#i will honest to god make a separate post solely about every detail of the final song that i love if I'm compelled enough to but—

[furashuban]

One of my absolute positive thoughts on S3 is that it has my most favourite soundtrack by Ryan Carlson of any season, might even go out of my way and say that S3 has the best soundtrack in the whole series :0 Listening to a few songs from it after so long single-handedly saved me from a terrible mood tonight, I just love getting lost in each song and reliving the scenes they were made for.

(This is also another way of me saying that "The End" is—and I mean this genuinely with no exaggeration—the GREATEST song from a TV series soundtrack I have ever listened to and to ever grace television and animation <33)

[fatigued-but-trying]

First Post/Intrduction

Hi, I’m Fatigued-But-Trying (Not my real name obviously) , and I suffer from CFS/ME (chronic fatigue syndrome /myalgic encephalomyelitis. Ill be honest, I never thought id be writing a blog or really wanting to detail what my condition is like or what I go through, but in the past week, I’ve  been suffering from a viral illness, which when combined with my cfs/me, left me in a hospital overnight while they checked up my symptoms and made sure I wasn’t in danger.

As a brief summary of my life to now, I studied at a private school for high school, achieved excellent A level results and made it to a uni I honestly never thought id make it to.  Up until that point last October, I probably would have said my life had gone well and that I was enjoying it. Then, late October, I just lost all energy. I was on a medication to combat a potential separate condition when t basically stripped me of all my capabilities to move. So, I had the “Joy” of spending approximately 7 hours in a hospital A and E ( I won’t say where, but they were so good and helpful). I’d hoped to write it off as a one time thing, and hopped that maybe it was just a sign my other condition was improving. Then it happened again, and again. Two months on it was happening so frequently and to such a bad extent, I had to intermit and leave one fo my dream places to study to recover. And then Covid happened. That, that really sapped a lot of my energy and mental fortitude, and honestly it pushed me a bit with some of my friendships, partly as I couldn’t really do a lot, and partly as we just couldn’t see each other. It’d be a lie if I said I didn’t get depressed by it all (and it would be another lie in itself if I didn’t say I was still somewhat depressed right now). But, I took my time, I too everything slow, and I thought I was finally on the way to recovery and actually being able to go back to study. So I got everything in place and even put precautions there in case of relapses, and everyone was so supportive. I was hopeful that I would get back.

And I have. I am currently back at Uni. But, my energy is being sapped again. As I say I have caught a viral infection at the moment, and it has just reset my energy levels so much and left me a little confused/worried about my energy level state afterwards. So, I’ve decided to write this blog or whatever it ends up being, partly to give my perspective on the condition and how it affects me ( as if you are a sufferer or know someone who has it or has had it, it varies so much between person to person, and takes on so many different forms) and partly to just have my say on the world, and how the other stuff going on effects things.

Am I trying to be original? God no, I realise this has be done hundreds if not thousands or tens of thousands of times, it is a somewhat common condition. Am I doing it as I’m upset at the system? I suppose it could be argued that a part of this is aimed at that. The medical care in the uk is great, but is severely underfunded in so many places, for every miracle or timely intervention they are able to do, there are others where they are just too slow, and the worst part is the fault doesn’t really lie with them. I ma doing it to have my say, and to try and help someone else, even if it is the smallest way, as I know how hard it is to keep going or to just do the day to day with this condition.

I am also autistic. That however is all the label you need to give to it, unless you prefer from autistic spectrum disorder (I prefer to just say autistic as it easier), so there’s that too, which also complicates my cfs and day to day life. So, if another autistic person stumbles across this blog, and it helps them somewhat, that’s great too. I’m not however going to list here how my autism affects me, as it is so much more of a gay area then shows or films or many mediums would lead you to believe. For now, this is really all you need to know

 So then, my day. Well, the positive of the day is I managed to watch one of todays lectures, which is somewhat of a victory considering how hard it can be to concentrate someday (Yes I have Saturday lectures). But, I’ve also been confined to my room, partly to prevent my virus from spreading (Even though I’ve tested negative twice for Covid, and it is by my choice) and partly just because I would otherwise struggle to really get that far from it, even the bathroom or the door of my room has been a struggle today. Id rate my level of fatigue at around a 7, everything is taking my either time to save up the energy to do it ( such as moving around the room or watching a lecture) or requiring it to be the sole thing I am doing ( such as typing this blog post out). So, it could be worse, but it could also be so much better! I’ll also say this is my own scale, and for me anything less then a 4 is just about workable to be a halfway normal day, while a 10 is probably as close to  being comatose as possible ( and before the questions are asked, if they ever are, I have been like that)

 The posts likely won’t be that long, unless I’m talking through an actual aspect of my conditions in some detail, in which case I’ll try to be detailed (Also, expect loads of errors and spelling mistakes). I’ll try and answer questions if they are put on the blog, and maybe if it’s a good enough question i’ll make an actual post on my answer. I’ll try to be consistent in the amount of content, if not the time it is posted. Please, feel free to ask questions or that, but don’t say or spread negativity. If you ever want some advice on dealing with this, I cant promise to be able to help ( especially as for some sufferers I’m still considered to be very much in the early stages) but i’ll try, and if I can’t i’ll try to be positive still. I wont promise to be always positive in these posts either, I believe in honesty and choice as a key thing, so If I’m talking about a negative part of my condition, or a negative way it leaves me, don't ask me to remove it. If you want to share it please do, but don’t make me out to be anything special. I’m just a person, going through life and suffering from my conditions, its that simple ( reasonable) . Any questions please ask, otherwise, see you tomorrow ( if this is ever found).

[dear-trashpanda]

Slightly longer incoherent post instead of five separate shorter incoherent posts

So like I wanted to point out a couple things.

1, I was in an earlier post talking about how my parents used to tell me to pull it together when I was younger. And I realise that from that post without context it might seem like they have been emotionally abusive towards me or something. And I just wanted to point out that this is not at all the case.

Basically my dad is a poster boy for undiagnosed Asperger's syndrome, he was abused and neglected as a child and he has lost 3 out of his 4 children, and my mum is a half-orphan who grew up with no mum of her own and a dad who never got over having lost the love of his life and so he couldn't really be there for my mum when she needed him most. Looking at them through this lense, yes they are two incredibly damaged people with their own respective plethora of psychological issues, but they have honest to god tried their best to raise me in as loving and caring of an environment as possible. What caused most of the troubles is that I was a special needs child and they were most likely not equipped with the skills required to fulfill those needs. Basically, no matter how hard they tried, what they could offer in terms of caregiving was not aligned with my needs as a child. Probably, someone of a different temperament would have turned out perfectly fine, and it is an unlucky coincidence that in my case, this turned out to be severely traumatising. I do have some repressed memories, so I can't speak for this with a 100% certainty, but as I remember it, our trauma didn't come from direct abuse, but from a series of way more subtle, but nonetheless traumatising events, that involved being physically sickly, having been in painful accidents in early childhood that required long periods of hospitalisation and frequent isolation, having difficulties setting and understanding my own boundaries, social isolation, cultural context (e.g. no availability of child psychiatry, obtaining a diagnosis, mental hygiene professionals etc.), the misalignment of my and my parents' love language and like a ton of other shit that one by one seems like small crap but in total it managed to fuck me up for life.

2, I keep thinking about system roles. Like, the thing is, for the past 5 years I locked myself away from all information on OSDD/DID and on other systems' experiences, because I know how suggestible I am and I didn't want to accidently make things worse for myself by adding a layer of maladaptive daydreaming and pseudo-symptoms to my preexisting condition. But by now we're relatively stable as a system, so I thought, what the heck, let's see what the literature and the people of the internet say. And while I'm still trying to figure out the popular terminology and stuff, what I've learnt so far has provided me with enough context so I could start overthinking analysing my own situation and thinking about ourselves in a whole new, systemic approach. (See what I did there? What I DID there? Holy fuck Brain, go to sleep.)

So yeah, different roles. And like, what the fuck is even going on with our other alters because ACTUALLY while we're trying to pretend that it's a very small and neat system of two people, that's very much not true and in general, we're like a fucking mess. So I guess quick system rundown follows:

The Actives

Fox - Host/primary. Xe's what we call a fighter/survivor. Fox is the product of some extreme stress and xe represents the part of us that fought xyr way through all the life-or-death crap we've gone through and that's what xe thrives on. Xe has a hard time these days because life is lovely and stable and it's kinda giving xem a full identity crisis... So I guess in a way xe could be considered a protector?

Bunny - our very own little, and an absolute cinnamon bun. She is a soother, and while she never fronts alone, she's the only one of us who can co-con and she mostly comes out when I'm in distress and she just hugs me until the world is all better.

The Dormants (these guys don't have animal aliases so I'll just use their real names)

The Demon/The Bitch - she's a terrorist, or what people call a persecutor, if I understand it correctly. She used to be able to co-con and apparently had all of our memories, and her sole role was to torture and threaten us, sometimes actually breaking into front and making a very bad job of pretending to be one of us to confuse/manipulate our loved ones, but she couldn't resist making a mock version of us, so it wasn't super effective. She's been very active for a while, but mostly dormant for the past years. Maybe we just realised she was just a scared little girl and hugged her to death...

Emily - she used to be some weird form of a protector. Like, the kind that threatens you with the coconut she wields as a weapon because that was the first object she could grab and she shuffles into the bathroom to barricade herself in just so she can call it job done and go away again. She was kinda problematic and one-dimensional, and while she has been fully dormant for the past 3 or so years, I definitely "inherited" her jumpiness and way of getting startled by literally anything and everything, so I guess we kinda fused together accidentally or something...? Like, did I eat her? Ugh...

Dylan - she was a short-lived one, and mainly a reaction to a certain life situation, where we lived in deep poverty, starvation and extreme daily stress, so her singular goal was to have fun. We basically denied her a chance to front because... Well, because that was what seemed to be the right thing to do at that moment.

Alice(?) - I actually don't know anything about her, I'm not even sure she ever really existed, I just found some clues in a journal (that's where the name is from) and some stuff none of us claimed afterwards, so I suspect someone was there at a point but I'm absolutely unclear on any of the details.

The Confusing Shit

Brain - I was recently told that not everybody's brain is talking to them and that Brain might actually be some sort of system-related stuff, but basically it's just there to entertain me with horrifying, but kinda endearing and/or absolutely hilarious shit. And to torment me with anxiety voices but you know...

The Chorus - just a bunch of jumbled internal noise that keeps screaming static at me every time I'm too stressed.

The Hollow - it describes itself as a sort of autopilot, or rather, "whatever remains when you strip all personality from the body. It's a collection of physical functions and its goal is to keep us going when noone's fronting. It keeps us fed, hydrated, safe, and periodically puts the body to sleep so maybe one of us can re-enter front.

TP (myself) - so yeah, as far as roles go, I'm like... What, part protector-part persecutor-part trauma holder-part little-part host like wtf am I even?! I know that everybody has a blind spot for themselves, but like does any alter ever know what the fuck their function is supposed to be?! I'm just so fucking confused pls someone explain my system to me?!

3, about the excessive posting today. I dunno. I really just cannot stop, but I'm also more out of it than I have been any time in the past like ever, and occasionally I'm not even sure it's me or who am I so I'm deeply sorry for the verbal diarrhea. I guess I'm partly doing this because I'm sure I won't remember any of this later, like I keep "waking up" and it's been like 50 years and it's still the SAME MOTHERFUCKING DAY AND IT'S BEEN LIKE 5 SECONDS since the last post I've written the day before yesterday, so I guess it's also like my sense of time is absolutely fucked, but seriously I've just lived a lifetime of incoherent torment this day, like, did I just die and go to hell and this is what hell is? Seems plausible.

[elly-bird]

Dear loyal and foolish followers,

It’s been a while since I did a really deeply personal post, and I used to do them all the time.  Granted, back then, they were mostly venting, or trying to somehow work out my feelings on really deep and painful things.  Whether or not you realize this, dear tumblr audience - friends and strangers alike - you actually helped me a great deal learn about who I am and what I’m doing.

So let’s do a recap.  Once more for the sake of closure, for anyone who still cares, or anyone who did care back then, when I needed it most.

It’s taken me literally all my life to shake off the urge to turn inward.  I’m (almost) twenty four years old and still have trouble even vocalizing the idea that I’ve had a bad day, let alone that I’m suffering from a disability, or struggling to consider myself as a real person.  Yes, my dysfunction was so bad at a point (not especially far back, even) that I literally could not convince myself I was real.  I spent so many days floating place to place, just conducting the bare minimum to survive and not be noticed as some parasitic little ghostial entity.

So it was that I fell into not just hateful, twisted spirals that consumed my entire being, but friendships and relationships that did me equally as many unhealthy favors.  This is when I was the most vocal, because I realized how dire and awful things were getting.  It was speak now, or forever hold my silence, and at that point forever didn’t seem like it was going to last very long.

Coming to terms with the fact that I’ve been conducting self-harm and sabotage all my life - not necessarily physically, but mentally, and spiritually - was one of the biggest hurdles to leap over.  You can’t possibly treat yourself correctly when you’re utterly convinced the world hates you and would be better off without you, even if you’re not willing to nail the coffin yourself.

I never let myself have respect, or love, or care, or even basic decency.  It was always thrown with weighted chains, ones I applied myself and used to justify my shitty mindset.  I validated my attitude by saying the world was a spiteful place, and I was its target.  I got angry a lot, because anger was easier to feel than any other emotion, and I genuinely think that was my first attempt at pulling myself out of a very dark pit of depression.

I started to try and identify all these flaws and issues, but I could only see them in other people, not myself.  I started a blog, one where I offered positivity and support to every single person who so much as touched it.  I put all my time and energy into offering other people consolations for their sorrows, and trying my best to find them help, and support, in what I viewed as a meaningless, dead void of a world.  This actually became kind of popular; six thousand followers kind of popular.  It wasn’t long before I was putting almost every waking hour of my life into trying to guide people towards the light in life that I’d clearly shut the curtains on.

And then came my biggest shame; I couldn’t do it anymore.

I deleted it.  I packed up.  I went home.  I isolated.

It’s a funny feeling, realizing that you’re no longer strong enough to help anyone.  I was hardly equipped to in the first place, but having to get rid of that last little thing I could hold onto - that self-imposed job that I pointed at so often to say “look, look, things are good, I swear!” - honestly almost killed me.  The pain I felt made me realize I needed help.

And I’d like to say I got it, but...  I didn’t.  Something I’d so seriously recommended to everyone around me seemed entirely out of reach for myself.

You may have noticed I dipped my toes back into the positivity, though, even on this lonely little blog where only my close friends and some very lovable but potentially naive strangers visit.  That’s sort of where this all went.

Realizations that I’d been making progress came incredibly slow.  I tried my best to invert my views.  I wasn’t “wasting so much time I lost my childhood,” I was surviving and getting past the worst years of my life.  I wasn’t “worthless,” I just hadn’t even started to try.  Certainly, finding my own little self-diagnosises helped put a center to my storm, but I was still struggling.

Sparing you the details on my situation, I did the math and realized it would be quite a few more years before I was in any situation to get help, or live independently, or so forth.

And it was nihilism that hit me the hardest.  What the fuck?  How could it possibly be fair that I’d be rapidly approaching my 30s before I ever even saw a doctor?  What the hell is wrong with me that I’d rather live a stagnant, stale existence than even try to live?!

Thus I bring you very close to the present.

Where I decided I wasn’t going to accept that.

I got angry again, but this time it was at these unspoken rules, and restrictions that I’d lived under all my life - some imposed by my own shitty brain and some by the culture and pressures surrounding me.  I stopped giving a god damn shit what would be okay, what would be acceptable, what would be the least offensive and quietest way to live my life.

I dyed my fucking hair.  I wore bright colours.  I flirted with boys.  I fought, very literally, for my trans and non-binary friends.  I got loud, and proud, and anyone who didn’t accept the kind of love and understanding I wanted to spread got called a god damn idiot, because you know what, you are a god damn idiot if you think living, breathing, thinking, feeling humans whose only urge is to live in harmony with one another aren’t worth care.

And I started making more decisions.

Decisions like the one to welcome friends I’d constantly left on the outside into my reality.  Decisions like accepting that it was okay to openly identify as something that would be disagreeable in my town/state/family.   Decisions to accept the love, and care, and wholesome understanding that came with meeting someone whose world rhymed with mine.

Decisions to fight back.  Against the cruel side of my brain, and against the cruel side of the world.

Because it wasn’t a matter of never having a family that would accept me.  In actuality, I had a family that was willing to walk to the ends of the earth for me the whole time.  I’d stood so separate, and so far apart for them all my life out of fear for my own treatment that I’d forgotten that we’re all blessed with the very real, and very honest opportunity to make the world just a little, tiny bit better for everyone.

I lost track of who I was because I was so concerned with standing up on my own two feet, I never realized that so many beautiful people were all around me waiting to help me up if only I just accepted that.

I know now what I wish I’d known then; that in order to experience love and understanding, you have to open yourself to it.  Sometimes it’s easy, like leaving the door unlocked, but other times you’ve got to rip through scar tissue in an agonizing fashion.

Because most important of all these things, of all this journey, of all this ramble that I cannot truly tell whether or not is helpful or interesting to anyone-

I’m in love.  Not solely, not simply; but the fact I can put myself in that state means my world must be improving.

We all have the power to make this place kind and beautiful.

Dear loyal and foolish followers,

friends and strangers alike;

I’m doing okay.

[haprilona]

Frozen to the Cor

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Genre: Romance/Humor Rating: T

Characters: Cor Leonis, Gentiana, Clarus Amicitia, Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII

Relationships: Cor/Gentiana Word count: 4187 Summary: Gentiana’s paying a visit to King Regis, but he’s not the only one she sees during her stay. Takes place a year before Lunafreya’s birth.

Also at AO3 & FF.net

“-you haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

Cor scoffed. “I merely choose to focus on doing my job.”

Clarus arched a brow at that. Standard guard duty was below both of their station, but the Immortal had – for reasons beyond the King’s Shield’s comprehension – specifically requested to stand watch outside the audience chamber for the afternoon. “Because standing guard in an empty hall takes every ounce of your concentration.”

Cor ignored the older man’s comment and fixed his gaze on one of the detailed oil paintings hanging from the wall of Hall of History, belatedly realising the picture of his focus was none other than the famed Genesis. Involuntarily his steely blue eyes were drawn to the image of a fair woman perched on a fluffy cloud between a surly dark-skinned man and a bearded male with kind eyes. The woman looked nothing like whom she was supposed to represent; the skin wasn’t blue enough, the hair was too short and ordinary and her elegant pointed ears were nowhere to be seen. The only detail the artist had managed to get right was her lack of clothing.

Focusing on his duties – and Clarus’ chatter – was getting increasingly difficult knowing the woman in question was separated from him only by measly wooden double doors. Merely closing his eyes for a moment was enough to summon a memory of chilly fingertips tracing the scar on his chest. It didn’t matter that he had eyes wide open and ears perked for any suspicious activity outside the hall, the sensations from their last night together from two years ago had reawakened and now clouded his senses to the point he couldn’t quite distinguish what was real and what a daydream from the past.

Brushing the foolish musings aside, Cor blearily blinked at the painting and silently swore when he thought he saw the painted figure of Shiva turn her head ever so slightly to the side to expose her vulnerable neck to him, while the hand hovering over her left breast tantalizingly trailed the rosy skin in a teasing invitation. The 20-year-old man could feel blood warming the tips of his ears and forcefully willed the image of a very naked Astral out of his mind. Such thoughts bordered on blasphemy. Fortunately Clarus blocked his view on the painting, instantly snapping the young member of Crownsguard from his daydream.

“Should I make an appointment to the physician for you? You’ve been acting strangely and look a little feverish.” Dark brows furrowed in worry, casting shadows over the King’s Shield’s expressive blue eyes.

“No, I’m fine.” And he was. If only a little distracted.

Paying no mind to Clarus’ dubious frown, Cor focused on listening to the muffled voices coming from the next room. Besides King Regis’ warm yet authoritative timbre, he could hear the soft voice of a woman with an accent of which origins he couldn’t place anywhere in Eos. It was a voice he could recognise even among a crowd of thousands, for the way she spoke was like no other; her infinite patience ensured she never raised her voice or expressed any hint of anger or irritation, and while some may have claimed she spoke monotonously, he found her mild tone to be calming. He particularly liked the sound of his title coming from her painted lips.

Eyes hardening when realising his mind wandered yet again, Cor restlessly shifted his weight before swatting Clarus’ pestering palm away from his forehead with a glare.

“Really, Amicitia. I just skipped my morning coffee. I’m fine.” He hadn’t appreciated his companions’ unnecessary fussing when he had enlisted to the Crownsguard at the tender age of thirteen, he sure as hell didn’t appreciate it now as an adult.

Before the older man could continue the inane argument, the heavy wooden double doors opened. Instantly both men stood at attention, spines straight and tense. Followed by a clicking of high heels, a willowy figure of a woman clad in black emerged from the audience chamber. The familiar alluring scent of blueberries was enough to make Cor feel faint. She stopped before them once the doors were closed behind her and turned to address the men, expression serene even as her eyes remained hidden behind pink lids. Only the few long carpets covering the recently waxed floor of the Hall of History lessened the echo of her silvery voice.

“Master Amicitia.”

“My lady.” Clarus politely acknowledged her with a half-bow.

Eyelids framed by dark lashes opened to reveal moss green eyes that immediately fixed on the young guard. Heart hammering against his ribcage, Cor swallowed heavily and stared at the bridge of her slim nose in an attempt to keep himself composed. There was something about those mesmerising eyes that unerringly made his knees buckle under their sultry gaze, however with Clarus watching Cor couldn’t afford to show such weakness. He had worked so hard to get to where he was. If everything went according to plan, he would be promoted to a Lieutenant the coming year.

“Ah, and the Immortal himself. He has grown much since our first meeting near the Tempering Grounds. It is delightful to see him once more.” Cor didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eye even as the painted lips curved to a misleadingly pleasant smile.

“Likewise”, was his curt reply, followed by a chaste kiss on the back of her offered gloveless hand. He let go of it to resume his post, but the Messenger had other ideas and looped her arm around his.

“I was led to believe by the king that the guard posted outside would escort me to my temporary quarters.”

“Oh.” The young soldier cast a questioning glance to his superior who nodded his assent. “Very well.”

They walked down the corridor in relative silence, her stilettos and his red-soled boots stepping on carpets and marble floor in synchronised harmony. At this proximity he could effortlessly distinguish the faint fragrance of fresh pinewood blending with her more prominent scent of blueberry shampoo. She was exactly how Cor remembered her from two years ago when he had been fighting at the Lucian border against the invading Niffs.

His sheathed katana lightly bumped against her hip as they took a turn.

“It is pleasing to see the Immortal still carries the blade gifted to him five years ago.”

“I’d be a fool to reject a weapon received from a divine spirit.”

Pleased with his words, Gentiana’s eyes crinkled with barely concealed joy and she lifted her satin encased hand to join the other one around his arm. Both elated and burdened by her affectionate gesture, Cor cleared his throat and continued to lead the charming woman.

He would never understand what the immortal being saw in a mere mortal such as him. Only fifteen years of age during their first meeting, he had escaped the Tempering Grounds in disgrace, unarmed and wounded. The kind, inhumanly beautiful spirit had tended to his wounds and given the Kotetsu he carried on his person to this day. It had no enhancements and wasn’t a technological achievement like Cid’s modified weapons, but its blade was sharp and the weapon’s balance fit his fighting style like a glove. It had yet to fail him in a battle and he doubted it ever would.

Throughout the next year Cor had caught brief glimpses of a dark-clad woman from the corner of his eye or a fleeting tranquil smile on a reflective surface. On the off-chance that Weskham or Clarus happened to snap a photo of him, they would often see a distant feminine figure in the background watching over him. Suffice to say Regis had been deeply puzzled by the strange phenomenon.

“I recognise her from the Cosmogony’s illustrations. It is the Messenger of the gods – Gentiana. Seems you have left quite the impression on her.”

Cor had been quick to brush such implausible speculations aside. However, a year later the two crossed paths again briefly, and while there was hardly anything romantic about the setting or timing, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sort of pull towards the ageless entity. At first the youngest member of the Crownsguard figured it was merely a subconscious desire to protect her, perhaps as a way to pay back the imaginary debt he believed owing to the Messenger. Except, one day he caught himself snapping photos of random sceneries and taking self-portraits in hopes of finding her gentle smile in the background.

Angry for not being able to shake off the baseless attraction, Cor had eagerly requested to be sent to the frontlines to distract himself from such unholy fantasies. Of course, that was merely an excuse to be at the brunt of Niflheim’s invasion. There was still the matter of tending to his wounded pride that had received a near fatal blow during his duel with Gilgamesh. He needed to redeem himself in his own eyes, if not in his liege’s – His Highness had always been too forgiving and gentle when Cor’s failures were concerned, most likely due to the soldier’s young age.

Unfortunately the Galahdan saying ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ seemed to apply to him more strongly than anticipated. Three years after their first meeting he was surrounded by Niff forces while covering his liege’s retreat and – if he was completely honest with himself – would have most likely perished if it wasn’t for Gentiana’s interference. After the battle one thing led to another and he found himself romantically involved with an Astral of all things. The more he thought about it, the less sense the whole affair made, but the ageless temptress had several very effective ways of muddling his logical thought.

When Cor had tried to point out his inevitable death and the heartbreak that might follow, she had merely trailed a light blue finger across the scar received from Gilgamesh and told him she wished to enjoy each fleeting joy life had to offer, whether it be the singing of a short-lived bird or the warmth of an equally short-lived mortal’s embrace. At that Cor was rendered speechless, but Gentiana had seemed fine with his silence and kept on exploring every inch of his shivering body.

Now two years later with nary a word exchanged, Cor was baffled to find his body responding to her closeness in equal fervour to their last night together. He couldn’t quite decide if he liked the sensation, similar to that of a glowing fire suffusing him.

‘Well. If I spontaneously combust, at least she'll be around to quench the flames’, Cor thought as a sardonic smirk threatened to curve his thin lips.

As they made a turn to pass through the royal gardens, he noticed Gentiana had shifted to walk closer to him, hip brushing against hip while her satin covered hands subtly massaged his arm. Thanks to the thick material of his Crownsguard uniform, Cor couldn’t really feel the sensual touch and was both relieved and disappointed.

Gentiana pulled them to a stop and removed her hands from his arm. “The king granted me permission to pick a flower from his garden as a sign of gratitude for conveying the will of Bahamut.”

“Seems a little cheap”, Cor muttered under his breath, but Gentiana heard him and chuckled as she knelt in front of the closest flowerbed.

“He offered me anything my heart desired as long as it was within his power to give, but unfortunately my wish is something I cannot have.” Moss green eyes cast a sly glance over her shoulder, making her escort fidget his hands in discomfort. Cor didn’t dare to make any assumptions, yet he couldn’t help but wonder what stood in the way of her desire. “Instead, I asked to be allowed to part with one of his flowers.”

Rising back on her feet, the ever present smile gracing her pink lips, Gentiana turned to face him. “Does the Immortal like flowers?”

‘Just the namesake of one’, Cor thought as he peered down into her glinting eyes and was pleased to note he now stood a good head taller than her compared to the previous times he had been looking up to her. Reaper damned heels and late growth spurts. “Sure, I guess.”

“Then I ask he choose one for me.”

Frowning, Cor surveyed the flowerbeds. Countless flowers in different shades of white, red, yellow and violet littered the garden, but none of them were what he was looking for. He could feel Gentiana’s amused gaze following his every step as he searched for a particular flower. Aesthetic flora had never really piqued his interest. Only herbs and such used in making curatives were worth the time investing in learning their names and characteristics, which was how he first came across a gentiana. According to the ‘Pharmacological Flora’ they were used in herbal medicine to treat digestive problems, fever, hypertension, muscle spasms, wounds and even parasitic worms. Both beautiful and practical. Cor sneaked a glance towards the still woman who waited patiently for his decision before quickly returning to scour the garden.

Finally his steely blue eyes settled on a small flowerbed with blue trumpet-shaped blossoms. Carefully he picked the biggest and most vibrant sample. Only the best would do, Cor was certain his liege would agree. Gentiana accepted the flower with a knowing smile.

“The Immortal’s actions speak louder than his words.”

Feigning ignorance, the soldier crossed his arms in defiance. “Not sure what you’re implying.”

A thin coating of ice covered the flower, encasing it like one of those snow globes he had seen in the windows of tourist shops. It wasn’t just an ugly blob of ice such as one could find in the nature, but beautifully sculptured like the most prized crystal. She closed her eyes and chanted something in an unknown language before handing the frozen flower to him.

“Should the Immortal ever falter on his life-long journey, he need not but glance at the frozen gentiana to regain his vigour.”

Cor fingered the flower in wonder. The ice wasn’t as cold as he had expected and it didn’t appear to melt between his warm hands. “You’re making it sound like I won’t be seeing you again.”

Closed lids opened to reveal her wistful green gaze. “The Oracle is expecting a child who will succeed her at a young age. The Messenger’s destiny is tied with the Chosen King’s respective oracle.”

“So, you’re moving to Tenebrae?”

She nodded. “Our meetings have been rare and brief, but I’ve come to treasure each fleeting moment. Once the Chosen King is born, so shall the Immortal have his hands full fulfilling his duty to his king.”

Cor pocketed the flower and boldly took her delicate hands in his. “Be that as it may, I’d still make time for you.”

Slim fingers interlaced with his and her fair features lit up in a smile that warmed him more than the summer heat ever could. “Then we shall meet again, whether it be in another two years or two decades.”

A faint smile graced the taciturn soldier’s serious features, his customary piercing glare softening as his gaze dropped from hers to the invitingly plump lips. Inhaling her seductive scent and losing himself in the tender moment, Cor dipped his head down to capture the soft, pink lips in a gentle kiss. Her response was immediate; she removed her hands from his and let the smooth satin caress the nape of his neck and the newly grown stubble while her lips eagerly moved against his.

Calloused hands fumbled for the choker that hid her pale throat from him. She instinctively arched her neck in submission, granting access for the tip of his nose to teasingly caress her vulnerable skin. A surge of passion rushed through Cor’s entire being when his lips found the woman’s quickened pulse. He was amazed how willingly the immortal entity was ready to place her trust so fully in a flawed man such as him. Gentiana’s trust was even more precious to him than the katana and the enchanted flower she had given to him with the intention of protecting him, knowing full well how easily mortal lives could be snuffed out.

Realising the royal garden was not the right place for such intimate acts, Cor regretfully pulled his warm, swollen lips away from his lover’s neck. Steam blew out of his nostrils as he exhaled. He had learnt years ago that Gentiana’s kisses tended to leave him with a cold breath, but the minor discomfort only made him crave for the contact all the more.

Her pink lids remained closed even after he stepped away from the Messenger’s embrace.  The serene smile was gone, replaced by the smallest of pouts. “Is it a common occurrence within the Citadel for the guard to get so distracted when escorting a guest to her quarters?”

Rolling his eyes, Cor pecked her on the cheek before offering his arm to her once more. “Not my fault our esteemed guest is a shameless enchantress.”

They sat on cushions by the hearth, bathed in its dim light. Gentiana’s thigh-high stilettos leant against the door of Cor’s quarters next to his own Crownsguard’s boots, while her white shawl and black satin gloves had been discarded over the back of a chair. Cor had changed out of his uniform in favour of something more comfortable and casual as it turned out the Messenger had requested more than a mere flower from the king of Lucis.

“I can’t believe you asked His Majesty to grant me the rest of the day off. I’m beginning to think you had all of this planned out from the start”, Cor mumbled and buried his lips in her raven locks. Knowing Gentiana was a clairvoyant, he wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be true. The only response he received from the content woman was one slim finger lightly tickling the arm that held her lithe body snuggly against his, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

The weight of her head on his shoulder and the sweet scent of her perfume invading his nostrils felt like… home – as if she was made to be nestled beneath his arms. Or considering who existed first, perhaps he was made for her and that was why the divine spirit had been so adamant to get involved in his life. Gentiana’s mere proximity was turning him into a lovelorn fool. Shaking his head in exasperation, Cor removed his other arm from her hip and let it trail down the shapely stocking-clad thigh. She stirred under his sensuous touch and pulled her lidded gaze from the glow of dying embers to study his face.

“Yes.”

The off-duty soldier frowned, puzzled. “What?”

His breath hitched when he saw her eyes dilate with desire, the splash of maroon surrounding her pupils becoming more prominent.

“When witnessing the young Lucian warrior escaping the wrath of the Blademaster, it was revealed he would become someone special to me.” Cor was so distracted by the sudden change in Gentiana’s tone and body language that he nearly missed her softly uttered last words.

“Ah.”

Neither of them were exactly sentimental or direct when it came down to their deepest feelings, so hearing her unexpected confession felt as impactful as one would have felt hearing a gasped “I love you” in the throes of passion.

Gentiana shifted in his arms and pulled his head down to indulge in a heated kiss. Their mouths wrestled for dominance with neither participant willing to compromise. Her cool fingers disappeared beneath his shirt, travelling up and down the athletic upper body. Instantly recognising the game and not wishing to finish second, Cor began to work on undoing her elegantly embroidered corset. It came off easily enough, but his lover had already stripped him from his shirt. With a frustrated growl, he began to work on removing her dress only to halt when his fingers found an edge of something hard beneath the expensive fabric.

Lips still locked, his query came out as an incoherent rumble in the back of his throat. Gentiana pulled back, cheeks slightly flushed and fingers tangled in his short brown hair before casting a curious glance down to her breast where his hand touched the foreign object. Looping her arms out of the fur-trimmed sleeves, the dress fell off her body to reveal a risqué bra made of silver. Cor instantly recognised it as the ‘outfit’ – and he uses the term very loosely – that Shiva wore. The cups of the bra had detailed, decorative carvings and the strings that held the flimsy piece of undergarments together were threaded with blue and silver beads.

“I see you’re still wearing that”, he managed to say.

Gentiana arched an eyebrow and shifted in his lap. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. Just strange seeing you in it.”

Frost began to spread all over her body, altering the fair skin into pale blue while her remaining black stockings faded into white, barely noticeable snowflake patterns that covered the full length of her shapely legs. Her jet-black hair morphed into thick, light blue braids that twisted into a hairstyle Cor doubted he’d be seeing on any sane human during his lifetime. Unmelting spikes of ice poked between her hairs to form a crown of sorts. Around her neck was a choker made of silver and on her leaf-shaped ear was a matching earring. She wore similarly themed anklets and spiked silver knuckle-guards. What Cor considered to be the only pieces of proper clothing on her were transparent ribbons that floated around her as if suspended in zero gravity.

Cor had seen her in this form before, yet he couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled and out of his depth as the ice goddess gently pushed him to lie on his back and straddled him, the unnaturally braided hair framing her inhumanly flawless face.

“It does not matter which form wears the cloth. It is still the same person”, she spoke quietly.

Swallowing his remark about silver undergarments not qualifying as cloth, Cor experimentally lifted his hand to cradle her cool cheek and smiled faintly when Shiva closed her dark purple eyes and leant into his touch. She was definitely the same. Messenger, Astral… Messenger possessed by an Astral. It didn’t matter to him. As far as Cor was concerned, she was one and the same and he worshipped every aspect of her.

He surprised the off-guard woman by pulling her down to his chest and rolling over to lie on top. Dazedly the Glacian peered up in his hooded eyes, emotions rapidly flickering in her pupilless eyes. She appeared almost… vulnerable. Deciding to set her unfounded fears to rest, Cor pressed his lips against her chilly, blue ones. The young soldier was so caught in the exhilarating feeling of her hands roaming over his skin and the overpoweringly numbing cold of her kiss that he didn’t notice when the rest of his clothes were removed or when she slipped off her silver undergarments. For appearing so flimsy and unpractical, they turned out to be more complex to remove than anticipated.

“For what it’s worth… I’m glad you seduced me.” He received a humorous bite on his lip for his impudence.

The embers of the hearth had died, but the fire in his heart was ablaze stronger than ever.

Clarus turned to stare when Cor arrived to the guard room. “It’s midsummer and you’re dressed like you intend to go wage war against Niffs in the northern border during winter time.”

Cor said nothing and adjusted the woollen scarf around his neck. He was frozen to the very bones and shivering from an unnatural cold. Minor hindrances aside, his time with the ice goddess was well worth the side effects. Much to his joy Gentiana had decided to stay another week in the Citadel to “study ancient Lucian history” – as if she hadn’t lived through such times and didn’t know every historical fact in detail – claiming there was still time before she would be needed in the Fenestala manor. He was already looking forward to the end of his shift.

“Where do you intend to stay tonight?” Cor had asked while escorting Gentiana to the library before starting his day.

Her lips had quirked with a playful grin. “Take a guess.”

“Based on past experience you’ll go to your assigned quarters and sneak into mine in the middle of the night.”

The short hairs in the back of his neck had stood erect when she invaded his personal space and whispered in a rather sultry voice in his ear: “Correct. Name your prize.”

Cor snapped out of the brief daydream when he felt a warm palm on his forehead for the second time that week.

“Reaper, Cor! Have you been His Majesty’s target for blizzard casting practise or did you take a nap in a freezer?”

“More like slept with a freezer”, Cor muttered into the thick fabric of his scarf while keeping his features carefully neutral.

[greaterthanlows]

Random Rumblings from a Mad Man

I’ve told everyone that I have no form of a sleep schedule right now. Not even close. I think I finally fell asleep around 5 in the morning last night... or morning... whatever you call it. I’m sure I’m not alone with this. It’s currently 1 in the morning, so I decided to come outside on my porch and just start typing. 

I’m in this weird phase in my life right now where I’m trying to be extremely healthy. And I just have to say, If I’m honest, it sucks. I’m a guy who loves food. It’s easily my favorite thing in the world. There’s just something so great about it. Being up later lately has only made me want to eat more often. I had a really good friend suggest to me recently that I keep a lot of fruit around so I can eat that instead of junk or whatever else is lying around. So here I am, eating my pineapple. I also couldn't stand being parted from watching the office.... so I came up with an easy solution.

Tonight, I’m sitting here with my mind racing and thinking a million different things at once. 

Actually that may be a lie.

Actually, maybe it’s not.

I think there’s a lot on my mind.

But I also think I can’t think anything.

Maybe this is just a result of a great many things.

 A few years ago, I had this amazing opportunity to go on a mission trip to Cuba. Talk about life changing. 

A picture of our team... or at least what was left of them...

I could write so much just solely on that experience. Now that I mention it, I think I will do that someday soon. 

I have a great many thoughts about the things I experienced in Cuba. If there was one experience that forever changed me spiritually, that was it. But sometimes our spiritual growth isn’t because we “do good” or we see those who really struggle and it opens our eyes or we see God moving and doing good. There’s so many more ways, and sometimes those ways are not always the fondest memories.

But enough of that. I’ll save that for another day.

Tonight, one of the thoughts on my mind is towards the people of Cuba I got to meet and work with, the few I got to know in what felt like an intimate way even in such a short time. I’m thinking of all the things I have, the things I’m able to do. I can’t help but wonder do we realize what we don’t have if we never have it to not have... if that makes sense to you. What I mean, do the people I met there, are they aware of the things they aren’t provided for, the things they are missing out on since they’ve never actually had it, and really, they've never been around anyone who does for the most part. 

I’m guilty of it. I get so caught up in my own world, I often miss the intimate details of the lives of those around me. I say I lack things, but do I really know what it’s like to lack? Have I experienced that? Have I ever experienced the level of lacking that the people in Cuba that I was with lacked? 

And where is God in this? I often ask myself that. How did such cruel people gain powers and leadership? Where was God when that was happening. Where was He during the suffering? I think we all ask these questions when it comes to our own lives.

“Where are you, God?”

I think He’s there. I think He’s there with every single person in Cuba right now. I think He’s there with every single person in China, North Korea, the Middle East. I think He’s all around. I don’t think He’s just with the saints. I believe He is begging to those who are in leadership, the cruelest of dictators in the world to turn around, to repent, to acknowledge Yahweh as the one true God. To declare Emmanuel... God is with us, and He came to be with us in this person of Jesus.

I think we celebrate the deaths of evil people too quickly. I think we celebrate those being punished with too much joy. It scares me when I see Christians declare with great triumph that this dictator... terrorist.... murder.... whatever their crime may be is burning in Hell. 

Is the punishment just for many of them? Yes. Absolutely. If I received the same punishment, would it be just for me as well? Yes. Absolutely.

I think God is hurting for everyone who ultimately chooses to be eternally separated from them. Think of the most loving parent you can imagine. Maybe it’s your own. If their child chose to leave home and never return, to become a terrible human being, that parent will still only love them despite their crimes. They will always be holding out hope that they will return home. This is God as our Father. While we are celebrating the destination of an unbeliever we deem evil, He is mourning. 

I need to know God can forgive the worst of sinners. Because if He can’t then what hope is their for me? 

If all sins are equal, is their a commandment I haven’t broken?

I am 0 for 10. I’m just as guilty. I deserve to be separated from Him for all eternity. So I have to believe He is able to forgive the sins of the worst people alive because if He can’t forgive them, then He can’t forgive me either. And He can’t forgive you.

But the Nature of God is Love.

That’s my saving grace tonight. That He will forgive their sins, and He will forgive mine. And His love and grace covers a multitude of sins that paves the way for peace and fellowship with Him and mankind. That my wrongs with others may be someday made right. 

That’s my God. He’s a God who I admittedly don’t understand. A God who recently I’ve questioned in so many ways. Just today, I found myself having to ask God to help me forgive Him for the ways I thought He was wrong. Read that again. “God, help me forgive You.” That has to be blasphemy! 

But I think God needs us to stop trying to play games with Him. I think we need to stop trying to hide things from Him as if we can be successful. In my right mind, is there a thing I need to forgive God for? No! His forgiveness is what I need. Not the other way around. Today, a really good friend referred to Him as the God of Grace. And that’s true. He’s asking me to give Him my fear, my doubt, my anger. He’s been waiting for me to come to place to tell Him that I don’t trust Him to do what I need and want Him to do. Read that again as well. 

I don’t trust God to do what I NEED and WANT Him to do.

Why does He let me come so openly to Him? Why does He ask me to bring every thought I have to Him and give it to Him without fear? I don’t know. Because He should strike me dead for even daring to think I could say those things to Him. But No! He is inviting them in. He’s telling me to give Him all these things so I can see Him do a wondrous work. A work, even now, I sit here and say that I have my doubts He actually will. And that’s ok. Because He needs me to finally admit those things to Him. To admit that doubt. He’s not afraid of how I feel. He’s not running from it like I wish I could. He’s not uncertain about what to do with the ways I feel.

My prayers can’t be a routine. I can’t say what I think I need to get Him to respond. He needs me to surrender every bit of myself to Him. He needs me to start being content with just Him. Because, another self-confession. I haven’t been. I haven’t found my joy in just Him. And now I sit here... now at 2 in the morning... and it’s just me alone... sitting here on my porch with keyboard typing this out. If my joy isn’t to be found in Him then where will I find it?

He’s stripped it all away. To where it’s just me and Him now. I don’t know what’s next, and I think that’s part of why I feel like I have to forgive Him (again, I can’t get past how unreal that sounds). How many of you right now are there? You've found God has stripped everything away and now it’s just you and Him. What do you do with that? 

I spent some time thinking God was done moving. But He’s not. He’s moving still. Whatever situation you’re in right now, I’m in, your friend is in... it’s not a surprise to God. He’s not been caught off guard by my stupid mistakes, that I came to this place of distrusting Him, that you came to this place of distrusting Him. He’s not scrambling around trying to figure out what to do next. He’s always known. How is He going to move? I have no idea. I just know He is. I know He’s not finished yet. 

Pentecostal fire 

Stirring something new

You’re not gonna run out of miracles

Anytime soon

Well, I said it in the title. Just random rumblings. If you made it all the way through this ADD post, that’s impressive. I don’t even know how I’m going to get through the proofread with all the 180′s in this. I guess I better get started, though.