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stardustbarbarians · 2 years ago

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Everything Leaves You Hungry

Part Two

A Samuel Kiszka / fem!reader fic

Summary: Sam gets a taste of the life.

Tags: Sam-centric, y/n isn't introduced until later on, serial killer au, addiction (but not to drugs)

Trigger Warnings: blood, death, murder (graphically described), mugging, Ohio {if I miss any please tell me}

Words: 4.6 k

A/N: Mac Saturn released their EP and this is what I do with it. Title taken from and inspired by Persian Rugs by Mac Saturn. Also this is like extremely fucked up, but I'm not gonna apologize. This is especially dedicated to @t00turnttrauma and @ofthecaravel because they were my hype team while writing this. Anyway, please enjoy!

+++

It had been about five years since the day Sam got a taste of the best euphoric experience in his life. Ever since, he’d been chasing that high. He was willing to risk his life and career to get that rush of power and exhilaration flooding his bloodstream, but he always had to keep his appetite on a very, very tight leash. Despite having to live with the constant need buzzing just beneath his skin like an itch you can’t scratch, he hardly ever satiated that desire.

Why?

Well, murder is frowned upon in all fifty states as well as in every country around the world.

Sam could tell you what happened that night five years ago like it was yesterday; it was something he often revisited in his mind. He was still in high school at that time, a member of the student council. The council all got together for a float decorating party at the president’s house, homecoming right around the corner and the seniors wanting to get a jump on their float. It was well past dark when they finished, rain dumping out onto the streets of rural Frankenmuth. Sam had been waiting for Jake to come and pick him up for twenty minutes, standing on the street corner they agreed to meet at.

He’d long since been soaked to the bone, nothing to shield him from the severe rain. Calling Jake wasn’t an option; his phone died at the meeting. He had to make a choice, either walk back to his fellow council member’s house or just make the half an hour walk himself.

Since he was already drenched, Sam threw caution to the wind and began trekking towards his house. He decided to take the route that Jake takes to drive him, that way if he did eventually show up their paths would cross. It was quite relaxing, despite the pouring rain. It was a fairly safe walk, just farmhouse after farmhouse and long stretches of fields in between; save for one section. There was an old steel mill that had shut down in the 70s and it was always in the news; people ODing there or murder victims being found within the decaying walls. One time there was even evidence of satanic worship found in the building which just nearly got the city to tear it down. However, they never could scrape up enough funds for that.

Usually, driving past the bowing chain link fences that were tangled with weeds sprouting out of the cracking concrete was safe enough. Considering Sam was walking, that put him at risk. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he strode past the crumbling structure, his eyes darting frantically around the dark for any threats. His sight was the only sense he could rely on, the roaring patter of rain plummeting into the ground like omnipresent static hindering his hearing significantly. Sam blames that on how he found himself with the business end of a knife pressed to his throat.

“Give me your wallet, pretty boy,” someone hissed into his ear. Sam immediately put his hands up, his blood turning cold.

“I’ll give it to you, I’ll give it to you,” he rushed out, his tone distressed. He frantically searched his pockets, patting down his jeans and his leather jacket. It was while he was searching his jacket that he found the box knife he’d used at the council meeting to open the packaging on their float decorations.

Without thinking too much, Sam pushed the blade out of the handle with the button and slashed at his attacker’s arm. The knife left his throat, the man he injured screaming out in agony. Sam whipped around to face him, his eyes taking in the sight of a vagabond clutching his arm as blood gushed out of a gaping wound, the rain attempting to keep up with the flow of gore and wash it away. Using the distraction to his advantage, Sam wasted no time swinging the box cutter into the side of the mugger’s neck. He managed to sever the carotid artery, blood streaming from his neck and onto Sam’s hand. It was warm, comforting against the chilly September weather.

He was mesmerized by the way the red oozed out of the gaps in the drifter’s fingers that he pressed against the wound. They both knew he wasn’t going to survive; that reality left a wild look in the attacker’s eyes as he seemed to desperately beg Sam for an answer to why. Sam was frozen in place. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the way the life seeped out of the vagabond, the fight for his life something so enticing to Sam.

He was expecting to feel a crushing dread fall upon him like an anvil as his victim ceased moving, a crumpled shell of a man lying hopelessly in the dirt. Instead, he felt a sense of power and euphoria thundering through his veins. The adrenaline rush left Sam feeling like he was invincible, a weightlessness hovering him from the clutches of the tethers of reality.

There was a small voice at the back of his mind that was telling him he needed to flee the scene. He stumbled back from the body, his legs feeling numb and having a mind of their own. Closing his eyes and letting the moment sink in, Sam took a deep breath and returned himself to normal. He walked away from his crime just as he had walked into it; like he hadn’t just committed an act of god.

He didn’t throw the box knife away. He didn’t even put it back into his pocket. He kept it in his hand and let the rain wash away his sin.

The rest of his trip home went off without a hitch. Sam, upon turning onto his block, finally tucked the box knife into his jacket. He didn’t even bother knocking as he strode right though the front door. The twins, who were watching Psycho, jumped at the sound of the door opening. They visibly relaxed when they realized it was just their brother. Then Jake seemed to remember that he was supposed to have picked Sam up from the council meeting, his eyes as wide as dinner plates and his body as rigid as a 2x4.

“Shit, Sam, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologized, fearing the wrath that might come from forgetting his little brother. He kept glancing at Josh, pleading with him to help him out.

“Don’t worry about it. I got to go for a relaxing walk,” Sam dismissed, waving his hand at Jake and toeing off his soaked converse. They had made squishing sounds with each step he took.

The twins wore matching expressions of pure shock. Typically, Sam would’ve been so pissed off he would’ve tore them both to shreds with his wrath. Never before had they seen him be so calm over such an inconvenience.

“Y-you’re not mad?” Josh timidly inquired. He was expecting to have to wrangle Sammy away from Jake that night.

“Nope,” Sam answered, popping the P in the word. He flashed them both a brilliant smile, wringing his hair out in the kitchen sink that was across from the living room.

Josh and Jake shared a look with one another, having one of those silent conversations. When he was done squeezing the water out of his hair, Samuel stepped into the living room. Noticing his presence, they turned to look at him.

“What’s on your shirt?” Jake questioned, pointing at the orange-ish pink spot on Sam’s white shirt. The youngest pulled the fabric away from his skin, regarding it.

“Shit, I knew paint was a bad idea,” he smoothly lied. He was so glad at that moment that their school colors were red; it made the lie all the more convincing. His brothers seemed convinced, accepting the possibility of Sam using paint at his float party. With no further questions, Sam went upstairs to get changed out of wet clothes.

For the weeks following that night, Sam kept an eye on the news. It took a day or two, but his murder eventually made it on the air. The story only covered the basics of the incident: a man was found dead outside the Cass Steel Mill, a slash on his arm and stabbed in the neck. A police investigation was opened, but the running theory was that he got into a fight with another drifter over territory.

That was the end of it. Despite opening a case on the murder, the authorties didn’t spend too many resources on it. It went cold.

Sam got away with murder.

It started an insidious chain reaction inside of Sam. He felt like a god; nothing could match him or defeat him. It was the most addictive thing he’d ever known.

+++

After that night, he was left with the insatiable need to chase that high buzzing just beneath his skin constantly. However, he didn’t give in until almost a year later. The reason he was holding back wasn’t due to the fact that he was afraid of who he became; it was due to the fact that he didn’t want to push his luck.

Making it big with the band and going on tour was great because he was able to live his dream of becoming a professional musician and all, but it was amazing because he was able to hop around city to city and hardly leave a trace. He had an excuse to constantly be running away from his crimes. He was never a suspect because he was never around when the bodies were found. He learned to keep the weapons with him after his first went cold without a weapon found and he also never used the same one twice. If there wasn’t a pattern, then there was no way to connect any of his killings.

There were moments where he felt a ghost of what could’ve been fear at what he was capable of, his inability to feel anything close to remorse for taking people’s lives, but he was able to easily tune it out with his fervent need. There was nothing that could stop him short of his own death.

Despite being hyper aware of his own invincibility, Sam still kept an eye on the news at all times. There was a difference between knowing your abilities and arrogance and Sam was frequently keeping himself in check to prevent himself from slipping towards the latter. However, he wasn’t infallible. While trying to emulate the role of the gods, Sam didn’t realize he was in fact playing the part of Icarus. It was while they played a show in Ohio, because of course it was in Ohio. Nothing good ever happens in that wretched place.

As usual, the niggling craving for blood was vying for his attention. But that night, it was so incredibly strong that Sam couldn’t concentrate. He felt as if every synapsis in his brain was begging him to slake his thirst, but it went even beyond the mental. It was affecting him physically, as well. His heartbeat could be heard thumping within his chest by his own ears, his vision going in and out of focus with each contraction of his heart, and his hands shaking like a Parkinson's patient. He was irritable, speaking only in a clipped tone and snapping at anyone who dared to converse with him.

Jake and Josh, who were used to such behavior from their brother, just rolled their eyes at Sammy and basically ignored him. Daniel noticed. He knew it wasn’t normal for Samuel to be behaving so irate.

“Sam, what is going on with you,” the drummer questioned after pulling him aside from his brothers. Danny was prepared to get into an argument with his best friend, prepared to fight to get an answer out of him, but it seemed he didn’t need to.

“I’m having really bad withdrawals,” Sam sharply explained. He wasn’t lying, just omitting what he was feeling so deprived of.

Concern flashed across Daniel’s face before Sam turned around and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Danny called out after the bassist.

“For a walk,” he answered right before the hotel room door slammed behind him.

The muggy night air only added to Samuel’s irritation, the soupy air making it even harder for him to breathe. He didn’t even know where he was going, all he knew was that he needed to find someone and fast. He wandered the streets of Cincinnati, searching for the perfect victim. It took a while and he was starting to get severely agitated over it all. He got so annoyed that he in fact made a vital mistake; but he wouldn’t discover that until later.

Sam finally found someone walking alone in a part of the city that was dim enough so that any surveillance footage would be practically useless. She made the mistake of cutting through an alley, not even looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following. The moment she vanished from view was the moment Sam’s stride got faster, using those long legs of his to his advantage. He caught up with her soon enough, his arms wrapping around her waist and then her mouth to muffle her screams; as much as he wanted to hear them it was far too risky.

Once in his grasp, he wrangled her to the wall, throwing her against the brick before his hand found her mouth again. They were face to face, her eyes wide with fear and panic. He’d give anything to know what was going through her mind at that moment, but his withdrawals were far too strong to play such games as those. He pressed her against the wall for a few more seconds as he retrieved his weapon of choice: a screwdriver. It wasn’t ideal, but he was pressed and it was the best thing he could find on tour without having to spend money and leave a trace.

Finally in hand, Sam took the screwdriver and forced it into the spot where her neck and shoulder meets. Blood instantly bubbled out of her wound, his hand still pressed against her as she attempted to scream and fight him. He wasn’t focused on that. His attention was drawn to the way her life slowly eased out of the gaping wound and the spark of life extinguished from her eyes.

Finally, his insatiable need was quieted. He was breathing heavily, his euphoria thundering through his veins. He felt satisfied for the first time in months. He felt as if he could breathe, the oppressive need was no longer smothering him. Tipping his head back, he reveled in the feeling of freedom it gave him.

His craving satiated, Sam yanked the screwdriver out of his victim’s neck and watched as she slumped to the ground without his hands to support her weight. To throw the cops off even further, he riffled through her purse and removed her wallet. That way they would believe that it was a robbery gone wrong instead of a serial killer. He never used the money that he took from his victims as it would help the cops trace him down. Usually, he tossed them out the window of his tour bus or threw them in the incinerator of the venues he played.

With her wallet in his pocket, he walked away from the scene, careful not to take the same route he came. He didn’t know that an officer witnessed him walking out of that alley until years later.

+++

They were back in Cincinnati once again. It had been three years since Sam had killed that woman in the alley; a thought that placed a small phantom smile upon his lips each time it entered his conscious mind. There was a fleeting moment where he thought about visiting that alley again for old time’s sake, but he knew that was foolish.

This visit to the Ohio metropolis was considerably more relaxing for Sam than that last one was. He’d quenched his addiction a week before his return, marking that as his ninth victim. He was laying around their hotel room, staring at the ceiling and groaning about how bored he was. Daniel was in the room with him, laying on his own bed and reading a book while ignoring his best friend.

It was quiet in the room, save for the humming of the air conditioner in the room making the curtains billow. Sam hated the quiet. There was nothing to distract him from the haunting wails that were a persistent soundtrack to his waking moments. Their utter panic as they realized that their last moments would be spent with him. The guilt that maybe what he was doing was-

“If you’re so bored, go find something to do,” Danny suggested in a dismissive tone, beginning to be at his limits with Sam.

Sam looked over at Daniel, hanging his head off the side of the mattress. His long chestnut hair cascaded down against the stark white sheets, his eyes almost rolled into his head to properly see Danny from his position. His face was starting to turn red from all the blood rushing to his head.

“Fine. I’m going out,” he stated, springing up from his spot on the bed and began padding around his hotel room. He stripped himself of his casual white button up and tiny running shorts and replaced them with a nicer pair of black dress slacks and red satin shirt. Before Daniel could stop him, he was out the door.

He cabbed over to the nearest bar and upon entering, began scanning the room to see if there was anyone that could potentially fulfill his appetite - despite having claimed another life the week prior. Sam found it was the only thing that he found himself craving most of the time.

When he took that first vagrant’s life, he tried to satiate his desires with other things. But no matter how many women he slept with or illegal substances he filled his veins with, that craving wouldn’t go away. Once you taste the life, everything leaves you hungry.

Not finding anyone who suited his taste, Sam just sauntered over to the bar and ordered a drink. He finished that first drink when a woman dressed in a revealing dark forest green satin dress approached him. Immediately, Sam’s guard was up. He didn’t want to deal with fans tonight and even if she wasn’t a fan, there was something in the way she carried herself that seemed off. He kept scanning her, trying to figure out what it was about her when she talked to him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she prompted Sam, leaning against the bar in a way that made her breasts stand out. Sam huffed out a small laugh, figuring that he’d turn on the charm and solve her puzzle. It was something to pass the time, at the very least.

“Probably not. I’m here on business,” he explained. He didn’t want to give away too much information.

“Oooooooo, so he’s mysterious. C’mon, mystery man, what business are you on dressed like that?” she pushed, leaning in closer to him. Her drink was placed in front of her by the bartender.

“You’re telling me you know how to tell people’s jobs by how they dress?” Sam asked, thinking it would be a good way to try and prod her for information about herself.

For a second, her eyes flashed with something close to fear. But fear at what? Did he step too close to the truth?

“It’s something of a parlor trick of mine,” she explained away, taking a sip of her drink to buy her some time.

“Do go on,” Sam prompted, turning the situation around on her. Now he was the one in control of the situation and putting her on the spot.

The woman went on to point to different patrons and guess what profession they worked in based solely upon their appearance. There were a lot of different factors that played into her profiling, mostly how pricey their clothes and accessories were. It was when she got the person on her right spot on with his job that Sam finally figured it out.

“What’s your name, darling?”

She was a cop.

“Y/N.”

“I’m Sam. What do you say we get out of here?”

She accepted, following him out of the bar and flagging down a cab. During the car ride over, Sam texted Daniel to ask if he was in the room. He wasn’t.

It was a flurry of kissing and roaming touch once the door to his room was unlocked. She all but ripped Sam’s shirt off, throwing him onto the bed. She was quick to climb on top of him, straddling his hips and swallowing his breath out of his mouth when she pressed her lips back onto his. It happened so quickly and Sam was beginning to feel like he was getting whiplash.

He blames that on why he was so unprepared for there to be a knife against his throat.

“Alright, pretty boy. You’re gonna tell me where your murder weapons are, or I’m gonna have to put a hole through that gorgeous throat of yours,” she threatened, her demeanor completely changed over from the woman Sam met at the bar.

“You think I’m that pretty, huh?”

Without another word, she took the butt of the handle and cracked it across the high point of his cheekbone. It would leave a bruise.

“Shit! I thought cops couldn’t hit people like that!” he hissed, his hands up in surrender.

“Good thing I’m not a cop, then,” she haughtily replied, once again pressing the knife against his throat.

Sam just gave her a confused look as he tried to figure out who she was.

“It really is a good thing you’re pretty. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Once she revealed her profession, everything clicked into place.

“They don’t have any solid evidence on me, huh,” he taunted, his hands sliding underneath his head to prop it up.

“What makes you think that?” Her head cocked to the side, her overconfidence showing in that simple gesture.

“Well, if they’re sending you after me, the cops must be pretty desperate. Tell me, how did they name me as a suspect and for what murder?” He was stalling and they both knew it.

“Why the hell would I tell you?”

Sam chuckled dark and low. He was hardly intimidated by this woman, but he also needed to play his cards right. He needed to keep her talking; keep her distracted.

“I tell you what: you tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you something that you want. How does that sound, sweetheart?” He only ever used “sweetheart” when he was being condescending.

“Something I want, huh? And what might that be?” Her tone was sultry, almost like honey. It was a sharp contrast against the cold steel pressed into his flesh.

“What are they paying you? I can more than double it,” he offered, not even a hint of fear in his blood as she applied a little bit of pressure with the knife.

“Hmmm, cute. But I don’t need the money.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want to play by her rules, but he needed to know what the cops knew about him. “Fine. I’ll get you the murder weapon.”

“There we go, sweetheart. We have a deal,” she announced, refusing to remove the weapon from his throat.

“Start talking, doll. I have a show I need to be on stage for tomorrow, I can’t be here forever,” he impatiently prompted.

“You were spotted leaving the area of Chelsea Murdock’s murder around the estimated time of death by an officer on patrol that night,” she informed, her hair slipping off her shoulders as she leaned into his ear to speak again: “Not as invincible as you thought you were, huh, pretty boy?”

Sam growled in frustration. Of course the only time he slipped up was during the only murder he commited in Ohio.

“Now, get me that screwdriver, or I change the color of these sheets to red,” she hissed, sitting up properly and pressing the knife a little harder against Sam’s throat.

“You’re awfully cocky if you think I’m gonna do what you say,” Sam argued, his bratty streak still shining through despite the life threatening situation he was in. But, he really wasn’t concerned. You can’t kill a god.

“We had a deal, Samuel!” she bellowed, her other hand fisting into Sam’s hair in an extremely painful grip.

“That I never agreed to.”

Just when - for a fleeting moment - Sam thought that he was about to experience the last thing his victims experience before their lights went out, he was met with a warm spray of liquid against his face. That warmth then pooled onto his stomach as her blood flowed down her torso and onto Sam. He allowed himself to revel in the feeling of that crimson ichor blessing his skin; something he wasn’t allowed to experience very often in his life.

Her lifeless corpse slumped onto the bed to the left of Sam. He only knew that because he could feel her weight shifting the mattress. He had closed his eyes in order to properly enjoy his religious experience

“Sam?” It was shaky, but it didn’t sound afraid.

The bassist finally snapped his eyes open to see Daniel Wagner standing at the foot of the bed. There was a knife in his right hand that was covered in blood, the red staining his hand as well. There was a wild look in his eyes, but it wasn’t fear. He’d seen that look on Danny’s face after a really euphoric performance on stage.

Was that what I looked like after my first time?

“What are you feeling, Daniel?” he asked, out of breath. This truly was his dream come true.

The drummer looked at his right hand and gulped. It was shaking as he gazed upon it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the blood sluggishly dripping down his arm.

“Maybe there really is something to what you’ve been saying… Y’know, about feeling… god-like,” Danny answered. It was adamantly clear that he was very unsure about everything, but Sam would be there to coach him through it.

“I told you,” he began, his voice strained as he pushed the corpse off of him, “it’s an experience second to none.”

Danny was as rigid as a board as Sam approached him. His gaze was now locked onto the bounty hunter’s lifeless body, the gears turning inside that brilliant mind of his.

“What do we do now, Sam?” The tremor in his voice was slowly dissipating with each passing second.

“Now,” Sam took the knife out of Daniel’s hand, “we call the cops.” He pressed it against his lips under Danny’s watchful eye. Samuel watched as a shiver traveled across his best friend’s body, their eye contact unbroken.

They did call the cops. The pair of musicians explained that they had to kill her out of self-defense. She was trying to rob Sam, threatening him with a knife. She knew who he was and how successful he was. When Danny came into the room he did what he had to in order to save his best friend’s life.

The case went under investigation, but ultimately the murder was rulled in self-defense.

Sam Kiszka and Daniel Wagner got away with murder.

And they would continue to get away with murder.

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @kdarling1 @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka

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#greta van fleet #greta van fic #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x y/n #sam kiszka x reader #sammy kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #josh gvf #jake gvf #serial killer au

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cyndecreativity · 3 years ago

Text

Day 5 - Believe in Yourself

Throne – Watching the sunrise – “I’m not saying I told you so…”

Unable to sleep, Alden wanders the halls of the Imperial Palace lost in thought. He finds himself in the Grand Hall, confronted with the reality of his imminent position as Emperor. It all feels too much for him, but a surprise visit with his brother cheers him up a bit.

~2500 words

---

The quiet, comfortable solitude of night always invigorated him. No teachers, parents, siblings, or peoples to interact with as they all slumbered lifted a burden from his shoulders he never recognized until the weightless feeling after it left. With the world sleeping, he finally had freedom. Freedom to just be rather than be something.

In an effort to avoid waking his wife – wife! – he roamed the halls of the palace, lost in thought. The moon shone brightly through the various openings in the palace’s walls, the windows open for the cool night air to circulate. Idania had insisted on it to reduce stuffy and stagnant air. Servants would be up with the sun to close them all again, the stained glass painting the inner walls in the sunlight. He had no preference either way, something that frustrated her to no end. But with the mental and physical exhaustion of his new role as heir to the Scorpio Crown, he rarely had the energy left for such menial decisions.

A few overnight servants, the ones that swept the floors and straightened carpets and dusted and all the other things that Idania organized for the beautification of the palace. They all started upon seeing him, but he apologized for bothering them and continued wandering. Most attempted to ask if they could help, but he thanked them and proceeded through the grounds. In truth, he had no real destination in mind, just let his feet take him where they would, his mind lost in the weeds of anxiety.

The older members of the council had little faith in him, having hoped to overthrow his mother with news of his status as a bastard and the actions of his brother. They had no care for the circumstances or truth behind either, only desired to seize power. But they also had not put in the time or effort to turn the people to their side, resulting only in ineffectual posturing as the people chanted for the Kil’Jades. Karlina spent time as the grieving mother, spent time rallying the people, spent time garnering sympathy for her children. When Alden returned to them after years missing, thought dead, they people rejoiced. The announcement of Sylvain’s survival met the same raucous applause. The people loved the Empress and her family. The other council members had no chance, so caught up in their petty squabbles, that all they ever managed to do made things worse for the peasantry.

He would have to fight them, fix the problems they crafted to make him look bad, to squelch their powergrabs before they came to light. He remembered the many times he had stumbled into bettering life for the people in Lotuserna with Sylvain’s help. The ripple effect of his small appetite that turned into food banks all over the Lotus Capital had been a startling lesson in economics and goodwill for him. Could he replicate that on his own?

He could always consult with Sophie. She trained in governance from a young age and had the blood of the Queen Mother in her veins. She managed to repair the damages brought by Preminger and his poor advice to her brother Andre in a few months as Queen Regent. Even the rumor of her relationship with a Libra had not sullied her reputation and popularity with her subjects. The Djinn had no head for governing among them, not a single one, though Tristan knew a small village Mayor-in-Training that might be able to give him a good word with the Taurus leadership. He had made an impression on the Grand High Judge in the Libra while Idania made friends with the Clipped down below.

Footsteps echoed around him, jerking him unceremoniously from his thoughts. The Grand Hall stretched out around him, a stage-like dais stretched across the back of the room. The carpet, a rich tapestry of reds, greys, and browns for each of the tribes, fringed with white tassels for the Hibernation Guard. Along the edges sat the tables and stacks of chairs for Council meetings, large dinners, and small parties. A servant clutched his cleaning supplies to his chest, having not expected the Emperor-in-training to have shown up in the middle of the night.

Before he could jump into attempting to serve and impress his master, Alden waved a hand to calm him. “It’s all right. I just couldn’t sleep. Please proceed.”

The man’s eyes practically bulged from his head, his tail quivering behind his head. The next Emperor apologized to him! “I-I was actually just finishing up in here, Your Highness.” He balked, his stinger twitching.

Alden offered the poor man a smile. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

The man spread his arms in the typical Scorpio show of respect and hurried away, grabbing his bucket on the way.

Once the servant disappeared down the hall, Alden wandered through the hall, his bare feet thumping quietly over the scratchy rug, slapping softly on the polished stone, his tail clicking absently behind. He traced fingers over the long tables, not a speck of dust in sight. How many men and women sat at these tables to fight over how best to frustrate and lead their people? How many would he cycle through over the course of his reign? How many would he have to prove himself to, would he have to remind of his position, would he actually respect?

He reached the steps to the dais. He hesitated and looked up to the thrones that waited there. The large, ostentatious throne in the center, the same design but slightly shorter for the spouse of the Imperial Majesty, then the other smaller three for the clan heads. His right arm ached slightly, a flash of purple in the magical veins, and he curled his hand into a fist.

Soon that throne would belong to him and the one beside it to Idania. His pulled in, his expression dark. He hated the idea that many would slight her for her origins, mock her for starting in an orphanage, and yet faun over her for being the Djinn of Water. He hated the idea that he would have to fight for her, protect her from their lies and politics, that no matter what she did, she would never be right for them. For him, it was normal, but he hated to see the love of his life mistreated in that way.

But with the power of the crown, of the throne behind him, they might learn to keep their mouths shut. He stepped gently over the stone and moved to the largest chair. It loomed over him, not quiet as large as when his father were alive, or the Emperor, or even a few years ago when his mother occupied the chair. He had grown, he surmised, over the years, over his journey. He looked up to the Scorpio crest at the top center of the chair, the three symbols of the clans encircled in the snowflake for the Hibernation Guard. A reminder of unity and over whom all the Emperor ruled and was ruled by.

A lot of power and a lot of responsibility rested in that simple piece of furniture. His fingers graced over the arm, also impeccably dust-free. The servants took their work very seriously. If he ever found it in disarray, if he ever found it to be dusty or streaked from cleaning, would he ever get enraged? Would he take that rage out on the staff?

“Daunting, isn’t it?”

Alden yelped, his tail raised to defend himself. At the back of the dais lie two doors that led to private hallways for the imperial family. Sylvain, his hair an ashen blonde, body hunched and leaned onto an elegant and functional cane, stood in the doorframe to the right. Alden heaved a breath to calm him heart. Sylvain chuckled and limped awkwardly and with great effort toward the chairs. Alden hurried around the chairs and offered to assist his brother. Despite his assumptions, Sylvain gratefully took Alden’s hand and led them to the chair. He gestured and Alden helped lower him into the spousal throne. With a gesture, Sylvain encouraged him to sit in the largest.

“It’s just a chair, you know.” His newly green eyes shimmered playfully in the torchlight.

Alden sighed and shook his head. “But it’s not, is it? I mean, functionally, yes, of course it’s just a chair. But…” He pointed to the Scorpio crest. “It represents so much more.”

Sylvain nodded and placed his hands on the top of his cane. “Do you remember what we were taught about the crest?”

A small chuckle shook the Red Prince. “I do.”

When he did not elaborate further, Sylvain smirked. “You do not.”

Alden rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I don’t.”

A raspy chuckle drifted from the older Scorpio. “Then why worry so much? It’s just a piece of art on an overly elaborate piece of furniture.”

The younger brother huffed slightly. “There are those that worship this crest. Those that place trust in what it represents. That fight and die for it. That… will end up being my responsibility. All those people, Scorpio and the Hibernation Guard, will be relying on me to keep the peace in this room, to work toward their dreams and steer the empire true.” Red eyes met green. “I don’t know if I can do it, brother. It’s… it’s a lot. Perhaps too much. I’m sure to fuck it up, somehow.”

Sylvain nodded solemnly with recognition. He knew! He fell to one knee before his brother. “How did you do it? How did you live with the knowledge that it would all fall to you someday? That you would be responsible?”

Ashen eyebrows lifted over tired green eyes. “You think I lived with it?” He sighed slowly and shook his head. “I barely survived. But I had to put on a brave front for those around me. They expected a lot from me and I did what I had to.”

Alden’s shoulders sagged. Memories of their time in the Academy, of all the days Sylvain toiled in the library, or with some private tutor or another, flashed by in an instant. He never gave it much thought then, enjoying his time spent with Valash and Alexander, the days he spent roaming the city with Idania, the days he got caught stealing. No one expected anything of him. He took advantage of that then. Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention, focused more on studies, tried to be a better Prince.

“Doesn’t matter now, anyway.” Sylvain tapped his cane against the polished stone. “Mother has named you the next Emperor. And by the looks of things, you’ll do very well.”

Platitudes and apologies died on his tongue, sputtered out as nonsense. “You think I’ll do well?”

Sylvain gestured to the chair again. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous kneeling like that.” Alden moved without much though and sat in the main throne, focused solely on his brother. Sylvain smiled. “Typically, those that crave power are not very responsible with it. And since you don’t want the power and responsibility, you are more likely to wield it with temperance and kindness.”

The younger brother scoffed. “Please. Spare me. There are plenty that don’t want the throne that would be beyond terrible at it.”

The older man shrugged and slumped back into the chair. “Well, mother won’t stop singing your praises, that’s for sure.” Another scoff. “She seems to think you’re a hero. Won’t stop regaling me with the highly fictionalized versions of your journey after-“ He hesitated briefly. “Phiphi destroyed Lotuserna.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s not very fun for you.”

Sylvain bobbed his head back and forth. “Well, it’s fun to hear all the different versions, at least. How evil some stories make me sound, how heroic others make you sound. It’s also interesting to hear her opinions of Idania change from day to day.”

Alden shook his head and slumped back in the chair. “I wonder if they’ll ever get along.”

Sylvain looked to his brother and grinned with half his face. “There. That’s it.” Alden lifted his brow. “Seeking a diplomatic solution to every situation is paramount.”

“Just because I wish for my wife and my mother to like each other doesn’t mean I have the makings of Emperor.”

“It’s the little things. Little things inform larger things.” Sylvain reached a hand to slap his brother’s arm. “Remember when you couldn’t finish your dinner and the Ambassador ended up opening up food banks all over Lotuserna?”

Warmth spread from the small contact. “I was actually thinking about that earlier! But that was all you and Idania. All I did was have a tiny stomach. But it did make me think. Could I rely on you to be an advisor? And Idania did manage to help all those refugees. And I have connections in other Constellations as well-“

Sylvain smirked. “Look at you being all Imperial.”

Alden shook his head. “You would know, I suppose.”

“I’m not saying I told you so…”

Laughter burbled between the two men, raspy and affectionate, and descended into coughs. After they calmed, Alden reached over to place a hand on his brother’s. “I appreciate it, Sylv. I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but I can count on you for advice, can’t I?”

The first light of morning peaked through over the horizon and flooded the Grand Hall. Both men started at the sudden brightness, Sylvain closing his eyes. Ophiuchus’s darkness lingered and made his brother sensitive. “Here, we should get you back to your room.”

Sylvain waved a hand. “Shying away from it won’t make me any better. I haven’t seen a proper sunrise in Spirits know how long. I’ve missed it.” Those tired green eyes lifted to Alden’s. “And of course you can rely on my counsel. You’ll need at least one person to tell you when you’re being incredibly stupid.”

“Kelara?” The left door behind the dais creaked. Alden lifted his eyes to his wife, her hair a mess, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing in here?”

Warmth filled him again, a different one this kind, as his arm glowed a faint purple. “Kelara! I’m here with Sylvain, actually. Apparently neither of us could sleep.”

She padded across the floor and leaned over to smile at Sylvain. Sylvain attempted a full smile in response, but only half his face seemed to work. “Good morning, Master Sylvain. How are the other healers-”

He held up a hand. “Don’t get me started. For now, I’d just like to enjoy the sunrise.”

She straightened up a bit and looked to the windows. She nodded, understanding, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her other hand stretched for Alden. He furrowed his brow, but he watched her hand glow on Sylvain’s shoulder. He felt more sure of his love every moment.

He shifted his weight and Sylvain winced, ready for the pain of the brightness again. When the pain did not come, he blinked and relaxed. Alden moved to his wife’s side and slipped his arms over her shoulders. She turned to beg a kiss, to which he obliged. Sylvain lifted a hand to hers on his shoulder. Both brothers muttered a quiet “thank you”.

#promptober #promptober 2021 #zodiac #writeblr #writblr #my wip #wip #original content

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technikcolorjournal · 3 years ago

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Marijuana saves lives, and I'm proof.

But some times, you still need to take medication along with it because it is not a fix all especially if you suffer from an imbalance of serotonin and dopamine due to ADHD, massive depressive/ PTSD like me.

I'm grateful to marijuana for being a safe natural medicine for me to rely on. I'm grateful to marijuana for helping me with my eating disorder helping me eat when I would go days without an appetite, I'm grateful to marijuana for helping me with my PTSD symptoms helping me calm down when plagued terrible memories and preventing me from having nightmares of the trauma. I'm grateful to marijuana for being a safe substance to choose to consume instead of whatever drugs people will push onto you at a parties or drinking alcohol. I'm grateful to marijuana for saving me from suicide attempts because it relaxed my brain and my body in enough time for me to make a wiser decision to remind my self the value of my life.

I've been through a journey ever since the pandemic started, and I could not have made it through all that if it weren't for marijuana holding me together. I think it should be made recreational and legalized because it's a safer alternative, I would rather smoke weed then take pills, I would rather smoke weed the drink alcohol, I would rather smoke weed then trust anyone handing me a plate with powder at a party.

I'm still searching for a natural alternative to ADHD medication to help with the missing serotonin and dopamine. I haven't smoked in a bit since finding safe landing from what I survived through, eating has been difficult, sleeping has been difficult, the flash backs and the nightmares are terrible. But I'm on track to getting my life back together after surviving, looking forward to getting back to work now that I at least have anti depressants to give my brain some type of serotonin tho it doesn't help with the PTSD symptoms, sucks I needed to go to a psych ward just to get access to it. And thus why I feel marijuana should be made recreational to make access to life saving medicine easier for everyone.

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thoughtlesstext · 7 years ago

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Fear Of Failure

Getting lit sucks. No, really. Think about it. Drugs and alcohol, getting high, getting LIT. It’s the same shit. Over and over and over again. Kinda boring. I mean, fun in the moment, yes. But in the larger sense of it all, is incredibly unproductive and consuming.

Think about your life. What is a driving passion for you. Something deeply personal, motivational, your power source. This is what gets you out of bed some days, and stokes the fire in your soul. It keeps your heart warm and your mind centered. Everyone has this, even if they don’t know what it is. The search for and pursuit of knowledge about this personal phenomena is a driving force of energy for most, if not all people. For some it may be excelling at their school or job. Knowing what to do and how to do it well. For others it could be cooking, eating, skating, sleeping, organizing your pantry with a label maker, anything really. Some little joy and respite from the grinding winds of life. This gives folks meaning and sustenance. For some though, it’s Art. And this is the most fascinating interest in my mind. I’m not saying Artists are better or smarter than other people, I just think the way Art is created is amazing and incredibly provocative. Back to the point though, think of an interest in your life. Check in, are you pursuing that? Do you even know with certainty what it is. What happens when you do? What happens when you don’t.

Someone told me recently about this experiment, in Arizona, I think they said. These scientists created a BioDome. Pretty much a giant glass cage completely cut off from the outside world, they are meant to be self sustainable and don’t need anything but what is contained inside to survive and progress. They tried to live in peace, but failed. The experiment failed for two major reasons. One, human strife. The scientists couldn’t get along, couldn’t figure out their differences, or didn’t want to. Which, let’s all be honest, surprises no one. But the second reason, which was infinitely more unexpected and interesting to me, was that the trees, regardless of the fact that they grew quickly and very tall, could not stay alive. Even in scientifically perfect conditions, these trees were dying. They had everything there for them, soil, fertilizer, water, every one of their needs were met, exceeded even. But the scientists missed one key factor. One thing that wasn’t even on the minds of brilliant people, whose job it is to be brilliant. Wind. There was no wind in the dome. Nothing to stress the tree out, causing it to firmly grab hold of the Earth below it, and build a strong foundation. So these trees, would get all this nutrients, and grow and grow and grow. Tall and fast, but with no base to support them, they would fall and die. Killed by their own weight. And this story gave me great pause. Something said so offhandly by this person, meant so much to me.

I feel that this chase, the innate journey that one must undergo to achieve knowledge is more important that the end goal itself. When I write and practice, most, if not all of it sucks. But I'm writing. And I'm practicing. I'm doing something, actually, viscerally, affecting change in my own life. I am producing a lasting effect. And I’m doing it all for me, that's the most important part. I am connecting with myself, holding myself accountable in a way no one else can. It’s so deeply personal it can’t not be important. Which, back to my point, is why I feel getting lit is not productive or fulfilling. It numbs your eyes, and hardens your heart. It makes feelings not feel so feely, or focuses on everything good instead of a balanced reality. And that’s just mental effects. Physically if I smoke weed everyday, or even every other day for say, a month, I can't sleep as well without it, I lose my appetite when I'm not high, I am foggy during my ‘sober hours’. I’m not saying weed is evil, but like anything in life it can be used in wrong ways. I know for myself, I use it to escape. I use it to numb and to stop this maelstrom of thoughts and emotions constantly whirling through my mind. And that’s totally okay, sometimes. But not to consistently deal with issues, not to cure depression, it’s not fine for me to lean on a crutch that keeps hurting me and pushing me down, forcing me to lean harder and harder.

This is why I hate getting turnt. Not parties, with people having fun, or even people who do use everyday. I don’t think anyone is wasting their time or life, or is somehow lesser or weak for getting high. But I know for myself, personally, that I can’t achieve my goal of forward momentum if I’m not sober. If I use weed or alcohol as a crutch. I can’t and really have no right to speak for anyone else. This is my experience, and it’s true for me, others need to come to their own conclusion. The only thing in this life that we truly own is ourself. So that’s all I really have authority over. I’m all for having fun, but I’m more for actually doing things of value. Having agency over your own life. Knowing what you are striving for, having moments of clarity so when things do get hazy you know what ‘normal’ is for you. I both value and fear that these get lost in blind fun. In getting so so drunk you don’t remember days of your life or so high you mind leaves your body, what do you really accomplish? Doing Art, is incomprehensibly more important.

I mean truly. If I’m not writing, then... Huh? What’s the point. Of anything. Cause getting fucked up, that shit don’t build nothing, doesn’t create, or move in any direction. It’s like a firework, there for a second, pop, and gone. Dazzlingly brilliant for an instant, leaving behind a trail of smoke and distinctly acrid odors. And I don’t want to get lost. I don’t want to get stuck in a cycle of desolation and numbing. That terrifies me more than any monster or government conspiracy. If i, with all the infinite possibilities in the universe, get so overwhelmed don't choose something, or I choose too late.

This is my biggest fear. The Fear Of Failure. Stagnant water. Without mindfulness of the struggle, your struggle, and everyone has one, everyone. Without something to remind you to dig deeper, to cement your foundation, you can't grow forever. You, even acting as perfect as humanly possible, will go nowhere, create no lasting effect, without strong roots to hold you high. Without balance, you will fall. Constantly drinking, smoking, snorting, or whatever else one may rely on, to me, is the folly of Human. Thinking, falsely believing in your heart of hearts that everything will be okay when it’s not, to be fearful of existing in your own head, wherever it may be. This will destroy one. You must take the time to put effort in. You must take the time to notice the strength of the wind.

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ildivine · 3 years ago

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between watching a lot of youtubers, losing a lot of sleep, and playing a lot of the off-peak games, i feel my creativity blossoming in the abstract way that i strive for.

i at least have come to understand how my creativity is dulled, and what i need to get it going again. its difficult, getting older, and becoming more jaded, and depression in the back of my mind is a noisy buzzing that can only be quelled with alcohol or weed. ive been learning how to deal without the prior, but, mm.

i dreamt about gavin and i think about a lot of people in ways that i don’t get to often talk about. its not like i talk to my therapist about this kind of thing. i havent mentioned the system to any since the last one i trusted treated it like DID, and thats fine for systems that need it, but we don’t work that way, and we never have.

alternatively i do think about myself ... and my past lives, often. i feel my limbs more often and it blends with the dysphoria; its strange to think i get so envious of just being spiritually Aware. ingesting mushrooms is the most helpful thing to me, and i know i mute my own sixth sense with doubt.

ive isolated myself from others quite a bit, as ive been mean again. im learning to appreciate the time i spend with dean and connor, even if it is every day. i miss connor every time i wake up without zem next to me, especially after weekends when i really get used to it.

our one year is coming up in july and ze thought aloud to me about marriage and we gently brushed over it. ze said something along the lines of “well, i wanted to wait for a better opportunity...” which, understandable.

one day ill be able to afford nice things like real rings and wedding ceremonies, but the last week of cleaning up my room, and throwing a lot of things out, made me realize what focusing on survival really means. i told myself that in 2021 i would focus on letting go, and its still hard. letting go of friends, and loved ones, and things, old stuff, its all the same, i have such an emotional attachment that it gets tangled in my head and my emotions. connors told me constantly to buy necessities and i brushed em off ... so im glad a friend helped us make up for it.

its embarrassing and its frustrating to rely on my money for things that others dont see as necessary. alcohol quells my twitching but i do have an addiction to it cuz i simply like to drink til i cant anymore, n im still learning that boundary. weed, i cant really explain what it does for me, cuz it is unusual. simple things like helping my appetite and sleep, two major things i struggle with a lot, as well as giving me inspiration to get up in the mornings, or do anything at all. right now it is medical in new mexico and i have a PTSD diagnosis, and when i smoke, it quiets the voices in my head screaming at me about wanting to die. i dont know how common this is, but its one of the things i struggle with financially. to survive. even with all of my antidepressants and anxiety medications, mental illness still lingers, and i think the more i delve into new media as well as reflect on past lives and old memories, my brain is in a very strange place. but ive come to appreciate that it is strange, i am strange, and i have mental illness, and i probably wont ever be able to silence it. i can take out my desire to cut my own skin open by watching dissection videos, and then im also learning and absorbing new information along the way.

when im not absolutely drunk on a tank of heavy alcohol, i can focus. i appreciate that i lost the years of 2018-2020 mostly due to how much i was drinking, on top of a medication that was already terrible for my memory. but the other day i went through my mood charts over those years, where i wrote down how i was, and although i drank daily and felt guilty about it, my mood was generally stable.

unfortunately its very expensive and unhealthy, and the inevitable withdrawals make me worse off than i started with. my therapist considers me drinking as playing with fire, but ive learned how to consume responsibly; dean and i can stop after a six pack and itll put us to sleep, but ill always want another beer, even in the back of my mind. That slight buzz from the mimosa that Connor drank and melted into was likely most of the reason ze could actually start dozing off, and we were half craving another for fun and relaxation, but i thought “i probably wont be able to sleep tonight without another drink”.

and i was right, and i acknowledge that its a problem. so ive tried to find that sensation from other things like hops tea and carbonated water (ew, its still not good, honestly dsjfsdj) or kombuchas, because it triggers the same response in my brain without.. melting my organs. did u kno ur liver is FUCKING HUGE n its also the only organ that can heal itself?? the cells reconstruct differently than scar tissue usually binds together n i just think thats Neat.meme

jokes aside, i think its also why my liver is Fine despite the fact ive drank since i was 13 years old, minus the year of rehab sobriety. That was also my Only year of sobriety. Digging into my alcoholism ive done a lot of questioning as to why i rely on it, and i think it is a lot to do with being addicted to being drunk, and i think its also a lot to do with ��wow, i can finally turn my brain off! the thing thats yelling at me all the time, feeling scared and sad,” but drinking is also essentially a boost of stress hormones, so when the endorphins wear off, u get sad or anxious all over again. ive come to learn that i only withdrawal or get hangovers if i drink more than, i guess the recommended amount by doctors. 3 glasses of wine will now do me in, dean can power thru anything regardless of what hes drinking, but it does affect the health in ways i cant ignore.

i enjoy drugs, i think is the bottom line. i look up how to get a hold of psychedelic mushrooms cuz u can just get em in the mail if ur in a country where its decriminalized (hint: we’re not) n immediately the results are between getting help for addiction or how magic mushrooms help depression in low doses.

i really have a theme here. im still mad that my parents induced my reliance on all these substances and i know i would be a lot better off if i didnt drink til i was 21 or never smoked cigarettes, and i accept im always gonna crave these things regardless, but i only feel creative when i drink or smoke, and thats another problem with addicts because u fry ur neurons hard enough it all dies down. ive appreciated watching videos and playing games when i am in the comatose, apathetic stage of depression like i have been in recently, where i cant force myself to do anything and even fronting someone else to do it takes energy that quickly dies down.

my energy has died quickly since i went vegan, as my nails have chipped since, so im experimenting with my diet. my taste pallet cant handle dairy anymore, and connor was only here to try it, and i think we all discovered we just... dont wanna do that. but eating fish again helped my energy and brought a glow back to my skin. too much, however, still gives me the greasy meat sweats, so... a lil bit of everything seems to be whats right.

i still crash a lot, but i think thats just a side effect of being 28 in this generation and feeling 68 instead.

anyway, now that my room is FINALLY clean and looking nice, i want to try to do art again. i miss art. i miss thinking in images, i miss my imagination, i miss roleplaying and writing and drawing and arting. conny wanted to paint too but was absolutely too tired on sunday lol n i respect that so maybe tonight we can get something together.

but its been nice to feel something in my brain stirring again that isnt just the gross black buzz of mental illness constantly telling me to die. i get used to it, i guess. i forget its not supposed to happen because i have survived it for so long. im on the max dose of antidepressants and medicine i can take and i still feel really bad sometimes, but i didnt realize it until other people brought it up. stress definitely kicks me into my big bipolar mood swings, but i havent shaken off the depression in months. im not sure what to do so im trying to expand my horizons.

#>>.txt #drugs text #i GUESS #i dont rly consider them drugs but i understand they can b used recreationally...#and often are #but i think of it like taking advantage of benzos #theres no real need for neurotypicals i guess

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apriltwentythree · 7 years ago

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do you want to know what my favorite neurotransmitter is…? Acetylcholine.

the other day I was at the local book store, and ended up browsing the sports section. i noticed this book ‘the performance cortex’ ; there was a chapter in it titled ’motor hunter’ focussing on Steph Curry. I am a Curry fangirl and can consume almost anything about him, even this silly Water filter Ad! anyways, i stood there for 20 minutes reading about his brain, and about how he does what he does on the playing court! the book in general attempts to speak about how Sports-Scouting is increasingly relying on neuroscience. and personally, i felt it may be an even better approach than the Moneyball-like Sabermetrics. (Moneyball btw, is one of my all-time favorite sports movies.)

later, i walked out with the realization that i am now officially a Neuro-junkie!

it is after being a part of the Brain-Gut-MentalHealth group project, that I started to obsess over the Vagal Nerve, for starters.

real quick, it goes like this….Cranial nerves are those that emerge directly from the brain, rather than from the spinal cord. there are 12 pairs, responsible for carrying sensory info to the brain, and motor signals to muscles and organs. Vagus nerve— sometimes referred to as Vagal nerve—is the 10th and the longest one, originating in the medulla oblongata and is named for its wandering path through the body. it is like a superhighway that handles sensing the internal environment of the body and regulating it, like lowering heart rate, constricting the bronchi of the lungs, reducing blood pressure, to name just a few. one of the easiest bio-hacks they say, in order to keep the Vagus nerve in tip-top-shape, is to take cold showers in the morning.

now, if you are a neuroscientist or neurologist or, a superior-Neuro-junkie reading this blog and say hey, some of your understanding here is not exactly right, i would just say i’m sure you’d know better! and will agree with you happily. on the other hand, if you are someone who thinks you are decently-smart but usually take your brain for granted, and cannot self-influence, ever, to read up on generic brain stuff unless you get Alzheimers some day, then this blog is decently-sufficient for your lukewarm-curiosity!

anyways, the Vagal nerve has been extensively studied; there is this dork-geek-nerd-joke that only dorks-geeks-nerds will find funny ‘what happens in Vagus doesn’t stay in Vagus but affects many aspects of emotionality and neurobiology, ha ha’!

to say more…lets say, you are hungry, the gut sends a hormonal trigger to the brain (Ghrelin) and when you are feeling full, it sends another (Leptin). but, now they say there is a neural circuit from the gut cells—dubbed Neuropods— that have nerve endings, which can directly communicate to the brain through Vagal neural synapses. and this overturns many ideas around appetite and satiety! say, you are into serious-dieting. taking appetite suppressants may not work as they usually target the slow-acting hormonal route to the brain, which can take up minutes to hours. but, as the instant-connection Vagal neural circuit takes about 100 milliseconds or less, targeting the Vagus may work better at losing all those unhealthy, add-on pounds!

the Vagal gives legitimacy to the idea of ‘gut feeling’ as a sixth sense, and I doubt if any of the other nerves can beat the magic!

all my Vagalmania led me to Acetylcholine and, made me think about it in context with Epinephrine, the rollercoaster neurotransmitter. now, the story there is….um, independent of the Central Nervous System, the Autonomic Nervous system houses two subsystems — Sympathetic and Parasympathetic—speaking really simplified!

Sympathetic translates to “Adrinergic”. Neurotransmitters — Epinephrine, Norepinephrine— are behind your high heart rate in both super-pumped-up situations and heart-in-the-mouth situations. and on March 31st, guess it was Sympathetic pathways that totally ran the show! This system does have a say in most Akhlat Latifa feelings that knock us over, be it beauty-weed mode or fighter-jet mode. Parasympathetic translates to “Cholinergic”. Neurotransmitter — Acetylcholine— slows down your heart rate and makes you stay in calm, comfortable situations. It’s Parasympathetic pathways that make you want to socializie and say hello. like today May 10th, which also happens to be my mother’s birthday. somewhere I read, it’s the myelinated Vagus B-fibers emerging from the Nucleus Ambiguus inside the Medulla O, that takes care of all the cholinergic responsibilities.

anyways, reading up on the lovely Acetylcholine made me think about the month of April which was like a hangover-recharge month for me, with my Parasympathetic totally working up the scene. Lot of peace, lot of beauty. Zero rollercoaster rides, zero adrenaline rushes. Thank you vagal B-fibers.

but, guess I also slightly miss my adrenergic lifestyle of the past one year, with all the nonstop-gaming, and what not….

the whole world must be engaged in all kinds of interesting things happening around. but while THIS socmedia-window-to-the-world stays super-inactive, I keep on staying in some kind of cozy, mental time-warp that I have taken quite a liking to. it’s always good to need less, I guess. and to feel oh-so-minimalistic.

Anita Desai popped up inside my head the other day, and I was reminded of one of her fiction works. in the story, all her protagonists play games at twilight, and one of them goes into a time-warp of a few hours, as he stays inside a shed next to the garage, while the others keep being engaged in all kinds of interesting games happening on the lawn around the house.

aside from being a neuro-junkie, I have always been a creative-junkie. so taking cue from Desai’s writerly imagination, I felt like “playing derivative” at her work, and go inside the head of her time-warped protagonist. and to see what I can pick up from that last weekend of March, what I can pick up from what’s on there, at this socmedia-window-to-the-world!

and there’s scope for gaming...

but let me write a quick disclaimer: bcos of KL’s celebrity clout, all the lovely colors were color-gamed by all the world more so than ever, and as imagination-inventor, AK always thinks this is immensely cool and it gives her an inception-orgasm. but, since the colors were also endorsed to crazy-overkill on this socmedia-window-to-the-world ---a lot of times in intolerance and with spite and hatred even--- AK had given away all colors sometime back in February, as part of “The Curse of Raghu”, thus making a statement of protest against the misappropriation of disability-imagination in a happily-ableist world. AK truly remains in a BnW world.

okay then, game-time!

Reference Tweets from Mar 30th:

https://twitter.com/CarDroidusMax/status/1112035121916493826

https://twitter.com/CarDroidusMax/status/1112034751521665029

#lawpoint1 -- back in August sometime, when AK/KL had first begun sparring on SM, AK had shared this Malayalam film clip and KL had shared back this ICICI Bank Ad. in both, the color is predominantly red. it is quite implicit that it is only blue in a red-disguise; there wasn’t any doubts whatsoever back then. this fact is significant as this was the first time AK/KL had ever faced-off. so if she so wishes, AK can re-possess any color. example, the red and yellow on the KSRTC bus in the above reference photo, KSRTC bus and the green in the twitter profile Cover image, the sort-of-purple on the shirt of the guy on the road in same Cover image, and the colors on Capt. Cavey DP, even! Winner takes all.

#lawpoint2 --- there was supreme court judgment sometime in September that since Karthiyayini had 2 ‘Y’s in her name, any Y in Kerala could be used to AK’s requirement. back then, as a hat-tip to this landmark judgement, the aYYappan-sabarimala ruckus had followed. so, since we already have a precedence regarding settlement of Y disputes, all 26 alphabet can be monopolized by AK just like in the board game. to say explicitly, AK can call Monopoly on the lovely district of waYanad or kottaYam or any other place for that matter. this rule is especially valid on this socmedia-window-to-the-world as the AK/KL combat had initially also begun by involving the lovely malayalam actor parvathY thiruvothu.

In clear conclusion, about the two reference tweets from KL on Mar 30, AK would like to say -- അതേ, വളരെ ഭംഗിയുണ്ട് :)

this out-of-sync and strenuous “comeback” above is the equivalent of how in her fiction, Desai writes: Ravi bawled, shaking his head so that big tears flew. “Raghu didn’t find me. I won, I won…”

all ക്രിയേറ്റിവ് മണ്ണാങ്കട്ട gaming aside, it’s also some Desai appreciation…her way of writing… sensitive imagery about gamer protagonists and their gaming worlds! It’s good how sensitivity is not just romantic fiction-feature anymore, at least for me! growing up, my mother used to sometimes romanticize my ‘differences’ using the word apoorvaraagam, and that was that! Most of us are like her I guess, rarely ever intuitively-acknowledging the many differences in how different people navigate the same world.

the Neuro-junkie in me thinks that Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS) seems to be what Desai’s timewarp-ed protagonist is going through; temperamental personality trait involving increased sensitivity and deeper cognitive processing of social and emotional stimuli. apparently, people with a high measure of SPS make up about 15-20% of the population. they say it is the gene variants of ADRA2b and 5-HTTLPR that lead to the emotionally enhanced vividness in perception.

It’s good that making sense of these will influence how we raise our children; help make lives, more tolerant and relaxed for them!

hey KL, what is your son like? does he still prefer football to cricket despite his sub-continental genes? is he old enough to have a favorite football team? someday, will you be teaching him to hack-stalk women? :) .…. my son is right now in a freezer, probably waiting for his uterus implantation by year-end! Johan is expected to default-love soccer thanks to namesake Johan Cruyff.... let’s see how that sports inheritance goes!

p.s. In this Malayalam film scene, Nanda (Revathy) tries to humor her hard-stalker Naren (identical twin no.1 Lalettan). He somehow has all the A-Z on her, while she knows next to nothing about him and just keeps going in circles trying to figure out.....

I have always loved this song from Mayamayooram. Janakiamma singing ഇതളടർന്ന വഴിയിലൂടെ വരുമോ വസന്തം....? is easily among her best! Also, I will never really know why Shobhana is not superstar-Shobhana; she is effortless in everything…. ഒടുക്കത്തെ പേട്രിയാർക്കി തന്നെ, അല്ലാതെന്താ?!

#CLASSYwomen

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fallen-wolf22 · 7 years ago

Text

Murder Of Insanity: Chapter One - His Butler, Able

Fandom: Black Butler x Supernatural x Outlast

Word Count : 4,801

Taglist: Open

Author Notes: So I am sorry it took me so long for this to go up, but as you can see I made up for it with 4,801 words and 14 pages. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Book Cover

Prologue

Chapter Two: His Butler, Strongest

The sound of clicking of a turned door handle could be heard as a door opened into what appeared to be the master bedroom, harboring a child no older then 12 years of age, before a figure dressed in black could be seen moving over to a window and withdrew the curtains back, letting sunlight into the room, which cast light over the boy in the bed.

“Master, it is time for you to wake up. For breakfast today, we have lightly poached salmon accompanied by a delicate mint salad. I can also offer toast, scones, or pain de champagne. Which dish would you care for this morning?”

“A scone.”

“Today you have a meeting with Mr.Hughes, the authority on the history of the Roman Empire. And this evening Mr. Damiano of the Poseidon Company will be paying you a visit.

“Oh, it that the man I have in charge of the stuffed animals at mt factory in India?”

“Yes. I’m told he’s Italian, we will of course offer him all the hospitality the estate provide.

“I know this smell, is this tea Earl Grey?”

“Yes, from Jackson Piccadilly. I shall wait for you at the dining table master,” As the butler was speaking to his master, he had moved over to the door with his back to his master, who had picked up a dart and threw it at the butler, who caught between his fingers, “well thrown my lord, even so let’s save the games for later.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Sebastian.”

[Scene changes to show a dining room]

The sound utensils could be heard moving on plate, before the sound of a boy wearing a yellow shirt, brown pants, and a garden’s hat laying against the back of his neck, before the boy could be seen rubbing the back of his head as he had been nailed in the back of the head by a dart, thrown back the master of the household.

“Ow! Ow,ow,ow,ow,ow, ow! What was that for master? What did I do?” The garden yelped as he looked tearfully at the young master.

“Hold still, Finny let me get it.” A young women said as she moved over the boy and grabbed the dart removing it swiftly before pressing a handkerchief from the pocket of her maid uniform and pressed it to the wound.

“Nothing, I don’t need to justify my actions.”

“Thank you, Miss Scarlett.” Finny said looking at the women has he gave a tear eyed look after she had help removed the dart. Before both of them turned towards the dining room’s door, watching it open.

Moment’s later, the butler dressed in black stepped into the dining room, moving over to the table and stood across from the servants that stood not to far from the table in a line.

“There you are! Have you finished the weeding the courtyard Finny? Mey-Rin, have you washed all the bedding’s? Bardroy, shouldn’t you be preparing for tonight’s dinner? Tanaka and Scarlett…. Well I suppose you’re both alright as you are. Now all of you, we have not time for thumb twiddling this morning, so get to work!”

“Yes, sir!”

“I’ll keep an eye on them, Sebastian.” Scarlett said to him as she walked past him and trailing after the running servants, humming an old tune.

“Simply hopeless.” Sebastian said as he watched the servants scatter to head to do their chores, before turning to Scarlett nodding to her, “Thank you, Miss Scarlett.” Watching her walk down the halling and picking up on her humming before looking back towards the young master, before walking out of the dining room.

‘The silver is polished to a spotless shine, the tablecloth crisp, clean and wrinkle-free. There is not a single bruised blossom among the Master’s favorite white roses, and finally, the highest quality ingredients have been gathered to prepare a first-rate dinner. The table is perfection, this will be an elegant Phantomhive welcome.’ Sebastian stopped his train of thought hearing the ring of a bell signaly that the young master wanted something. ‘*Sigh* Still so much to do and he calls me now.” Before stopping from finishing preparing the dinner for tonight and exiting the kitchen and heading towards the young master’s study, seeing what he required.

“A guest is comin’. All right, then this is our chance. Sebastian looks down on us all the time, today we will be so perfect he won’t even know what ‘it’ ‘im. ‘Ah!’. Yeah that’s what he is gonna say!” Bardroy said as he looked at Mey-Rin and Finny smiling, giving the other two servants courage.

“Ah!” Both Mey-Rin and Finny said as they looked at Bardroy.

“That’s for him to say, not you!” Bardroy snapped at them bother.

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Mey-Rin said and smiled at Bardory

“Right, we have to stop relying on Sebastian for everything!” Finny said as he punched the air and smiled at both Mey-Rin and Bardroy.

“It’s settled then, we got a plan of attack!” Bardroy said and nodded to both of them.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you three.” Scarlett as she had listened onto the conversation of the servant’s, she knew this was going to end badly.

“It will be, Miss Scarlett just wait and see.” Bardroy said as he looked at Scarlett and smiled at her.

“Okay, I’m not getting involved with this if it backfires.” Scarlett said as she put her hands up and walked away from the kitchen but staying with in rage if she needed to step in.

“Let’s get to it!” All three servants said and started to take action.

[Scene changes to the butler and the young master in his study]

“I’m a bit hungry, I’d like something sweet to eat.”

“You shouldn’t eat now master. You don’t want to spoil your appetite for dinner with your guest this evening.”

“ I don’t care about that, make me a parfait.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Fine, about the portrait in the hallway.”

“Yes?”

“Take it down, I am Ciel Phantomhive, son of Vincent and I am the head of the house now!”

“Consider it done, my lord.” Sebastian said and gave the lord a fake smile to him before exiting the study and heading back downstairs.

[Scene change to the disaster of the garden, the dining room, and the kitchen.]

“Now how exactly, did this happen?” Sebastian demanded as he looked at the disater’s that had occurred while he was talking to the young master for only a few minutes.

“I thought things would go faster if I used extra strength weed-killer on the garden!” Finny bawled as he looked at Sebastian.

“I was trying to reach the tea set we use for guests, but I tripped at the cabinet fell!” Mey-Rin said as she looked down at her hands, avoiding looking at Sebastian.

“There was a lot of meat to be cooked for dinner, it was going to take a long time so us, I used me flamethrower.” Bardroy shamefully said as he rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at Sebastian.

“Where were you Scarlett as this happened?” Sebastian questioned the other maid as she appeared behind him.

“It was there idea and I told them it wasn’t going to work, so I kept an eye on them to make sure nothing got out of hand.” Scarlett stated as she had looked a the messes they had made which was the normal messes they normally make.

Sebastian's nodded as he listened to her before taking a breath and releasing it before looking at the mess the three servants had made.

“Oh, we’re so sorry, Mr. Sebastian we didn't mean to!” Both Mey-Rin and Finny said as they looked at Sebastian.

‘Our guest will arrive just after 6. At most we have two hours left, not enough time to replace the tea set or find premium meats, what should I do?’ Sebastian thought and he tried to figure out what he could do.

“Calm down, all of you. Perhaps you should try taking a page out of Tanaka’s and Miss Scarlett’s book, and start behaving like… Everyone, listen closely and do exactly as I say, understand? We must be quick about this, we might save this night yet.” Sebastian said as he looked at the servants.

“What do you have in mind, butler?” Scarlett questioned the butler as she study his face wondering what he had planned.

[Scene change to the outside of the manor where a carriage has pulled up]

“Oh, how impressive!” A man with an Italian accents who was known as Damiano said as he stepped outside of the carriage and looked at the manor in awe.

“Hello, welcome sir.” The servants said in usion welcoming Damiano.

“Hello, welcome sir. This is called a stone garden, it is a traditional feature in Japan.” Sebastian explained to gentlemen and gave a fake smile to Damiano.

“Ah, prodigioso! Wonderful!! Truly an elegant garden.” Damiano said amazed at the garden.

“We thought it appropriate to serve dinner al fresco this evening. Allow me to escort you inside until the meal is ready.”

“Ha ha ha. I should have expected this from a Phantomhive. I cannot wait to see what else is in store!” Damiano said as he walked along with Sebastian into the manor, following the butler.

“Phew. We actually did it!” Bardroy as Mey-Rin and Finny agreed as they looked at each other.

“Who would have thought a dozen boxes of garvel could be turned into amazing garden!” Finny said looking at the garden in awe.

“It’s quite pretty. Reminds me of a garden I once saw in Japan a long time ago.” Scarlett said as she looked at the garden and smiled nostalgic at the memory.

“Naturally we were able to handle this. We serve the Phantomhive family after all, there’s still work to be done. Let’s take care of it while the master is talking business with his guest, look sharp now.” Seastain stated as he appeared next to servants.

“Right!” The servants said and turned towards Sebastian.

[Scene change to the master of the house and Damiano]

“The progress we’ve been making wit the East India Factory is quite astonishing. We already have the makings of a top-notch staff.” Damiano said as he looked at Ciel.

“Bewitched by the eyes of the dead. What terrible luck, it appears I lose a turn.” Ciel stated as he looked at the board game before looking back at Damiano.

“Right now is the perfect time. We should begin expanding the company and building a strong labor force it would--.” Damiano said before he was stopped mid-sentence by Ciel.

“Go on, it’s your turn.” Ciel stated as he gave Damiano a bored look.

“Oh, yes. I just turn then.” Damiano said as he turned the spinner before it stopped spinning and fell over showing a number five, then he went back to talking. “Okay there, five spaces. Now, what I wanted to ask you, perhaps you could contribute another 12,000 pounds to support out expansion? I believe it will be quite a profitable venture for you my lord, and I would consider it an honor to help expand the Funtom Company..” Damiano said as he moved his before it landed on the part of The Enchanted Forest: Lose your Leg, trailing off on his last sentence as he looked at Ciel.

“Lose a leg in the enchanted forest. And it’s your turn again, I lost a turn remember?” Ciel stated as he looked at the bored before looking at Damiano.

“Oh, I see. Right, I move six.” Damiano said before grabbing his peice moving it, before being stopped by Ciel.

“You don’t. That’s three.” Ciel said stopping him from moving his piece.

“What? But..” Damiano questioned Ciel.

“You lost a leg, if you recall. Now you can only move half the number of spaces.

“Oh m, ha ha ha ha. This is a gruesome-a board game, isn’t it? Is there-a no way for me to restore my leg, then?” Damiano asked as he moved his peice three spaces before setting down onto what appeared to be flame design.

“I’m afraid once something is truly lost sir, one can never get it lost again.” Ciel said as he looked at the board, looking at the board seeing Damiano’s piece resting on the raging flames square. “You body is burnt by raging flames.”

[Intermission]

“How is it going?” Sebastian asked as he stepped into the doorway of the kitchen, looking at Bardroy.

“I’m doin’ it like you said to. Is this really what you want?” Bardroy questioned Sebastian as he sliced the charred piece of meat and leaving the raw part unharmed.

“Yes, that looks excellent.” Sebastian stated as he looked at the meat before turning towards the other end of the hallway hearing Mey-Rin.

“Sebastian! Found ‘me! Ah!” mey-Rin called out to Sebastian as she ran down the hallway towards him, before tripping on her untied shoelace before falling forwards and tossing the boxes that were is her hands into the air.

“Oh honestly. How many times have I told you not to run inside the manor, Mey-Rin?” Sebastian said as he caught Mey-Rin and caught three of the four boxes.

“Missed one.” Scarlett said as she caught the fourth box which had flew farther then Sebastian had expected as she looked towards them, resting the fourth box on top of the other box in his left hand, gave a small smile.

“Thank you, Scarlett.” Sebastian said and nodded to her before looking back at Mey-Rin.

“I’m sorry sir! My glasses cracked and I can’t see a thing!” Mey-Rin said as she started to freak out.

“These are the last items we needed for dinner. Splendid work, everyone. And now I believe you can leave the rest to me and Miss Scarlett, relax for a bit. But I need you to do well, very well, during dinner tonight.” Sebastian stated the three servants before nodding to Scarlett and they both moved to finish dinner.

“He said it twice.” Bardroy said as he glanced at Mey-Rin and Finny.

“Ooh. That’s serious!” Finny said.

[Scene changed to the ballroad room as the door opened to announce the present of the butler]

“Pardon the interruption but, dinner is served.” Sebastian said as he opened the door and looked at the young master and Damiano.

“Oh, dining out in that exquisite stone garden? Shall we go, my lord?” Damiano said as he stood up from his chair and looked at Ciel.

“Very well. We’ll finish the game later.” Ciel said as he walked towards Sebastian before glancing back at Damiano.

“Oh, is there any real need to finish it? It’s obvious I’m going to lose.” Damiano stated as he looked at Ciel.

“I’m not in the habit of abandoning games half way through.”

“How childish.” Damiano muttered under his breath before looking back at the two before giving them fake smile. “Oh I, I mean that sometimes it takes a child’s eye to see that’s really important. It’s a true gift. Maybe that’s what’s made the Phantomhives the nation’s foremost toy makers. It certainly impresses me!”

[Scene change to the rock garden]

“On tonight’s menu is a dish of finely-sliced raw beef donburi courtesy of our chef Baldroy.” Sebastian said as he gave a fake smile, setting the dishes down in front of them.

“A pile of raw beef. And this is dinner?” Damiano questioned as he looked at the food on his plate.

“Yes, but surely you have heard of it? This, good sir, is a traditional Japanese delicacy, a dish offered as a sign of gratitude to someone who has accomplished important work. That, sir, is the wonder of donburi!” Sebastian stated as he explained the dinner.

“Oh donburi!” Damiano stated as if he knew what the food was, but had clearly no idea what it was.

“This is a token from out master, to show his thanks for all you hard work on the company’s behalf. He wanted you to know that it’s much appreciated.” Scarlett stated as she gave Damiano a fake smile and bowed, speaking.

“Now that’s our Sebastian and Miss Scarlett for you!” Finny said and smiled as he, Baldroy and Mey-Rin hid in the bushes.

“They saved the day.” Bardroy said and nodded.

“Ho ho ho.” Tanaka said.

“Excellent, what an inspired idea! The legendary Phantomhive hospitality in action!” Damiano said in excitement.

“The vintage we are pouring tonight was specially selected to compliment the flavour of soy sauce. Mey-Rin. Now Mey-Rin!” Sebastian said the the young master and Damiano before turning to Mey-Rin told her to pour the wine.

“Yes, sir!” Mey-Rin said nodding to him, before freezing up.

“Why are you just standing there? Pour the man a glass of wine!” Sebastian whispered into her ear.

“Hey…” Bardroy questioned as he and Finny watched Mey-Rin freaking out.

“What?” Finny questioned as he looked at Bardroy.

“Is it me or is Mey-Rin acting a little strange?”

‘Sebastian is watching me.I can’t take it! Don’t look at me that way!’ Mey-Rin thought as she poured the wine but missed Damiano’s glass and poured the wine onto the table.

“Ah!” Bother Bardroy and Finny freaked out as they watched Mey-Rin mess up.

“Mey-Rin stop it! Can’t you see you’re spilling the wine?!” Finny whispered-shouted at Mey-Rin staying in the bushes to avoid being seen.

Sebastian looked at Mey-Rin as she spilled the wine onto the table cloth and his winded before he grabbed the table cloth and pulled it off the table making sure not the knock off anything from the table and folded the table cloth into his arms.

Scarlett rushed over to Mey-Rin and ushered away from the table and over to where Bardroy and Finny were hiding giving them a look to take Mey-Rin back into the manor, before moving back over the table before pouring Damiano a glass of wine.Moving back over to Sebastian, but behind the young master’s chair going stock still.

“Oh? Where did the tablecloth-a go?” Questioned Damiano as he looked up from his food and seeing the tablecloth missing from the table.

“A spec of dirt. Most unsightly. I had the cloth removed to it wouldn’t distract us. Think nothing of it.” Ciel said as he gave Damiano a fake smile.

“Please accept our apologies, sir. Do continue. Enjoy the meal at your leisure.” Sebastian and Scarlett said together and bowed to him before standing back straight up.

“Oh, oh my! Lord Phantomhive, once again you have truly impressed me. What an able butler and maid you have.” Damiano said impressed with the work both servants had done.

[Scene change from the garden back to the ballboard room]

“Hmph.”

“That was a thoroughly enjoyable dinner my lord. Now then, about the contract…” Damiano said as he tried to again Ciel’s attention back to what he had asked before dinner.

“Before we discuss that, we must finished the game.”

“Ah, yes of course. I have a pressing-a appointment, perhaps another ti-” Damiano started to talk again before being stopped by Ciel.

“Children can be very demanding about their games. Surly, you wouldn’t want me to get upset.” Ciel said as he manipulated Damiano.

No, no of course not. Perhaps you would permit me to use your telephone?” Damiano asked before looking towards the door as it opened the butler walked in with a serving cart.

“I’ve brought some tea for you and my lord.” Sebastian said as he pushed the cart towards them before turning it sideways and looked at Damiano and Ciel, giving them a fake smile.

“I’ll be right back.” Damiano stated before walking out the room and closed the door behind himself.

Sebastian watched the door close before turning back towards Ciel and poured a cup and giving it to him.

“What is it? It smells terribly weak?” Ciel asked as he smelled the tea.

“Out of consideration of our guest, I bought some Italian tea.” Sebastian said as he looked at Ciel.

“Italian?” Ciel asked as he looked at his cup before looking up at Sebastian.

“Italians drink more coffee than tea, sir. So finding high-quality Italian tea can be difficult. This particular selection is not to your liking master?” Sebastian questioned the boy.

“No, it is not. I don’t like it all.”

“I’ll see to the dessert preparations.”

“Good. We must show him every available hospitality. The Phantomhive family is known for it courtesy.”

“Yes, my young lord.”

[Scene change to the telephone room]

“I’m-a tired of-a babysitting this-a child earl. Yes, I’ve already sold off the factory. Now all that’s left is to pocket the extra cash. I’m trying to squeeze more out of that brat right now. The employees? Who cares about them? Ah….! Never mind. The rest of the formalities are for you to deal with. No, it’ll be easy. Please, he’s only a child.” Damiano stopped talking as he ended the phone call.

Damiano stepped out of the telephone room before he started to walk back down the hall the way he had come the first time before glancing back, seeing something that quickly moved out of sight before he could get a good look, “Ah! Impossible. I’m seeing things.”

“Little Pig.” Could be heard with a deep male voice.

Damiano jumped slightly at the sound of the voice before moving quickly down the hall not wanting to see what made the comment.

“Bewitched by the eyes of the dead.” The earl’s voice echoed down the hall towards Damiano.

“Ah,no. That’s ridiculous. Huh. Not here either. Or here…. This manor is like a giant maze. I can’t even find the drawing room.” Damiona stated as he opened each door he came across as he looked for the drawing room.

“Bewitched by the eyes of the dead.” The earl’s voice once again echoed off the walls of the hallway towards Damiano.

“Ah… eh, ahh! S, stay away from me!” Yelled Damiano as he freaked out and took off running down the hallway.

“That’s odd. Was that our guest I heard just now?” Finny questioned as he held the other end of the painting and looked at Bardroy.

“Hey! We need to move this, or Sebastian will start yelln’ again!” Bardroy said to Finny before walking backwards and glancing back to make sure not to trip.

“Right!” Finny said and nodded, following Bardroy.

[Scene change to the bottom of the stairwell in the main forar]

“Oh, how embarrassing! Oh, I really messed up this time! Oh, but at least I was able to get close to Sebastian! Oh, what a shameful day it all! What kind of lecherous maid am I?” Mey-Rin said as she looked down at the mop and the bucket in her hands.

“You lose one turn.” The earl voice followed Damiano as he moved.

“Huff, Huff…. Aghhhh!” Damiano yelped as he fell down the stairs and fell at the maids feet.

“Ah, sir, are you alright? Ahh! His right leg! It’s twisted round. What happened to it?” Mey-Rin questioned Damiano as she watched him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bardroy questioned as he looked at the Mey-Rin as he and Finny stood at the top of the stairs.

“Our guest, something’s happened!” Mey-Rin told both boys as they looked at their guest who started to crawl away.

“And now you lose one leg in enchanted forest.” The earl’s voice said to Damiano who only heard it.

“Ugh!” Damiano yelped as he crawled away as quickly as he could with his arms.

“Sir? Uh, sir? Come back.” Mey-Rin said as she watched the guest disappear down the hallway.

“Surly you aren’t leaving the manor sir? We haven’t given you the full Phantomhive treatment yet. We still have to serve dessert.” Sebastian said as he followed Damiano has he crawled. “You’ve lost a leg, remember? Now you can only move half the number of spaces. So why not just relax a bit and make yourself at home?” Sebastian said as he trailed after Damiano before Miss Scarlett joined trailing after them both.

Damiano soon after have crawled backwards and into what appeared to be a cupboard, but the floor was sticky and smelled of sugar. “Damn, it’s too dark. Is this cupboard? Damn, these are really tight quarters. What’s this….? Smells like sugar.”

“What an impatient guest we have, don’t we Miss Scarlett?” Sebastian asked as he turned and looked towards Scarlett who bent down next to him as well.

“Yes, we do.” Scarlett said as smiled at Sebastian before turning her gaze back towards Damiano and almost held a vindictive smile towards the man.

“You couldn’t even restrain yourself until dessert was out of the oven.” Sebastian said as he looked at Damiano as he and Scarlett shut the door and locked it, moving the metal slip out of the way to view into the oven.

“The, the oven? Open up! Please, open the door!” Damiano yelled as he pounded on the door.

“Perhaps the Italians aren’t familiar with out customs. There’s plum pudding, mincemeat pie. There are many traditional desserts here in England that make use of meat. I find them all quite tasty.” Sebastian said as he closed the viewing window of the oven before glancing at Scarlett.

“Quite right, there many.” Scarlett stated as she moved away from Sebastian and oven, before disappearing out of the room.

“Your body is burnt by raging flames.” The earl’s voice echoed one final time.

“Aghhhhhhhhh!” Damiano yelled from within the oven.

“What was that? Someone screamed.” Bardroy said as he looked at Finny.

“Don’t know. Oh, hi Sebastian!” Finny said before looking at Sebastian, who walked up to them carrying a pie.

“Thank you for your hard work today. As reward would you like some lemon meringue pie? The sugar ill give you energy.” Sebastian said as he offered both of them a slice.

“Sebastian! You’re such a nice person! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Finny said as he smiled gleefully at Sebastian.

“Thank you so much Sebastian! Thank you!” Bardroy said and smiled at Sebastian.

“Oh, yes, and Bard, a workman will be coming by in the morning. When he arrives kindly let him know we’ll be needing our oven thoroughly cleaned.” Sebastian said as he turned his attention to Bardroy.

“Huh? The Oven.” Bardroy said before looking at Sebastian who had left them alone.

“Mr. Damiano. I hope you enjoyed your stay, and the Phantomhive family hospitality. All the way down to your bones.” Sebastian said as she smiled before walking upstairs and towards the drawing room.

[Scene change to the drawing room, where the young master stood looking out the window]

Damiano could be heard letting out a scream and limping/running down the driveway as quickly as possible to get away from the cursed manor, and away from the butler and maid dressed in black.

“Humph, ha ha ha. What an unattractive scream. He sounds almost like a pig taken off to slaughter.” Ciel said before glancing back Scarlett who watched from the corner of the room after having back from the kitchen.

“He does sound like a pig, Chris would have had fun with him.” Scarlett said she mentioned a man Ciel heard her often mentions but ignored it.

“Humph, what presumption, first he sells the East Indian factory without telling me, and then he dares to ask for more money? Did he think to retain my trust?” Ciel spat before turning around and walking over the board game and knocked over his piece onto the happy ending square. “I’m afraid once something is truly lost, one can never get it back again.”

[Scene change to the forare of the manor and the butler in black]

“It appears we’ll be needing to hand new wallpaper as well.” Sebastian said as he looked at the top of the stairs and wall where the painting had hung.

“I wish he hadn’t removed the painting, it was quite nice.” Scarlett said as she walked down the stairs and looked at Sebastian before moving past himsliently and towards the servants quarters.

[Ciel’s childhood Image]

“Mama, papa!”

[Fades Away]

“The head of the Phantomhive estate, hah.”

My young master Ciel has another name. He’s also known as the Queen’s guard dog for his own policing England’s seedy underground. His small body houses great determination. You will marvel at the bravery he displays when dealing with the drug traffic in the ring. Also, feel free to admire my notable skills with the silver upon which I stake my honor as a Phantomhive butler. Next time on Black Butler, “His Butler, Strongest.” You see, I am simply one hell of a butler.

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inmomni · 7 years ago

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No. 11

I need to clear my mind.

And the way i want to do it isn't really the best way to do it. Well, it’s more of a way to cloud it up so that you can't really think of the things you really don’t want to think about.

i dont know whats going on. Well i do, i dont know... I am just speaking my mind as i type away on my computer right now on a Wednesday night on February 28th, just typing the things that come to my mind. About Mindy. About weed. About what I've been doing for the last couple months of my life, in terms of my academic performance and also my social ones, and how i could have... in so many areas. I see deterioration, not improvement or growth, rather something that is the product of laziness and apathy. And, AND i know. I know. I soooo know that the answer to all of this is to simply just do it, to suck it up and get on with my life because time is not going to stop for me. I am going to continue to get older, days will inevitably be passing by, and, and i dont want to miss these things. I want to be able to reach and achieve things that i am capable of doing, when placed in a situation to show what i am capable of.

I am also questioning the... Actually i dont know. I dont actually know what it is. Something about God, and how we can trust that this is indeed the way to live life, or if its all just a fake construct, something for us to grab onto when life goes array and whack. Why can i not speak of christianly these days without a thought of doubt entering into my mind with it? Almost asking if something like this is possible. Is there really a God in this universe? Is Christianity really it? Is this really the things that will give my life meaning and purpose, is it really capable of that? Can I fully trust in what God wants for me? Can i trust in God? In terms of the Christian faith, i understand that God is one that is ultimately good, that cannot go against his own nature, that he is the actualization of Love, that he is the greatest thing that can ever and has ever existed, is eternal, good, wise, just, loving, compassionate, merciful, graceful, and yeah, he would be someone that is good for me, and i know this. But why can't i just believe it fully? Not as just a pep talk to myself when i doubt God’s hand in anything, but with a die hard, full strong belief that he is really who he says he is, and by those merits he is someone that i am able to trust in and rely on. I dont even know where this is going. Or even what I am trying to say right now.

WHERE ARE MY PRIORITIES

What are my values

what do i need to focus on right now

what is the very thing that is placed in front of me that i need to work on getting done

what is that one thing that God has told me to take responsibility for

why am i supposed to do

what are my passions

what is my path in life

what do i believe in

what are my fundamental values, foundational beliefs

what am i to do in this life

what is my purpose

how am i to achieve that

what am i supposed to do

i need help.

i want help

help for what?

how to get my life in order?

what that order is going to look like?

for what am i doing this?

why do i feel a need to change?

i am unhappy

what am i unhappy about

the state of my life right now

what in particular about the state of my life

the fact that its going mad

what is going mad

i can't get a grip on my control

so you want to be in control?

yes

control over what?

over my addictions

anything else?

over my life, my habits, my disciplines.

what do you mean disciplines?

I am not disciplined, so what i would mean from that is i want to come to a place where i am thinking of my priorities before i am thinking about what i want to do, for leisure, for fun. When i want to smoke, i smoke, when i want to eat, i do so as well, i move by feeling, not by necessity and not by importance. This is the reason why i procrastinate, because my desire to do thing that are not beneficial but purely pleasurable to me gets in the way of me doing things that i really need to get done. Things that pertain to my responsibilities as a student, as a boyfriend, as a friend, as a member of a church, as a child of God, you name it. I am moved by my desires, an nothing else, and i want to change. I am of appetites only. I want to be better, i want to learn how to take charge and get things done. God help me please. Gah i can't get out of my head, or have i lost the ability to be honest with myself.

Do I want to be in a relationship with Mindy. Is this a question? Or change the question a bit, Can i see myself with her in the future?

well that’s a scary question.

i dont know, things are kinda weird right now... And i dont really know what to do about it. Ive apologized so many times that if i do any more, ill be the death of a broken record.

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panfishonthefly · 7 years ago

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Pickerel - The Water Wolf

Chain Pickerel are very common in most waters that contain panfish on the eastern seaboard. They go by a few different names depending on where you find them. They may be called jacks, jackfish, gun fish, federation pike or southern pike if they don’t go by their proper name in your area. Found from Canada to Florida and west to the Mississippi drainage, chances are they are swimming in your favorite panfish hole. Pickerel are often an accidental catch by anglers pursuing other species, many people like myself target them specifically. Pickerel are great sport on a fly rod. They take a variety of flies including topwater patterns. They often strike flies viscously, are powerful fighters on light tackle and often take to the air.

Pickerel are not as popular with anglers as their larger cousins the northern pike and muskellunge. Many anglers have a strong disdain for these fish, which is something I have never been able to understand. I often hear the complaint that they prey on more popular game fish and they mistakenly think that by eliminating them they will improve the fishery for their preferred species. Nothing could be further from the truth. Our warm water ecosystems need a balance of prey and forage species and pickerel fill an important role as a predator. This spring, in particular, I have come across some pickerel heartlessly thrown up on the bank to die. What a waste of a great game fish!

These toothy scrapers can live up to eight years and grow up to 30” long. The world record was a 9lb 6oz giant caught in Georgia in 1961. Here in my home state of New Jersey, the record is 9lb 3oz, so we grow them pretty big up here as well. I’m certain that some waters in my home state have the potential to produce the next world record, though both records are over 50 years old so maybe the days of these giant pickerel have passed us by.

In addition to the chain pickerel, there are also two smaller species the grass and the redfin pickerel. Because of their diminutive size, they are not often sought by anglers. Redfin pickerel are common in my area with the state record be caught less than 5 minutes from my home. They can be found in the same waters as their chain sided cousins.

All species of pickerel are ambush predators that rely heavily on sight to catch their prey. They will lie motionless in cover then explode violently to secure their meal. They are lightning fast when they need to be but can also be incredibly stealthy sometimes rising like a submarine behind a fly to give it a closer look. Because they are ambush predators, they will always be found near cover. Aquatic vegetation is their preferred cover, but if it lacks in their habitat, they will also orient themselves to other structure types like wood or stone. When it comes to pickerel, the thicker the vegetation, the better. They will lie concealed then burst from cover to take their prey or your fly! They can be found in water depths only inches deep along the shoreline to submerged weed beds in 20-30 feet of water.

Chain pickerel feed on a wide variety of organisms including fish, frogs, mice, crayfish even birds. I once saw a healthy specimen leap from the water and take a redwing black bird that was hanging on a reed inches above the water. Juvenile fish will feed on aquatic and terrestrial insects as well. If they can fit it into their large, tooth filled mouth, they will try and eat it. Like other members of the pike family, their appetites sometimes exceed their abilities. On more than one occasion I have come across a dead pickerel that attempted to swallow a fish almost as large as itself!

Because of their expansive appetite chances are you have flies that will be attractive to them. Streamers, especially ones with a bit of flash in them are irresistible to pickerel. But more subdued offerings like a standard black or olive Woolley bugger have taken countless numbers of these fish. One of my favorite warm water patterns, the James Wood Bucktail is particularly attractive to these fish. Topwater flies are probably my favorite ways to target pickerel. All of your standard and not so standard bass bugs, frogs and mice patterns will work. A weedless fly is almost a necessity because of where these fish like to hang out. On one of my local lakes, a large dragonfly pattern cast to the edges and in pockets of lily pad fields will take pickerel all summer long. You will often see these fish jumping clear out of the water to take air borne insects.

Although I often hook these fish while fishing for panfish on two and three weight rods, If I am specifically targeting them I prefer a rod in the 5 or 6 wt range. A heavier rod makes it much easier to cast the larger more wind resistant flies that are attractive to pickerel. Some folks use a wire tippet to eliminate bite offs, but I usually fish with a short bite guard of heavy mono. I may lose a fish now and then, but I think I get far more hooks ups. Pickerel have excellent eye sight, and that wire leader may be a put-off.

I prefer to use barbless hooks when fishing for pickerel. Once again, I may lose a fish now and then, but pickerel tend to take flies very deeply. They also have a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. Besides being easier on the fish, it is also easier on me. One more than one occasion I have found my fingers engaged with the business end of this fish, and the result is always bloody! A fish grip tool that grabs the fish by the jaw is a handy item to have on hand when dealing with these toothy critters. I keep such a device permanently attached to my kayak for dealing with chance encounters with these toothy predators.

If you are looking for an exceptional meal, pickerel are excellent table fare, though they are a little tricky to clean to ensure a boneless fillet. Pickerel have a set of Y-bones that run down their sides that will result in a mouth full of bones if you fillet them in the usual fashion. The method I use results in five boneless fillets. Click this link, if you are interested in learning more about this method of filleting.

If you have not chased pickerel with a fly rod you're missing out on a lot of fun; their explosive topwater takes will get your adrenaline flowing. They are acrobatic hard fighting fish that will have you begging for more. Give chain pickerel a try, all I ask is that you treat them with the respect they deserve.

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