#more of cor's past incoming?

[karkkidoeswriting]

BEAR CASTLE CYCLE

Valeri Cor Mantgamia

Main Character | 24 | Ethnicity: Cerfi | Captain of Imperial Cavalry | he/him | #valeri

Eventually he spoke. "To be honest, I have hard time imagining you afraid." Valeri made a dry chuckle. When was he not afraid? When was he not frozen in fear by the everything and everyone around him? Always looking over his shoulder. Always dreading every word he spoke. There was an easy answer to his own rhetoric question. In the middle of a battle the terror melted. He was still afraid, but it was different. His mind went blank and his body just moved. There was no doubt. It didn't make much sense, to fear death the least, when it was the closest. There is no fear in present.

Valeri is the second youngest child of the Duke of Cabalusia. When the Bear Castle was conquered and the Mantgamias were defeated in the civil war, Valeri managed to escape with his youngest sibling, Fiolev. They ended up in Amari, the capital of the province of Víren, where they assumed new identities under last name Iolean. They were very poor as most orphans in Amari, where income gaps are massive. Valeri was eventually forced into the army, to serve the same empire, which crushed their clan. He despised it, but he was good at it and quickly rose in rank, securing safety for him and Fiolev. It has taken him to wage wars for the empire, left him with chronic pain and trauma and strained his relationship with Fiolev, who would rather go homeless again than get left behind if he would go to another war. But he would do anything to make sure Fiolev was safe, even if Fiolev would hate him for it, even when his idea of safety is flawed.

Valeri has no future. For the past 13 years he's only been surviving and making sure Fiolev survives. He has no aspirations beyond that. He has risen ranks in the army, but he doesn't care about that beyond the more security higher position affords, he just tries to survive and make sure people around him survive to the next day. He sure fantasizes of reuniting with Faerathos, of opposing the imperial family, of returning home to Cabalusia, but he has no illusions that these fantasies have any realism behind them. Sometimes he even fantasizes of having a life, getting married, having several children. But he has no future. Until, he meets his exiled uncle, Ignatus, on a campaign. Ignatus is working with the empire's enemy and promises to take Valeri and Fiolev into exile with him, so they can get out of the enemy territory and wage war on the empire. It finally gives him hope and a goal. But things get more complicated, when he is given another mission by an imperial general, that could give an opportunity to sabotage the Imperial agenda in a significant way, but would put him in even more dangerous position, not less.

His appearance is quite imposing. He is tall (though not compared to many others in his family), strong and a scar on his lip has given him a permanent scowl. There is also a feral rage just below the surface at all times, ready to burst. But beneath that there is constant anxious terror that drives him and abundance of barely repressed emotions. He operates best when he has a clear goal and clear commands to follow, so when he is thrown in a situation, where everyone has conflicting commands for him, where he's not sure what's right and wrong anymore, or who to trust and who to follow, his barely maintained surface won't be enough to hold him together.

The Oldest | The Second Oldest | The Second Youngest | The Youngest

Tag list under the cut! Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

I'm finally finishing this post for Meet the Character Monday held by @bardic-tales / @creators-club , thank you!

BCC tag list: @siarven @worldbuildng @emilyoracle @frvnwrites @kainablue

@writingrosesonneptune @contes-de-rheio @faelanvance @outpost51 @dotr-rose-love

[logicallyblind]

There's never enough Eichen House!Theo in this world!! If ever that can spring some ideas for you! And keep on truckin with your writing :))

omg okay this was a concept i hadn’t known about until this ask so, 1. ty anon cor introducing me to this new angst riddled concept & the ask in general & 2. omg so there’s two ways this can go in my brain, one is he checked himself into eichen or the pack forcibly checked him in after he came back from hell & helped with the Monroe situation & i actually can’t decided which is worse.

cause the first one is angsty as hell cause you can imagine the mindset theo was in once the dust had settled after monroe & he had the time & stillness for the first time in months to actually be able to register & realise how fucked up his past actions were & how much that must have effected this boy with his newly regained (im saying regained instead of gained cause i fully believe the amount of trauma he went through with the doctors essentially caused him to freeze himself emotionally, psychologically and logically during that period until his subconscious decided he was in a safe enough environment to be able to boot back up again) consciousness when he realised the level of Fucked Up he actively participated in.

so he almost definitely decided that he refused to be a weapon of choice to anyone, not even himself, not when (thiam incoming) that weapon could be used against liam or the pack but especially liam with or without his consent. so he didn’t tell anyone what he was doing, because then the opportunity to release The Weapon back onto the chessboard was an option and he couldn’t allow that. so theo raeken disappeared after the war, most thought he slipped away to a far away town in the dead of night where he could regain his control without worry, everyone but liam who Knew theo now, he knew the person he had evolved into and he didn’t believe theo would do that but no one else would hear a word about it and it was just liam left quietly aching for his boy, for his anchor to return back to his side in the quiet hours of the night.

but also the second concept cause that’s in a way so much worse because can you imagine theo raeken having regained his moral compass and consciousness during the hard months of war, of trying to prove again and again that he is worth something more than what the doctors made him, that he can be something to the pack and to liam and to himself and he fought so hard and sacrificed everything in his power to prove this and yet. and yet the pack decided that he was too strong of a threat to have lose around the town and so, in my mind, they did it quietly. they waited until he was asleep and then with apologies reflected in the eyes of the Alpha (his Alpha) and his second, they quickly and quietly brought him to the doors of Eichen and told him that it was for the best, that he was too much of a wild card and he needed to repent for his actions (‘what about all he gave’ he thought in his mind ‘what about all the bullets and mistletoe dug out of his flesh in the midnight hours alone in rest stop bathrooms’) and theo. theo couldn’t think of a single line of defence because they weren’t wrong were they? he was too dangerous but he thought- well. it doesn’t that than liam didn’t even show up to say goodbye for the final time it doesn’t matter a bit he’s Fine.

[noirbriar]

Family CorNyx: Faith

“So.This is it, Marshal?”

“…”

“Then you leave me with no choice.”

Monica stares at Cor with a disappointed look and pulls out her phone.

“Do not call Nyx. He’s out on deployment.”

“Ulric has returned with his company at 0800 hours earlier today.” Monica states blandly with a deadpan face.

“As your superior, I’m telling you NOT to contact him.” Cor argues back.

“Very well.” Monica does not take his nonsense and taps a number, putting it on loudspeaker. With zero regards to the Immortal, Cor Leonis, scowling at her as the line connects.

“Amicitia. What is it, Elshett.”

“Sir, I need to check if I am under whose chain of command. You, or the Marshal.”

“…Is that a trick question, Elshett? I’m the one who put you to assist the idiot- Wait, what happened? Cor’s back?”

“Yes. And I have been explicitly forbidden from contacting the Marshal’s...kin. There had been, an incident.”

“…Call Ulric for fuck’s sake, and then send up a report.”

The call hangs up as Monica smiles, all teeth and joy. Like the tabby cat she has for a pet who hates everything and everyone.

Cor slams his head back on the brick like pillow and resigns to his fate in the infirmary ward.

——

Nyx slams open the doors, half warping into the private Citadel infirmary in broken breaths. The glaive filthy with dirt and grime, his combat uniform still stained with dark blood of something very much dead. The Galahdian’s eyes zooms in on the only occupied cot with an annoyed Clarus and one tired Monica nearby. Cor pointedly chooses to keep his eyes on the startling white ceiling.

“Ulric-“

“What the fuck happened?”

“Classified. But long story short, could you please take the Marshal out of our hands for a week minimum. As per doctor’s orders. Nothing less.” Monica explains dryly.

“I can mark you for insubordination, Major.” Cor growls lowly, eyes still fixed on the off white spot above his cot.

“Ignore him, Elshett.” Clarus grunts.” Just take your husband home, Ulric. Royal Decree from Reggie. He’s on medical leave as of today.”

“I had meant more of the damage he had gotten. Since the last time he got this banged up there was a damn Ruby Weapon involved but okay, sure.” Nyx clarifies himself wryly as he turns to greet his husband. Not really the best place to reunite after 2 long months of fighting beyond the Wall. Though Nyx is more relieved above anything else.

——

“AND DON’T LET HIM DRIVE EITHER!” Clarus roars across the private Citadel parking at the couple who are leaving in Cor’s car. Nyx simply chuckles and gives the Shield a lazy salute before sliding into the vehicle.

Since the man is off duty, Cor does the only sensible thing he can after slinking into the passenger seat.

He rolls down the window and gives the Shield the finger.

——

When Prompto gets home from school, he first notices the familiar silver car, then the combat boots and crownsguard issued footwear by the door. Instantly, he rushes into the living room where he hears the television has some long winded drama series on screen. The excited boy was about to greet them when he stops himself at the sight.

There he was, his dad all laid out on the old couch, head in Nyx’s lap, dressed in clean shorts and a ratty old shirt with a hammerhead logo faded out. The older Leonis’ face pressed against Nyx’s torso. The Galahdian father snoring softly, clad only in his comfiest slacks. His head forward in a slouch, with an arm resting on Cor’s chest. The two tired soldiers clearly exhausted from their battles.

But they were home. Safe. That alone is enough for the young Leonis.

Prompto quietly pads his way around to switch the television off, though it earns him a rough grunt from Cor. Yet the man was too tired to even wake at the disturbance. The boy later brings down a thin blanket and drapes it on them as much as he could before going about his own routine.

Maybe he should take out the pot for dinner tonight. Its been awhile since they had hotpot together afterall.

——-

“Painkillers, meds to get rid of the potions in your system, fever ones and more of the funky medicine to get rid of the potions in your system.” Nyx pours out the necessary tablets on the kitchen counter and hands them over to the older Leonis. The Kingsglaive passes the grumpy Marshal a glass of water. He had hauled the older man up in the middle of the night for his medication, hence the moodiness. Which matters little to Nyx.

“No vigorous exercise, no strenuous activities, no stress- Annnnd thats all I actually remember. “Nyx lists off on his fingers. Although an equally obstinate person himself, Nyx knows he is talking to the air. At least, he tried. An A for effort.“You know, I should be concerned that Prompto is always taking your condition better than I am.”

“I swore to him since he was able to understand what I was doing. I will do my best to come home, dead or alive. I will not let him live with the uncertainty. I am lucky in that he understands and never held my duty against me.” Cor leans on the counter idly after swallowing all his pills.

Cor falls silent and Nyx waits, knowing the Lucian needs the headspace for whatever is in his mind. They have time.

“My own father couldn’t come home, even though he was no soldier but a mere hunter. I won’t let my own son go through the pain of not knowing why I do this.” The older soldier murmurs softly, remembering a father who left and never came home. A boy who never could understand why, until he stood on the battlefield himself.

”Do you have so little faith in me yourself?” Cor asks carefully.

“No, just personally, I prefer you to not be in this state, if ever. Just as you do for me.”  Nyx comments, arms cross over his bare chest, deep in his own thoughts, “I know where you are coming from, Cor. I do. ”

They let the silence sit between them, before the Galahdian slowly shuffles in and allows himself to curl into his husband. Who adjusts him into his embrace silently, stroking his partner’s braids gently but surely. The feelings and thoughts they wish to convey unable to be expressed with words in its entirety.

The two men share a moment, taking in the presence and company of one another. With Nyx breathing in his husband’s scent and Cor pressing his lips against his temple.

They have long known that its not always they will have the luxury like this. You never know what tomorrow might bring. To hold someone dear to you physically in your arms, to hear them laugh and sing, to see them smile. Its a privilege for them. For soldiers who had dedicated their all in protecting everything, they cherish every moment they can. They will protect their home till their last dying breath.

Silence sits in the stillness of the dark house, only with the kitchen light and moon watching. The tranquility soothes every lonely soul awake in this dark, sombre hour.

Until Nyx decides otherwise.

“Does sex count as a vigorous exercise?”

“Get your damn hands off my ass, Ulric.”

-----

Once again thank you anyone who drop a heart or like for my ramblings!

[murderous-coffeebean]

The Sun Is Out, The Day Is New - Favourite Scenes

Another one for one of my absolute favourite FFXV fanfics and fanfics in general, by the wonderful @notavodkashot :D

I really really wanted to draw some of my favourite scenes from the fic, so here we go :D Explanation and quotes below the cut!

Cor Leonis, Nyx Ulric, Prompto Argentum, Aranea Highwind, Clarus Amicitia (FFXV) © Square Enix / fic © notavodkashot / art © Murderous-Coffeebean

1. Nyx and Cor (and Prompto)’s first meeting. Absolutely delightful.

Cor the Immortal walked out of the treeline, some fifteen minutes later, expression stern.

Nyx blinked at him, just as Cor blinked back.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Cor asked eloquently, frowning at him as if personally irritated by his existence, which he probably was.

Nyx gave up pretenses and laughed, slumping back on the ground. Prompto made huffy, sucking noises, and snuggled into his chest, clearly intent on going back to sleep.

2. Toddler!Prom who loves to tug on Nyx’s hair. :’)

All he had to do was coax Prompto into finishing the paste, and then they could go. And then maybe Nyx could find a village or town or somewhere, and figure out how to resupply.

Prompto pulled on the braid again, because the log ended and he didn't hit replay quick enough for his liking.

“You're so lucky I think you're cute,” Nyx sighed wryly, and wasn't even surprised when Prompto puked lunch all over his shirt.

3. ARANEA IS HERE. And she stepped on Cor’s head to catapult herself into the air! :D (This scene and how it unfolded will never not be delightful to me.)

The girl broke into a dead run, and leaped just as she reached Cor. Cor had a fantastical moment of blank incomprehension when she stepped on his head to boost herself up almost thirty feet into the air, right above their enemy. Then she twirled her lance until the blade was pointing to the ground, wrapped a leg around it and began spinning as she went down.

“A dragoon,” Cor muttered, watching her fall. It would have probably done a devastating amount of damage, all things considered, had the daemon not avoided a direct hit slithering sideways, considering the pavement cracked from impact. “A woefully inexperienced dragoon,” Cor amended with a sigh, and then ran forward to catch the incoming blades before they got to her.

4. Clarus having a late moment of realization. Cor and Nyx being incredibly amused. I love this scene so much :’)

“I know you dislike it when I meddle,” Clarus insisted, scowling at him, “but that's what friends do, Cor. We meddle when our friends are heading straight for disaster.”

“Like I said,” Cor retorted, “I think Nyx should hear this.”

“You are the-”

Nyx chose that moment to let himself into the room. Clarus spluttered and then stood up straight, trying to compose himself. Cor blinked at him.

“That wasn't five minutes,” he pointed out, one eyebrow arched.

Nyx shrugged.

“You sounded weird,” he said, and then grinned sheepishly. “So I might. Have warped up the stairs. On my way here.” Cor smirked at him, and Nyx grinned back, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants. “So... what's this about?”

Clarus hesitated for a moment, and then charged head on with all the grace and tact of a bull.

“This idiot,” he said, pointing at Cor with a very accusing finger, “is in love with you.”

Nyx stared at him, clearly waiting for a follow up. This was not the reaction Clarus was expecting. Cor snorted.

“He means to say,” he murmured solicitously, “that he's concerned that my feelings for you are unrequited and will end in, his words not mine, unspeakable heartbreak because of it.”

Nyx blinked.

“What do you-” he paused. Blinked again. Then he stared at Clarus for a bit, squinting somewhat. “Oh. Oh.” He snorted and shared a look with Cor. “I get you.”

“I knew you would,” Cor replied, corner of his lip twitching up slightly.

“You've got very caring friends, Marshal,” Nyx pointed out, clearly more amused at the situation than Cor, but then that was why Cor had called him in, in the first place.

“I do, don't I,” Cor deadpanned.

Clarus was staring at them, clearly at loss of what was going on.

“Cor is very lucky to have a friend like you, Lord Amicitia,” Nyx told him, entirely too politely for his tastes, and it made alarm bells begin to scream in his head. “But your concern is sorely misplaced.”

“Is it?” Clarus asked, trying to wrestle control of the conversation back, but then spluttered gloriously when Nyx slid into Cor's lap, holding his stare over his shoulder as he did so.

“Yes,” Nyx said, in a taunting, teasing tone, and then bent down to kiss Cor nonchallantly.

Clarus flushed instantly.

“Oh,” he said, voice small and embarrassed, but all he got in reply was Cor's hands sliding around Nyx's waist as the kiss deepened. Clarus cleared his throat. “Gentlemen,” he tried again, voice strangled. Nyx moaned low in his throat. “I believe you've made your point!” Clarus cried out indignantly.

Cor stood up in reply, pulling Nyx up with him as he went, and went to drop Nyx onto Clarus' desk, still without breaking the kiss.

Clarus made a sound best described as a panicked squawk and all but ran out of the room.

“5. Cor and Prom’s quiet early mornings out on the porch. I am soft

Prompto liked the new house.

(...)

He liked the garden, too. It was very small, just a strip of grass along the back of the house, with an old, knotted tree in a corner that looked more dead than alive. You couldn't really play in it, like in the park, but Cor liked to sit on the steps early in the morning – so, so early, it was almost always still dark outside – bare feet on the grass as he drank his coffee, and he always let Prompto go sit with him, if he happened to be up by then. Even if he almost always ended up falling asleep again, anyway.

6. The Walk gives me a lot of feels, tbh.

The storm ended as abruptly as it began, the sky clearing up and the afternoon sun catching the last of it to display a massive rainbow in the distance. The wide circle broke up into smaller clusters of families, as they showed each other what they'd been given.

“These are mine?” Prompto asked him, holding up the three, shiny beads in his hands for him to see. “Like yours, but mine?”

“All yours,” Nyx said, and showed him the two he'd been given, this time around. In his hair, another three hung heavy and purposely from the braids, like a renewed commitment he'd tried his best to not forget about.

“Mine are red,” Aranea said, staring at her hand with a frown.

“You like red,” Nyx pointed out, rubbing his free hand against his nose to hide a sniffle.

“But what does it mean?” She insted, rolling the reddish purple beads between her fingers, fascinated by the texture against her skin.

“It means you're Galahdian, now,” Nyx said, arching an eyebrow at her, “if you want to be.”

“But I've never even been to Galahd,” Aranea replied, frowning.

“You have,” Nyx told her, licking his lips. “We were all there, just now.”

“Galahd is the Storm,” Cor murmured, one eyebrow arched, holding a single dark blue bead between thumb and index finger, “never thought you meant that literally.”

Nyx stared at him, and felt an overwhelming urge to just... fall into him and never surface again. He swallowed hard, because he was Commander still and they weren't done. They still needed him.

“You know what isn't though? Night,” Nyx said, grinning as he tilted his head back. “So let's get everyone home.”

7. Just the whole family, because I adore them so. :’) I posted this drawing on its own back in 2020 already, you can find it here. ^-^

[ohdaim]

april fool's day oneshot

hi guys, i wrote this today in one sitting, and it's lazily edited:) i'm recovering from an oral surgery and on strong medication, so i hope this makes as much sense as i think it does.

Ship: Ignis Scientia/female reader Summary: You are a Citadel valet working the night shift, frequently attending to Ignis' car. You have no idea how to talk to him. He has no idea how to ask for your number. Words: 1849 idk if this is considered fluff or just mutual pining but with like,, idiots

__

Stir together bread crumbs, garlic, parsley…

You scanned the rest of the newest recipe on your favorite cooking blog, Feeding The Fussy. As always, it looked delicious. As always, you rated it five stars and typed out a comment.

I followed the recipe exactly, but I left out the bread crumbs and cheese. I used shrimp and bacon grease instead. Terrible recipe. Won’t make again.

Putting your phone away, you came to attention when someone stepped out of a Citadel elevator across the lobby. You worked night shift as a palace valet and hardly saw anyone but for a few regular night owls. One of them approached now, and gods, you were nervous all of a sudden.

Ignis was your favorite regular. He was polite, tipped well, and made small talk so you wouldn't have to. You didn’t know what he did in the Citadel or why he so often left at four in the morning. You just knew you had a big crush on him and, for that reason, could never carry a full conversation without getting sweaty palms.

“Good morning.” He greeted you first. “Quiet night?”

You nodded, entering the info you needed to check his vehicle out of the system. You wanted to say something, anything. Nerves got the best of you, and you excused yourself into the back room to get his car keys. On your way out, you held them up. “I’ll have your car here momentarily.”

Ignis didn’t respond. He wasn’t even looking at you. His attention was on his phone, a corner of his mouth curled upward.

You paused, taking in the smirk with shy curiosity. That was a new look. What was he smirking at? When he seemed to remember himself, he schooled the look and met your eyes. Startling, you repeated yourself quietly and went through the doors leading to the parking garage.

Ignis’ car consistently smelled like coffee wrapped in leather. Your phone vibrated in your pocket as you buckled in. Because you wanted to linger in the nice scent--was this extremely weird? Yes, of course--you checked to see what the buzzing was about.

An email. You’d gotten a reply from the Feeding The Fussy chef. They’d liked your comments in the past but hadn’t addressed your obvious jokes. You stared at the subject line for a beat, then opened the message.

Thank you for the review. Almost as insightful as last week’s eight hundred word description of your current diet and how my recipes conflict. Do you have any suggestions on how to improve this one?

Your nervousness grew so heavy, it burst in bright red over your face, a flame in your chest. The chef was talking to you. You’d chalked it up to luck that they understood your sense of humor and the intent of your comments. Never had you thought they’d give more than a like. You typed a response before getting back to work.

Pro tip: Using a microwave is faster than the oven. Also, I’ve begun a new diet (details to follow), so is there any way to make this recipe without the ingredients?

Ignis’ car was fancy but less so than most others in the garage. You always felt a pinch of regret when pulling it up to the lobby entrance. Driving a car like his just to see how fast it could go, it wasn’t something you’d ever get to do. You didn’t own one yourself, and truthfully, you'd only gotten a driving license to be qualified for this job. Getting out, you waved at Ignis and extended an arm toward the open driver’s seat.

Tip passing from his hand to your own, you bowed and tucked the money into a pocket. He thanked you, getting into his car. You waited for him to drive away, likely the last person you’d see this shift.

“Ah, pardon me,” Ignis startled you by climbing back out, the car door hanging open. He held something out to you. “I believe you dropped this.”

You looked at your phone in his hand, your eyes wide, nervousness becoming embarrassment. Quickly grabbing it, you bowed again. “Sorry.”

Ignis chuckled. “It’s quite alright. Good thing I noticed when I did.”

Nodding emphatically, you wished he’d just go before you humiliated yourself further.

Clearly not reading your mind, he lingered a moment longer. “In truth, I--”

“Have a good day, sir.” You didn’t mean to interrupt him and hadn’t expected him to say more.

He cleared his throat and smiled. “Same to you.” Thanking you again, by name this time, he left.

Back in the quiet lobby, you put his tip with the rest you’d made that night. You sat behind the desk and buried your face in your hands. The sting of feeling stupid in front of Ignis was abated by the underlying excitement that came from talking to the chef you admired.

They specialized in meals for picky eaters, which you were. They used clear directions, so they could be followed by an amateur chef, which you really were. They sometimes added personal anecdotes spiced with sarcasm and dry jokes to the recipe’s background, which made you feel safe to comment. You refrained from checking your inbox, content to wait until you were home to see if they’d replied yet.

Two attendants arrived for the day shift, and as you hitched the strap of your bag over a shoulder, readying to leave, one of them told you to wait.

“You should pick up a new nametag before your next shift.”

Glancing down at your uniform, you remembered you’d lost yours several days ago. “Oh, right. I will.”

You stepped into an elevator, pressing the button for the metro station level. New nametag. Dumb. You had your work badge but still required a tag. How else would the Citadel inhabitants know who to thank for fetching their expensive cars? You rolled your eyes at the thought, already annoyed. You’d have to come to work early to pick it up. Was it too soon to quit and attend culinary school? You needed to make a bit more money first. Ignis tipped large bills, but still, it’d take years of picking his car up every morning before you could afford tuition.

Grinning to yourself, you weaved through the incoming morning crowds and boarded a train home. It had felt nice, hearing Ignis say your name on his way out. He was the only person who ever addressed you, so maybe getting a new tag was worth it for that alone. Ignis was just-- He truly-- You really liked when he came down, that was all.

It didn’t strike you for another several hours, as you filled out the online request for a new Citadel employee nametag, that Ignis must’ve remembered your name. You supposed a great memory was probably just another part of his polite demeanor. That’s what you told yourself, at least, to keep your crush from growing. You didn’t even know the man.

You attempted the chef’s latest recipe, and as it cooled, you--very casually and not nervously at all--checked to see if they’d replied.

I’ll keep that tip in mind. As for your question, I recommend the following replacement recipe: brew a cup of coffee or tea, sit somewhere comfortable, and enjoy the beverage knowing your comments haunt me whenever I cook.

You read and reread the message, then laughed into a hand. Worth the wait. You ate a bite directly from the dish on your counter, huffing through the fresh heat with mild regret. They deserved a genuine review after such honesty, but it seemed you were doing little more than burning the roof of your mouth. So you took a picture of the food, offering a thumbs up with one hand in frame, and sent it as a reply.

The next night you worked, Ignis arrived much earlier than expected--before midnight, no less. He was coming in rather than going out. Another man was with him, someone blonde and unfamiliar. Ignis opened the back to retrieve something, turning you down when you offered to get it for him. The blonde man, his smile sincere but awkward, complimented your shoes.

“Thanks.” You didn’t really know what to say. People chatting with you was uncommon.

“They match your uniform’s tie… thing.” The blonde man was red in the face. Someone needed to tell him he didn’t have to make small talk. You were just a valet. He persisted, his smile broad. “It’s nice, y’know. You’re, like, coordinated and stuff.”

“Prompto.” Ignis closed the back and proffered a piece of luggage toward the other man. “Leave her be.” When the man took the bag from him, Ignis gave you the car keys. “I apologize for my friend. He can’t contain himself around beautiful women. Add inebriation, and he’s a lost cause.”

You gripped the keys tightly, taking in everything with a slow nod. Yes, of course, right. All of that made sense. Ignis was bringing a drunk friend into the palace. Normal Ignis stuff.

“Do you think Cor’s gonna be mad at me?” the blonde asked Ignis, walking backwards from the car toward the lobby doors. “Iggy, what if Cor gets mad at me?”

Ignis rolled his eyes, a hand checking his inner jacket. “A tad late to worry about that. Go directly to the barracks and try to sleep it off.”

“Where are the barracks again?”

Ignis’ chest broadened with a sigh, and he left the guy hanging. Withdrawing a money clip, he held it out to you. “For your trouble.”

You hesitated taking it. The outer bill appeared to be 1,000 yen, and it was several notes thick… More than the usual tip. You took it slowly, fingertips brushing his leather covered palm, and murmured a quiet thanks.

Ignis remained, his hand lifting to brush loose strands of hair out of his face. He wasn’t as put together as you were used to. Your eyes trailed downward, now noticing the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Huh.

He cleared his throat and began, “There’s something I--”

“C’mon, Iggy!” The blonde man held one of the entrance doors wide open. “If I knew Cor was gonna be mad anyway, I would’ve stayed at Noct’s.”

Ignis gave you a hasty farewell, already walking away to push the blonde man through the door. They disappeared inside, leaving an awkward wake of silence. You settled into Ignis’ coffee-and-leather scented car, a realization hitting you late, as they tended to do. Had Ignis implied you were beautiful? You didn’t entertain the thought for long. Ignis was a professional, royal something-or-other. He would never. You were reading too much into it. Surely.

On the walk from Ignis’ parking spot back to the lobby, you checked for the latest message from the chef. You’d boldly given them your number in a DM when the comment thread became unbearably long. You hadn’t held out hope of receiving a message and read their initial text at least ten times in disbelief before responding and saving the number.

Was this a new friendship? You hoped so.

[marisandini-chu-blog]

BRUCE WAYNE NEEDS MORE FRIENDS!!!

Okay... IDEAAAAA!!!

So... I’ve been binging batman and batfam fics and posts because I would die for them (but who doesn’t?) and it suddenly occurred to me that our favorite emotionally constipated person Bruce Wayne... doesn’t have a lot of friend.

Specifically, he doesn’t have a lot of civilian friend.

The only person I know I’m aware he’s closely acquainted was Harvey Dent and... well... you guys know what happened.

So yeah it made me crave to give this walking trauma of a man for some friend that actually has common sense other than Alfred and would willingly interact seemingly among the Batfam.

Kiran Devabhaktuni is one example of a marvelous OC by audreycritter (@agent-skulldrey) that I wish was canon because good God that family needs more than doctor than just Leslie and puts up none of Batman’s shits and is like a brother to Bruce. Gosh dammit I can’t get enough of him! If you don’t know him, check out Cor Et Cerebrum. Beautiful fic.

But come on, can’t Bruce have more friends in his life that’s not in one part of his life!!! C’mon DC!!! Give us some good stuff!!!

Alas, as I lament about this unfortunate circumstances, I decided to make him a friend and share it with you guys.

I’m gonna be upfront and say the OC I had in mind is just a copy-paste of Erin Gruwell with a twist. If you don’t know, go watch, read, or simply google Freedom Writers because I cried the whole day because of them.10/10 totally recommend because good God, there’s nothing more inspiring than children in bad situation manage to reinvent themselves to be better than what society believes them to be.. Which makes me think... what if there’s a Gotham!FreedomWriters and my mind began to race of this idea. 

The OC basically has similar background with Erin Gruwell, from the good part of Gotham or Bristol, who only ever been outside looking in at the criminal-ridden city. Faced with kids with difficult home life, traumatized, practically homeless, believing they live a life of war because they need to be affiliated with a gang to survive. She then learned about the wrong preconception she has on these troubles kids and decided to help them by teaching them tolerance, compassion, and understanding through writing and assigning books they could empathize and IT WORKS!!!

How does Bruce Wayne comes into this? 

Well... in the book, it was told Erin work together with a millionaire who offered a lot of charity that helps and support these kids and Erin’s teaching plan. Such as giving them computers to write a book, funding a field trip that helps them meet the Holocaust survivors, even offering these kids work and scholarships once they graduate. Someone that some of the kids of the class admits that they see him as a father figure because the ones they had were shitty. 

See where am I going with this? 

If you say, more Robins, no! Absolutely not. Bruce isn’t adopting any of them. I’m aware Bruce has a problem but NO! 

So here’s how I imagine their meeting would be. 

OC works part-time in a hotel belong to Bruce because the school was being stingy in borrowing out books for the “Special” class that admits kids with records or from low-income family as part of a charity program or something. So OC has to work to buy her class new and relevant books that would interest her students.

There was a gala, she was a waitress, and for some reason or another she meets Bruce and they start talking. What did they talk about? I have no idea. This is still the concept phase guys. I don’t know everything from about my own brainchild.  

Now, I know that sounds like meet-cute first meeting, but I want to emphasize the fact I want them to be BEST FRIENDS!  It’s possible they might have a relationship in the distant future but if they were, it would be base on the fact they were best friends first and foremost! Which make their bond that strong. 

Not to mention that OC is an English teacher so imagine if Jason Todd-Wayne, English nerd Robin extraordinaire, be in her class among all the other kids from the worst part of Gotham. Jason would be the OC’s pet teacher and OC would be Jason’s favorite teacher ( but to be fair, in this scenario, she’s everyone’s fav teach). Jason love her so much ,he wanted to be an English Teacher that can help people like OC. And Jason would actually have civilians friends he could relate and rely on instead of being an outcast among other rich friends.  

So when parent-teacher conference was underway. All the other parents didn’t come because they’re either shitty or too busy earning money to live. Imagine Bruce being the only parent arriving to find the waitress from his hotel. And because Bruce is Batman and Batman is curious as the deepest depth of hell itself, he might be curious of why a teacher from one of the most well-paid school would overwork with a double job. Especially when Bruce-secretly-a-helicopter-parent-Wayne notice the body-tells OC made when she lied about the reason when asked. 

So of course he checks, this is his son’s teacher, he needs to know there’s nothing sinister going on. 

Which led to him finding out about the fresh books that wasn’t assigned by the school, which led to him supporting her endeavor without her overworking herself because apparently she has THREE jobs just to support her one job as a teacher. Which made Bruce thinks “WTF, and I thought I’m a workaholic.”

Anyway, when the two work together they shared a deep understanding of trying to make Gotham a better place. They’re both from the good part of Gotham or Bristol  who has limited understanding about living a life in actual Gotham, just knowing that it’s a bad place. Both want to better the place, Bruce through charities and OC through her teachings. Both saw there’s hope and second chances for people of Gotham and willing to fight for it in their own way without giving up. As well as their effort to help helpless children.  

Bruce later admired greatly and respect OC because Bruce has help people both as a Wayne and as Batman, but the same as her class, Bruce finds hope in her method that by teaching compassion and tolerance, people (especially children) can change to be a better persons and live a better life. That life in Gotham isn’t one way ticket to hopelessness because of where you’re born. Not only that, but for OC to persist being kind and compassiom despite reading and seeing the cruelty Gotham has to offer.

I imagine Bruce showed his Brucie Wayne persona at first, but grew more and more lax as time passed. They both love Jason so they would bond from talking about him and Bruce might actually have a friend he can ask advice in regards to parenting. With Bruce being "Urgh, kids, you know?" And she's like, "Oh please, tell me more of your one troubled kid with my 150 one."

OC also becomes comfortable to talk about her grief of her dead mother, the divorce she recently settled, and just hangs out with Bruce. The struggle to not be jaded by the things she reads her students had to suffer. Because OC isn't only kind by nature, but she's kind by choice.

Now, in Freedom Writers the class was assigned to write a diary everyday. Including Jason. Imagine if you will, when Jason died. OC gave Bruce Jason’s diary for his birthday, and stayed. Imagine Bruce having someone to share their grief with someone who understands other than Alfred. Imagine the Freedom Writers gave a tribute to Jason on their graduation because they love him and know he would have been valedictorian had he been alive and Bruce cried for the first time since he held Jason’s dead body. 

I have other ideas relating to OC but it’s more Jason’s perspective. Let me know if you want to read more of what I have in mind because I’ve word vomit enough. 

[rutilation]

This chapter mostly serves to transition into whatever’s coming next, which is lucky because I’m up to my eyeballs in finals this month.  As such, my thoughts on this chapter are a bit on the short side.

As others have pointed out, the leaf emerging from Phos’s neck is that of the bodhi tree.  Like the lotus, it is a plant of great symbolic importance in Buddhism, representing enlightenment.  Needless to say, it’s a bit of an odd symbol to use when Phos is currently the exact opposite of enlightened.  But, the thing that I find truly curious about its use isn’t the irony being deployed—that’s par for the course in this series, but rather the timing.  Take the use of the lotus as it applies to Phos, for example.  While it was also used somewhat ironically in that Phos’s change didn’t herald any sort of wisdom or serenity, it did clearly delineate a phase in Phos’s life, one where they sought that which the lotus symbolized.  But, Phos hasn’t changed at all from the last time their alloy decided to be symbolic a mere two chapters ago.  Why not just keep using the empty seedpod?  What is the impetus behind bringing up this new symbol?

One possibility that comes to my mind is that in the legend associated the bodhi tree, the Buddha had to sit under it for 49 days before he came to his revelation.  Perhaps then, the appearance of the bodhi leaf is foreshadowing a change to come, rather than embodying a change that has just happened.  Furthermore, if this illustration is indeed supposed to conjure the image of an umbilical cord, then that would also support the idea that Phos is in a state of limbo.

Cairn is being a total dick, but they are picking up on something here: Phos is repeating their actions from chapter 66, right down to forcing an unwilling party to come along on a hastily considered attack on earth—although I guess this time it’s Alex doing the forcing, but Phos would probably just heckle them about Nepti until they agreed to go along if Alex hadn’t done so first.  It’s like the story is stuck in a timeless hell wherein these tragedies repeat themselves, becoming more terrible with each consecutive revolution—no doubt a sentiment that Ichikawa is deliberately trying to evoke.

Of course, what Cairn either doesn’t realize or refuses to acknowledge is that Phos did make a sincere attempt follow their advice, and was harshly punished for it.  In addition, there’s also the fact that Cairngorm has also failed to change—it just hasn’t come crashing down on them quite yet.  It seems to me that the moment where Cairn almost blows Aechmea’s cover serves as a reminder that their own turn through the meat grinder is coming soon.

I don’t have much to say about Alex’s musings this chapter; I think it mostly exists in service of making the subtext of this past arc into explicit text.  Though it does also jive with an observation I had earlier, about how the gems don’t handle grief or nuanced emotions well.  It seemingly doesn’t occur to Alex that they can in any way honor Chrysoberyl’s memory while at the same time revising their opinion on the Lunarians.  In their eyes, either the Lunarians are evil, inhuman monsters and Chrysoberyl is a dear partner whose loss was a devastating tragedy, or the Lunarians are just normal people with understandable motivations and Chrysoberyl never mattered and their grief was a waste of time.  

I’m also not surprised that Dia is being a bit vicious.  They’ve been stewing in their bitterness without truly overcoming it since chapter 3, they were the first one to use that reoccurring phrase “If only (they) were never here,” and as I said in my essay for the last chapter, mere escapism was never going to solve their problems.  I’m eager to see how this pans out, as I’ve been waiting to see how Dia’s arc culminates for quite some time.

For all that I’m unsurprised by the details of this chapter, it’s disheartening that no one present can be bothered to try and derail the obvious and incoming tragedy train.  No one is trying to snap Phos out of it, and no one seems to care about what happens to the gems on earth.  84 is put off when Phos says they shouldn’t bother reviving the dusted gems, and Alex feels a little guilty about sitting on their thumbs while Phos suffered, but that’s about it.

I’m going to vent a little here: I have to wonder, what is the point of the story becoming so mean-spirited?  Why spend years painstakingly endearing the audience to this cast of characters, only to spend around twenty chapters destroying every ounce of that good will, to such an extent that (from what I’ve observed) a huge chunk of the remaining audience is cheering Phos on in their quest to kill everyone?

Is the cast ever going to reckon their complacency and casual cruelty, or are they only here to be punished for it with misery and death?  Have any of my thoughts on Cairngorm been accurate, or have I been spinning elaborate fanfiction to create space for sympathy that simply does not exist within the text?  And at the end of all this, will I find something meaningful in the unrelenting dirge the series has become?  I genuinely don’t know.  

To be clear, I don’t dislike tragedy.  In fact, I’d say I’m drawn to it more often than not.  But, if there’s one thing that consistently causes me to disengage emotionally with a work, it’s those times when I get the impression that the author holds their characters in contempt.  There’s plenty of good, important art that falls under that purview, but even when I find such works interesting or insightful, I don’t come to cherish them, and I don’t relish in spending time with them.  

So, what to do when encountering a work that spends sixty chapters as an exercise in quiet moments, in clumsy yet earnest attempts at empathy, and in dealing with grief, only to spend the most recent twenty as misery porn?  It’s a baffling experience, to say the least, but I guess my answer right now is to power through it, and hope to walk away from the ending with something valuable enough to be worth the trouble.  Certainly, none of Ichikawa’s other works wallowed in cruelty, even those that leaned towards horror or tragedy.  So, I’d like to have faith that the current tone of the story isn’t the note it will end on.

Thus, I’m still invested in seeing this through to the end.  This story is a complex and challenging beast that I want to understand, and god knows I don’t want to be the sort of philistine who pitches a fit every time they encounter a work of art that isn’t feel-good and life-affirming.  But it still grates on me a bit.

My little crisis of faith aside, I’m curious as to how this anti-mercury coating is going to work?  While it might protect the other three just fine, it doesn’t seem like a protective coating would be much use for Phos’s alloy, which is precisely the part of them that would be most vulnerable to Cinnabar’s mercury.  Can’t wait to see how that hashes out.  And by “can’t wait” I mean I’m dreading it.

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

Many aspects of the Modern Minuteman toolbox apply to preparedness in general, however personal and small-scale or widespread and earth shaking our pet disasters may be. As with overall preparedness, our exact situation and our expectations of disaster scenarios affects what we prioritize for our finite time and attention.

Last time, I concentrated on an “early/now” frame for prioritizing a handful of commonly recommended skills. This time, I’m actually taking the “at all” perspective, be it amped-up community watches, riot control, or some NWO-EROL situation we’re gearing up to oppose.

As always, opposing opinions are welcome. The more perspectives available, the better everyone is able to make their own decisions.

Gauge Community Climate

Absolutely and emphatically, yes.  

Heaven help me, I recently found myself agreeing with Nancy Pelosi. A group of students approached her in her office to express their displeasure in her lack of support for an AOC environmental bill. Her reply was essentially that stupid to waste time on something with absolutely zero chance of passing.

That was a fair enough point on its own, and speaks directly to taking the pulse of a population.

Even more so was a nugget that made fewer news sites in the following days: The belief that trying to push too-extreme an agenda – however much she personally might agree with it – was worse than doing nothing at all. It would only further ruffle feathers, making things harder to achieve the next time around.

I’m no more fan of politicians than the next, but the ability to accurately predict and read the masses is something that we do need to be aware of if we have any interest whatsoever in being a citizen soldier.

What the community will stand and what they won’t is the bedrock of insurgency and resistance movements.

What they will and won’t stand in good times, versus crux moments and tragedy, historically makes or breaks those movements, as well as the hold over a community by a commanding force – whether that’s a large, visible government with policing agents and military, or the behind-the-scenes types large and small. 

It applies to anticipating and either preventing or responding to something like a riot or demonstration, as well as guerrilla actions against occupations and undermining strongholds of loyalists for either/any faction.

Large scale, long-term or single-event short-term, we have to be able to gauge the mood of the mob and the climate of our communities, and our reactions have to come from a complete tool set – not just picking today’s hammer.

If we can’t, our chances of success are downright nil.

Denial & Disruption

Most emphatically, yes.

Riot control on sidewalks or countering the jackboot takeover, we want to be able to deny our enemy intel and assets, and disrupt their way of doing business (and ability to relax).

That can take all sorts of forms – and has, throughout history.

Interdiction and harassment take so many forms, it really rates its own set of articles even to nutshell the tactics and techniques employed by insurgency and resistance in guerrilla operations, community and large-force counters to guerilla operations, and even law enforcement and IT deterrents large and small, and internal policing by law enforcement and militaries and even lowly little small-business operations, as well as force-on-force operations from pre-tech eras to modern times.

On the larger scales, it involves all sorts of supply and travel disruptions, misinformation/counter-intel, harassing fire, false flags, etc.

Many of those can also be applied on the smallest of scales – even interpersonal conflict and self-defense situations – employing different techniques to the same theories, or adapting techniques to fit conditions.

Again, though, we really want to mind the effects on and reactions of our internal and closest-ties allies (family, coworkers, partners), the near neighbors, and the community at large, as well as our opposition and the reactions of their varying rings of influence.

Wilderness & Military Camp Setup

Yes, absolutely – anywhere.

Site development and placement of elements – modern or long past – have a lot of aspects that apply to preparedness in general, even “just” getting through a hurricane and “just” setting up our homes for everyday functional efficiency and security.

The same aspects keep them relevant to a modern minuteman intending to defend storefronts or residential communities from riots as well as the prepper who anticipates infantry-like service defending freedom.  

Positioning for ready communication, rapid responses, protection of key elements, LOS, external observation points, latrines/sanitation, deployment outside the wire and-or green zones, individual safety and incoming-fire cover, fire safety, supply distribution, and awareness of known effective ranges by position and armament all factor in.

They apply equally to both the able-bodied foot soldier and to the physically limited watchman or rear-echelon non-combatant, whatever the situation, however big or small the location.

*Think that one through, and consider our daily nothing-wrong lifestyles – It really does resonate everywhere, from where our smoke detectors and fire extinguishers are, to aggravations or eases when we grocery shop, bathe dogs, do laundry, file and maintain paperwork, coordinate with family and coworkers, get to and from our chores and recreations, etc. We don’t have to be totally paranoid or OCD to start seeing typical trends in non-prepper, non-minuteman sources for safety/protection and efficiency.

Camo & Concealment

Meh.

Really, it’s situationally dependent.

For most of the scenarios we can list off, from protecting our corner of Baltimore or Koreatown to taking our turn as the insurgents – or countering them, or splinter cells of a larger force – unless you’re a sniper operating from the woods, mostly, “meh” leaning “well, nah”.

Flip side: Oh hell yeah, because camo and concealment isn’t always green and tan splotches of paint or fabric.

Camo and concealment is a suit or slacks and a briefcase in a courthouse, yoga pants and a light bag at the park, a “normal” passenger vehicle instead of an off-road rock-climbing mudder or Humvee on the average street, high-vis vests with dirty pants on a road crew with their bucket or tool box/bag, and scuffed up boots on a farm hand.

That camo and concealment extends to mixing up travel patterns to avoid breaking foliage and creating “deer trails”, being able to slip out of a location without observation, and presenting the appearance of following habitual movements and activities while deviating from the norm.

It’s also developing the control to watch our mouths and non-verbals rather than fight every battle that comes our way and picking every hill as our hill to die on. (Return to Nancy Pelosi above to make that an even uglier pill to swallow.)

And, yeah, in a few situations, it’s being able to become a rock on the hill or another tuft of brush, but unless we’re evading birds or sniper hunters, mostly breaking up our outlines isn’t too hard and doesn’t always require paint or cammies.

Hand-to-Hand Combat

Yes and no.

Don’t get me wrong. Self-defense capabilities are great to have, period. It’s not like this world has ever been totally safe, or like it’s getting any crazier.

However you want to apply it, keep in mind how often we see 2-5 cops or foreign militias trying to wrestle a bad guy into cuffs or move them after arrest, and weigh how much training and daily practice they get, versus our ability to invest time and money into training.

Our expectations of the bad guy we’ll be encountering, and how we’re deploying also factor in pretty hugely.

If we’re countering a significant force, whether it’s widespread jackboots and organized invaders or forces that have the benefit of protective gear, our chances of success are much lower.

Similarly, our chances against servicemen from one of the nations that focus significant continuing training time on some pretty gnarly martial arts, knife work, and batons … not so hot.

There are exploits for hand-to-hand combat even against somebody wearing body armor groin to neck, face shields and helmets, and knee pads. We just have to be realistic about whether we’re going to personally stand a chance with our available investment capabilities, or if we want to focus instead on something else.

Learn some basics that fit your physical condition for everyday encounters, but don’t break the bank on this one.

Instead, for minuteman purposes develop awareness, de-escalation, and evasion skills as well as Gray Man presentation.

Also work reflex drills, ankle-knee lateral and start-stop strength (or chair skills), and balance exercises – especially for people who are limited in some way by age, injury, or genetic luck of the draw.

Urban or rural, footing can be iffy. The better able we are to compensate for shifting terrain, curbs, bumps, and slips, and the better able we are to change direction on a dime, the better chance we stand of staying in the fight, whatever the scenario we imagine.

Modern Minuteman Skillsets

Most likely, the term “Modern Minuteman” brings a certain image to our heads. And, most likely, any 2-20 of us would describe very different images – particularly as the most likely and most common potential for a modern minuteman to deploy.

Because we have very different situations and needs, with very different scenarios in mind and very different capabilities due to our physical shape and local environment, the skills we are most likely to need are going to vary.

Some, though, are pretty universal. We can sometimes assign a value across the board, regardless of situation or scenario.

With any luck, somebody disagrees with these, or the matrix I apply at large, and presents points for discussion.

If not and until then, go find somebody who thinks “bah, PC community-pulse nonsense” or “moron, every soldier should fight with sticks”. Weigh the argument presented for those situations, and decide what does actually make sense for you. It’s only having multiple perspectives that really lets us prioritize, whether we’re picking out groceries or putting together our minuteman to-do list.

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The post Modern Minuteman – Yes-No-Maybe Skillsets Vol. 2 appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

[rain0205-blog]

Terminal State

Summary:  She tried leaving, submerging herself in work to escape the horrors she had seen. The horrors she kept seeing. She never wanted to go back to that life. But when the Empire takes her home, she’s forced to face her past. Can she move on? Can she cope? Or will she require a bit of help? still bad at summaries, still working on it. ever so slightly more than slight AU gadioxoc

Code Grey

...

Gladiolus was in a foul mood for nearly a fortnight, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by his friends - particularly, Noctis, as the Prince was the one set to train with him. One night it was so evident that he shouldn't be acting upon his emotions that Ignis put a stop to it abruptly and informed Gladiolus that the Prince would not come back until he got a hold of himself. The Shield just grunted, not saying anything to either of them. He was short with his father as well, and with his little sister, Iris. No one really knew why he was in such a sore mood but anyone could guess. While Clarus and Iris didn't know really much of anything about Gladio pursuing a doctor, the other three men did. Everyone had noticed that the large man refrained from going near the clinic and the hospital if he could avoid it. That was usual before he had met Dr. Virum but now it seemed he was much more adamant about it than he used to be, which could only led the others to assume that the two of them had a falling out. No one spoke out loud about their theories, Gladiolus was already a ticking time bomb it seemed and without actually talking to him about it well... it was anyone's guess.

Ignis and Noctis hadn't seen said doctor around their building. That wasn't unusual as they never actually noticed her before, or did and never paid any attention until now. It seemed that the woman had just up and disappeared. No one went to check the hospital - no one was injured enough for an emergency department - they could only assume that was where she was. A workaholic, and after her injury had healed it was safe to say that she probably went back to her regular job. Just as things were starting to quiet down with Gladiolus, both him and Ignis were called to the Citadel by the Marshal, Cor Leonis. It was an emergency situation and the two of them wasted no time in reporting in, donning their Crownsguard uniforms by requirement. They weren't the only ones called in. In a sea of guards, the two stood, patiently waiting for their Captain to inform them of what was happening. It was very rare that they were all called together like this and the tension in the air about it was evident.

...

Dr. Virum sighed as she tried to hold her patient down to administer Ativan. He was seizing, his stats plummeting no matter what she did. She was having one hell of a day, on hour 29 of her shift that wasn't even supposed to go on this long. But the entire city was having one hell of a day. Virum finally pushed the medication through the intravenous and he started to relax. Sighing with relief, she grabbed her tablet and punched in orders, the nurses quick to carry out her orders. She walked back to the nurse's station, taking a look around the waiting room and careful not to bump into anyone.

Athenacia had been back to work for two weeks, lucky that she saw no more sign of Gladiolus nor his friends. In truth, she felt guilty for their fight but she meant what she said and it seems he finally got the message and backed off. Virum finished up her exile at the Citadel and Cor let her go free to get back to her life. Instead of going home, she came straight to the hospital, unwilling to risk seeing the Prince and his guard, well aware they wouldn't come here looking for her. So she practically moved into the hospital, not even going to get her car. Sleep deprivation was almost immediate, the dark circles returning to her eyes, bloodshot and exhausted. Her body protested her poor treatment of it but that was the life of emergency medicine, something she resolved when she first started med school.

Insomnia was having one hell of a day. What was supposed to be a sixteen-hour shift turned into hour 29. Dr. Virum was properly knackered and had no chance to sit down for even a second to take a break. Everyone was called in since the night previous a major pile up on one of the main rods occurred and they had patients coming in like crazy. On top of that, there was a massive structure fire in one of the tall high rises. About three hours after that there was something wrong with one of the middle schools on the other side of the city and more patients were coming in. Now, she was just informed that a big team of Glaives were also on their way in from a severe battle with the Empire. And the icing on the cake? It was flu season, her waiting room was bursting. No one had any breaks with all of this happening. All the nurses and doctors were in, treating patients. They didn't have enough beds, not enough rooms, people were being treated in the corridors and the waiting room. On top of that, she had first year resident doctors beginning their training. Virum mostly had them dealing with the lesser issues and her boss was nowhere to be seen. Her body wished that she would stop moving but there was no way and everyone seemed to go to her for instructions. Rubbing her head, a sigh escaped her before she moved on to the next patient. There simply weren't enough people here for the number of patients and they were all getting restless, she could see the commotion ready to get worse. She was short security guards even.

And then a wave of Crownsguard burst into her emergency department, Cor Leonis at the lead of them. Everything stopped as they marched towards the nurse's station, no one really knowing what to do with them here. Dr. Virum could see Gladiolus and Ignis among them, eyes forward as they waited for instruction. She didn't linger her gaze on them, her attention brought back to Cor and what they were doing here.

"Cor, why are your Crownsguard here?" she asked as he walked towards her.

"You need all the hands you can get," he spoke.

"I also need all the room I can get, there's too many people in here!" she had to raise her voice as everyone started to go back to work, "Take them and get out!"

"No chance, Athenacia, you need them right now!"

"What I need are doctors! I have a school full of kids going into a quarantine zone! I've got a burning building, a multi-vehicle accident, a flu virus floating around my waiting room and I have van loads of injured Glaives coming in! I need supplies and med techs!"

"You need security before everyone here goes into a frenzy!"

"It's a little late for that!"

"They're staying, Athenacia, you don't have a choice! You're code grey!"

She growled, hating that he was right, "The Bossman isn't here!"

"He left it to you! He's the one who called! This is your department today, your battalion! Now lead, Virum!"

Her hazel eyes hardened, as the Crownsguard kept their position, nurses and doctors alike having to push past them as they frantically tried to treat patients. Virum looked at the rest of her staff, all of them ready to collapse with the amount of work going on. She then looked at what she was working with. The Crownsguard weren't many but enough that she would be able to bring things back to order around here. Meeting Cor's gaze once more, she knew he was waiting impatiently for her to act. Taking another quick glance at the chaos around her, she nodded at him once before setting her jaw and turning around to a stand on top of the nurse's station desk. Literally.

Gladiolus didn't react to her, pointedly keeping his gaze away from her. It was something that Ignis didn't fail to notice but they had no choice but to be here. Cor was very adamant about him being put in this unit as opposed to staying at the Citadel. He was a Shield to the Prince and Noctis was nowhere near here. Even Gladiolus couldn't avoid her as she stepped up on top of the desk, looking out among the emergency department. Cor wasn't kidding when he said they were needed, it was almost a war zone in here. His amber eyes studied her, noting that her body was completely exhausted. The Shield absently wondered how long she had been working, especially given all that was happening in the city right now. Despite all of it, she had a look to her he had never seen before.

"Listen up!" she shouted, everyone stopping what they were doing to look at her. She had a frown on her face as all eyes were on her, "We have an epidemic here. We need all hands on deck and we need them now. I need every doctor, every nurse that can be spared pulled out of other departments and down here. I need a quarantine zone for the incoming children from the school. I need volunteers to treat the patients in the zone. I need the burn unit and ICU completely patient free to make room for the structure fire. I need every ventilator, crash cart, every piece of machinery down here stat. I need the O.R free and ready for critical patients. Crownsguard, I need you stationed at every room, people are scared and dying they're going to get violent. We're drowning here people, we're going to have to make some seriously tough decisions. The charge nurses have bags of slips, everyone needs them. Our supplies are limited, use your best judgement and don't waste any time. We are code grey! I repeat we are code grey! Now move!"

Virum jumped down as everyone began to busy themselves. The first flux of patients arrived: the school kids led in on stretchers, some in critical condition, some able to walk on their own. They were all guided into the quarantine zone that had just finished setting up. There was something unknown going around and they couldn't risk it getting involved with the other patients. Dr. Virum was far too busy to tend to the quarantine zone. The victims of the fire were the next to pour in, and she had to make some seriously hard decisions on that. There was no time to think as more patients they had stabilized from the accident were starting to crash. High on her own adrenaline, she was running around from room to room, patient to patient in the blink of an eye without stopping. It wasn't just her, the nurses and other doctors, even the paramedics that could be spared were all here treating patients. Virum didn't want to admit that she was thankful that Cor burst in her door and forced the Crownsguard on her. They were helping immensely with keeping the halls cleared and patients calm while everyone was trying to work around them in the chaotic environment thrust upon them. Dr. Virum took a breath for the first time in a while, weariness resting deep in her bones. And then the Glaives started to come in. The doctor was at a loss of what to do but she kept moving from patient to patient. Without Tash or Gin directing people, she was sure things would be far worse.

Hour 36 and things seemed to be only getting worse. Virum just finished getting vomited on by a patient, issuing commands and then going back to the nurse's station. She scrutinized her department carefully before taking a deep breath, eyes burning at having to still be open. It was with relief that Tash had walked up and given her a large coffee, nodding at the older woman before taking a long drink and having another look around to collect her thoughts. The doctor spotted Gladiolus near the quarantine zone and she wasn't shocked that he put himself as far away from her as possible. Ignis wasn't far from her current position, his green eyes calculating as he met her gaze. She only offered him a faint, tired smile before finishing her drink and then going into the room he was standing outside of.

The patient in here wasn't doing all that great. He was a Glaive, a victim of the Empire's wrath, something she knew a little too well. Multiple lacerations and contusions, spinal cord nearly severed - it was amazing he was even breathing on his own. Dr. Virum pulled out her tablet, going over his treatment. It said there were magical burns but weren't documented on where. Frowning, she put on a fresh set of latex gloves, searching for the injuries. She could see them on his legs and more on his arm, covering about 30 percent of his body. She closed the curtain to respect his modesty, but in reality, she didn't want anyone to see what she was about to do. As she held her hands over the magical burns, a gold light began to shine from them. It latched onto the disfigured skin and the burns slowly started to disappear. Virum repeated the process on the other affected areas. As she was finishing, her patient began to wake up. The doctor widened her hazel eyes, as he looked at her and what she was doing in disbelief. There was no time to focus on that, the monitors beginning their tragic song. He was crashing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his heart rate plummeted. Shit.

"Need some help in here!" she shouted as she began her compressions. The curtain rolled back instantly, and only Ignis was there. Her other nurses her otherwise occupied. Better than nothing, "Keep compressions," she instructed.

He obliged as she began to rummage in the nearby med cart. Virum pushed epinephrine, through the patient's line. No improvement. Ignis kept up his compressions while Dr. Virum shouted out of the room.

"Need a crash cart!"

"There's none available!" Gin responded to her as she ran past the room and into another

"Shit!" she was looking around, her gaze meeting the man helping for a brief moment before she spotted Gladiolus walking by her room. It struck her then, "Gladio get in here!" she yelled at him. The panic in her voice had him turn around and walk in without question, traces of their falling out gone while they were both working, "Make a fist and strike him in the chest with the bottom of your hand," she instructed, her eyes a little wild.

"What?" he was confused at what she was asking him.

"Just do it!" she shouted in a frenzy, her heart racing and her breath heavy, "Clear!" she yelled, Ignis removed his hands. Gladiolus complied with her wishes and struck the man in the chest. The patient convulsed, his body jolting with the hit, "Continue compressions," she looked at Ignis as she pushed another syringe full of epinephrine, "Clear!" and Gladiolus repeated his earlier action. The monitor calmed down, her eyes glued to it as her hands absently went to his neck for a pulse check. She breathed a sigh of relief, "Normal sinus rhythm," she announced, looking over at the two men, "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Ignis bowed his head towards her slightly, returning to his post.

Virum locked eyes with Gladiolus and he could see the relief that swept through her at the work he had done. She opened her mouth, wishing to say something else to him but she was far too tired to even think at the moment with all the chaos around her. When she was about to speak he just nodded briefly, a little stiff, before exiting the room. The doctor watched him go with regret on her face before back to her patient and noting the contusion formed from the action she took to keep him alive. He was back to being unconscious so she pushed medication and then updated his status. They would need this bed now that his immediate threat was cured. Releasing her umpteenth sigh, she walked out of the room, taking a look around. They didn't have enough machinery which meant they had to start making some tougher decisions.

"Nice thinking on the precordial thump," complimented Tash.

"Sometimes the old ways are the best ways," Virum responded, going to treat another patient.

...

Hour 42 and things were calming down just a little. There wasn't a massive wave of patients coming in, everyone was here and being treated as best as possible. Dr. Virum held another coffee in her hands, her eyes still burning at what she was putting her body through. But she had to keep going. Virum looked around at everyone, weary and tired as they trudged through their shift. It was so similar to the battlefield she was having trouble keeping her nightmare visions away with every blink. Even the Crownsguard station around were getting a little tired with all the activity around them. Thanks to Cor, they were trained well and the hostile activity was kept to a minimum. Dr. Virum couldn't even count the number of deaths she had called today of all different ages. Luckily, none of the children from the school had suffered, though finding out what caused them to be sick was taking longer than normal. They weren't sick enough to be a high priority, far more critical patients coming in from the war, the crash and the fire. The flu victims hadn't thinned out at all despite and it was unlikely they'd get out of here soon. Her residents, when they weren't needed for anything else, were doing their best to fan them out and while she was sure they didn't appreciate it, everyone has to start somewhere.

Dr. Virum walked towards another patient, near the quarantine zone where Gladiolus stood. Eight year-old female, accident victim. The patient was stuck on a gurney in the hallway since there wasn't a room for her or really anyone really. The mother was in ICU and there was no one there for her just yet. Virum pulled up her stats quickly, noting that she was on oxygen. She smiled at the young girl with bright blond hair done up in a braid with some dried blood on it and a trickle of it running down her delicate face. Scared brown eyes looked at the doctor sadly as she approached.

Gladiolus followed her with his amber gaze. Thirteen hours he had been standing here, there or anywhere, confined to the hospital until the code grey was over. He noted that Dr. Virum had consumed about six coffees in that time and heard that she was almost at two days straight of working. But she wasn't alone, the other doctors and nurses being here much longer than usual. It was no wonder she looked like she was withering away, why all of them looked like they were ready to collapse. Gladio wasn't sure how anyone could work this much while having to frantically run around. It made him look at her in a new sort of light.

"How are you?" she asked the child sitting on the bed.

"My head hurts," the little girl almost cried, but was trying to put on a brave face.

Gladiolus watched the two of them closely, unable to look anywhere else.

"Can I take a look?"

The girl nodded. Dr. Virum carefully took the girl's head in her hands, observing the cut on the forehead. She then pulled out her stethoscope and began to listen to the girl's breathing and heart rate. All her actions were gentle, focused, and the little girl just watched her with her big brown eyes. A nurse had come to stand near her in case she was needed.

"Where's my mommy?"

Gladiolus heard the doctor sigh, "She's upstairs. I have a very good friend helping her."

"Is your friend going to fix her?"

"He's going to do everything he can," Dr. Virum assured the girl.

"What's your name?"

She hesitated, but then answered, "Athenacia."

"That's a weird name."

She laughed a little, "I suppose so. What's your name?"

"Valentina."

"Very pretty."

"Thank you," she smiled briefly. She then saw Dr. Virum pull a syringe from the cart beside them, "Are you going to put that needle in me?"

"Yes, it's going to help your head."

"I don't like needles."

"I promise it will be a small pinch and then your head won't hurt anymore."

"Will you hold my hand?"

She smiled, "Of course."

Gladiolus watched as Valentina put her small hand into Athenacia's. The nurse swabbed the small upper arm of the child, and then looked at Dr. Virum. The young girl closed her eyes tightly and with a sympathetic look, Virum pushed the plunger into the girl's arm. She had a death grip on the doctor but she didn't seem to feel any pain. Gladio smirked as Valentina opened her eyes expectantly, wondering why she hadn't felt the small pinch. Dr. Virum was using her other hand to place a cotton ball on it, while a nurse took hold of it, applying pressure.

"Are you done?" asked Valentina.

"All done. You were so brave," said Virum soothingly.

"I didn't even feel it!"

"Because you're tough," replied the doctor, smiling as she poked the girl's nose.

Valentina released her hand, a smile on her face as she laid down on her gurney. Dr. Virum pulled the covers over her and then started to push buttons on the tablet. The nurse had walked away to tend to another patient. Athenacia took a look around, Gladiolus pulling his eyes away quickly once she met his gaze. He saw in his peripherals that she had walked away, and he again looked in her direction. The Shield brought his gaze to the little girl who was now sleeping soundly in her bed. A tender smile reached his lips as he focused on his job.

...

Hour 50 came and with it some relief. The victims of the crash were treated and sent home, aside from the critical patients who were scattered between ICU and other recovery rooms. The apartment fire victims were also treated and sent home aside from their critical patients. The outbreak in the middle school turned out to be nothing to worry about, after all, the quarantine unnecessary. So one by one they were treated accordingly and released to their parents. Finally, all the Glaives were properly treated and discharged effortlessly. The patients in the waiting room had thinned out as well, the resident doctors doing a thorough job with them. Hallways were clear of patients, the rooms starting to empty aside from what was needed. Tensions around the department were calming down and as the sun was beginning to rise, the code grey was finally over. Doctors and nurses took their much-needed breaks and some of them were sent home with relief. With Dr. Virum's okay to Cor, the Crownsguard were well thanked and dismissed. Everything was going back to normal

Athenacia breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the glass sliding doors of the emergency department for the first time in days, still wearing her dirty scrubs. She didn't even care she had been up for a little over two days straight with no time in between. The breeze blew her hair, hitting her face and bringing a warm feeling through her body. A brief look to the sky, she watched as the staff and Crownsguard alike began their trek home. The doctor gave a brief smile to Ignis on his way out, a tired one to Cor accompanied by a nod and aversion of eyes only to realize she didn't have her car here. She sighed again, almost laughing at her own stubbornness.

The physician started to walk toward her apartment building, shoving her hands in the pockets of her lab coat and adjusting her purse so that it wouldn't annoy her legs while she walked. At this point, she wished she did take the time to change, convinced she looked like she had been through an intense murder horror film. Her eyes were still burning but in just one more hour, she would be able to collapse on her bed and sleep. Athenacia had never looked forward to sleep so much before in her life. As she was leaving the hospital parking lot and entering the main street, her attention was brought to a suspicious car that pulled up beside her, slowing down to stay parallel to her. She looked at it curiously, the window rolling down which prompted her to stop and bend over a bit to look at who was stopping her.

"Hey Doc, need a ride?" asked Gladiolus, "Promise I won't drop you off at home," he offered her a smile.

Athenacia laughed a little, walking towards the car, "Sure, if you don't mind getting blood, bile, spit and I don't even know what else on the seat."

He grinned at her, "I'll send you the cleaning bill."

Her smile grew as she opened the door. The first thing she noticed was that he had removed his jacket and was lucky that he wasn't the one covered in various bodily fluids. Athenacia fastened her seat belt and leaned her head against the seat. Gladiolus took off then, and she turned her head slightly to look out the window. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as he drove, catching him stealing glances at her in her peripheral vision. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open but the ride home wasn't going to be very long, she could stick it out a bit longer.

"You can drop me off at home," she spoke softly, keeping her head on the seat as she turned towards him.

Gladio nodded at her, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Athenacia observed his profile, the sunlight shining on his features between the buildings. He was tired, having had to work for hours on end like herself and he wasn't nearly as haggard as she was, definitely handling it better. She closed her eyes slowly turning her head back over to the window, trying to keep them open. As they pulled up to the building, she was a bit sad the ride was over. The physician removed her seat belt and got out of the car, however, didn't stray too far, leaning on the outside of the door after it was closed. That light smile still on her face, she turned so that she was facing him. The Shield rolled down the window and she put her head on her arms to rest there as she met his gaze.

"Thank you," she gave him a tired smile.

"No problem," he replied.

She nodded at him, lingering a little longer than she needed, "About that beer..."

"What about it?"

Athenacia smiled, still tiredly but unable to take her eyes off of his face. He had a brow raised as he waited patiently for her to speak and she felt like she was in a dream almost.

"I'm free after I wake up."

Gladiolus grinned at her, "Sorry, I don't date doctors."

She laughed, biting her lip a little nervously, "Your loss. I'll be around here sometime close to eightish. If you change your mind."

"Good day, Athenacia."

"Good day, Gladio," she laughed a little again, picking herself up and turning her back to walk into her building.

Gladiolus's stare followed her every movement until he could no longer see her.

[worldwidemarketresearch]

Candle Market 2021 scope by product type, technology, age group, end user, COVID-19 impact, and key players

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   Traditional Field

   Craft Field

 Candle Market By Major Types

   Petroleum & Mineral

   Vegetable

   Animal

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   Yankee Candle (Newell Brands)

   Luminex Home D?cor & Fragrance Holding Corporation

   Bolsius

   MVP Group International, Inc

   Gies

   Talent

   Universal Candle

   Qingdao Kingking Applied Chemistry Co., LTD

   Vollmar

   Empire Candle Co., LLC

   Hyfusin Group Holdings Limited

   Diptqyue

   Zhongnam

   Dandong Everlight Candle Industry Co., Ltd.

   Fushun Pingtian Wax products Co., ltd.

   Allite

   Armadilla Wax Works

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 The right off the bat worldwide Candle market portrays the market review, Upstream, Technology and Cost Structure. The subsequent part depicts worldwide Candle showcase by key players, by Application and Type. It likewise incorporates Candle industry rivalry structure investigation by market income of locale, deals and by Candle advertise by noticeable key players. Likewise Consists of Global Candle Industry Application Status, Industry SWOT Analysis and Market Demand Forecast and examination of Production and Sales of the territorial market and future conjecture investigation. At last, it incorporates an examination of Candle Market Investment, Market Features, Opportunity, and Calculation.

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[blueweave]

Small Animal Imaging Reagents Market Size and Share is Growing at a CAGR of 10.7% During 2021-2027 | BlueWeave

According to BlueWeave Consulting, the global small animal imaging reagents market is projected to reach USD 3.4 billion by 2027, growing at a CAGR of 10.7% during 2021-2027 (forecast period). Small animal imaging is identified as a process that has been employed using imaging devices and reagents for monitoring the molecular or cellular process for biochemical, biological, diagnostic, and therapeutic application in animals such as rats and mice for drug development and gene expression studies. Furthermore, the small imaging systems are a cost-effective way for regular validation and commercialization of new drugs as it includes the whole body scan of the animal

Technological innovations such as a combination of high-resolution MRI new opportunities in the small animal imaging reagents market

The most recent advances in magnetic resonance imaging technology have been on the software side, which enables faster contrast scans, greatly simplifies cardiac imaging workflows, and allowing MR scans of the lungs. Also, a few new MRI scanners have entered the market in the past year. The technological innovations such as a combination of high-resolution MRI with other modalities and the advancement of transgenic and gene knockout technologies will fuel the demand for the reagents in the market as small animals like rats and mice are most widely used for cardiovascular imaging studies.

Rise In the Pharmaceutical Industry and R&D Expenditures

For instance, global spending on R&D has reached a record high of almost US$ 1.7 trillion. About 10 countries account for 80% of spending. The pharmaceutical market across the globe is expected to grow in the upcoming years despite the recent slowdown in key markets. In addition, the aging and growing population, rising income levels, and emerging medical conditions and along with the emergence of new diseases are the major driver's factors. These would be directly benefiting the small animal imaging market growth.

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Optical Imaging Segment occupy the largest share of the small animal imaging reagents market

Based on the Modality, the small animal imaging reagents market is segmented into Optical Imaging, PET, SPECT, CT, MRI, ultrasound, Photoacoustic Imaging, Magnetic Particle Imaging. The recent advances in molecular and cell biology and the rising awareness regarding the human and mammalian genome, molecular and cellular mechanisms that control biological processes and underlie many diseases, including cancer are boosting the segment growth. In addition, compared with the other PET/SPECT and MRI, optical imaging is relatively inexpensive without the need for extensive infrastructure.

Global Small Animal Imaging Reagents Market: Regional insights

North America catering the largest share and expected to witness significant growth in the small animal imaging reagents market during the forecast period. The high industry growth rate, with the emergence of new technology, is the major reason. The key providers are continuously upgrading their offerings to differentiate them from other competitors. This is achieved by various organic and inorganic strategies. Suppliers operating in the industry are continuously working on new development, technical expertise, and in-house capabilities. High opportunity makes the small animal imaging reagents market more competitive and suppliers are trying hard to capture the clients. The market is highly acceptable to innovative products, however, considering the risks involved in business continuity implementers are still considering brand over new offerings in the market.

Global Small Animal Imaging Reagents Product Market: Competitive Landscape

The leading players for the global small animal imaging reagents product market include, ErkinElmer Inc. Bruker Corporation, FUJIFILM Holdings Corporation, Mediso Ltd., MILabs B.V., MR Solutions Ltd. Aspect Imaging, LI-COR Biosciences hermo Fisher Scientific, Perkinelmer, Bruker, Fujifilm Holdings, Trifoil, MiltenyiBiotec, Mediso, Aspect Imaging, Li-Cor Biosciences, Trifoil Imaging, and others, are expanding their presence in the market by implementing various business strategies. Major players are engaged in mergers and acquisitions, expansion of their manufacturing facilities, infrastructural growth, investment in R&D facilities, and the quest for opportunities to expand vertically through the value chain.

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[orbemnews]

State Revenues Pour In, Raising Pressure on Biden to Divert Federal Aid WASHINGTON — From California to Virginia, many states that faced devastating shortfalls in the depths of the pandemic recession now find themselves flush with tax revenues because of a rebounding economy and a soaring stock market. Lawmakers who worried about budget cuts are now proposing lucrative increases in school spending, tax cuts and direct payments to their residents. That turnaround is partly the product of strong income tax receipts, particularly in states that heavily tax high earners and the wealthy, whose finances have fared well in the crisis. The unexpectedly rosy picture is raising pressure on President Biden to repurpose hundreds of billions of dollars of federal aid approved this year, in order to help fund a potential bipartisan infrastructure deal. Last week, Senator Mitt Romney, Republican of Utah, suggested that Mr. Biden and Republican negotiators look to “some of the funding that’s been sent to states already under the last few bills” to help pay for that agreement. “They don’t know how to use it,” Mr. Romney said. “They could use that money to finance part of the infrastructure relating to roads and bridges and transit.” Some economists and budget experts support that push, arguing that the money could be better spent elsewhere and that states’ spending plans could add to a risk of rapid inflation breaking out across the country. Other researchers and local budget officials say that the federal aid is rescuing harder-hit cities and states, like New York City and Hawaii, from a cascade of layoffs and spending cuts. Biden administration officials say they continue to support distributing the full $350 billion in state, local and tribal aid that was contained in the $1.9 trillion economic assistance package that Mr. Biden signed in March. They say the aid will help ensure that the economic rebound does not repeat the years of state and local budget cutting that followed the 2008 financial crisis, which slowed the recovery from recession and contributed to millions of Americans waiting years to reap its benefits. “We still feel strongly that the state and local plan is critical to ensuring we have a strong insurance policy for the type of strong growth we want, the type of equitable recovery the country deserves,” Gene Sperling, a senior adviser to Mr. Biden who oversees fulfillment of the March assistance package, said in an interview, “and to coming back from the 1.3 million jobs lost at the state and local level.” Even if the administration wanted to recoup or divert the funds, it is unlikely that it could repurpose the money or make significant changes to how it is used without congressional action. The debate over the state and local funding comes as Mr. Biden navigates a critical week of negotiations with Republicans over infrastructure in search of a deal, and as he prepares to travel to Cleveland on Thursday to speak about the economy. How to pay for any new spending is a primary hurdle in the talks, with Mr. Biden pushing to raise taxes on corporations and Republicans preferring increased user fees like the gas tax. Repurposing unspent funds could help advance an agreement, particularly given Republican opposition to bankrolling state aid in previous rescue packages. Democrats pushed hard to include lucrative financial assistance for states, cities and tribes in Mr. Biden’s rescue bill. Republicans fought those efforts, warning they would serve as a “bailout” to high-tax, high-spend liberal states. They also cited a series of projections from Wall Street firms and other analysts suggesting that many states’ revenues were faring better than officials had feared in the early months of the pandemic. It increasingly looks like many liberal states are not being “bailed out” — but also that some of them do not need more federal money. That is particularly true in states that do not rely primarily on the tourism or hospitality industries for tax revenues. Those with progressive tax systems that have caught surging revenues from investment income enjoyed by wealthy residents — like Silicon Valley moguls — are also faring well. California officials expect a $15 billion surplus this fiscal year, after fearing a $54 billion shortfall. Virginia has seen nearly $2 billion in unanticipated revenues. As has Oregon, where economists recently upgraded the state’s revenue forecasts — moving it from projected deficits to surplus — in a report that surprised and delighted many lawmakers. “It’s extremely surprising,” said Mark McMullen, the Oregon state economist. “Obviously, when the shutdowns first set in and we saw these catastrophic employment losses, we treated them as a normal recession in our forecasts,” he said. But surging income tax revenues and several rounds of federal assistance have now put the state “above our prepandemic forecasts,” Mr. McMullen added. The strong revenue figures come as more federal relief money is just beginning to roll out the door. The Treasury Department began sending funds to states this month and has so far distributed more than $100 billion — about half of what is available to be disbursed immediately. Local governments are expected to receive the rest next year, although states still experiencing a sharp rise in unemployment will get a lump sum right away. The Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget estimates that state and local governments have received a total of nearly $1 trillion in relief money in the past year. State and local revenues were running about 7 percent above their prepandemic levels in the last quarter — excluding the federal aid they have received. Marc Goldwein, the senior policy director for the committee, said that states like Hawaii and Nevada that rely heavily on tourism clearly needed the assistance, but that for many others, the money was unnecessary. Today in Business Updated  May 24, 2021, 5:00 p.m. ET The reasons vary, but Mr. Goldwein noted that home values have been surging around the country, providing a boost to property taxes; that states that were struggling from sagging oil prices have seen those prices pick up; and that consumers have been spending at a healthy clip thanks to stimulus checks and expanded jobless benefits. “State and local governments, by and large, are frankly swimming in revenue,” Mr. Goldwein said. “It’s pretty clear to me that we spent a lot of money on states that we didn’t need to.” Some economists, like Harvard’s Lawrence H. Summers, a former Treasury secretary under President Bill Clinton, have pushed Mr. Biden to repurpose the state and local aid for longer-term infrastructure projects, in hopes of easing what Mr. Summers warns is a dangerous buildup of inflationary pressure. Administration officials view high inflation as a much lower risk than Mr. Summers does. Other analysts warn that state budget situations could sour if the stock market dips sharply or economic growth fizzles. Many cities, like New York, have struggled with sluggish tax revenues and still are reliant on federal to help avoid further layoffs. New York expects to receive more than $22 billion in Covid-19 federal aid, according to the nonpartisan Citizens Budget Commission. Despite the funds, the city is still anticipating budget gaps in the coming years, the result of declining revenues like property taxes. In retrospect, said Lucy Dadayan, a senior research associate at the Tax Policy Center, the March law should have included “more targeted funding” for the states and cities that need it most. “I would still be all for helping state and local governments — more local governments than state governments, given what we know,” Ms. Dadayan said. Treasury Department officials say the Biden administration wants states to have sufficient resources to cover immediate costs related to emerging from the pandemic and to be able to pay for more expansive services to help people who were hardest hit. But many states and cities are eyeing windfall spending plans that go well beyond repairing their safety nets. Gov. Gavin Newsom of California, a Democrat facing a recall vote, has proposed a series of spending increases, including $1,100 stimulus checks to individuals and tax credits for filmmakers. In Florida, the revenue forecast for 2021 has been revised upward twice in the past year. The state is now expected to get $8.8 billion from the federal government. Ben Watkins, the director of the Florida Division of Bond Finance, said the state was using the relief money to invest in infrastructure and water quality projects and directing some of its surplus funds to hurricane preparedness. He described the windfall as staggering. “It’s a good problem to have,” Mr. Watkins said, “but that doesn’t mean that it’s not excessive.” States have substantial leeway in how they use the money, though they are prohibited from using the funds to subsidize tax cuts. Several Republican-led states have sued the Treasury Department, arguing that the restriction infringes on state sovereignty. The lawsuits do not appear to be slowing the delivery of the funds. Ohio failed to win an injunction blocking the restrictions from being enforced this month, and Missouri had its case thrown out of court after a federal judge said the state did not demonstrate that the law caused it harm. The Treasury Department plans to closely monitor how the money is spent and whether states are using budget gimmicks to actually fund tax cuts. The agency maintains that the federal government has a right to place conditions on how federal funds are used and that states are allowed to decline the money. A Treasury Department official said that no state had indicated yet that it would reject the funds. In the meantime, states that are flush with revenues are pressing ahead with their plans. Nebraska approved a $26 million corporate tax cut last week, and lawmakers have told The Omaha World-Herald that they believe that by keeping the federal funds in a separate account from the state’s general fund, they will be in compliance with the law. Nicholas Fandos and Dana Goldstein contributed reporting. Source link Orbem News #Aid #Biden #Divert #Federal #pour #pressure #raising #revenues #state

[afaye1999]

Ever At Your Side [Final Fantasy XV]

Tagging: @jojopitcher @momokitty27 @alice250598 @amicitonia @its-lunafreya

I want to apologize, like always, for any mistakes or misspellings. I didn't have someone proof-read this before posting, So I have no idea how good this is, so I hope you guys enjoy. I also want to say sorry for how late it is.

Chapter 3:

Young Gods, That's What they'll call them. 

All of Eos at their disposal

Life is a tricky subject. It's not easy like death. Death is swift; Cold. Death shows no mercy for the young and comforts the old. Death is sweet like chocolate late at night, while life is bitter like black ebony coffee early in the mornings. Death releases you while life constrains you. Confines you. 

Right, Left, Right.

Left, Right, Left.

She, the one who takes lives into her own hands. She, the one who plays Grimm Reaper nearly every waking minute of her life, should know the differences between life and death. She should know that her life wasn't hers to begin with. It belongs to Insomnia. To the Kings of Lucis. Whether that be King Regis or the Crowned Prince Noctis. She was brought into the world unwillingly and forced into slavery. To be ruled by the King until the day Death decides to come for her.

"Ours..."

The flashbacks of her dream a few nights ago replay in her head. Her fists dented the leather punching bag. Her hands, although wrapped and protected, forming bruises underneath their protective coverings.  Insomnia, Eos, hers? To share with the prince? No. This world may be at her sinful little finger tips, but it would, could never be hers. What if though? What if this was her destiny?

"Hey."

She jumped. A sore hand presses to her sweaty chest as she relaxed. She inhaled through her nose and opened her eyes, sending a glare to the future King.

"Your Highness," She greeted, a small bow acted out before she returned to her punching bag, "is there something you need?" Her tone was a little more harsh than intended. Her punches became rougher and she couldn't help but notice Noctis flinch when her fist collided with the leather.

Noctis felt nervous. Her harsh tone didn't help much either. He caught every bead of sweat drip from her forehead. Every strand of hair that jerked and fell from the loosely tied bun at the back of her head. He fumbled with his words.

"Uh.. Nah, nope. Just, uh.." he stuttered as he rubbed the back of his neck. He caught her eyes flicker towards him before she stopped and caught the punching back. Her eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Training with Gladiolus..?" He said, sounding like he was asking more of a question.

"Mm," she hummed, "I'll get out of your way, Your Highness." She bowed once more before picking up her towel and half empty bottle of water. She slipped past him and towards the open training room doors. Gladio passed her as he entered the room.

"[Y/N]."

She nodded her head and continued her way out.

"What was she doing here?" Gladio asked the prince, curiosity on his face as he jabbed a thumb behind him. Noctis shook his head as he sat his bag down.

"Training, I guess.." He mumbled out, every few seconds, his eyes would flicker towards the door wondering if she would come back. 

"Figures. She's normally out of here before we arrive for our session."

"You mean, she's here every morning? Like you guys talk?" Noctis asked, his face becoming flushed at the last statement. Gladio chuckled as he threw Noctis's blade towards him and picked up his own.

"Nah, but I know of her, people in the Crownsgaurd are chatty. She's a glaive. She tends to hang with Nyx Ulric the most. I heard she's really good. The king summons her personally when he has something a "normal glaive" can't do. I don't know," He scratched the back of his head, "enough talking. You can fantasize later, lets get to work." He said before swinging his great sword at Noctis, catching the prince off guard.

Noctis's face turned red as he blocked the attack and pushed back with force, "I'm not fantasizing, I was just curious." The prince attacked this time, Gladiolus chuckling at Noctis's embarrassed face.

She glanced once more at the coordinates on her phone before setting it down and slipping on her fingerless leather gloves. Nyx sat next to her drinking the last of whatever was in his cup and shoving the last piece of meat on his wooden skewer in his mouth.

"I gotta head out, Ulric." She said as she stood. Nyx nodded and Crowe frowned.

"So soon?" She asked grimacing at Nyx's ill mannered methods of stuffing his face.

"Yeah, I've put this off long enough." She said, sending a small smirk at Crowe's dis-pleasures.

"Alright, be careful, [Y/N]." Libertus said, waving her off. She gave a small salute to the group and pushed her way out the door.

She spends more time outside of Insomnia than she does inside the city walls. Her bike spurred up the dust on the unused, unpaved streets. The world is quiet besides the voice of her GPS device installed in her bike leading her to a small pit stop in the middle of no where. Every so often a small bird would fly past above her and caw or a few sabertusks would run in the barren pastures next to the road.

Her leather boots hit the ground as she parked. The diner spot the coordinates lead her towards was  a flame. Mutilated and charred bodies were scattered across the parking lot. She pulled the helmet off of her head and hung it on the right handle bar. Her hand pressed to a blade, sheathed, at her side as she pushed through the mess, ashes finding their way from the sky and into her hair. The loud sounds of flesh being ripped from the body and cracking of bones mixed with the crackling of the flames.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

She carefully stepped over the pieces of destroyed building that littered the black top, inching closer towards where the sickening sounds were emitting from. As soon as she rounded a corner of the broken diner, there it was. The cause of the disgusting sounds.

In it's humongous paws were the remains of the informant she was supposed to meet. Chunks of cooked flesh were stuck between it's large, yellowed, canine like teeth and blood stained the blue-gray fur it sported. This behemoth, although still very much huge, is obviously young and a lot smaller than it's parents, ripped the meat off of the body and chomped away at it like it was nothing. Her eyes widened and as she took a step back she accidentally stepped on broken glass, catching the monster's attention.

It huffed out air from his red-stained nose and locked eyes with her, before letting out a loud roar and stomping it's paw onto the skull of the now deformed human. She turned quickly, breaking into a sprint as fast as she could, being sure to leap over scattered debris. The child behemoth chased after her, its loud growls echoing through the area, its large paws making the ground tremor each time they touched the black top. She glanced back quickly, panic setting into her body as it inched closer with each passing second. Its large teeth snapping at her everytime its snout nearly grazed her. 

Out of no where another carnivorous creature hit her from the side flinging her across the destroyed parking lot and farther away from her motor bike. She groaned lowly and rolled over, gasping slightly as she held up her arm blocking the much smaller creature from locking it's jaws on her face. Her arm took the attack and it's teeth buried their way into her flesh. She winced and bit her tongue, keeping the scream she wanted to let out lodged in her throat. She pulled her blade from her side sheath and lunged it through the bottom of sabertusk's skull, the hilt pushing into his almost reptile like skin and the point of the blade piercing through the top of it's head. She quickly pulled it out, blood pulling out onto her as she pushed the creature off. Standing to her feet she saw the behemoth staring at her, ready to charge like an angry bull.

Returning her blade to her side, she glared at the monster, blood from her wound oozed from the torn area and dripped off of her fingers. Her focus shifting from the behemoth to her bike. She broke out into a full on run, heading straight for him. Just before his jaws locked down on her head she dropped to the ground and slid underneath the beast, pushing up quickly before it turned around. She jumped onto her bike frantically staring the engine and speeding out and away from the area, the behemoth trying to chase after her a for a few miles, but giving up after so long.

She hit a few buttons on her phone, speed dialing Cor.

"Something went wrong, I'm on my way back to Insomnia."

Over head, a few of Niflheim's ships flew past her.

Noctis lounged on his couch, scrolling through the pointless apps on his cellular device. He wanted to focus on anything and everything but him leaving to Altissa and having to marry Lunafreya. How is he supposed to marry someone who he, although cares for very much, doesn't love? Not only that, but how was he supposed to marry someone he has dreams of killing?

He groaned catching Ignis's attention, tossing his touch screen phone down on the cushion farthest from him, ignoring the incoming texts from his blond haired best friend.

"What ever is the matter?" Ignis asked, never stopping his task of preparing a small pot if tea for himself.

"Nothing, I'm boutta go pack.." Noctis mumbled, leaving the room after grabbing his phone. Ignis shook his head and pushed his spectacles up.

"Tell Prompto to be ready, that we are leaving early to pick him up." Ignis semi-shouted at the prince so he could hear him. Noctis waved Ignis off and slightly slammed his bedroom door behind him.

She pulled into Hammerhead a little recklessly, nearly crashing the bike. She unmounted, letting it hit the cement in front of the gas pumps and stumbled into the one stop shop. She gripped her arm trying to keep blood from dripping onto the white tile. She walked over to the bandages and gauze and ripped open a few boxes, wrapping her arm up and then heading towards the cashier, slamming some Gil on the counter and pushing out the door, ignoring the looks she was receiving. Outside next to her toppled over motorcycle was a blond headed, busty female bent over inspecting it.

"Excuse me, miss?" She said cautiously, approaching her. 

"Howdy there!" Cindy greeted her with a warm smile, "I hope ya don't mind, I was just checkin out yer fancy bike there."

She shook her head at the blond," Nah, Don't mind at all," She answered the busty girl, " What's your name?" 

"Name's Cindy. I'm Cids granddaughter."

She went to answer her, but her phone rang. It was Cor.

"Sir."

"The King requests to see you immediately. Get back to Insomnia as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sir." She hung up and walked towards her bike, Cindy stepping aside

"If you ever fine yer self in Hammerhead, I'd love to work on yer bike if you don't mind."

She smiled and put her helmet on, "Will do, Cindy. Name's [Y/N] by the way. Nice meeting you." 

Cindy waved bye to her and watched as she pulled off. 

[dfroza]

will we recognize our Creator’s visit to earth

both in ancient times in the birth and life of the Son, and here & now in Spirit and in truth?

will we be open to respond from the heart to His True story of rebirth by coming to “believe...” and be baptized in water and in Light, in heart & body? will we speak of this faith and hope in Love to affirm it through a body of earth and time?

will we treasure the eternal (inside, Anew)?

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 19th chapter of the book of Luke:

Then Jesus entered and walked through Jericho. There was a man there, his name Zacchaeus, the head tax man and quite rich. He wanted desperately to see Jesus, but the crowd was in his way—he was a short man and couldn’t see over the crowd. So he ran on ahead and climbed up in a sycamore tree so he could see Jesus when he came by.

When Jesus got to the tree, he looked up and said, “Zacchaeus, hurry down. Today is my day to be a guest in your home.” Zacchaeus scrambled out of the tree, hardly believing his good luck, delighted to take Jesus home with him. Everyone who saw the incident was indignant and grumped, “What business does he have getting cozy with this crook?”

Zacchaeus just stood there, a little stunned. He stammered apologetically, “Master, I give away half my income to the poor—and if I’m caught cheating, I pay four times the damages.”

Jesus said, “Today is salvation day in this home! Here he is: Zacchaeus, son of Abraham! For the Son of Man came to find and restore the lost.”

While he had their attention, and because they were getting close to Jerusalem by this time and expectation was building that God’s kingdom would appear any minute, he told this story:

“There was once a man descended from a royal house who needed to make a long trip back to headquarters to get authorization for his rule and then return. But first he called ten servants together, gave them each a sum of money, and instructed them, ‘Operate with this until I return.’

“But the citizens there hated him. So they sent a commission with a signed petition to oppose his rule: ‘We don’t want this man to rule us.’

“When he came back bringing the authorization of his rule, he called those ten servants to whom he had given the money to find out how they had done.

“The first said, ‘Master, I doubled your money.’

“He said, ‘Good servant! Great work! Because you’ve been trustworthy in this small job, I’m making you governor of ten towns.’

“The second said, ‘Master, I made a fifty percent profit on your money.’

“He said, ‘I’m putting you in charge of five towns.’

“The next servant said, ‘Master, here’s your money safe and sound. I kept it hidden in the cellar. To tell you the truth, I was a little afraid. I know you have high standards and hate sloppiness, and don’t suffer fools gladly.’

“He said, ‘You’re right that I don’t suffer fools gladly—and you’ve acted the fool! Why didn’t you at least invest the money in securities so I would have gotten a little interest on it?’

“Then he said to those standing there, ‘Take the money from him and give it to the servant who doubled my stake.’

“They said, ‘But Master, he already has double . . .’

“He said, ‘That’s what I mean: Risk your life and get more than you ever dreamed of. Play it safe and end up holding the bag.

“‘As for these enemies of mine who petitioned against my rule, clear them out of here. I don’t want to see their faces around here again.’”

After saying these things, Jesus headed straight up to Jerusalem. When he got near Bethphage and Bethany at the mountain called Olives, he sent off two of the disciples with instructions: “Go to the village across from you. As soon as you enter, you’ll find a colt tethered, one that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it. If anyone says anything, asks, ‘What are you doing?’ say, ‘His Master needs him.’”

The two left and found it just as he said. As they were untying the colt, its owners said, “What are you doing untying the colt?”

They said, “His Master needs him.”

They brought the colt to Jesus. Then, throwing their coats on its back, they helped Jesus get on. As he rode, the people gave him a grand welcome, throwing their coats on the street.

Right at the crest, where Mount Olives begins its descent, the whole crowd of disciples burst into enthusiastic praise over all the mighty works they had witnessed:

Blessed is he who comes,

the king in God’s name!

All’s well in heaven!

Glory in the high places!

Some Pharisees from the crowd told him, “Teacher, get your disciples under control!”

But he said, “If they kept quiet, the stones would do it for them, shouting praise.”

When the city came into view, he wept over it. “If you had only recognized this day, and everything that was good for you! But now it’s too late. In the days ahead your enemies are going to bring up their heavy artillery and surround you, pressing in from every side. They’ll smash you and your babies on the pavement. Not one stone will be left intact. All this because you didn’t recognize and welcome God’s personal visit.”

Going into the Temple he began to throw out everyone who had set up shop, selling everything and anything. He said, “It’s written in Scripture,

My house is a house of prayer;

You have turned it into a religious bazaar.”

From then on he taught each day in the Temple. The high priests, religion scholars, and the leaders of the people were trying their best to find a way to get rid of him. But with the people hanging on every word he spoke, they couldn’t come up with anything.

The Book of Luke, Chapter 19 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 27th chapter of the book of Job:

Job continued.

Job: By God—who lives and has deprived me of justice,

the Highest One who has also embittered my soul—

I make this proclamation:

that, while there is life in me,

While the breath of that selfsame God is in my nostrils,

My lips will not let lies escape them,

and my tongue will not form deceit.

So I will never concede that you three are right.

Until the day I die, I will not abandon my integrity just to appease you.

On the contrary, I’ll assert my innocence and never let it go;

my heart will not mock my past or my future.

May my enemy be counted as the wicked

and my adversary as the unjust.

For what hope does he who is sullied and impure have

once God lops him off from life and requires his soul?

Will God listen to his cry

when he is overtaken by distress?

Will he have made the Highest One his pleasure after the fact?

Will he have marked the seasons with his calls to God once it is too late?

Let me show you what I have learned of God’s power.

I assure you I will not cover over the true nature of the Highest One’s ways.

Look, you have all seen it—seen the same things I have seen here.

Why then all this vain nonsense?

Indeed, Zophar, listen closely, for what the wicked of humanity will inherit from God.

This is the heritage the Highest One bequeaths to those who oppress:

If the children of the wicked multiply,

they meet their end at the blade of the sword.

And even if they are fat with surplus,

the descendants of the wicked will be starved for bread.

Those who survive will fall to disease and be buried;

many of their widows will not mourn their deaths.

Though he pile up money as if it were common dirt

and clothing in heaps like mounds of clay,

What he may prepare, the righteous will wear;

the silver he sets aside, the innocent will divide.

He builds his house doomed to impermanence—

like the moth’s cocoon,

like the field watchman’s lean-to that is dismantled after the harvest.

He lies down to sleep a wealthy man,

but never again,

For when he opens his eyes to morning,

all is gone.

Terrors overtake him as if they were floodwaters;

the tempest snatches him away in the dead of night.

Indeed, the sultry east wind lifts him up and away.

He is gone, swept off the place he knew as his own.

It will have blown against him pitilessly,

and he tries to flee from its fast-closing hand.

As a final humiliation, it claps its hands against him as a man would—

sneering, hissing at him as he leaves.

The Book of Job, Chapter 27 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, may 4 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that looks at humility as the path to wholeness in Love:

No one wants to admit that they are needy, broken, weak, and so on, and indeed such a confession is blasphemy to the heart of the proud. The truth, however, is that we are indeed all these things, and Yeshua told us we were blessed if we understood this (Matt. 5:3-6). The is great danger to pretend you are strong and capable of living life on your own terms, since eventually you will be blindsided by the truth about your condition. On the other hand, the confession of our weakness opens the way to God's power, as Yeshua said to Paul in his affliction: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9). Paul came to see that the various trials and afflictions in his life taught his profound dependence on God: "for when I am weak, then I am strong."

Access to this grace, however, comes at the expense of our pride. We must humbly confess who and what we are, and therefore we must entirely abandon hope in our own strength and virtues. "We are only as sick as the secrets we keep," especially those secrets we keep from ourselves - those self-deceptions and illusions we use to defend ourselves.

Suppose, for instance, that you have the bad habit of complaining and even cursing when you are beset by troubles, and you want to stop doing these behaviors. You may resolve to be more optimistic and grateful, or you may read self-help books -- or even take anger management classes -- but nothing will do you any lasting good until you know "in your bones" that you are powerless to change your heart. That is the first step to being set free. Or suppose that you are habitually unhappy, troubled, anxious, and in pain, yet you want to find inner peace and joy. Again, apart from the miracle of God there is no lasting remedy. You must be honest with yourself and confess the truth of your condition, asking God to do in you what you cannot do for yourself. As Yeshua said: "What is impossible with man is possible with God." So in this way God uses your sins to correct you or bring you to the end of yourself, and in that way awareness of your personal weakness is a blessing from God.

Recall that Yeshua said out of the heart proceed “evil thoughts," or more literally, "evil dialogs" or reasoning within yourself (διαλογισμοι πονηροι). You are tethered to yourself - you cannot escape yourself - yet a divided house cannot stand. Attempting to relate to yourself apart from a relationship with God leads to ongoing despair -- either the despair of being yourself or else the despair of fleeing from yourself -- but either way, to a condition of anxiety derived from not being grounded in the life of God... “Unless a seed of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it abides alone...” (John 12:24). Yeshua is the source of all life, and we find nourishment, strength, and the meaning of who we are as we connect with him. By faith we affirm: “I have been crucified with Messiah, and it is no longer ‘I’ who live, but Messiah who lives in me” (Gal. 2:20). There is a new self that comes from above, known only in spiritual relationship with the Savior. The miracle of the exchanged life comes as we surrender to the truth of what God does for us (2 Cor. 5:17). That’s the essence of the gospel, “the power of God for salvation for all who believe” (Rom. 1:16). Therefore we do not attempt to crucify ourselves, or labor to reform our lower nature, but we instead accept that we already have been crucified and healed by the mercy and miracle of God. We clothe ourselves in the robes of his righteousness as we celebrate God’s redeeming love for our lives. Only then are we empowered by the Spirit to truly “love the LORD and keep his charge” (Deut. 11:1).

The gate is narrow that leads to life, and few there be that find it (Matt. 7:14). That is part of the offense of the cross, after all - the confession you are lost, in darkness, and in need of salvation. Few receive this truth into their hearts because they want to be in control and refuse to let go; few regard their weakness as a blessing that opens the gate to God's strength. Let the weak say "I am strong" because of what the LORD has done. God’s grace is sufficient, and his strength is perfected in weakness: "So then, I will boast most gladly about my weaknesses, so that the power of Messiah may reside in me" (2 Cor. 12:9). “I can do all things through the Messiah who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13). Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

5.4.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

May 4, 2021

The "Shall Nots" of John's Gospel

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)

There are many wonderful promises to the believer listed in the gospel of John. Many of these promises are things that “shall” happen, but let us consider seven of these that teach of things that “shall not” happen to the believer whose trust is in Christ.

Teaching of the indwelling Holy Spirit, Christ said, “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (4:14).

Similarly, “Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst” (6:35).

Furthermore, He taught, “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (8:12). Our deepest needs are met in Him.

Having once believed, we are placed into His family, and He promises, “I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand” (10:28). In Him, we are utterly secure. Why? “He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life” (5:24).

Consequently, we have no fear of death. “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?” (11:25-26).

As the familiar verse in our text tells us, if we only believe “that he gave his only begotten Son,” we shall “not perish, but have everlasting life.” JDM

[icebirdband]

LOS ANGELES CITY BEAT Aug 24-30, 2006 ⋆ VOL. 4 NO. 35

MUSIC NOW DOWNTOWN'S PALLADIUM OF ART-DAMAGE: THE SMELL STREET LOVE: ROBBY DANGER AND TANYA AVULA OUTSIDE OF ZAMAKIBO!

Downtown Skronk Art and noise venues thrive halfway down the L.A. underground ~ BY RON GARMON ~

AFTER DARK, DOWNTOWN LA'S BUSI-ness district scares the mortal pantload out of most Angelenos. By late afternoon, the offices empty out, the vendors pack up, and the pavement around the pricy hotels begins to sprout security, leaving the streets for mean drunks, jackrollers with a hundred dumb hustles, and some of the most destitute people on public display in America; some little better than walking corpses. Far be-low the expensive aeries of Gallery Row (where a sprinkling of showfolk and high-artisans cling to the vault of in-habitable space like merry self-sculpted gargoyles) is sonic terra incognita, where the tourist, the rube, the dilettante simply will not venture. Most choices between friends for live music follow a sidewalk conversation I over-heard last Friday afternoon near Pico and La Brea. Quoth dood to another, "Man, where we go tonight?" His partner muttered "Downtown," and was checked with "Man, I do not want to be shot!"

As deplorable as this attitude is to civic boosters, I approve of it. What Westsiders say about downtown, the world soon believes, so if some TV scenarist depicts the vicinity as home to Crip and killer mutant, then small wonder locals avoid and tourists flee, fearful the very pavement will spit up their bones. One of the aesthetic benefits of a collapsing capitalism is the sheer acreage of neglected urban space from which some jittery owner would love to derive income, any income. inevitably, an ambitious someone turns on the power, loads in amps and equipment, and the neighborhood begins to orchestrate its own scratchy, discordant score. Here, far from the rhino-stomp of tourism and the death-embrace of hip, one may detect the call-and-response skronk of a music scene dependent on neither. Here, there be monsters. 

Downtown's palladium of art-damage is the Smell. Since blowing off the pricy, constipated NoHo arts district in 1999, This all-ages avant-performance space has lived on the other side of a tiny neon sign on Harlem Place (an otherwise deserted a!leyway behind the Jalisco Inn on South Main), adding a bloc of downtown arties to its core patronage of under-21s and disaffected hip-sters. Usually described as a "storefront," the space is more a brick alleyway with a stage at the end, though acts do load in and wail in every corner. Elegantly battered the-ater seats scavenged from some defunct Odeon or Bi-joux line the main room's walls, with armchairs, book-shelves, and paintings scattered around the outer “lobby." The unisex toilet is an unforgettable riot of band stick-ers and appeals to sturdy common sense (like "GEORGE W. BUSH IS STILL A PUNK-ASS CHUMP") , and the vol-unteer staff enforces the no-booze rule. The cover is typ-ically five bucks and worth it. 

This revered pile has been dubbed a contemporary version of the Masque (L.A.'s first punk-rock venue, open in Hollywood from 1977 to 1979), and the wide range of ferocious avant-rock acts that appear there —Car-la Bozulich, Dos (Mike Watt and Kira Roessler), Deer-hoof, Upsilon Acrux — makes the boast credible. One re-cent show had Redondo Beach homocore punks Le Joshua wedged into an outer com, like cranked tigers, the vocalist snarling unintelligible abuse at fresh-faced patrons and writhing on his belly. The main area was lat-er infested by This Song Is a Mess, But So Am I, a one-man art-noize haybaler named Freddy Ruppert. Chunky machine-beats choogle underneath icy synth lines as distorto-screech resolves-itself into melodic postpunk as caressing as 154-era Wire. last Saturday night (August 19) was a heavily attended CD-release party for Captain Ahab's Snakes on the Brain, which uncoincidentally turns up on the similarly named Sam Jackson squirmfest now in theaters. Kings of the burgeoning "ravesploitation" movement, this duo packed 'em in with a freakish amal-gam of house, ambient, postpunk, and Giorgio Mo-roder pop boiled to jump-gumbo. Scores of teenage boys sweated in bounding monkey-heaps while their girlfriends sprawled patiently on the divans outside the main room. 

The ladies were having a better time of it at Zamakibo! a mile away. Situated along an ill-lit swatch of South Grand Avenue spiky with broken pavement, this plush and cuddly art space opened earlier this year, such tiny fame as it enjoys deriving from word of 'net. The small room was overflowing like rock 'n' roll Playskool when arrived late last Friday night, with a dou-ble-homeroom's-Worth of 1979 new-wave kidz gambol-ing in and out. The management— two energetic fellows named Turtle Z and Tumbleweed keep unobtrusive or-der and enforce the no-booze policy — and several pa-trons spotted the "writer from CityBeat" as he loped out of the pitch in the shape of a bleached-blond hillbilly. Onstage, frontchick Ammo of no-wave rompers Teenage Talking Cars looked heavily sloshed and was playfully showing a smitten heckler. Anon, photographer Jennifer Miller arrived with retinue and began to clump far-from-bashful patrons into portrait groupings. The kidz seemed to understand what was going on; as I scribbled notes and picked my way through the tangle of spoon-ing couples on the sidewalk, one gorgeous urchin called out to me, "Up to no good again, huh?" 

Perhaps, but even Coleridge nodded, and Proust's flashbacks made him immortal. I was in such a mood the next day at Little Pedro's Blue Bongo. A community hub with mailing-list-only show announcements, Little Pedro's bids fair to become downtown's version of Mr. T's Bowl, a character-laden scene oasis far off the clubland path. This genial over-21 establishment perched on the cor-ner of Vignes and First (at the last light on the west side of the Los Angeles River). hosts live or spun music every night of the week, with emphasis on themed evenings and cultish rock acts like Icebird and Oliver Future. This past weekend, however, I limped into the bar feel-ing a bit depleted, but in time for "Back in the Saddle Saturday." This meant I listened to an hour's worth of classic country by Loretta Lynn, Buck Owens, Faron Young, and more in glorious near-solitude, dreaming of my Appalachian boyhood to the tune of my mom's record collection. The decor is kitsch-Americana with Mid-dle Eastern touches, with a long shuffleboard table and plenty of padded benches and 1970s-vintage vinyl chairs in the barnlike space. The room is dominated by Little Pete, a giant polar pear hanging suspended by chain-har-ness from the wall over the bar. Some taxidermist's mas-terpiece, Pete glowers at all with fine impartiality, sym-bol of the poker-faced extravagance of Los Angeles, a town that goes to immense pains to nourish absurdity. 

I finished my club soda and left, feet backward-shuf-fling to the pavement while eyes took in a last sentimental glance at the lady bartender's magnificent ass; decor wortthy of awed notice as any two tons of Ursus maritimus. *

[centolutions]

#101) Write stellar Christmas letter for 2020

This could have been a bigger challenge, since the year itself wasn’t consistently, well, stellar.  But the inspiration hit.  The letter is written, and now all we need to do is stuff the envelopes and get it in the mail.

Dear Diary, January 1st, 2020

I had the strangest dream this morning.  A microscopic cell grew so large it blotted out the sun like an eclipse, with only the glow from the corona visible.  People fled into their homes and stayed inside. Those that ventured out suffered one of two fates.  They either fell to their knees in a fit of coughing, or they started speaking one of two opposite languages and shouting at those people that didn’t understand them.  I looked at the calendar in my dream, and the date read ‘Friday the 13th’.  I’m not sure what this means, but I’m glad I woke up from that scary nightmare.  I’m really looking forward to 2020 because I think everyone will look back on the year as we near Christmas and, with 20-20 hindsight, be able to say “I can see clearly now!”

Fast forward to December, 2020.

Okay, so admit it. Some parts of this year definitely felt like a dream.  And for some people, there were portions of the year which seem nightmarish and they don’t want to reoccur.  But, life finds a path forward like a river finding its way to the ocean.  Something may come up to temporarily block the flow, but the water finds a new route, past new vistas, creating new opportunities for growth along the way.  I’ll give you three examples.

Case I:   The Newlyweds

I’ll admit, I was skeptical.  “You want to have a wedding in Colorado for two people with families from Ohio?  And you want to do this in January?  And you want to have an Ice Cream Truck for guests to walk up to – OUTSIDE???”  But with that famous 20-20 hindsight, I must say, Beth and Karl’s wedding on January 3rd in Denver was an incredibly wonderful event.  The ceremony (like the bride) was beautiful!  The sacrament was reverent!  The weather was incredible (mid-50s in early January) And the reception celebration was kick-a,, um, was a lot of fun!

Life seemed as delicious for the newlyweds as a scoop of Sweet Cow ice cream from the Moo Mobile.  Then Covid-19 hit Colorado, one trip after another for Karl was pulled from the COR schedule, and Beth and the rest of the Camp Wojtyla staff had to make the decision to cancel summer camp for 2020.  But they both stayed positive, turned an EconoLiner into an EconoLodger in their down time.  And in late Spring, life happened.  Quite literally!  The couple is expecting their baby in February.  Chris and I are looking forward to visiting them in Lander, WY to welcome our first grandchild.  We’re also looking forward to Yaktrax™ and a renewed appreciation for sub-zero degree weather.

Case II:  The Busted Block

As mentioned in previous Christmas missives, we really appreciated Steve’s job at the movie theatre.  He would bring home interesting stories about the guests - - - and free tickets for his parents!  When the reality of the mid-March stay-at-home order in Ohio set in by early-April, Cinemark told all their employees that they were not only laid off, but that they would not be guaranteed a job when the theatres re-opened.  Everyone would need to interview for consideration to be re-hired.

No summer blockbusters!  No steady income!  No free tickets for Chris and I! “No problem!”, Steve said.  He reached out to a few contractors and got himself a new career in home (and other building) repair, renovation, and remodeling.  He now has more hours “building back better” with his construction crew than he got at the theatre, earns more per-hour, and is already building (pun intended) his own clientele list.  Plus our own house has gotten some very nice updates as he’s practiced some masonry, plumbing, painting and shed-repair skills.

Case III:  The Move Up North

Late January was the end of Grace’s two-year commitment to Children’s Protective Services for the Commonwealth of Kentucky.  She decided that she was going to move from Lexington to Ann Arbor and attend U of M for her Masters in Social Work.  So on March 13th (yes, Friday the 13th), we moved Grace out of Lexington, on March 14th she moved her furniture and goods to her new apartment in Ann Arbor, and on March 15th, Governor Whitmer closed down the state of Michigan.

Before the move (and the pandemic), Grace was worried about finding a job.  But Kroger was more than happy to have any willing body help with Pick List shopping, and Grace found herself waking up at 4:30 am to grab other people’s groceries.  Unfortunately, Grace’s brand new roommates became ex-roommates after six weeks since their lost jobs meant they had to change their living plans.  Undeterred, she found a new place to live with a lovely, retired U of M Professor, who got Grace connected with two other U of M contacts through which she landed two new jobs.

And with U of M itself using significant online learning, Grace opted to defer the start of graduate school till Fall 2021.  The additional time allowed her to decide that Ann Arbor is the place she wants to stay (at least for a while).  And with that, two other decisions followed.  In June, Grace welcomed Koda B. Nadler into the family.  Koda is an adorable young mother of four, a little over 60 lbs., and loves getting her back scratched and chasing after squeaky toys.  In December, Grace closed on a house in Ypsilanti.  The two big selling points for Grace?  A fenced in back yard for Koda to play in, and a chicken coop (which won’t get any chickens until Koda learns not to eat them).

Now, the purpose of this note is not to say take those lemons thrown at you in 2020 and turn them into lemonade.  In addition to health, economic and social concerns unique to the year, there were moments with a bitter note that can happen any year.  Dorothy Nadler (Mom / Grandma) passed away on June 22nd, after managing Parkinson’s for over a decade.  She moved into a Skilled Nursing Facility last October and was getting along pretty well.  But with Covid-19 spreading across the country, the nursing home went into lockdown.  Starting in March she wasn’t allowed to have visitors.  And while the virus did find its way into the facility in April, and Mom even tested positive the second week, she remained asymptomatic for an entire month.  A Parkinson’s-related infection sent her to the hospital in May. Once she recovered from that, she was released to a hospice center in Defiance, OH in early June.  She was able to have visitors every day, limit of two at a time.  Dad was happy to be one of those two visitors nearly every day.  Mom was focused on celebrating the wedding shower for Kelly Nadler (now Steffan) on June 20th, a goal which she accomplished.  We miss her each and every day, and are so fortunate to have had her with us for so many years.

But, as said earlier, life continues to flow.  In addition to Tessa, who Chris has been watching for over a year now, another energy-filled three-year old can be found at Chez Nadler once or so per week.  And when those two get going, it doesn’t matter what room I’m using as my home office.  My CareSource colleagues will ask “Did you say something, Dave?” on the teleconference.  I’ll say ‘No, it’s the toddlers’, and the others with children haunting their own home offices will give knowing nods.

Here’s hoping you, your families and your friends have a peaceful transition into a healthy and happy 202One.  May God’s love and joy warm your hearts and souls.  And, please, for those of you that wish for a memorable year next year, make sure to wish for happy memories.

With Love,

Chris and Dave

[and Beth(+1) and Karl, Steve, Grace, Zing, Dixie, Koda, and the fish who I’m not sure we ever named] (old habits are hard to break)