#muse / no harm ever came from ... reading a book

[disasteregyptologist]

endless edits / rick & evy 1/? - mutuals may reblog

[disasteregyptologist]

Just to note for historical accuracy, the ancient Egyptians wouldn't take out your heart during the mummification process as they believed it links with intellect, personality and memory, it was considered the most important of the internal organs. It could reveal the person's true character, even after death, so the belief went, and therefore the heart was left in the deceased's body during mummification. Hence the weighing of the feather trial..

"Let me get this straight. They ripped out your guts and they stuffed them in jars?"

THE MUMMY (1999) dir. Stephen Sommers

[alaynasansa]

Sansa watched him walk off, his body swaying heavily from side to side with every step, like something from a grotesquerie. He speaks more gently than Joffrey, she thought, but the queen spoke to me gently too. He's still a Lannister, her brother and Joff's uncle, and no friend. Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again

“I...” Sansa did not know what to say. Is it a trick ? Will he punish me if I tell the truth ? She stared at the dwarf's brutal bulging brow, the hard black eye and the shrewd green one, the crooked teeth and wiry beard. “I only want to be loyal.”

“Loyal,” the dwarf mused, “and far from any Lannisters. I can scarce blame you for that. When I was your age, I wanted the same thing.” He smiled. “They tell me you visit the godswood every day. What do you pray for, Sansa ?”

I pray for Robb's victory and Joffrey's death... and for home. For Winterfell. “I pray for an end to the fighting.”

“We'll have that soon enough. There will be another battle, between your brother Robb and my lord father, and that will settle this issue.”

Robb will beat him, Sansa thought. He beat your uncle and your brother Jaime, he'll beat your father too.

It was as if her face were an open book, so easily did the dwarf read her hopes. “Do not take Oxcross too much to heart, my lady,” he told her, not unkindly. “A battle is not a war, and my lord father is assuredly not my uncle Stafford. The next time you visit the godswood, pray that your brother has the wisdom to bend the knee. Once the north returns to the king's peace, I mean to send you home.” He hopped down off the window seat and said, “You may sleep here tonight. I'll give you some of my own men as a guard, some Stone Crows perhaps—”

“No,” Sansa blurted out, aghast. If she was locked in the Tower of the Hand, guarded by the dwarf's men, how would Ser Dontos ever spirit her away from freedom ?

“Would you prefer Black Ears ? I'll give you Chella if a woman would make you more at ease.”

“Please, no, my lord, the wildlings frighten me.”

He grinned. “Me as well. But more to the point, they frighten Joffrey and that nest of sly vipers and lickspittle dogs he calls a Kingsguard. With Chella or Timett by your side, no one would dare offer you harm.”

“I would sooner return to my own bead.” A lie came to her suddenly, but it seemed so right that she blurted it out at once. “This tower was where my father's men were slain. Their ghosts would give me terrible dreams, and I would see their blood wherever I looked.”

Tyrion Lannister studied her face. “I am no stranger to nightmares, Sansa. Perhaps you are wiser than I knew. Permit me at least to escort you safely back to your own chambers”

Sansa Week 2024 : day five — pawn to player

[accessible-tumbling]

Video description: The Quora site is displayed and the narrator, who has a British accent and is speaking quickly and excitedly, opens by reading from it: "My MacBook Air weighs 2.3 pounds. If I download more files on it, will it make it heavier?

"This is Quora," he continues. "A place where once grand intellectual questions would be mused over. But if you recall, 2 years ago we sadly bid farewell to our friend, Yahoo Answers, a place where those sorts of questions didn't happen, and in that time it seems many Yahoo users have made Quora their new home.

"Do chimpanzees get pregnant? Does anyone live on the sun? How high do planes fly when landing? What percentage of people are going to die? Do lesbians get periods?"

(A response to that question is read in a gruff tone:) "Oh, come on! Where the hell are you getting that question?"

"You are sleeping with your partner and suddenly realize that he/she is a ghost. What would you do? Are there werewolves in Texas? Why does the sausage have two ends? What happens to the time it takes to actually time travel into the past/future? Which hole does an actress push out a baby in a birth sense?"

(Another answer is read:) "She doesn't. She acts."

"I heard that in the Middle Ages, nobles used to wipe their butts with ducklings. Is that right?"

(Response, gruffly:) "No!"

"Is it true that pregnant women should not sleep during a lunar or solar eclipse as it may cause harm to the unborn?"

(Response:) "No. That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

"Can I sue Germany for putting my grandfather in prison for 7 years in the second world war?"

(Response:) "No, no, no, no, no!"

"Can you think of a sentence that contains the words 'book' and 'crabs'?"

(Response:) "Well, yes, I can."

"Why does the 'bros' abbreviation for 'brothers' end in 's' instead of 'th'?"

(Response:) "Because that would spell 'broth'."

"Do rich people get embarrassed that their servants know what their stuff in the toilet looks like?"

(Response:) "This is a very weird question."

"What happens when we wash vessel and use it with water in which a lizard was dead? Is it poisonous? What can we do?"

(Response:) "Uhh..."

"Why does the United States promote homosexuality and not consider what happened in the petrified village of Pompeii?"

(Response:) "Wha…?"

"How can I have sex with Asia?"

(Response:) "Pretty sure you mean an Asian girl."

"Is Israel on the world map? Are the Irish really from Ireland? My son speaks Arabic. (in a panicked, shouting tone:) What do I do? Does India have airports?"

(Response:) "Putin came to India in 2014 swimming in the ocean. I have a photo to prove." (A flash of a picture of Putin swimming can be seen briefly at this point in the video.)

"Where do animals live? Why are things? What is my date of birth? Do you know a microscope? Real mathematicians (in all caps): I have 5 live cows and then I multiply them by 0. How then do you come and tell me that I end up with 0? Where did the 5 go? Which is larger: 0 or 2+7? Math math what is angle?

(Narrator comment: "I do believe this Quora user was intending to ask 'what are the names of the most powerful angels?' but…) What are the names of moist powerful angles? I'm an atheist who believes in God. What should I do? Why do atheists watch fiction movies? During airplane turbulence, how do atheists keep calm?"

(Narrator comment: "This question I could only find an old link for, even Quora went nowhere, not even, that is way too stupid:) How do atheists know what foods are 'sweet' versus 'sour' or 'bitter'?

"I am 11 and stand at 5 foot 2. Am I obese? Do celebrities fart? What's the meaning of a single white egg left at my door? (narrator's comment: that is weird.)

"My mom slapped her own bum in front of me what does that mean? Is this correct, 'similarvgbhujkljhgtyhujk'? Why is Zelda so 'thicc' in Breath of the Wild? Do demons always say 'I am a demon' when they are introduced? Is it possible to balance your entire body on your penis?"

(Response:) " Yes, but I'm scared of heights."

"I saw the cop the gay eating a raw bird in my backyard. What should I do?" (Narrator comment: "I became a bit obsessed with this question, it's so indecipherable and googled it for clues to find apparently there was much debate on the site about whether this was a weird autocorrect from 'cat'. Which word was supposed to be cat?")

"Can deaf people laugh out loud? Can deaf people do surfing? How do def people know what facial expressions look like and how they're used outside of American Sign Language (ASL)? If so, how do they learn about them if there's no way to see someone else make that face?" (Narrator comment: "I mean, I don't think there's any intelligent questions actually left on this site, is there? Who's asking 'Can music cause candle to light?' Obviously, no!")

"Do people still eat mashed potatoes? (Yes!) Can semen travel up your foot? (No,, it cannot.) Is the word 'stay asleep' alwasy spelled 'J'? (I don't even know what that means.) Do lobsters pee from their faces? (Uh, ugh, are you mad? Obviously no!)"

(Response:) "Yes, as others have pointed out, many crustaceans have two different types of excretory organs, both near the head. Usually only one is used, depending on the age of the animal. Lobsters and crabs, etc, use their urine smell like cats, to mark territory, warn rivals, etc." (Uh..oh.)"

The screen goes white and the scene transitions to footage of the narrator walking up to a door. He places an egg on the mat, then runs away.

End video description.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Musings - Justice for Claudia (she deserved better) ❤️👸🏼👸🏽👸🏾❤️ - S1

Everything that's ever happened to Claudia in her whole life is unfair and effed up, because my daughter has suffered more than Christ in the books, film, and tv show. 😩 This is not about seeing things in bad faith, it's about seeing things from CLAUDIA'S perspective, how SHE FEELS about her place in life, based on the way she's been treated and the things she's gone through & things she's seen happen to herself & the people she loves.

1) abandoned by her biological father when Claudia was born (mom died in childbirth)

2) grew up poor & abused as a child with her "mean ole auntie who beat her cuz no one said she couldn't")

3) watched her biological aunt die horribly, burned to death "But when Auntie came back, she got stuck on the other side and brought the fire back with her."

4) turned into a killing machine by "two hell demons," without her full knowledge/consent (she was unconscious). Daddy Lou's her favorite but he's "smothering;" and Uncle Les and her have a lot in common but he's "crotchety"--the mean ole uncle rather than the mean ole auntie ("when I'm tired, I'm not so kind!"). She sleeps in Louis' coffin until she's finally weaned enough to get a coffin & bedroom of her own; and immediately tries to draw boundaries ("you have to knock first, out, out! OUT! ") and have some independence, to little avail.

5) forever too-young, 14 for the next 30+ years. When she tries to dress her age and not like a little kid, Lestat chides her for wearing clothes he didn't buy for her, and the white racist wenches call her a "Darkie playing dress-up in the dark!"

6) AMC!Claudia accidentally kills her first love Charlie, forced by Uncle Les to watch him burn while he puts her in Chokehold #1 "stop squirming, and watch...his face as it melts;" while Daddy Lou did eff all to stop him

7) the only companion she has left is her diary ("friends of last resort"), and in her depression she turns to self-harm, burning herself

8) does what Uncle Les taught her to do and killskillskills (not just collecting trophies, she's also tryna create her own fledgling/companion, but she's too small so they all die "gaspin!"); "you better hope and pray you taught me how to clean up good." Spoiler: Les didn't teach her jack, cuz the 56 Floaters are found anyway. But Les still has the nerve to put her in Chokehold #2, while Louis stands there doing eff all to stop him--"you gonna let him do this to me!?" She also feels violated when Les admits to having read ALL of her diaries (Lou read the one Les gave him), and Les accuses her of "ungratefulness" when she's just venting to her private journal. "I'm never gonna forget what happened here. I hate you both!").

9) The 56 Floaters send the cops a'knockin, and Lestat (her Blood Father) tells her "you are a mistake" -- "an anvil (pulling us down)." She feels she's been abandoned by yet another father figure who never wanted her "you wanted her, you fix her!"--and tells Lou he's been cucked for years as Les cheats on him with a flat-arsed white woman ("he's gotten tired of us"), but Lou just stands there doing eff all to speak up or fight back "he treats us like sh!t and you take it, why is that?!" (TBF, Lou did cuss Les out for calling her a mistake, "how about you STFU?!", but again: CLAUDIA felt that Louis didn't do enough to defend us/them/HER, and that's all that matters)

10) runs away from home to find herself/learn about vampiric nature, but was forced into hiding cuz of segregation, sneaking around libraries & campuses--(pretending that her Black mother was the maid/servant/slave who'd abandoned/left her child to wander around unsupervised)--just to gain access to White-Only learning spaces, cuz ever since Slavery times, white people didn't let Black people learn to read & write or educate themselves, since knowledge=power.

11) Bruce, the first vampire she meets away from home saves her from the white racists, and they bond over having abusive European Makers ("you and I are running from the same thing then"). Bruce actually encourages her book-reading, but only recommends European Etiquette books--rules on "manners, how to be a nice young lady." Offended, ofc she refuses, only for Bruce/Killer to turn around and viciously rape & beat her, breaking her bones & stuffing her under the floorboards to assault her over & over again for a whole week straight for being "rude" to him; before effing off when he got bored & "tired of your gloomy face."

12) comes back home after 7 years to find Louis mourning his permanent estrangement from his sister Grace, and is convinced that the only reason Daddy Lou ever wanted her around was to be his substitute sister (WE ofc know this isn't true, but SHE doesn't know). She tries to talk Louis into being her (travel) companion in Eastern Europe to "meet vampires worthy of your love!," only for Lestat to butt in and show his whole entire arse.

13) she apologizes to Loustat very calmly & politely & maturely, Lestat resents her for hurting Lou by leaving them (ofc Claudia doesn't know she'd hurt Les' feelings by leaving, too ("turn a betrayal into an opportunity")), and is also scared/threatened that she'll take Lou away from him for good. So he refuses her apology, insults her intelligence & self-education & mocks that she can never get a college degree, calls her a "destitute little girl destined to live an inconsequential little life," mocks her for being raped in the "American hinterland," and throws "how did Charlie taste? like the love you'll never know?" in her face for good measure. Escalating the situation to the point of no return, Les then viciously attacks her with Chokehold #3, and commences to beat the dog snot out of Louis right in front of her when Lou tries to defend his daughter from her attacker. She tries to defend Lou and fight Les off of him, but "godlike strength" Lestat flings her "built-like-a-bird" body off of him, throwing her into the furniture and giving her a bleeding head injury. Les drags Lou out of the house by his effing jaw, and Claudia chases after them, tryna sacrifice herself to protect her Daddy Lou by begging "Uncle Les, let him go, it's me you want!" Only for him to tell her to her face "it was never YOU!," confirming (for her) that he never wanted her. She watches helplessly as Les savagely bites Lou & drains him (ie: vampiric rape) before flying Lou 2km into the effing atmosphere and "dropped him like an egg from an airplane," leaving her to pick up the pieces when Les effs off (in shame) to Algiers/Antoinette for the next 6 years.

14) Claudia becomes Louis' mother, hunting down animals to feed him, and teaching him how to walk again. For at least 3 years, she's the only one fit enough to clean up the absolute wreck Loustat had turned the townhouse into (both pre-/post-fight), and she's the only one who can protect them both if Lestat decided to finish what he'd started--let alone Bruce. She rejects Lestat's mea culpas for Louis, bravely answering the door to turn Les away; yeeting the keys to the Rolls Royce into the ether rather than stand by and let Louis be buttered up by Lestat's obvs lovebombing & manipulations. But all her efforts for nothing, when Louis finally folds & lets Lestat return to the household.

15) Fed up, she declares that she's emancipated herself as NEITHER of Loustat's child--"I'm your sister, or there's the door." Rather than humbling himself to have a sincere heart-to-heart & apologize to his daughter (who's obvs still hurting & traumatized from everything she'd gone through, seen him do, and is terrified that he'll do to them AGAIN), Lestat snipes at her, becoming increasingly macroaggressive "I am your Maker!" Unimpressed with Les' lovebombing ("He's trying. Teaching you piano, the chess board, isn't he?"), she's the constant reality check for Loustat about what happened "that night," "we leave the damage, so we never forget the damage;" refusing to give an inch as Les takes a mile & (inevitably) reverts back to his toxic behavior, "Lestat the vulnerable becomes Lestat the irritable becomes Lestat the controlling, you watch!" The ONE thing they agree on is that Louis' vegan diet makes them both feel "tolerated" & "looked down on" for wanting/needing to eat humans, agreeing to Lestat's rule to only eat humans from now on.

16) Meanwhile, Claudia's "Rule #4: Kill Antoinette" went completely ignored, Les insulting Claudia's intelligence by faking Ant's death & mocking Claudia for "liking souvenirs" by giving her Ant's severed finger. She's still following Les around as he cheats on Lou with Ant in Ponchatoula. Hoping this'll get Lou to stand up for them, and stop doing eff all to confront Les and get them out of there, she drags Lou along to make him see Lestant's affair & listen in as Les bad-mouths him & Claudia "she's a nasty little creature" to his white mistress and lets that "desperate trash" talk crap about them too, "You don't need her, and you don't need him. They don't appreciate you like I do."

17) Fed up with living in constant fear of Lestat & taking his anymore of his bullcrap, she wants to leave for Eastern Europe to find better vampires ("they can't all be like him (Lestat), or him (Bruce)"). Yet again, she unsuccessfully begs Lou to come with her cuz she's scared it's not safe for him staying with Lestat ("when he hurts you again--and he will!--come find me"), but Lou tells her "I'd just hold you back.... Hey, Sis. You don't need me. You think you do, but you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away." So she runs away, on a NYC-bound train headed North to freedom (a la Harriet Tubman's Underground Railroad), giggling excitedly even as she's forced to hide in the back with the luggage cuz little Negro girls weren't allowed to ride the nice White-Only trains. Just as she thinks she's free, Massa Lestat chases her down like a "slave" he's caused nothing but "misery with no horizon." Again, he mocks her being raped, and threatens to do even worse and kill her if she runs away again, "back in your cage, sweetheart." Back home, he's the pater familias from hell who's verbally abusive ("finish the game!"), cussing from A to Z, mad at her for outsmarting him and mad at Lou for his "timid child rearing & compromise" & not being a disciplinarian who'd go upside Claudia's head like Les wants to.

18) Claudia's 100% done enduring life under Lestat's shingled roof, and ropes Louis into helping with her Murder Plot. She only tells him so much, cuz she knows Lou's unreliable AF, scared he'll fold & choose Lestat over her again. (book!Claudia doesn't tell Louis about the Murder Plot at all, and her Merrick diaries reveal that she hates Lou just as much as she hates Les. But AMC!Claudia is much more forgiving of Lou; she loves him & cares/fears for him, but she''s also tired of how whipped he is for Massa Lestat.) She constantly has to remind Louis to stay on track and to "wake up!" whenever he got those dreamy hearteyes at Lestat that means he's *this* close to calling off the whole plan. But Claudia knows what time it is, cuz she knows Lestat's gone & Turned Antoinette into a frikkin vampire who's been spying on them. He even tries to have his white mistress kill his Black daughter, saying she "should never have been made/born," and that "Antoinette will be much more agreeable to our life together!" But Claudia said "Lestat, you must think me an idiot!" and he was GAGGED when she got the drop on ALL of them, poisoned TF outta Lestat, stabbed his sidepiece like a kebab and crushed her head in like the ant she is, and wrote Lestat's dying words in his own blood! 👑

19) But she was right about Louis being a flake, so lost in the sauce and out of his effing mind that he commits the ultimate betrayal, putting her in Chokehold #4 to stop her from burning Les alive. 🤦 (book!Louis DID burn Les.) Instead, AMC!Louis' a lovesick idiot who puts Les in the dump to feast on rats & regain his strength (book!Louis dumped Les in the swamp where gators almost ate Les alive). 🤦 Louis & Claudia finally leave NOLA for Eastern Europe, where Claudia hopes things will get better them overseas.

20) But alas....

To be continued in Pt2 for S2, cuz I hit Tumblr's hyperlink limit. 🙄

[thirtecnth]

SOBBED for bev

SOBBED : a scene from my muse's past in which they broke down in tears

tw: death

The day began like any other. Beverly arrived on time, unpacked her things, and read her notes before class… She had only been at the job as the high school English and History teacher for a few months now but every single name of her students had been engraved in her memory. She had even beautifully printed each of their names on their chosen desk in her classroom.

Many of them had recently lost their parents, friends, or family members… They needed a gentle person to hold them. It was more of a responsibility than she ever thought she would have but she was more than happy to take up that role.

This was especially true when she noticed one of the children, a girl named Grace, was often found reading in her classroom during lunch. She never actually ate but just stayed there-- quiet and unassuming. Beverly had a sneaking suspicion that the teen wasn’t very popular and that her parents either didn’t have or didn’t care to give her any money for lunch. It was her classroom where the girl felt safest.

So, soon after that, Beverly had begun to bring in supplies for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Grace would eat and they would discuss one of the many books Beverly had assigned her. Sometimes they would even read together and laugh at the silly moments in the written words. In a way, this young girl was one of Beverly’s first friends in Huntsville. To the young girl, Beverly was like a mother or older sister.

She saw so much potential there for the world. A new generation.

So on this particular day, when lunch came and went but there was no sign of Grace— she became worried. The girl had never missed a single day of lunch with her. She hoped for the best, maybe someone invited her to eat with them, but when she wasn’t in class either, her heart felt— uneasy.

It was one of the other teachers that gave her the news.

Grace's parents had been irresponsible with the windows. Left one open. The three of them perished. Grace included.

She was the first student that Beverly ever lost. All she could think of was Grace's soft cheeks as she laughed. A ringing developed in her ears and her body became stiff and rigid as she imagined those monsters tearing apart her perfect young mind. A girl who had dreams and a beautiful heart… So delicate she wouldn't harm a fly. Torn apart like she hadn't even mattered.

When the other teacher closed her classroom door, Beverly fell to her knees and sobbed. It was as if all of it finally caught up to her. She was stuck here, in this town, without her family, with zero contact, and entirely alone. She might die here the same way herself. Worst of all, Grace already had. It was unfair. All of it.

Her body shook with sobs and trembled with grief. Her vision became unclear as her mind panicked from the lack of steady breath. She was there for hours. No one came to take her home and she hadn't wanted to leave. She stayed there that night.

Even today, Beverly still has the Polaroid she and Grace took together in the corner of her chalkboard, and supplies for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are always ready in case anyone needs them for lunch. Grace would be proud.

[stingslikeabee]

[ pluck ]  –  for the sender to pluck a foreign object ( twig / leaf / etc. ) out of the receiver muses’ hair.

the intimacy of hands . accepting

The Highgarden of Archades was a restricted area within the capital - Melissa had discovered shortly upon arriving to the city that only those with sufficient proof of their status could afford to go there, using the elusive sandalwood chops as a token of passage. If the dancer had been in town as a visitor, it was very likely that she would have never made it to most beautiful part of the entire capital.

However, when one had the sponsoring of the Marquis of Ondore and also the title of a mistress to a judge magister fond of flaunting his own wealth, Melissa had no shortage of funds to acquire as many as she needed to travel to the most isolated and highest place in all of Archades available to the local nobility.

It had also become the favorite meeting spot with Gabranth - or Liam, as he had asked for her to call him whenever they were meeting for social purposes. One of their first encounters over shared sweet baked treats had happened there, and the magistrate was quick to notice that the Bhujerban enjoyed the altitude and the company of vegetation in a city otherwise so hostile to foreigners and eccentricities.

Besides, given how expensive entrance to the terrace grounds could be, they were often deserted - particularly after sunset. Gabranth had unlimited access to the place given his position within the imperial army, and sometimes headed there after his own shifts - Melissa wasn't sure if it meant that he hoped to find her; but the dancer lingered for as long as she could just in case he had the time to visit.

Two foreigners, bonding out of mutual pining for something located so very far from Archades - but also bound to the city for different reasons. As much as Melissa's own agenda remained hidden and close to her heart, it was difficult to say that Gabranth was not earning a special spot himself. His concern, the gentleness, the understanding in hazel eyes - there was so much loneliness Melissa could withstand while pretending to adore her official lover.

Judge magister Gabranth - Liam - represented genuine attachment and connection in a sea of deception, even if the biggest liar between the two of them was the Bhujerban herself.

On that particular night, the man indeed came to the gardens - the sound of his armor had grown to be familiar, enough for Melissa to lift her eyes from the book that she had been reading under the shade of a large, fruit-bearing tree. It was perfect timing, really; a few more minutes and daylight would go away completely, making her task impossible and forcing the dancer to go home.

Dusk was a beautiful moment to witness from the gardens - and as Melissa watched Gabranth approach, the judge removing his helmet and tucking it under an arm, the Bhujerban felt lips tugging upwards out of their own volition and a sigh escaping them as well. He looked almost like something holy - his figure framed by the sunshine that lingered behind him, as if Gabranth was some miraculous bearer of good news.

Truthfully, his presence alone was worth it, even more so when he sat down with Melissa after a cordial greeting. He was ever careful with the edges of his armor, maneuvering in a way to avoid harming the dancer and the colored silks of her attire. With both of them on the ground, it was as if there was no hierarchy - no sense of mandatory respect to be demonstrated but for the one a hume should have for another.

But before Melissa could say anything, Liam frowned and reached for her - a gloved hand went to the dancer's dark tresses, gently picking something that was nestled in her hair. The Bhujerban's curious gaze followed his motions, chuckling at the unveiling of a single, fallen blossom from the tree above. It was not one Melissa was familiar with, but the petals were colored in a soft orange hue that reminded her of the setting sun.

"Allow me to do it properly," Gabranth mused with a gentle smile, carefully placing the flower then between Melissa's hair and left ear as many young girls liked to do with the favorite blossoms. The dancer hummed fondly when he was finished, even if she lacked a mirror to check her reflection - the new light in the judge's eyes told her plenty.

"Thank you, Liam. I would be making a fool of myself going home if not for your timely intervention," the Bhujerban declared with some added flair for a playful purpose, and a chuckle came from the magistrate. His voice, darker and richer with amusement, sounded sweeter than any birdsong that had kept Melissa company during the afternoon.

"I am always at your service."

"Then stay with me until the sun dies at the horizon? I would like to remain here with you for as long as we are able," the woman asked, hopeful eyes meeting the magistrate's and seeing the agreement there, followed by a definitive nod of his head and his own figure adjusting itself, leaning against the large tree himself. For a while, none of them talked - but Melissa's hand did move over the grass to reach for his, brushing over the fabric of his protective gloves.

After a moment, Gabranth's palm turned - and he held the Bhujerban's digits with his own, entwining their fingers with decisiveness. At that point, Melissa thought, there was no going back. Despite her role as a spy for the Resistance and the figurative hold of judge Ghis over the dancer, her heart had welcomed an unexpected guest.

It would mean risking many things - but the woman was not strong enough to turn away the one person who saw her beyond the pretty veils and enchanting music. Trusting that no other souls would wander into the garden, Melissa moved to the side, dropping her head to rest gently over his shoulder, carefully doing so in order to avoid the sharper edges of Gabranth's protectives.

And for a few blessed moments, Melissa was able to forget about everything else and focus just on the rapid thrumming of her heart - out of affection instead of rage for once.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

16th September >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Saints Cornelius, Pope, and Cyprian, Bishop, Martyrs 

on

Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time.

Monday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Red. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the feria (Monday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading 1 Corinthians 11:17-26,33 If each one hurries to be first, it is not the Lord's Supper you are eating.

On the subject of instructions, I cannot say that you have done well in holding meetings that do you more harm than good. In the first place, I hear that when you all come together as a community, there are separate factions among you, and I half believe it – since there must no doubt be separate groups among you, to distinguish those who are to be trusted. The point is, when you hold these meetings, it is not the Lord’s Supper that you are eating, since when the time comes to eat, everyone is in such a hurry to start his own supper that one person goes hungry while another is getting drunk. Surely you have homes for eating and drinking in? Surely you have enough respect for the community of God not to make poor people embarrassed? What am I to say to you? Congratulate you? I cannot congratulate you on this. For this is what I received from the Lord, and in turn passed on to you: that on the same night that he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took some bread, and thanked God for it and broke it, and he said, ‘This is my body, which is for you; do this as a memorial of me.’ In the same way he took the cup after supper, and said, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Whenever you drink it, do this as a memorial of me.’ Until the Lord comes, therefore, every time you eat this bread and drink this cup, you are proclaiming his death. So to sum up, my dear brothers, when you meet for the Meal, wait for one another.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 39(40):7-10,17

R/ Proclaim the death of the Lord, until he comes.

You do not ask for sacrifice and offerings, but an open ear. You do not ask for holocaust and victim. Instead, here am I.

R/ Proclaim the death of the Lord, until he comes.

In the scroll of the book it stands written that I should do your will. My God, I delight in your law in the depth of my heart.

R/ Proclaim the death of the Lord, until he comes.

Your justice I have proclaimed in the great assembly. My lips I have not sealed; you know it, O Lord.

R/ Proclaim the death of the Lord, until he comes.

O let there be rejoicing and gladness for all who seek you. Let them ever say: ‘The Lord is great’, who love your saving help.

R/ Proclaim the death of the Lord, until he comes.

Gospel Acclamation Psalm 118:27

Alleluia, alleluia! Make me grasp the way of your precepts, and I will muse on your wonders. Alleluia!

Or: John 3:16

Alleluia, alleluia! God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son: everyone who believes in him has eternal life. Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 7:1-10 Give the word, and my servant will be healed.

When Jesus had come to the end of all he wanted the people to hear, he went into Capernaum. A centurion there had a servant, a favourite of his, who was sick and near death. Having heard about Jesus he sent some Jewish elders to him to ask him to come and heal his servant. When they came to Jesus they pleaded earnestly with him. ‘He deserves this of you’ they said ‘because he is friendly towards our people; in fact, he is the one who built the synagogue.’ So Jesus went with them, and was not very far from the house when the centurion sent word to him by some friends: ‘Sir,’ he said ‘do not put yourself to trouble; because I am not worthy to have you under my roof; and for this same reason I did not presume to come to you myself; but give the word and let my servant be cured. For I am under authority myself, and have soldiers under me; and I say to one man: Go, and he goes; to another: Come here, and he comes; to my servant: Do this, and he does it.’ When Jesus heard these words he was astonished at him and, turning round, said to the crowd following him, ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found faith like this.’ And when the messengers got back to the house they found the servant in perfect health.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saints Cornelius, Pope, and Cyprian, Bishop, Martyrs 

(Liturgical Colour: Red. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading 2 Corinthians 4:7-15 Such an overwhelming power comes from God and not from us.

We are only the earthenware jars that hold this treasure, to make it clear that such an overwhelming power comes from God and not from us. We are in difficulties on all sides, but never cornered; we see no answer to our problems, but never despair; we have been persecuted, but never deserted; knocked down, but never killed; always, wherever we may be, we carry with us in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus, too, may always be seen in our body. Indeed, while we are still alive, we are consigned to our death every day, for the sake of Jesus, so that in our mortal flesh the life of Jesus, too, may be openly shown. So death is at work in us, but life in you. But as we have the same spirit of faith that is mentioned in scripture – I believed, and therefore I spoke – we too believe and therefore we too speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus to life will raise us with Jesus in our turn, and put us by his side and you with us. You see, all this is for your benefit, so that the more grace is multiplied among people, the more thanksgiving there will be, to the glory of God.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 125(126):1-6

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

When the Lord delivered Zion from bondage, it seemed like a dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, on our lips there were songs.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

The heathens themselves said: ‘What marvels the Lord worked for them!’ What marvels the Lord worked for us! Indeed we were glad.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

Deliver us, O Lord, from our bondage as streams in dry land. Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

They go out, they go out, full of tears, carrying seed for the sowing: they come back, they come back, full of song, carrying their sheaves.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

Gospel Acclamation 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed be God, a gentle Father and the God of all consolation, who comforts us in all our sorrows. Alleluia!

Gospel John 17:11-19 Father, keep those you have given me true to your name.

Jesus raised his eyes to heaven and said:

‘Holy Father, keep those you have given me true to your name, so that they may be one like us. While I was with them, I kept those you had given me true to your name. I have watched over them and not one is lost except the one who chose to be lost, and this was to fulfil the scriptures. But now I am coming to you and while still in the world I say these things to share my joy with them to the full. I passed your word on to them, and the world hated them, because they belong to the world no more than I belong to the world. I am not asking you to remove them from the world, but to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world, and for their sake I consecrate myself so that they too may be consecrated in truth.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/democracy-for-dummies/

Democracy For Dummies

I know him.  When he was a teenager, I crawled around in his head as his English Teacher.  Sadly, months ago, his wife of many years died unexpectedly.  A man in his 70s, he fell into a well of grief so deep he considered joining her.  I held my breath as he struggled to find his balance. Recovery came by inches, but it came.  Eventually, I could stop worrying. Still, reading his comments on social media, I wondered if the residue of his grief had turned to hate.    He’s not a bad man nor a foolish one, but he seemed to need a reservoir of anger to contain his misery.  Like our 45th President, Donald Trump, he focused on immigrants. They were criminals and rapists, he said, echoing the words of the former president. I told him my mother was an immigrant.  But he refused to connect the dots between his trust in me and my Costa Rican parent. She takes no offense. She’s dead. I could tell him that as the child of an immigrant, his prejudice offends me. But that’s not true, exactly. I’m not diminished by his bias. Instead, I feel pity for him, aware that his hatred burns inside him like hot tar and that he’s injuring himself more than those he wishes to harm. Self-torment is a condition common among most haters. Over time, their fury drives out other emotions. Compassion lost, they cling to their malice like voyagers tossed overboard at sea. Hatred becomes their ballast and their North Star. It distracts them from their disappointments.  It explains why fame and fortune have eluded them. When they hear the word welfare, they are quick to retort, “Nobody ever gave me a handout.”    The statement is false, of course. These malcontents received a free education. Their water is drinkable, and their roads and bridges are maintained.    True, these benefits come from public taxes.  But federal money isn’t shared equally. Some parts of the country receive a larger handout than others. Conservative states tend to be low-income states, and they pay less in federal income taxes, while people who live in those states are more likely to benefit from government support programs such as Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, or SNAP, a nutrition assistance program.  My former student who is white and others of his ilk enjoy additional benefits as well. They can sit at a  lunch counter or use a public bathroom without fear of attack.  The employment they seek comes with the promise of advancement, while Immigrants take jobs so poorly paid, they must work more than one to put beans on the table.     The source of white contempt isn’t the absence of privilege.  It’s fear.  Forced to live cheek-by-jowl with foreigners, working-class white Americans …are more worried that they or their families will become victims of violent crime…they are more likely to live in neighborhoods with higher levels of social disorder… are also much more likely to believe that their families will fall victim to terrorism. What’s lost to their understanding is that immigrants share these fears. Yet rather than join hands for the betterment of all, those who are native-born chose to pledge their allegiance to the superrich. Donald Trump never knew a door that wasn’t open to him, unlike them. Yet somehow, he’s convinced these followers that he feels their pain and that he stands as a bulwark against systems that oppress them both. One of his supporters recently smiled into a television camera to say he’d take Trump’s autocracy over the ballot box any day.  “Sometimes people need to be spanked,” he avowed. Spankings aren’t meant for people who think like him, of course. They’re meant for people who believe in equality, diversity, and inclusion. He can’t envision a time when he might need a system of laws to protect him. His ignorance makes democracy fragile and joined with the ignorance of others, he encourages enough civil unrest to invite tyranny.  In this world, democracy has few friends, already. Even Nature abhors it. With few exceptions, democracy scarcely exists in the wild. Even so, my eighty-seven years on the planet have convinced me that though imperfect, democracy is the best way to protect the individual from the tyranny of the powerful.  E. Jean Carroll and her suit against billionaire Donald Trump is an example. Who doubts that absolute power corrupts absolutely? Those who seek it are the least to be trusted. As individuals, we accept the yoke of government as part of a social contract, relinquishing some rights in exchange for greater collective benefits. To this end, democracy best suits the individual’s purpose. Founded on the notion of equality, it entitles everyone to keep an eye on everyone else.

[tactful-kind-daedra]

@letsriddlemethislucifer // continued:

Send 💖 for my muse to give yours a hug || Accepting!From: @tactful-kind-daedraTo: Xander!

--- He wasn't one to give much physical affection-- at least, not very often. However, there were times he did indeed know his words weren't enough to express his feelings; especially after returning from a long excursion. Once the man was done revising recent findings within the northern region, the King was quick in his steps to leave his office. He made his way down the corridors, and up the stairway towards his chambers. It was around that time in the evening when Daedra was there, deep into her own studies without a head space for time. She must not have known he'd returned early; of course he was a little purposeful with such lack of news. He'd wanted to make it a surprise; more so to the point he had carefully removed his armor so to walk as quietly as he could without alerting the young lady. After carefully shutting the door closed, he took his time scanning around the place before locking onto the familiar redhead's back. One step, then another, and another... After he knew he was well within the clear, even to be mere inches from her, he reached out-- And caught her attention with a bouquet of flowers. He was leaned over her ever so carefully, enough so if she were to flinch, she wouldn't stumble backwards and harm herself.

"Is this book so interesting? You haven't forgotten to eat, have you?" He asked, before carefully wrapping his arms around her small frame, in a warm embrace. A deep breath in, and a gentle exhale. He knew he was home.

Daedra was keeping diligently to her reading. Moreso, making notes and picking up on the subtle region differences that she was meant to be aware of. Tiring as it was, it was a necessarily 'evil'. She had a lot of catching up to do, of learning such intricacies that were almost second thought to people who grew up in Nohr. It was something that required a taxing amount of focus from herself, which is why she liked to do it strictly when Xander was away on business.

If all her mental focus was on important study, she didn't grace herself room to ponder other things. To over worry...So, it seemed justifiable to bury herself in the task when she was left to her own devices, and asked to remain behind. And, like any task she did, Daedra put everything she could into completing it.

So the redhead was relatively unaware as the door of the suite opened and shut. Not used to his unweighted attire, his presence barely registered. In fact, the only thing that the young woman was aware of, was the slight smell of flowers. Unusual for Nohr so... perhaps it was a maid bringing her tea. That was nice, how thoughtful--

Until a burst of color loomed into her line of vision. Daedra pushed back in her seat suddenly, her back hitting against the cushion behind her as her eyes went wide in surprise. She didn't have time to process much about the flowers though, when she realized what they were. For a deep and familiar voice is where all her focus was drawn to. Daedra knew that voice very well, and it was one she'd been anticipating to hear since they'd parted, even if the time was mildly brief.

"Xander--!"

She could say little more than than, before the man greeted her with a hug, strong arms gently wrapping around her. There was nothing to obstruct them from touching, no armor, no excess finery. It was one of the rare times where her surprise didn't serve as a hinderance to her.

Daedra wasted no time dropping her quill and spinning around and up from her seat. Xander was still stooped from his hug, so Daedra had full opportunity to wrap her arms tightly around his neck in response. The redhead mewled in pure joy to have his so close. She couldn't pause to comment on the beautiful flowers he brought, for the time being. Her focus was locked elsewhere.

"You're back!! You came home early," she exclaimed, obvious as it was. "Welcome home!!"

[sonorous-eisfyl]

Oltura...

---- It's definitely not a name he's read in any books on myths, legends and what other tales of Elders people have written up. In all its fairness, though- the fact that the legend itself seemed to have been severely wrong as it was passed down alongside being from a more rider populated region meant it was already highly unlikely it'd be recorded for his crowd.

"I wonder if an Elder like that can fear..."

It was possible, right? No matter how strong or powerful you were, when faced with the threat of death you'd have to feel something- at least, that's what he thinks. Frosting goes back to silence for a small while after musing that out loud, looking down at the book as he thought. There was a bit of information to be taking in- but the fact that Mari and Ratha had gone through so much... he couldn't really imagine how much they've been hurt. To be locked away like that... he understood how horrible that was.

It's not a memory of similar experience he'd like resurfacing anytime soon

"I guess if... if you ever wanted to, the researchers could probably write a log about Oltura?" he offers a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. An odd offer, but those scholars seemed to have a wish to be recording something as insane as that Elder.

"They'd record the legends too, though they'll probably keep you around for hours on end,"

Frosting raises a hand up in a somewhat dismissive gesture to the last statement, keeping the smile despite the pain of recalling their first meeting.

"I-it's-- it's alright! I mean, I... I'm a little relieved you didn't try to start hitting me back then...?"

A statement with... implications, if thought about. He was genuinely kind of ready to be physically harmed in that encounter for his mistake. Mari could probably wager where that idea came from, seeing her involvement in that entire event. The hunter quickly moves on from that sentence.

"You were completely justified in being mad, and... um, even if everything before then didn't happen... I'd imagine anyone would've reacted the same if their companion got shot by a random person, even on accident- so I guess I deserved it,"

"Other than that- I... I, uh... I'm, sorry all of that happened to you. Neither of you should've gone through any of it,"

"WELL . . . THAT'S BECAUSE EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHERS forgot it even existed until it was almost too late . . . an Elder Dragon so ancient, that the last recording of its defeat barely survived to this day." And she shrugs a bit, casually waving off the heavy weight that Frosting imagined she carried once. She was humble like that, and perhaps too good at bearing so much pressure . . . she simply thought she was meant to bear it.

"The monster's name was Oltura. Some . . . massive entity that preys specifically on rathalos to reach adulthood. Apparently it ravaged my island a long time ago, and it was a razewing, like my Red, who defeated it before its destruction could spread."

"But people forgot about Oltura. And others with really, really twisted ideals took the truth and manipulated everyone else into believing someone different. It's . . . because of them that Red suffered so much. He became a scapegoat."

Mari's features narrow in unpointed disgust, her gaze falling onto the floor as she recalls sour and bitter memories. "They condemned my Ratha. Chained him up, caged him . . . only to learn it'd all been a lie. And he nearly lost his life for it." She snarled. "I promised I'd protect him, and I almost failed him. As for Oltura . . ."

Frosting had asked what it was like, facing the destructive power of the ancient beast. "I could feel . . . something akin to malice, or at least, I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure. I think all she wanted was to survive, but maybe she was also angry. Even if that wasn't the case, her existence would have destroyed the world as we know it. It was with Red's help that we slayed her."

And at last, the teen sighs, looking remorseful. "The reason I snapped at you . . . I know we're beyond that point now, but I just assumed you were like the people who still believed my Red would hurt people, or were otherwise ready to use him for darker intentions. We've had to deal with both kinds, I'm afraid. I'm sorry that I yelled at you."

[disasteregyptologist]

RE-DOING MY TAGS SOO ... TAG DUMP FOR EVELYN CARNAHAN

[ladywynne]

Top Ten Characters I'd kiss for Christmas or New Year's.

Thanks to @riderj123 for the tag! It's never too late, right?

In no particular order.

Jaskier (season 2) - I'm scared too. I'm scared that one day, the muses will stop speaking to me. Because who are we when we can no longer do the one thing we were put on this Continent to do?

Ned Stark - We Can't Afford To Fight A War Amongst Ourselves.

Roger MacKenzie - I will always sing for you.

Jon Snow - I Swore A Vow To The Night's Watch. If I Don't Take My Own Words Seriously, What Sort Of Lord Of Winterfell Would I Be?

Geralt of Rivia - If I have to choose between one evil or another, I'd rather not choose at all.

Sandor Clegane - I could keep you safe. They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.

Din Djarin - I'll see you again. I promise.

Rick O'Connell - Yeah, right, and no harm ever came from reading a book. You remember how that one went?

Peter Quill - What should we do next: Something good, something bad? Bit of both?

1. Jamie Fraser - Your face is my heart Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul.

[hybridanafrost]

*Drives up to speaker* Hello, can I get a side order of 2 and 3 for Wenny and 8 and 19 for Odette? Thank you!☺

I gotchu, homie!

Link to the questions is here for whoever wants to ask me about my BC OCs:

Eirwen:

2. Drawing from the language of flowers, what flower symbolizes them?

So Wenny's birthday is in July and one of the birth flowers of July is the water lily which means purity and innocence.

However, I also have another answer to that question and it is the amaryllis flower. Amaryllis are symbolic of a hard won success, particularly in artistic endeavors. Giving an artist a bunch of amaryllis flowers is said to encourage both their creative muse and their achievements and strength in the arts. Wenny is a sweet and innocent girl but she is also very creative and driven.

3. What real life animal would they be represented by?

So I was thinking of cute animals and then I remembered the fact that cheetahs are so damned anxious that they need service dogs in order to remain calm enough in captivity to breed. And that's what Eirwen is, she is actually a dangerous cat, but she does more harm to herself by being so stressed out.

Odette:

8. Which of the seven heavenly virtues are they associated with? Do they embody that virtue or are they trying to learn it?

So the virtue Odette best embodies is diligence. No one can ever call her lazy, if anything she's a borderline workaholic. Once her mind is set on something she goes out and does it. All those books she reads? Research. All to better understand and learn things that will help her with whatever goals she is trying to achieve.

19. Which of the four temperaments are they?

At first glance? Sanguine. Odette has a people-person persona and is very charming. But this took years of practice, she was very melancholic as a kid before she came out of her shell. So she is actually a blend of the two.

"When the Sanguine and the Melancholy natural tendencies are combined, it produces a people-person who is sensitive, creative, and detail-oriented.

The Sanguine-Melancholy needs to be with people most of the time, but some of the time they need to be alone. When alone they will likely think, review, plan, and be creative. They need information, time to think, and a plan; they function best, and more effectively, when they have a detailed plan.

They often have difficulty going to sleep because they are thinking too much; reviewing, planning, fretting, or creating."

Here's a link about temperament blends:

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Want You Back

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (little violence, little blood)

Original Idea: Exes-to-Lovers is kinda an underrated trope, when it’s done right.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is... 2,833 words. I wish I could say I’m sorry for it being long but I’m not. Have fun! @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“Oh shoot—hide me!” I hissed, ducking behind Daisy. She looked at me in confusion before glancing around the party.

She rolled her eyes. “Girl, you haven’t dated Jason in like a year. Can’t you at least try to be civil?”

“Oh trust me, I’d love nothing more than to be civil. Honestly, I’d love nothing more than to get back together with him. I thought we made each other happy. But he kept so many secrets and I can’t be in a relationship with someone who can’t be honest with me. We broke up so… explosively that I’m not sure we can speak nicely to each other,” I replied. “Just… block his view of me while I sneak into Jessie’s room, okay?”

Daisy heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. But hiding from him won’t do you any good.”

“It’ll do us both a world of good if it means I don’t have to talk to him.”

Daisy did as I asked and blocked Jason’s view of me until we got to the stairs. I bolted up them two at a time and ducked into Jessie’s room. The door had been closed but unlocked. Once I shut myself inside, I leaned against it and sighed.

The bookcase in Jessie’s room was more meant for displaying knick-knacks than holding books, so a quick glance at her collection revealed nothing worth reading. I sat on the floor next to her bed, on her fuzzy pink rug, and stared at the screensaver on her computer monitor—a bunch of bubbles floating around and bumping into each other, changing colors.

Why was Jason here? Jessie knew he and I fell out over a year ago. Did she invite him? Did her brother? That seemed more likely. Jessie probably didn’t even realize he was here.

No need to get angry at her.

I pulled out my phone. I had a few books on it. Kept them just for this reason. Hide from a party and make people think I was just on my phone. I didn’t trust reading fanfiction in public, so I only kept traditionally-published work in my phone’s files.

I’m not sure how long I read. A half-hour, probably.

I was startled by the door opening and closing. “Whew. Dodged a bullet there,” a familiar voice said with a sigh of relief.

I looked up in alarm.

Jason was leaning against the door, eyes closed, breathing hard.

I held still. Maybe if he didn’t hear me, he’d slip back out to the party after a moment and leave me alone—and we wouldn’t have to exchange words. I watched my phone screen dim, then shut off completely, while Jason just stood there.

He opened his eyes. His gaze landed on me. “O—oh,” he said. “I… I didn’t know you were in here.”

I nodded, slowly and once. “I figured,” I said flatly. Awkward. “Did… Jessie’s brother invite you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But… one of his ex-girlfriends from high school wouldn’t stop flirting with me. So I pretty much ran away. I thought this was a bathroom.” He gestured to the room around us. “Clearly, I was wrong.” He glanced at the door over his shoulder. “I would leave, but I don’t want that girl to come after me again. Think we can get along long enough to share?”

I pushed myself to my feet, tucking my phone in my pocket. “No need. Since I came in here to avoid you, I’ll just go back to the party—and you can stay here for the rest of the night, for all I care. I will say, though, the bathroom is the next door down.”

I moved to brush him out of the way to leave Jessie’s room, but he caught my wrist. “Babydoll, wait,” he said, voice soft.

I pulled out of his grip. “Don’t call me that. I’m not yours anymore.”

“I miss you.” His big blue eyes were giving me puppy eyes.

“I miss you too. But you know perfectly well why I broke things off. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth about why he disappears all the time—and clearly can’t keep his story straight. I thought we were happy together, Jason. But when you vanish for hours at a time with no word and come back with lame excuses, how was I supposed to trust you? I doubt you were cheating on me but how would I know? And what else was I supposed to think?” I knew I wasn’t strong enough to push him away from the door—the man was 6’ and 225 pounds of muscle—but when I shoved he gave way.

I yanked open the door and shut it hard behind me. I stomped downstairs and back to the party.

“You see Jason?” Daisy asked. “He went upstairs a couple minutes ago.”

“We spoke,” I said shortly.

Daisy cringed. “Went that well, huh?”

“Part of me still loves him, but I’m definitely still ticked at him.”

She made a face. “Sorry,” she offered.

“It’s fine.” I shrugged. “Anyway. Have you even seen Jessie or her brother?”

Daisy looked around. “I said hi to her when we first got here… but no, I haven’t seen her since,” she said. I followed her gaze. A sea of people in a small suburban house outside Gotham was pretty crowded for a party, and it was hard to see if Jessie and her brother Robert were even here anymore.

“Me neither,” I muttered.

“Wonder where they went,” Daisy mused.

“I mean, with the amount of people here, I’m not surprised I can’t see them.”

“Yeah…”

Somewhere nearby, I heard glass shattering. “Uh-oh. That can’t be good,” Daisy remarked. “If Jessie’s parents find out someone broke something—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as a window crashed in right next to us. I shrieked and grabbed Daisy, dragging her away from the flying shards. Several of them splattered over my jacket and cascaded to the floor, but I was lucky not to get impaled by any of them. A dark figure in body armor landed on the carpet, holding a large assault rifle.

I put Daisy behind me and backed up a few steps as the music stopped. She was taller than me, but hunched over she could almost disappear behind me. At least, whoever the intruder was wouldn’t have a clear shot at her past me.

“I’m looking for Jessica and Robert Williams,” the intruder said, levelling his gun at the crowd. Someone screamed from near the stairs.

While the intruder’s attention was elsewhere, I snuck my phone out of my pocket and found Jason’s number. I sent a text as fast as I could. Get out of here. Shooter just broke in.

That was all I had the time for before slipping my phone back into my pocket like I never had it out. The intruder prowled around the crowd. “Jessica… Robert…” he singsonged. I held Daisy’s wrist behind me. “If you two don’t show yourselves in the next sixty seconds, I’m tearing up your friends.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the text on my watch. Jason Todd: I’m not leaving you.

I slid my phone out. You have to. At least call the cops.

The window on the other side of the living room shattered inward. Another dark figure swooped through and landed on the floor. My first thought was Batman—but as the figure straightened from his landing, I saw a red helmet glinting off the disco lights.

“Red Hood,” I breathed, in awe. I’d seen him a couple times. Imposing, tall, muscular. I’d only ever seen him from a distance. Seeing him up close was almost more terrifying.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you,” Red Hood said to the intruder, voice being run through some sort of ring modulator to disguise it, “that it’s rude to gate crash a party?”

The intruder growled, “Red Hood,” like an animal. My blood ran a little colder.

Red Hood stepped forward, completely unfazed. “Get out now, and this doesn’t have to get any uglier than it already is.”

“What do you care, crime boss, that I get up to a little trouble?”

“I care because everyone knows my rules. No innocents get harmed. Look around you. This place is full of innocent people.” Red Hood gestured to the party crowd. For a moment I could have sworn the eyes of his helmet lingered on me. But he was probably looking at the window. “Get out before I haul you out in a body bag.” He whipped one of his massive handguns into his hand, cocking it with the other in one practiced, fluid motion.

The intruder levelled the assault rifle at Red Hood’s chest. “Make me,” he spat.

Red Hood shrugged. “Okay.”

Bang! His handgun went off. I jumped. The intruder dropped to the floor, his rifle spraying bullets briefly toward the ceiling before stopping when he hit the carpet in a splatter of blood.

Red Hood looked around. “Everyone okay?”

A few scattered nods.

“Good. Get out on the front lawn. Wait for the cops to show up. They should be here any second,” he ordered.

The crowd rushed out the front door, bottlenecking and slowing down. Daisy included. I stayed where I was, staring at Red Hood. He noticed me not moving and came over.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

I looked down, peeling my hand away from my right side to reveal the blood soaking my shirt. “His spray. It got me,” I said, voice hoarse. My head was light and fuzzy. Not from blood loss—not yet. More likely from the shock of getting hit.

His helmet tilted down and he looked at the wound. The ring modulator distorted his whispered swearing but I still figured out what he said. “We need to get you to the hospital. Like, ASAP. And I can’t take you on my bike. Did you drive here?”

I nodded. “My car—it’s the dark green Explorer half-a-block that way.” I pointed down the street to the left with my non-bloodstained hand.

Red Hood nodded. “Keys?”

I pulled them from my other pocket and passed them over.

He swung me up into his arms and left. The crowd had cleared the front door in the time it took us to talk, so he marched across the front lawn and headed for my car. I heard Daisy call my name, but didn’t have the mental strength to call back.

As he walked down the block, each step jolting my wound, he said, “Batman, I’ve got a GSW. Taking her to the hospital. There was a hostile at a party in the suburbs. I took him down and the GCPD is on its way, but I’m moving the wounded girl.” He paused for a moment, but I couldn’t hear anything. “Yes, it’s a girl. She’s got her car here. I’m taking her in that.” Another pause. “Copy that. I’ll check in later.”

Red Hood set me gently in the passenger seat and laid it as flat as it could go. “Just hold on, babydoll. Hold on,” he said softly.

I scrunched my eyebrows as he shut the door and circled the hood to get in the driver’s seat. Once he gunned the engine, I put my clean hand on the arm of his brown leather jacket. “Why’d you call me… babydoll?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t know your name, miss, and I thought it’d be more comforting.” The car pulled away from the curb.

“You just heard my friend shout my name.”

He swore again and sighed. “Fine. Just don’t freak out. You’ll lose more blood.” He pulled his helmet off with one hand. “Couldn’t see as well to drive with that thing on anyway.”

Jason’s tousled black hair, white streak at the front, puffed up a bit as the helmet freed itself from his head. I tried to sit up, but fire burned in my side and I flopped back down before I’d even moved an inch. “What?” I squeaked. “Jay?”

His eyes flicked to me briefly. Deep blue and… there was something melancholy in them. “Yeah, babydoll,” he said. “It’s me.” There was his sad smile. One I’d seen many times. “You haven’t called me Jay since…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but I remembered when I’d stopped calling him Jay and “my Jay baby.” It was about a month before I finally had enough of his excuses and lies and broke up with him.

“Is this… is this why you always disappeared for hours and came back with excuses?”

“And could never seem to keep my story straight? Yeah. I wanted…” He sighed. “I wanted to tell you so many times but Batman said it would only be safe for me to tell you if we ever got married. And even then you’d still be in danger. You made me so happy and it killed me to lie to you. Killed me even more to lose you. When you broke things off… I am not proud to admit that every criminal I fought on patrol that night went to the hospital with more broken bones than I usually leave. I love you. Still. So much so that this past year has been… empty. Without you.”

I cleared my throat of the tears clogging it. “I said to Daisy earlier tonight, when I first saw you at the party, that I’d love nothing more than to get back together with you. But I couldn’t if you were going to keep things from me again.”

“Don’t get my hopes up like that while you’re in shock, please babydoll. Because I don’t know if you mean it or if you’re babbling from the shock and have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I told you I miss you,” I pointed out.

“That doesn’t have to mean you still love me or want me back.”

“But I do. To both. Love you and want you back. You can be honest with me now. But, we can talk about it when I don’t feel like passing out from pain.”

He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Don’t you dare pass out on me. If you do, you might not wake up again. Stay awake, babydoll. Stay awake. Please.” His grip tightened on my fingers. I tried to nod, but I wasn’t feeling well. My vision was a little blurry and I was tired.

“I’ll try,” I said.

We kept driving. Jason had fallen into pensive silence.

“Alright. We’re here,” he said. He parked my car and put his helmet back on. Then he ducked out, circled the hood, and picked me up to carry me into the ER, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Just stay awake. I’ll come visit—as me—later, okay?”

I nodded. “I’d like that,” I said.

Automatic glass doors slid open. Someone yelped. “GSW,” Jason said, voice modulated again. “Right side. No exit wound.”

“Get her on a gurney!” a nurse called over his shoulder.

I hugged Jason tighter. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded. “Of course, babydoll.” His voice was soft. Comforting.

He set me on a gurney, and I watched him stride out of the hospital as they rolled me away.

—

When I woke up after surgery, Jason was there. Alone. Blue jeans, red T-shirt, hair a mess, and dozing in the armchair. “You look like crap,” I croaked.

He jolted and sat up. “Speak for yourself, babydoll,” he retorted. But he spoke gently. “Your family’s down in the cafeteria, getting some breakfast. I told them I’d keep you company. Your mom looked like she might murder me just for suggesting it, but I told her we made up enough to be friends at the party. So she—begrudgingly, mind you—allowed me to stay.”

“Just friends?” I asked.

He smiled and sat forward to run the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “For now. You said we’d talk about it more when you were feeling better.” He leaned back in the armchair. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Still not great, but the shock has worn off, at least.”

“That’s good.”

“I meant it, by the way,” I said. “That you can be honest with me now, so if you’re willing, we can try again.”

Jason met my eyes. There was hope in his expression. “Are you sure?” he asked.

I smiled. “Absolutely. I told you before: I miss you.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to my lips. The EKG monitor beeped a little faster as my heartrate spiked. I grabbed his shoulders as he moved away, and pulled him back to me. He smiled into my lips as I kissed him again.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He tilted his head for a better angle, and I pushed one of my hands into his hair.

The door to the hospital room opened. “What’s going on in here?” Mom demanded.

[troubatrain]

cowboy like me - m. barzal

a/n: omg suddenly she remembers how to write - so this is bigger than a blurb but definitely shorter than a fic so i’m calling it a baby fic!! i really haven’t written anything i love (or have been able to finish) in weeks so this feels really good to post so i hope you guys like it!!!

tagging @texanstarslove & @hookingminor because they both read this ahead of time to tell me it’s not trash (and i appreciate it sm!!)

“...and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up, and the old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one...”

She’s only here for her inheritance.

I heard she was dating a CEO but she got caught having an affair with his assistant.

Careful Barz, you might be next after that contract.

Mat’s gaze was held on you while he listened to his teammates and their wives gossip next to him. Mat saw you twice, maybe three times a year, only when you were forced to show your face at an Islanders event. Other than that, Mat knew no more about than Page Six did about Manhattan’s new up and coming socialite. Your family owned the team, putting a pretty penny in your pocket as long as you kept up with appearances, or at least that’s what Sydney seemed to think. You looked perfect, a silk floor length dress that Mat couldn’t imagine wasn’t made for only your body, hair pinned up perfectly while a pair of earrings hung low. Diamonds for sure. Everything about you was eloquent and expensive, and Mat had heard just about every rumor in the book about you.

Mat felt good about himself that night. He was on a point streak and having a monster season. He was wearing a suit that was tailored to absolute perfection, Mat’s dark brown locks tousled perfectly on his head. There was no reason that he couldn’t just walk up to you and finally take a moment to introduce himself to you instead of gawking at you from afar like he’d been doing since he was a rookie. He was a kid then, and you were probably dating a prince or the son of a millionaire and had no time for a dorky kid from Vancouver. Now, Mat was a man with a contract to match and hopes that you could give him the time of day at least. His gazes lingers a bit longer, watching the way your eyes rolled briefly at whatever that man was saying to you. You excuse yourself, waving your empty wine glass in your and like Mat was stalking his prey - this was the moment.

“You’re not very subtle you know,” You muse, looking over at Mat who was leaning against the bar getting a drink of his own, “And blue’s a better color on you.”

Being a bitch was second nature to you. The way scoring came to Mat or business came to your father and siblings. It was easy to be snarky, because snarky kept people at a distance. Besides, no one thought much about you that didn’t involve how many commas were in your bank account or the constant debate about whether or not you’d gotten a nose job when you were eighteen. If they wanted nothing more than a pretty face, then that’s what you’d give them.

“Noted,” Mat takes a gulp of his drink, and your eyes linger a little too long at his hand wrapped around a glass, “You want to dance?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You hum, taking a sip of your drink. Mat Barzal had a reputation that was cleaner than your own, the Islanders golden boy if you will, but you knew better than that. You knew about the revolving door in his apartment and all of the girls who got strung along in hopes they’d get to be the ones who wore that number thirteen jersey to games. Mat Barzal was no saint, and it didn’t matter how many rich men he convinced he was.

“No harm in dancing darling,” Mat husks, voice close to your ear while you desperately hoped he didn’t see the goosebumps on your arm. Mat was throwing you off your game, but it’s a welcome feeling. Darling. You liked that one, tired of the men who constantly called you babe or baby.

“One dance Barz,” You took his hand, letting him guide you to the middle of the tent that your parents had set up on the tennis court in the same home you grew up in. Your hand remained in his, your other gripping his shoulder while you swayed back and forth, “You know your teammates are staring.”

And they were. Mat turns his head, stifling a laugh at Tito’s jaw that was practically on the floor, “Let them.”

“Not afraid of the rumors?” You hum, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder, “Or are you just like me?”

“Like you?” Mat asks, raising his eyebrows at you, grabbing your and spinning you around before he pulled you closer.

“You don’t want love, just a fancy car or two and girls falling at your feet. You’ll ride into town and leave with more damage done than the time before but you’ll always get away with it. You’ll tell all the stuck up rich people anything they want to hear to keep up appearances. A cowboy if you will,” You explain, a smile on Mat’s face telling you that maybe you nailed it on the head.

“And what if those rumors about me aren’t true?” Mat asks, lips ghosting over yours but he won’t kiss you just yet.

“And what if the ones about me aren’t true?” You quip back to avoid Mat’s question about whether or not you believed any of the shit you heard about him.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

***

And so you did. It wasn’t supposed to happen, you took Mat home that night no intentions of ever speaking to him again. He was going to leave your place and you were going to be another notch in his bedpost. Because that’s what the Mat Barzal’s of the world did. And you were right after all, Mat Barzal was a bandit, who stole the hearts of the women he saw and deleted their numbers without a second thought.

Except Mat wasn’t going to that with you, well he was, but when he woke up the next morning to see you perched in the chair by the window in your apartment, sipping a cup of tea - he didn’t want to leave. You looked so normal, your walls finally down in the comfort of your own space and suddenly Mat needed to know why you had them up so high to begin with. Mat found out quickly, it was the pressure of the people around you. Your family needed you to be perfect, but they didn’t think you’d be good enough for the family business like your brothers.

I just hope she doesn’t ruin him like Oliver.

Mat needs someone who’s going to support him.

She’s just going to hurt him and he’s going to play like shit because of it.

“Would you just stop for a second?” Mat had been chasing you three blocks from the restaurant he was having a nice dinner with you and your family at. He wasn’t supposed to hear them, but he did and you were embarrassed, “Darling-”

“Mat, stop just stop,” You sigh, finally slowing down because those stupid heels you chose to wore were killing your feet. You shiver for a second, Mat’s large hands move to

your arms to try and warm you up, “Go ahead, ask what horrible thing I did to drive my last boyfriend away… because it wasn’t my fucking fault. He was using me, just like everyone else does and-”

“I believe you,” Mat rushes out, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. It wasn’t the first time one the skeletons in either of your closets would try and tear you apart, and it probably wasn’t going to last. There was always going to be brunches with his teammates who hounded him about his girlfriend’s past or whatever rumor they were hearing. There would always be times their significant others would grab your arm in a crowd when Mat was having a conversation with another woman like he was going to hurt you. That wasn’t going away, but it also didn’t matter to him at all. All of that was before he locked it down, things were different now.

Mat went back to your place that night, taking note of the way one of his suits was pressed and in your closet for him, like he belonged there. He smiled at it, the blue suit you insisted he bought because it was the best color on him, “You’re not mad at me right?”

“Why would I be mad darling?” Mat sighs, smiling softly at his shirt that you seemed to always steal when you stayed over. You give him a look like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “I love you, and I don’t care about the past. It’s you and me now and that’s what matters.”

Mat hadn’t said it yet, waiting for the right moment for him to drop a four letter word he never thought he’d ever use. He’d thought it plenty of times, but he was saving for when the moment felt right. Maybe he’d drop it on the trip you had planned in a few weeks, or after a nice date, but you needed to hear it from him now. He loved you, everything down to the way you snored if you had too much to drink.

“I love you too,” You nod, wiping the last tear that had fallen from your eyes, “Cowboy.”

“Call me that forever,” Mat husks, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “And ever.”