratic machine, the non-existent democratic process, widespread corruption, the widening gap between the rich and the poor, the uneven development between provinces, with some provinces not that different from first world countries neighboring provinces that would not look out of place among war-torn third world nations. Their vast land puts even more pressure on efforts to maintain stability and order.) It’s quite likely that the centralized government will be swiftly beheaded once some factions start gaining a foothold and communication / security remain frozen.

Their oil reserve is not so good either. Compared to other nations, their reserve is not small. However, it is not sufficient for their massive economic machine. They are known as the factory of the world, and such title carries weight. In February 2017, China oil import already hit 37.8 million ton (aka 8.286 million barrels per day). Without this imported oil, total economic collapse is imminent.  

Agriculture-wise, their situation is… uneven. Decades of non-existent pollution-control policy have led to massive tracts of Chinese territory being ravaged beyond hope of recovery in our life time, thus rendering their potential agricultural yield to zero. However, China is vast, and with good management and labour allocation, they can hope to avoid starvation and widespread panic.

Temporal science and research: currently to my knowledge, they have none. Due to purposefully shortened development time, the state of sciences in China is fairly unevent. Chinese government deliberately encourages progress in hot scientific disciplines (e.g. weapons, energy, heavy industry, IT, medicines) while ignoring other disciplines with less immediate practical uses.

2. Russia: a mystery within a mystery.

Heh… I don’t know much about Russia. But a world game with no mention of great Russia? Impossible. Russia simply is too large and too influential to be ignored (also they have way too many nuclear warheads). That said, we do know that they are fine in the oil department. Agriculture-wise, they are likely to be ok too. Russia is fairly self-sufficient. Temporal research science… well…probably yes… because cold war and stuff and possible exotic weapon development.

On the other hand, Russia has a very centralized government and extremely low democracy index score (coming in at 3.24 out of 10 on the global democracy index compiled by the UK-based Economist Intelligence Unit and designated an authoritarian government) with ongoing issues over freedom of press and oppression of minority. With this crisis, it’s likely that this authoritarian rule will be challenged by opportunistic factions. Only time will tell if the great Russia will be able to weather the immediate fall-out of the temporal crisis.

3. The United States of America:

…. Is united no more.

Tadadaadadadadada….

No really, you guys have deep and insidious divisive issues. From half-way across the world, I see people from different parties demonizing each other and good people being separated along religious, ethnic, and political party line. With this crisis and the current White House, you can’t convince me that folks are going to keep their sane cap on. America’s vast territory and distinct cultural identities  across different states and regions will also be a minus for the united and stability factor. Besides which earlier this year your democracy index score just fell below 8, marking you as a flawed democracy. Also, way too many trigger-happy folks with guns and bullets in their hands. And that’s not mentioning racial friction. Good luck with the crisis, folks! Taleh hoo!!

That said though, US is good as far as oil and energy resources go. With their current reserves and expanding shale oil industry as well as a thriving alternative energy source industry, the US won’t see a collapse based on lack of fuel and energy anytime soon.

Agriculture-wise, they are good too as not only do they have a large agriculture industry, their land is still comparatively virgin next to the soils that have been cultivated and farmed for millennia in Europe and Asia.

Temporal sciences and researches: yes… very… but again, uneven due to vast territory. American territory itself is divided into countless temporal zones so likely we will see the start of many small nations and likely collapse of a great one. Having large tracts of land is a minus on control and unity issues, who knew eh?

4. Europe (sing me a song, beautiful Europa!!!)

Has much the same issue with America in terms of centralized government (Brussel this time) and different cultural / ethnic identities that stand in the way of unison. Racial tension is also on the rise due to Islamophobia and fear of terrorist attacks. In the initial fallout, confusion will reign as Brussel is separated from the rest of Europe. Without swift actions from the authority, the European Union faces the risk of implosion. But then again, Europe has pretty good democracy index score so maybe it won’t be so bad?

In terms of oil reserves, hmm, not bad. However, the issue lies with the uneven allocation of oil. Norway holds the largest oil reserves and in this new world setting that is rapidly heading towards a ‘every nation for itself’ scenario, will be loathed to let go of an edge. Without good diplomacy and concession, tension and conflict may arise. That’s not to mention the cut-off of communication and transportation as Europe is trapped in its own myriad pockets of temporal zones. However, many European countries are fairly far along in terms of conversion from oil-based industry to clean energy-based industry so really this factor should have less weight for Europe.

Temporal science: yes. Europe as a whole has larger grants and investment into scientific researches than America. Now is the time to reap that reward! Could this be the second coming of the European Golden Age? Only time will tell!!!

5. North Korea (because why not? Everybody likes to talk about that one poor country with the big gun and trigger happy fingers right?)

Good bye, NK, it’s been nice knowing you.

Total collapse, likely in a matter of months if not weeks. Despite its healthy stock of warheads and other tools of war, North Korea survives by foreign aids. Infamously known by economist as the world’s worst economy, North Korea receives millions of dollars of foreign aids every year. Despite its hefty investment into weapons, it does not actually produce enough food for its own population and has had several famines and mass starvations within the last 5 years.

Without foreign aid (due to cut communication and transportation), the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) will swiftly collapse when massive portions of its own population starve to death. There will be widespread panic and violence as a dieing government struggles to maintain control over a panicking/berserking civilian population. Unlike previously, this time, the elite ruling group likely will not be able to escape out of the nation due to cut-off global transportation. If desperation seizes the day and the warhead codes fall into unwise hand, we may see the start of the collapse of the Korean peninsula as weapons stockpiled for some hypothetical war against the West go up in their own backyard.

…Really, I feel sorry for the Korean people (both North and South). Once, Vietnam was known as North and South Vietnam too and 40 years ago we weren’t that much different.  

IV. A new world order!

The goal: to survive.

The goal: to thrive.

To live is to struggle. As the world rocks and fractures under the weight of the global temporal crisis, each and every nation must keep in mind the goals. To survive the initial fall-out of the crisis and perchance to thrive in this new world order. To do that, they must feed their own population, maintain law and order, resuscitate their economy, re-establish international contact and cooperation, and relentlessly push for scientific progress into temporal sciences. Only then will they find out the secret behind the global temporal crisis that rocks their world!

So... that is my story concept. As said, I thought it up (well, from the basis of Erimies’s fantasy concept) in about 20 minutes. It’s just... you know... the start. Because of the massive scope of this story / setting, it’s impossible for me to accurately cover every country. With that said, which country/region do you come from? and how do you think your country/region will fare in this scenario? 

Hmmm.. I also want to take into consideration the natural aspects of this setting. For example, natural changes caused by the temporal zones. Our seas are trapped into countless pockets. As a result, ocean currents are in disarray which will eventually lead to changes in global ecology (impacting the migrating patterns of fishes for example) and weather patterns (impacting global temperature and wind current). So on, so forth. But I will need significant research in order to venture into this part. But... just imagine, you know... our world.. transformed in a second because time has fractured. What a world it will be!!! 

So, what do you think? Do you have ideas? Questions? Criticism? Come! I want to hear your thoughts and bounce ideas around!  

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Sunday, march 14 of 2021 with Proverbs 14 and Psalm 14, accompanied by Psalm 84 for the 84th day of Winter and Psalm 73 for day 73 of the year

[Psalm 14]

God Looks Down from Heaven

For the Pure and Shining One

A Psalm of David

No God

Only the withering soul would say to himself,

“There is no God.”

Anyone who thinks like this is corrupt and callous,

devoid of what is good.

Yahweh looks down in love,

looking over all of Adam’s sons and daughters.

He’s looking to see if there is anyone who acts wisely,

any who are searching for God and wanting to please him.

None Who Are Good

But everyone has wandered astray,

walking stubbornly toward evil.

Not one is good; he can’t even find one.

They live in luxury while exploiting my people!

Won’t these workers of wickedness ever learn?

They don’t ever think of praying to God.

Overwhelmed with Dread

But look at them now, in panic, trembling with terror.

For God is on the side of his godly lovers.

Yahweh is always the safest place for the poor

when the workers of wickedness oppress them.

Overcome with Joy

How I wish that Israel’s rescue

would arise from the midst of Zion!

When Yahweh restores his people,

Jacob’s joy will break forth

and Israel will be glad!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 14 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 84]

For the worship leader. A song of the sons of Korah accompanied by the harp.

How lovely is Your temple, Your dwelling place on earth,

O Eternal One, Commander of heaven’s armies.

How I long to be there—my soul is spent,

wanting, waiting to walk in the courts of the Eternal.

My whole being sings joyfully

to the living God.

Just as the sparrow seeks her home,

and the swallow finds in her own nest

a place to lay her young,

I, too, seek Your altars, my King and my God,

Commander of heaven’s armies.

How blessed are those who make Your house their home,

who live with You;

they are constantly praising You.

[pause]

Blessed are those who make You their strength,

for they treasure every step of the journey [to Zion].

On their way through the valley of Baca,

they stop and dig wells to collect the refreshing spring water,

and the early rains fill the pools.

They journey from place to place, gaining strength along the way;

until they meet God in Zion.

O Eternal God, Commander of heaven’s armies, listen to my prayer.

O please listen, God of Jacob.

[pause]

O True God, look at our shield, our protector,

see the face of Your anointed king, and defend our defender.

Just one day in the courts of Your temple is greater

than a thousand anywhere else.

I would rather serve as a porter at my God’s doorstep

than live in luxury in the house of the wicked.

For the Eternal God is a sun and a shield.

The Eternal grants favor and glory;

He doesn’t deny any good thing

to those who live with integrity.

O Eternal One, Commander of heaven’s armies,

how fortunate are those who trust You.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 84 (The Voice)

[Psalm 73]

No doubt about it! God is good—

good to good people, good to the good-hearted.

But I nearly missed it,

missed seeing his goodness.

I was looking the other way,

looking up to the people

At the top,

envying the wicked who have it made,

Who have nothing to worry about,

not a care in the whole wide world.

Pretentious with arrogance,

they wear the latest fashions in violence,

Pampered and overfed,

decked out in silk bows of silliness.

They jeer, using words to kill;

they bully their way with words.

They’re full of hot air,

loudmouths disturbing the peace.

People actually listen to them—can you believe it?

Like thirsty puppies, they lap up their words.

What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?

Nobody’s tending the store.

The wicked get by with everything;

they have it made, piling up riches.

I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;

what has it gotten me?

A long run of bad luck, that’s what—

a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

If I’d have given in and talked like this,

I would have betrayed your dear children.

Still, when I tried to figure it out,

all I got was a splitting headache . . .

Until I entered the sanctuary of God.

Then I saw the whole picture:

The slippery road you’ve put them on,

with a final crash in a ditch of delusions.

In the blink of an eye, disaster!

A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare!

We wake up and rub our eyes. . . . Nothing.

There’s nothing to them. And there never was.

When I was beleaguered and bitter,

totally consumed by envy,

I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox

in your very presence.

I’m still in your presence,

but you’ve taken my hand.

You wisely and tenderly lead me,

and then you bless me.

You’re all I want in heaven!

You’re all I want on earth!

When my skin sags and my bones get brittle,

God is rock-firm and faithful.

Look! Those who left you are falling apart!

Deserters, they’ll never be heard from again.

But I’m in the very presence of God—

oh, how refreshing it is!

I’ve made Lord God my home.

God, I’m telling the world what you do!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 73 (The Message)

[Proverbs 14]

[The House of Wisdom]

Every wise woman encourages and builds up her family,

but a foolish woman over time will tear it down by her own actions.

Lovers of truth follow the right path

because of their wonderment and worship of God.

But the devious display their disdain for him.

The words of a proud fool will all come back to haunt him.

But the words of the wise

will become a shield of protection around them.

The only clean stable is an empty stable.

So if you want the work of an ox and to enjoy an abundant harvest,

you’ll have a mess or two to clean up!

An honest witness will never lie,

but a deceitful witness lies with every breath.

The intellectually arrogant seek for wisdom,

but they never seem to discover

what they claim they’re looking for.

For revelation-knowledge flows to the one

who hungers for understanding.

The words of the wise are like weapons of knowledge.

If you need wise counsel, stay away from the fool.

For the wisdom of the wise will keep life on the right track,

while the fool only deceives himself

and refuses to face reality.

Fools mock the need for repentance,

while the favor of God rests upon all his lovers.

Don’t expect anyone else to fully understand

both the bitterness and the joys

of all you experience in your life.

The household of the wicked is soon torn apart,

while the family of the righteous flourishes.

You can rationalize it all you want

and justify the path of error you have chosen,

but you’ll find out in the end that you took the road to destruction.

Superficial laughter can hide a heavy heart,

but when the laughter ends, the pain resurfaces.

Those who turn from the truth get what they deserve,

but a good person receives a sweet reward.

A gullible person will believe anything,

but a sensible person will confirm the facts.

A wise person is careful in all things and turns quickly from evil,

while the impetuous fool moves ahead with overconfidence.

An impulsive person has a short fuse and can ruin everything,

but the wise show self-control.

The naïve demonstrate a lack of wisdom,

but the lovers of wisdom are crowned with revelation-knowledge.

Evil ones will pay tribute to good people

and eventually come to be servants of the godly.

The poor are disliked even by their neighbors,

but everyone wants to get close to the wealthy.

It’s a sin to despise one who is less fortunate than you,

but when you are kind to the poor,

you will prosper and be blessed.

Haven’t you noticed how evil schemers always wander astray?

But kindness and truth come to those

who make plans to be pure in all their ways.

If you work hard at what you do,

great abundance will come to you.

But merely talking about getting rich

while living to only pursue your pleasures

brings you face-to-face with poverty.

The true net worth of the wise is the wealth that wisdom imparts.

But the way of life for the fool is his foolishness.

Speak the truth and you’ll save souls,

but in the spreading of lies treachery thrives.

Confidence and strength flood the hearts

of the lovers of God who live in awe of him,

and their devotion provides their children

with a place of shelter and security.

To worship God in wonder and awe

opens a fountain of life within you,

empowering you to escape death’s domain.

A king glories in the number of his loyal followers,

but a dwindling population spells ruin for any leader.

When your heart overflows with understanding

you’ll be very slow to get angry.

But if you have a quick temper,

your impatience will be quickly seen by all.

A tender, tranquil heart will make you healthy,

but jealousy can make you sick.

Insult your Creator, will you?

That’s exactly what you do

every time you oppress the powerless!

Showing kindness to the poor is equal to honoring your maker.

The wicked are crushed by every calamity,

but the righteous find a strong hope

in the time of death.

Wisdom soothes the heart of the one with living-understanding,

but the heart of the fool just stockpiles stupidity.

A nation is exalted by the righteousness of its people,

but sin heaps disgrace upon the land.

A wise and faithful servant receives promotion from the king,

but the one who acts disgracefully

gets to taste the anger of the king.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 14 (The Passion Translation)

[purspektivz]

Set. Me. Free.

So I am sitting in this hotel room in downtown Birmingham. I had my MacBook on my lap and Being Mary Jane just went off and I was about to get back to working on a proposal and finishing it up on time. My company was just approved as a federal vendor and I was taking steps to finally make a bigger impact my way. When I start typing, the data and knowledge flows and I tend to be able to plug shit in. But it’s the START that gets me. It’s like all the doubts flood me as much as the excitement and anticipation. I feel inadequate, stupid, unprepared, too late, too old, not connected enough.....all of THAT! I get a sick feeling in my stomach and I freeze. I remember being this girl who went HARD after what she wanted and couldn’t NOBODY tell me I couldn’t do it! I was the girl who raised a daughter, who became the woman to do all things the 16 year old pregnant girl was told she couldn’t. I have fought battles for so many others and bent over backwards. Where did this fear come from? This stagnation? The DEEP doubt?

I got ALL TYPES of shit going on in my personal life. I was weighted down with shit back home. Trying to keep my head above water and achieve my dream. Because God keep breathing into me every day and it gotta be for a reason, right? And I can’t give up. I can’t die. I already tried. So I had to ask myself....

What made me feel FREE? What made me feel ALIVE? The answer.....

MUSIC

And when I say MUSIC, I ain’t just talking about this stick-a-wireless-headset-in-your-dome-and-stream-the-shit-outta-some-tracks music. 

I am talking about being the little girl who was raised in a home where ‘that secular (which, for religious Black folk was synonymous with Satanic) music’ was not allowed. 

I am talking about that little clock me and my sister had in our room that had a radio on it and we would sneak and listen to the radio station and rock to groups like SWV, XScape and H-Town. 

I am talking about sneaking in the basement of my parent’s house and turning on BET and watching music videos and swooning over Tevin Campbell as he sang Can We Talk.

I am talking about going over our grandmother’s house and my cousin having a million cassette tapes that he would stick into his stereo system in the back room he shared with his sister. He would blast NWA, Tupac Shakur, Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre, MJG, 8Ball, LL Cool J, Bone Thugs ‘N Harmony, Eric B and Rakim, and all of THAT! When Mark Wahlberg was Markie motha fuckin MARK! 

Or how we would sneak in my grandmother’s bedroom while she was on the porch or out somewhere and turn on The Box and watch videos other folks had paid for while one of us held that damn antennae juuuust right to get a good picture and sound. We would watch videos from Craig Mack, MC Hammer, Ghetto Boyz and Busta Rhymes. 

I am talking about the salvation I felt when I bought my first portable cassette player. You know the one that held those cassette tapes where you had to stick a pencil in and roll that tape in that shit when the songs started sounding funny. The one that came with the headphones with the sponges on them. And if you had the CHEAP player, that wire in between those headphones was thin and you had to keep sliding that shit on your head. I remember popping in Tyrese’s first album, Jay-Z’s Vol. 1, Total’s Kim, Keisha and Pam album and the GREAT Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. I remember tucking those headphones underneath my wool hat in the winter while I took the nearly 2-hour bus and train ride home from my job at Montgomery Ward in the cold and have to walk a half a mile to my parent’s apartment. That shit kept me sane. To run out of AA batteries was to run out of peace!

I am talking about my parents going to work and the landlord’s son letting us borrow his CD’s and we would blast music over my father’s stereo system. Tupac had become 2Pac and we listened to Makaveli. We memorialized Christopher Wallace over the sounds from Life After Death. 

When 702′s Steelo was the joint that made you jump up. 

When Immature was still the cute guys with the baggy clothes and sunglasses we all had crushes on. 

When Blackstreet was begging a mother fucka not to leave. 

When Missy had a wardrobe full of vinyl, but could make a joint that got you on your feet and collabo tracks with EVERYBODY. 

When Lil Kim’s nasty boldness shocked the shit out of everybody but broke a mold. 

When I used to run bath water and listen to that Waiting To Exhale soundtrack. 

When I used to get finger waves and pretend I was that dark chick from Zhanè and went and got my head shaved like the light skinned chick. 

I am talking about being pregnant and being on bed rest and being in the house alone after everyone went off to work and school and rubbing my belly, crying and watching Boyz II Men ‘Mama’ video. 

When I used to watch Next tell a chick they’re getting too close or Janet Jackson get her red locks braided and sing along to the soft voice of Joni Mitchell and Q-Tip spit lines in between. 

When Sisqo made a black made with blonde hair the sexiest thing alive. 

I can go on and on!

Music made me feel alive. Jay-Z’s confidence gave me hope. Tyrese made me feel pretty. Missy Elliot made me feel like it was OK to be different. Rappers like Common, Nas and Tupac made me feel woke. Chaka Khan made me feel like I could be so fucking fabulous, I could run a marathon in red bottoms. Meshell Ndegeocello gave me EVERLASTING LIFE as an out bisexual woman in a time when it was super taboo to do so. Jill Scott rode the train with me back and forth to DePaul’s campus and made me imagine a life after the struggle. When I got my first apartment, I used to turn on VH1 Soul and let it play through my crib. I used to open a window, feel the wind and lay across my bed and softly play that Best of Sade orange CD I loved so much. 

Music was soothing. It told a story. It understood me. It comforted me. I remember plugging headphones into my laptop and streaming Yahoo! Music and listening to songs to encourage me. I remember the music flowing as tears streamed down my face after I had gotten my daughter, who was in so much pain from a chronic illness, to settle down and sleep. I was intentional about what I listened to. I wanted to conjure an atmosphere that gave life. I wanted to hear my own story somewhere in those lyrics.

So, tonight as I sit here on this bed, under this duvet, with this MacBook on my lap, I grabbed these little bitty ass why-these-things-cost-$200 beats by Dre headphones and connected it to my iPhone and opened Tidal. What did I listen to to keep me motivated when I had to take the bus and get my education in the bitterest cold? What did I listen to when I held my daughter? Where was that Kiss of Life track I used to ride along Lake Shore Drive and listen to while it rocked my daughter to sleep in the backseat?

Where was my hope? Where was my motivation? 

I looked in that black search box and began my journey. Words that reminded that there has been worse than this. That I have come this far by faith. To keep pushing. I pushed through so much bullshit in my life, I should write a manual. Don’t give up now. 

Peace.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for friday, june 5 of 2020 with Proverbs 5 and Psalm 5 accompanied by Psalm 79 for the 79th day of Spring and Psalm 7 for day 157 of the year

[Proverbs 5]

Listen to me, my son,

for I know what I’m talking about.

Listen carefully to my advice

so that wisdom and discernment will enter your heart,

and then the words you speak will express what you’ve learned.

Remember this:

The lips of a seductress seem sweet like honey,

and her smooth words are like music in your ears.

But I promise you this:

In the end all you’ll be left with is a bitter conscience.

For the sting of your sin will pierce your soul like a sword.

She will ruin your life, drag you down to death,

and lead you straight to hell.

She has prevented many from considering the paths of life.

Yes, she will take you with her where you don’t want to go,

sliding down a slippery road

and not even realizing where the two of you will end up!

Listen to me, young men,

and don’t forget this one thing I’m telling you—

run away from her as fast as you can!

Don’t even go near the door of her house

unless you want to fall into her seduction.

In disgrace you will relinquish your honor to another,

and all your remaining years will be squandered—

given over to the cruel one.

Why would you let strangers take away your strength

while the labors of your house go to someone else?

For when you grow old you will groan in anguish and shame

as sexually transmitted diseases consume your body.

And then finally you’ll admit that you were wrong and say,

“If only I had listened to wisdom’s voice

and not stubbornly demanded my own way,

because my heart hated to be told what to do!

Why didn’t I take seriously the warning of my wise counselors?

Why was I so stupid to think that I could get away with it?

Now I’m totally disgraced and my life is ruined!

I’m paying the price—

for the people of the congregation are now my judges.”

[Sex Reserved for Marriage]

My son, share your love with your wife alone.

Drink from her well of pleasure and from no other.

Why would you have sex with a stranger

or with anyone other than her?

Reserve this pleasure for you and her alone and not with another.

Your sex life will be blessed

as you take joy and pleasure in the wife of your youth.

Let her breasts be your satisfaction,

and let her embrace intoxicate you at all times.

Be continually delighted and ravished with her love!

My son, why would you be exhilarated by an adulteress—

by embracing a woman who is not yours?

For God sees everything you do and his eyes are wide open

as he observes every single habit you have.

Beware that your sins don’t overtake you

and the scars of your own conscience

become the ropes that tie you up.

Those who choose wickedness die for lack of self-control,

for their foolish ways lead them astray,

carrying them away as hostages—

kidnapped captives robbed of destiny.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 5 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 5]

Song of the Clouded Dawn

For the Pure and Shining One

For her who receives the inheritance, by King David

[Morning Watch]

Listen, Yahweh, to my passionate prayer!

Can’t you hear my groaning?

Don’t you hear how I’m crying out to you?

My King and my God, consider my every word,

for I am calling out to you.

At each and every sunrise you will hear my voice

as I prepare my sacrifice of prayer to you.

Every morning I lay out the pieces of my life on the altar

and wait for your fire to fall upon my heart.

[Making It Right]

I know that you, God, are never pleased with lawlessness,

and evil ones will never be invited as guests in your house.

Boasters collapse, unable to survive your scrutiny,

for your hatred of evildoers is clear.

You will make an end of all those who lie.

How you hate their hypocrisy and despise all who love violence!

[Multitude of Mercy]

But I know that you will welcome me into your house,

for I am covered by your covenant of mercy and love.

So I come to your sanctuary with deepest awe

to bow in worship and adore you.

Yahweh, lead me in the pathways of your pleasure

just like you promised me you would,

or else my enemies will conquer me.

Smooth out your road in front of me,

straight and level so that I will know where to walk.

[Multitude of Sins]

Their words are unreliable.

Destruction is in their hearts,

drawing people into their darkness with their speeches.

They are smooth-tongued deceivers, flattering with their words.

Declare them guilty, O God!

Let their own schemes be their downfall!

Let the guilt of their sins collapse on top of them,

for they rebel against you.

[Multitude of Blessings]

But let them all be glad,

those who turn aside to hide themselves in you.

May they keep shouting for joy forever!

Overshadow them in your presence as they sing and rejoice.

Then every lover of your name will burst forth with endless joy.

Lord, how wonderfully you bless the righteous.

Your favor wraps around each one and covers them

under your canopy of kindness and joy.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 5 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 79]

A song of Asaph.

O God, the nations around us have raided the land that belongs to You;

they have defiled Your holy house

and crushed Jerusalem to a heap of ruins.

Your servants are dead;

birds of the air swoop down to pick at their remains.

Scavengers of the earth eat what is left of Your saints.

The enemy poured out their blood;

it flowed like water

all over Jerusalem,

and there is no one left, no one to bury what remains of them.

The surrounding peoples taunt us.

We are nothing but a joke to them, people to be ridiculed.

How long can this go on, O Eternal One?

Will You stay angry at us forever?

Your jealousy burning like wildfire?

Flood these outsiders with Your wrath—

they have no knowledge of You!

Drown the kingdoms of this world

that call on false gods and not on Your name.

For these nations devoured Jacob, consumed him,

and turned his home into a wasteland.

Do not hold the sins of our ancestors against us,

but send Your compassion to meet us quickly, God.

We are in deep despair.

Help us, O God who saves us,

to the honor and glory of Your name.

Pull us up, deliver us, and forgive our sins,

for Your name’s sake.

Don’t give these people any reason to ask,

“Where is their God?”

Avenge the blood spilled by Your servants.

Put it on display among the nations before our very eyes.

May the deep groans and wistful sighs of the prisoners reach You,

and by Your great power, save those condemned to die.

Pay back each of our invaders personally, seven times

for the shame they heaped on You, O Lord!

Then we, Your people, the sheep of Your pasture,

will pause and give You thanks forever;

Your praise will be told by our generation to the next.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 79 (The Voice)

[Psalm 7]

A David Psalm

God! God! I am running to you for dear life;

the chase is wild.

If they catch me, I’m finished:

ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions,

dragged into the forest and left

unlooked for, unremembered.

God, if I’ve done what they say—

betrayed my friends,

ripped off my enemies—

If my hands are really that dirty,

let them get me, walk all over me,

leave me flat on my face in the dirt.

Stand up, God; pit your holy fury

against my furious enemies.

Wake up, God. My accusers have packed

the courtroom; it’s judgment time.

Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel,

throw out the false charges against me.

I’m ready, confident in your verdict:

“Innocent.”

Close the book on Evil, God,

but publish your mandate for us.

You get us ready for life:

you probe for our soft spots,

you knock off our rough edges.

And I’m feeling so fit, so safe:

made right, kept right.

God in solemn honor does things right,

but his nerves are sandpapered raw.

Nobody gets by with anything.

God is already in action—

Sword honed on his whetstone,

bow strung, arrow on the string,

Lethal weapons in hand,

each arrow a flaming missile.

Look at that guy!

He had sex with sin,

he’s pregnant with evil.

Oh, look! He’s having

the baby—a Lie-Baby!

See that man shoveling day after day,

digging, then concealing, his man-trap

down that lonely stretch of road?

Go back and look again—you’ll see him in it headfirst,

legs waving in the breeze.

That’s what happens:

mischief backfires;

violence boomerangs.

I’m thanking God, who makes things right.

I’m singing the fame of heaven-high God.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 7 (The Message)