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glitt3r-litt3r · 3 years ago

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Nightmares / Peeta Mellark

Peeta P.OV

Before I could even open my eyes I knew what was happening. It was too cold, the fire must’ve died before the morning came. It was too late, I was too late in catching myself and now it’ll be her who pays the price. Her. I try to slow down my thoughts but the memories come in hot white flashes. In place of where I would see my beautiful, caring girl I see a monster. Her voice is distorted and it makes me fearful, the reverberation causing my head to twitch violently into my shoulder. A memory flows into the forefront of my head and the sight of it almost makes me vomit on the bed. Katniss is standing above me naked, she’s trying to touch me but somethings not right. The edges of this vision are blurry and glossy. I know I'm making noise but I can’t hear it or stop. The capitol has a way of making things shine so bright they blind you. I want to be away from her, the noise she’s making like a wounded animal is making my eyes water. Another one flashes through my head and it’s so real that I begin to cry. It’s Katniss again but we’re in the cave and she’s looking at me. Her face is almost a relief that my night terror is over but then she begins laughing. She’s laughing at pressing her fingers into my leg, the pain is instant and searing just as I remember it. It’s real, she cut your leg and is now poking her fingers around in it like a child. Of course it is, she takes pleasure in breaking things like peace and hearts. She cut your leg with Catos sword, real or not real?

Real or not real?

“ Katniss!” I’m screaming before sitting completely up in my bed.

I can’t think straight my head is pounding and there’s a phantom ache in my leg. My whole body is covered in sweat despite the window being wide open.

“My name is Peeta Mellark I am from district 12. I was in the Hunger Games with Katniss. Katniss is my friend. Katniss is my friend”

I repeat these words over lowly. Lord knows she’s probably heard enough from me tonight. Usually she’s the one who wakes up screaming and I feel bad that I could have possibly scared her. It was really horrible when we first came back, every night one or both of us would wake up screaming for the other. Despite the intimacies of bringing back a friend from a horrible dream, we haven’t moved forward with our relationship.

As I lay there trembling and trying to fight back more memories of being in the Capitol. I hear her footsteps running up the stairs slowing down considerably before getting to my door. She can’t be here right now I don’t know if I'm in control and I won’t hurt her, end of discussion.

“ I’m okay Katniss, just a nightmare” I say. it’s a lie but she’s half asleep so I'm hoping she doesn’t catch it. I’m breathing a little better now and messaging my bad leg is grounding me to the bed. She knows me better than I think

“Are you okay or are you just saying that so I don’t come in” She says from behind the door. I hear her shuffle and sit against it.

“Go home please, I don’t want you here when I'm like this” I say hoping its enough to deter her, but it’s Katniss so of course telling her what to do is hopeless.

“ I’m not going anywhere, especially because now that I'm awake I won’t go back to sleep until I see you.” I smile thinking about how we sleep with our curtains open at night. At first before we knew if it was safe for Katniss to help me through my nightmares we compromised by keeping the curtains open. She said it helped her sleep to see me sleeping, at peace and safe, even if we didn’t talk.

“ isn’t hearing me enough? Or is my beautiful face that enticing” I quip still trying to catch my breath and return it to normal.

“ you know I can’t resist you....and you’re still upset I can hear you breathing” She really knows me more than I give her credit, but I won’t tell her that just yet.

“ really Katniss, go home. It was bad and I almost lost control again.....I don’t want to hurt you.” I say

“ Peeta, you won’t hurt me I know that. You almost lost control but you didn’t, you’re getting better at sorting the memories. You won’t hurt me unless you shut me out.” That last part comes out slowly almost painful sounding. She’s never been good at being mushy. I want to lay with her and get the kind of sleep only she’s able to give me. We don’t speak for a long time. She’s the first to break the silence. “ you’ve never really hurt me Peeta I don’t think you can. What happened in 13 wasn’t you. Not the real you anyways, and you haven’t touched me since. I know it’s hard to trust what your brain is telling you so just know I trust you and that’s real.” At the mention of the word real my throat closes again. I want her near me now as I realize the loneliness in my head.

“ Katniss” like a prayer it comes out soft and desperate. The door opens and I hear her shuffle towards the bed. When I open my eyes she’s there standing over me. But unlike the dream, she’s my Katniss again. She is an angel if I've ever seen one even now in her plain clothes and messy long hair. She climbs into bed next to me but not touching me just sitting up against the headboard looking at me. I move slowly, calculated, checking in with every part of me to ensure I don’t scare her. Once I reach her, I lay down in her lap. Once her hand begins to rub my back I can’t control my tears.

“ I’m so sorry Katniss, I’ll never hurt you again”

“ shhhh it’s okay Peeta, I know. You’re home, with me, everything is okay now. The sun is coming up again today, warm and bright just like you like it”

“ I’m scared I’ll never be me again” I whisper between sobs

“ This is all you. If they had taken you from me you wouldn’t be so scared to hurt me. You’re here now with me, and I’ll never let them take you again.”

She pushes my hair away from my face and rests her head on mine. Even though I’m sweating and snotty she doesn’t care. I spend the rest of the night listening to her hushed whispers. There’s no one who brings me this level of comfort, I am at peace with her and I never want to leave her side.

#hunger games #hurt/comfort #post mockingjay #peeta mallark #katniss everdeen #friendship #hungergamesfanfic #everlark

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years ago

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Unrequited (Atsumu x Reader)

A/N: The first one of the series. I'm actually pretty proud of this one for it being the first one on the blog. It went under heavy editing and I think I cut out a whole two pages of pointless dialog. And it still ended up longer than intended. Anyways enjoy!

WARNINGS: Angst. Just angst that's it. And blood mentioned nothing too explicit. One sided love

DATE: Thursday October 22nd, 2020

Details: 4.8 pages 1,792 words

Theme: Hanahaki Disease- The victim begins to have flowers grow in their lungs leading to them coughing up flowers petals this continues getting worse until it causes their death. There's a surgery option to get rid of the flowers but it comes at the price of never feeling love again.

Angst masterlist

I stared at the ceiling of my room debating on if I was healthy enough for school. As I sat up my eyes drifted to the yellow petals overflowing from the trash can in the corner.

"Sunflowers," I mumbled as I looked at the petals.

They were supposed to represent happiness but as I looked at the blood flecked petals all I felt was overwhelming sadness. Summer break ended today so maybe I could get away with an I forgot.

"Yeah that sounds good," I said as I got out of bed and stretched.

I felt a cough bubble in my throat as I rushed to the bathroom I placed my hand over my mouth coughing into it. Blood seeped between my fingers as I felt the soft touch of flower petals in my palm. I sighed as the coughing subsided I put the petals on the sink counter. I cleaned the blood on my hands and face before heading back to my room. My limbs already felt weak as I walked it was a struggle to make the ten steps to my room.

"No school today," I sighed out as I laid down on my mattress. I let my eyes slowly slide closed as I fell asleep.

"Y/n," In my sleepy haze I could hear someone saying my name.

"Hey y/n wake up," I slowly opened my eyes and looked to the side. My eyes caught sight of grey hair and eyes looking at me in concern.

"Samu? What are you doin here?" My voice was thick with sleep and my speech was slightly slurred.

"What am I doing here? You haven't answered anyone's calls or texts! I was worried so I left practice to check on you," I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "You left practice? Kita's gonna be mad at you," I sat up which caused Osamu to put a hand infront of me and push me back down.

"He's the one who let me go. If anything Tsumu was mad he also didn't get to come," I coughed at that which Osamu sighed at. "Are you sick?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No I'm fi-" "Don't lie to me," I snapped my head towards him and he was staring back at me.

"I-I'm not lying," he shook his head and lifted his palm. Staring back at me was a single yellow petal dotted with red "Yes, you are," I flinched as I realized he'd figured it out.

"How long?" Osamu was quieter now as he spoke. "A year but it didn't get bad until the beginning of summer break," I whispered back as he placed the petal down on the ground.

"Who is it?" I felt everything I'd kept bottled up break down and tears fill my eyes "You already know," my voice cracked as Osamu sighed and pulled me towards him.

He wrapped both arms around me and pushed my face into the crook of his neck. "I know," he mumbled it as confirmation to my previous statement.

I started coughing again pulling back I covered my mouth with my hand. Osamu's eyes widened when he noticed more blood on the petals as they slipped through my fingers. I started heaving as more petals came up. Osamu left the room coming back with a cup of water and a rag. I put my hands down and watched the petals cover my bedsheets there was a thin red layer covering the petals making them look a reddish orange. I didn't need to look in a mirror to know there was a trail of blood leaking down the side of my mouth.

"Jesus...," Osamu spoke as he looked at me. He took the rag and cleaned my face and hands before giving me the glass of water.

"You let it get this bad?" I could see the concern laced in his grey eyes eyebrows furrowed downwards and mouth pulled down in a frown.

"I didn't realize it was this bad," my throat was scratchy as I spoke taking huge glups of water to sooth the ache the petals left behind.

"What are you going to do?" He asked "The same thing I've been doing. Try to forget about it," He blinked at my response "Is that why you've been ignoring Tsumu?" I nodded slowly. "It hasn't worked though,"

Before we could continue Osamu's phone rang. He answered it slowly "yeah?"

"Don't yeah me Samu! You've been gone for an hour! Get back here!" I could hear Atsumu's yelling through the phone. I got up and heading to the hallway with the glass tucked into my hand.

Suddenly the petals came back in my throat and I started coughing. The glass slipped from my fingers as I collapsed to the ground. It shattered next to me and a few shards cut my hands as I placed them on the floor. The petals came out red instead of the normal bright yellow causing small pools of blood to form around them.

I couldn't breath as I heard my bedroom door get thrown open Osamu stood there wide eyed with terror lacing his features. "Y/n! Hey stay with me!" He dropped to my level ignoring the glass that dug into his uniform pants and probably cut his legs. I saw the fear in his eyes deepen when he saw the amount of blood on the ground.

"Y/n!? What's happening! What's going on with y/n!?" I could still hear Atsumu's yelling despite my coughing. Osamu rapidly hung up and dialed someone else.

"Hello? My friend started coughing up blood and petals and I'm think she's dying please send help!" I could hear the panic in his voice as my eyes started to close. I finally stopped coughing and took deep wheezing breaths. Black spots covered my vision as a wave of exhaustion hit my body.

Osamu took my hand "Hey y/n no. Stay awake," I slowly shook my head in response. "Can't. I'm tired Samu," I mumbled at him. "You have to," Was the last thing he said before darkness over took my vision.

"Remove them!" "Sir, she has to make that decision not you," I let out a light groan as I slowly opened my eyes. Atsumu stood next to my bedside clearly yelling at a doctor.

He looked at me giving the doctor a chance to slip out of the room. "Osamu told me. Who is it?" I flinched at the anger in his voice.

A sense of relief filled me when I realized Osamu hadn't told him everything. "I- I can't tell you," I whispered. "No! No bullshit! Tell me!" I shook my head at him. "Is it Kita? Or Suna? No its Ojiro isn't it or-" I cut him off before he could continue. "It's you!" I yelled back at him.

"Me?" He asked slowly. I nodded in response "You can't love me," I sighed looking down "But I do," I felt those flowers again in my lungs clawing their way up to my throat.

"Well stop loving me!" I balled my fists together as a flash of anger struck me. "I ALREADY TRIED!" my throat burned in protest of the yelling. "I TRIED AND TRIED AND TRIED!" "AND IT NEVER WORKED!" tears rolled down my face as I looked at him. His eyes narrowed at me "I can't love you. So get them removed," Atsumu left the room after that leaving me sobbing into my hands.

Osamu walked in soon after "y/n," he whispered my name as he got closer to me. The doctor came in and looked at me sadly. "Are you sure about this?" He asked. All I could manage was a weak nod as I looked at the hospital bed.

"Do either of you know someone who's gone through this procedure before?" Before I could answer Osamu had said something. "Yes...My brother," I looked at Osamu in shock but he was looking away from me.

"Right well I'm going to go check the x-rays and come back and we can schedule the surgery then," I nodded at the doctor as he handed me a glass of water before leaving the room again.

"Atsumu...had Hanahaki Disease?" Osamu finally looked back at me slowly nodding. "He never told me who caused it and he got it removed before telling anyone," I sighed as I looked away.

"You know Samu I used to like sunflowers," I whispered staring out the window. "They were never your favorite flower though," He responded back to me. "You remember?" I turned to him as I asked to discover he was already looking at me. "Yep. Buttercups," I laughed as I nudged him with my shoulder "You only remember because it has butter in the name," He chuckled back at me "You caught me," we smiled at eachother as the doctor came back.

The doctor had a sad look in his eyes as he looked at me. "I don't have good news for you," The smile on my face fell as I looked at the doctor. "The disease has progressed too far for us to remove it," I gasped "W-what?" The doctor looked at me as I felt tears slip down my cheeks "I'm sorry but there's no way we could remove them without killing you," I turned and buried my face into Osamu's chest to hide my tears.

The doctor left as Osamu ran his fingers through my hair and down my back. "Samu...," I whispered and he hummed at me "I just wanted to say thank you for being there and I love you," I mumbled as I began drifting off to sleep the last thing I registered was Osamu responding to me. "...Love you too y/n,"

*third person p.o.v*

"You know Samu this is my fault," Osamu's eyes glanced to his twin who was sadly looking down.

"If I hadn't been a coward and told her...She would still be here and I could still love," He watched Atsumu set a bouquet of buttercups against the cool marble infront of him.

"Her favorite...Maybe that'll comfort her," Atsumu walked away while Osamu looked back at the grave.

Y/n l/n DOB: (b/d) 'She loved until the end'

Osamu felt a cough in his throat as a small yellow flower landed in his palm. It was covered in blood as he stared at it. It matched the ones in the bouquet and a sad laugh left Osamu throat.

"Buttercups huh...," He let the flower leave his palm with the wind as he followed his brother a small sad smile on his face as he whispered one last thing to the wind.

"I love you y/n,"

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TAG LIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #WhosaskingAngst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu #osamu miya #osamu angst

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nyctolovian · 4 years ago

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Summary:

Just as Martin was convinced that whoever was outside was gone, he heard something else.

“What was that?” came a voice from under his bed.

Moth!Jon is a monster under Martin’s bed. What more could you ask for?

Day 1-2: meet-cute

TW: animal abuse

Martin thought he had a pretty neat deal when he bought this house.

From the outside, it looked snug and comfortable, which already ticked off some boxes in Martin’s mental checklist. It had been built with tan brick walls and had a hard cracked cement floor. Short and wide windows brightened up the house and had been added to the house in a rather playful pattern.

The price was surprisingly low for a three-room, especially one that apparently came with some furniture left by the previous family. Sure, it was a bit of a wreck—cobwebs everywhere, carpets of dust, junk left from its previous owner, and the walls seemed to be peeling off. But it only needed some repairs and cleaning up.

Just in case though, Martin had asked the estate agent, “Why’s this house selling so cheap?”

With a pleasant smile, Ms Richardson calmly replied, “This property has been on the market for quite some time and I suppose the family just wants to sell it as soon as they can now.”

Martin hummed as he gave the house another once over. “I see…” he said. “So no major problems? Like a termite infestation or… I don’t know, uh, structural damage?“

Her face grew slightly stiff. “Oh! Nothing of that, I assure you.” There was a brush of overemphasis on her words as her grip on her clipboard tightened a miniscule bit. “Just a slightly old house. That’s all there is to it.” Her sunny smile returned with vengeance.

Martin’s mouth opened to ask another question but, from the corner of his eye, he saw something dark flash across the bedroom. He spun around.

Nothing. Just some cobwebs and the bed. He frowned. “Did you… Was that a rat?” Martin asked. “You saw that, right?”

Ms Richardson looked much tenser than a second ago. Still, she maintained her composed demeanor and said, “I don’t think so. I didn’t see anything.”

A sigh escaped Martin. He really wished the estate agent would just be honest with him. If it was just a rat infestation, he just had to set some rat traps. The worst case scenario he could call pest control. It really wasn’t something the estate agent had to lie about. It was still a fairly good deal.

He had visited several other properties that were either in worse condition or beyond his budget. It had been tiring disappointment after tiring disappointment. Honestly, this was the best one he had found so far. This was about as good as things could get with a budget as tight as his, he figured.

Nodding to himself, he turned to Ms Richardson and said, “I’ll take it. Can I sign the papers now?”

The smile of gratification on her face was one that reached her eyes. Hastily, she pulled out the contract and shoved the pen and papers into Martin’s hands. “Just sign over here, here, and… here. … Alright! Now, this house will be all yours,” she said. Her voice had a tone of relief that one might have while ridding oneself of the responsibility of baby-sitting a relative’s annoying toddler.

Martin honestly should have been more wary of this. However, he was overtaken with the sheer giddiness of owning his first house. At the ripe age of 32, but no matter! A milestone was a milestone regardless. He was excited to finally have a house to his name.

As soon as Martin could move in, he dedicated a full weekend cleaning up the house, rearranging some of the furniture and applying some wallpapers to fix the peeling walls. He hadn’t spotted any pests or rats the entire duration. Nonetheless, he placed some mouse and bug traps around the house just to be safe. Then, he moved all his belongings in and settled down comfortably.

Five days living in his new house passed, and surprisingly, Martin ran into no problems. No rats; the neighbours were, well, not lovely, but at least decent; no leakages; the roof didn’t collapse atop him in the middle of the night.

Nothing. Absolutely uneventful.

Things couldn’t be better.

(But it did feel a tad bit empty, living alone.)

***

Bang!

Martin jolted awake. He turned his head and looked towards his door. What was that? There was a downpour outside, and it could have been thunder but he could have sworn the noise came from within his house.

He held his breath. It was pure blood-curdling silence for what felt like hours. Just as Martin was about to pass the sound off as a figment of his imagination, he heard a soft thump outside his door.

His breath hitched.

Oh god. Who was that? Was it a burglar? Was it a serial killer?

Martin’s mind ran through every scenario like a video on 10 times playback speed, and every single one of them ended with him being brutally murdered. Slowly, making as little noise as possible, he pulled his sheets closer to himself.

The crack of light under his door shifted with movement.

His heart leapt to his throat and he choked on it. Martin lay as still as he could.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Something was there. Right outside his door. It wasn’t locked.

Shadows under the door gap shifted languidly, morphing in and out of the stream of light. Finally, it shifted away.

He stayed in bed, quivering, as the thumps continued within the living room. At last, the noises stopped. But Martin kept his eyes and ears peeled for any movement. But nothing happened for at least fifteen minutes.

Just as Martin was convinced that whoever was outside was gone, he heard something again.

“What was that?” came a voice from under his bed.

Martin strangled a cry of sheer terror. He hurled himself as far as he could from the bed. He was about to open the door but fear of whoever was possibly still outside petrified him.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks at this point as he stared at his bed. Something moved.

Oh, Jesus Christ. Something shifted under his bed.

Then, it crawled out.

And whatever crawled out wasn’t human.

Its shape was all wrong. There were too many appendages and what looked like half-a-metre-long antennas. As the dark figure rose from the floor, Martin recoiled. Something large on the monster’s back shivered erratically for a few seconds before pressing itself to the side of its torso. It bent its body towards him, but Martin could tell that if it stood at its full height, it would be several heads taller than him, and Martin was not a short man. The only thing he could discern in the dark were the monster’s eyes as they made contact with his. They were a pair bright glowing green orbs that pierced through the darkness and into Martin unrelentingly.

His chest was bursting at the seams with pain at how fast his heart was racing. He was going to die. Either from slaughter by this monster, or from a heart attack.

The monster spoke again, “I— This— I…” One of its spindly legs a step towards Martin.

Like cornered prey, he scurried as far as he could without running straight to the serial killer outside his door. “Don’t come any closer!” he hissed, backing to a corner of the room. “I’ve got a… I’ve got a…” His hand hit something that clattered against the wardrobe and he immediately grabbed and brandished it in front of him.

A clothing hanger. It was as good a weapon as any at this point.

“I’ve got a weapon!” Martin threatened, every limb trembling pathetically.

The monster took a step back. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to startle you.” It held its four upper limbs out in a placating manner. “I truly mean no harm,” it whispered.

“You’re going to kill me!” Martin swung his makeshift weapon through the air in front of him.

“No, no! I…” The monster retracted its limbs. “I don't— I’m not going—”

Thump!

The noise from the door sent the both of them scrambling to the other corner of the room. The monster huddled close to Martin and if it weren’t for the second threat outside, he would have screamed bloody murder. Martin could feel a soft fuzz against his cheek as the monster crowded towards Martin.

“They’re not gone!” it whispered panickedly, tugging his shirt sleeve. “What do we do?”

Roughly, Martin brushed the monster’s hand aside. “We?! Since when was there a ‘we’? You were about to kill me a second ago!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

Another thump interrupted their squabble.

The two froze to the spot, breaths held.

“Y-you’re the one with the weapon,” the monster said, pressing itself closer against the wall. “You should go.”

“No, it’s just a clothing hanger,” he said. “You’re way scarier. You go!”

“But I—”

“You can use my weapon. Here, take it,” Martin said, shoving the clothes hanger into one of the monster’s numerous limbs. When it took ahold of the hanger, he gave the monster a shove towards the door.

It stumbled forward on its too long limbs, body hunched inward. It crept to the door and placed its hand on the knob. Slowly, gently, silently, the monster turned the doorknob and pulled the door open by a tiny fraction. Martin’s fingers pressed apprehensively to his lips without him realising as it stood rigidly still at the door for four seconds.

The thing draped over its back quivered once or twice before it slipped through the thin crack of the door.

There was about five seconds of silence, which were far too long for Martin to handle already. So he quietly moved towards the door and peered out through the tiny gap. He couldn’t see the monster anymore, but neither could he see anyone else.

He was about to head out when he heard a loud bang and the monster shouting in shock. His legs rocketed him back towards his previous corner in a split second. His heart jackrabbit-ing and his tears of fear renewed.

“Oh, good lord,” he heard the monster go.

Which was a strange thing to hear a monster say, first of all. But, also, there was a curl of relief in its voice, delight even. So either Martin was safe, or there were two monsters that could kill him in his house now.

A quick scan across the room revealed nothing Martin could use as a weapon now and his clothing hanger was with the monster.

Great.

Chewing his lip, he bounced between leaping out through his window and charging through the living room. He just paid for the house and he wasn’t keen on giving it up to a couple of monsters! But, rationally, he also knew dying for a house wasn’t quite worth it.

Before he could come to a decision, however, the door creaked open further. In popped the monster from before, cradling something in his arms. Its two other unoccupied arms were excitedly flailing and pointing at the shivering mound it was carrying.

“It was a cat!” it said euphorically, voice trembling ever-so-slightly. Gently, it bent down further and let the cat in its arms hop off.

Martin stared.

The cat was a small thing, probably not fully grown yet. Its fur looked slightly wet and it was quivering from the cold. In the dark, he couldn’t make out the colour of its short fur, but its yellow eyes were adorably round and curious. Lithely, it twisted to look at Martin and then at the monster, before looking back at Martin again. Then, it began to paw at the chair and pushed a bag on the floor, making it fall with a soft fwump.

“I think it’s hungry,” the monster said.

That snapped Martin out of his stupor. “And cold.” He looked up at it expectantly. “Uh, what do cats eat? I don’t have much. Do you think canned tuna would work?”

“I… I think so? Maybe? I-I don’t know.”

“Um… okay. We’ll just have to settle for that then,” he said, heading out.

Martin came back with a plate of scooped-out tuna to a rather strange sight. Squatting and wrapping its two lower arms around his knees, the monster stroked the cat from head to back. The cat let out a content little mewl at the attention, and the monster’s eyes practically glued to the little creature.

Crouching down, Martin placed the plate on the floor and pushed it towards the cat. Loudly, it mewed and bounded towards the food. Without hesitation, it dug right in, tail high in the air with joy. He and the monster watched it as it scoffed down the food. When it was done, it yawned and then shook itself.

“I should get a towel.”

The monster hummed. “Yeah,” it said softly, glowing green eyes never quite leaving the feline that was settling onto the floor now.

Martin stood up. “Can I turn the lights on?” he asked. “To, um, get the towel.”

The monster shifted nervously. “Uh, sure,” it said. “If… If you need to.”

“You’re not going to kill me after I see you in light, right?”

“Heh, no, I won’t. You helped the cat after all.”

“Alright then.” Martin said. He pulled the pull cord to his ceiling lights and the room was bathed in bright yellow light.

He was blinded for a second but judging by the way the monster ducked his head under its black spindly arms for a little longer and shut its eyes, it was more sensitive to the change than him.

Under the light, Martin could see it better now, and the first thing that struck him was that it was much fluffier than he had imagined. The entire body, including the length of its four arms and two legs, were covered in thick short black fuzz. At its neck, however, its fur grew much thicker, and it was practically a scarf of the softest-looking light brown fur. And it wore a thick brown coat over its back. What he didn’t expect was how… vaguely human the monster looked. Aside from the number and the fuzz, its limbs looked human. A mop of grey hair cascaded to its shoulders, with a pair of feelers drooping down to frame his face. The skin on its face was a gentle earthly shade of brown and its eyebrows were thick and bold. Then, its eyelids fluttered open and revealed the ethereally lovely pair of eyes.

Peridots gazed up at Martin and shivered with movement in the light. His breath caught on his throat at the sight.

A shiver passed over the brown coat draped over its back and Martin realised with a start that it wasn’t a coat. They were large brown patterned wings, folded neatly behind it. Moth wings.

“Are you mothman?” Martin blurted.

The way the monster’s eyes lit up was the only indication of its amusement because it didn’t seem to have a mouth. Then, without a mouth, it spoke, “No, not quite.” Its hand moved animatedly. “Yes, I’m, well, a moth, but not a man. And no, not exactly mothman.”

“I-I see,” Martin said, simultaneously unnerved and fascinated by the creature before him. “Well, then, uh… I’ll grab the towel.”

He opened the wardrobe and rummaged through it for his softest clean towel, which he passed to the monster.

With a curt nod, it took the towel and gingerly lifted the cat up by its belly and placed it on top of the towel. Then, it wrapped the cat like a tiny burrito and laid it on the floor as carefully as it could. The little thing yawned and its eyes slowly slid shut.

“It’s sleepy,” the monster offered in commentary. It reached a hand over and began to stroke the cat again.

As the two of them watched the cat doze off, Martin found himself at a loss for words, so he reached for the most familiar set of words. “I’m Martin Blackwood by the way. Um… He/Him pronouns.” Then, for god-knows-what reason, he added, “I’m human.”

The monster’s shoulders shook lightly with a chuckle. “Jon. Uh… Whatever pronouns… I guess, he/him as well. And, well, eldritch moth horror."

"Jon?” Martin repeated. “That’s much more normal than I would have expected.”

“Yeah… My full name is Jonarathimusius Simmsoniumon."

Martin’s jaw dropped. "Piss off! There’s no way that’s a real— You made that one up on the spot.”

“I did not.”

“Alright, but that means you came up with that name at some point in your life and that’s incredibly questionable behaviour.”

Jon folded his arms. “I’ll have you know, I didn’t come up with my name. I was just… born with it?”

“What, so you just—” Martin let his jaw hang as he flailed his arms about to find the words “—popped into existence and just knew your full name?”

“That’s exactly right actually,” Jon replied. If he had a mouth, he’d have the most shit-eating grin on his face.

“How does that even work? How did you even come into being? I just… I have so many questions."

There was a slight frown on Jon’s face. He pressed a finger to his chin. "Honestly, I really don’t know much myself. I just woke up one day and I just… knew things.”

“How did you… become born? I mean, humans, we have to do…”

“Things, yes,” he said, the disgust in his voice signalling he knew what Martin was getting at and didn’t wish to entertain the thought any further.

“Things,” he repeated. “I just want to know is there some sort of… monster-creating god. A witch? Or some monster factory?”

Jon’s eyebrows slid up. “Monster factory?”

“Oh, shut up. How the hell would I know?” Martin pouted.

“Monsters are a manifestation of, well, other being’s emotions and beliefs. If there is enough fear and horror in something, a being will simply just… come into existence, I suppose. There isn’t some sort of order that I’m privy to unfortunately."

"Huh,” Martin said, sitting on his bed. “And where did you come from?”

“Uh…” Jon curled up tighter around himself. “There was a kid who lived here. Jude Perry was her name. She, well, she loved…”

“She loved moths?”

“Burning, burning moths.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. She enjoyed pinching moths by their wings and slowly burning them at a candle. I was a manifestation of… the moths’ fears.”

“That's…” Martin frowned. “That’s awful.”

Jon leaned his head against his knees. “Yeah. I woke up in the living room of this house, where she was burning the moths, and when she saw me… Let’s just say the moths never had their vengeance because the family quickly moved right out.”

Martin winced. “Would you have?”

“Hm?” Jon blinked.

“Would you have taken vengeance? Given the chance?”

“I… I don’t know,” Jon said. “I gave her quite a scare already when I emerged in her bedroom. But… vengeance per se, I’m unsure. I came into existence as a result of the moths’ fears… not rage. We’re far too timid to hold enough anger to manifest a monster through it.”

“So you’re the reason why this house was so cheap."

"I, well,” he let out a chuckle, “I suppose I am.”

“Are you bound to this house or something?”

“Hm? Oh, no,” he shook his head, causing his feelers to sway gently in front of him. “I can leave whenever. But I just… I don’t know where I could go. I’ve only ever known this place and wherever I look it’s just lit streets after lit streets. I… don’t think I will do too well out there. Especially if I get spotted.”

“Can’t you fly?”

Jon let out a sigh and leaned back slightly. “My wings are fairly useless to be honest. It can’t hold my weight. I can perhaps hover a metre above the ground but not much else if I’m honest.” else.”

“Right,” Martin murmured. Jon was rather large. It would take a lot to lift him off the ground. “That's… That’s quite sad."

The two of them watched the tiny creature swaddled in towel sleep, its body rising and falling with its warm slumber.

“Hey,” Martin said, breaking the silence. He reached for his phone on his bedside table. "I could— um, I could search for the quickest and safest route to wherever you want. I-If you want.”

The wings on Jon’s back fluttered lightly and iridescent green eyes wide with surprise. “You would?”

“Anywhere you want to go,” Martin said, smiling reassuringly.

Jon’s hands curled into animated fists as he shuffled closer to Martin on his other arms and leaned over his shoulder.

Martin pulled out Google Maps and zoomed out for an overview of the area. “Where do you want to go?”

“I want—” Jon’s fists fell slowly to his side as he stared blankly at the phone screen. “I… I actually don’t know.”

“There’s a forest nearby.”

Jon’s face scrunched up slightly. “That sounds awful. Especially with this downpour.”

“Hm… An abandoned car park maybe?”

Hesitance flickered over Jon’s peridot eyes and his wings pressed a little closer to his body.

“No?”

“I… I don’t think so.” He looked down at his knees. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Martin said. “Take your time.”

Just then, the snoozing cat let out a little mewl, and its paws stretched upwards and waved in the air. Jon practically melted into a puddle and he cooed softly and leaned forward to take in the adorable sight.

“Or,” Martin cleared his throat nervously. “I mean… Um… I don’t know. Maybe… I might need some help with cat-sitting. If… If you’re okay with that.” His hands shot up. “Only if you want! No pressure! I… I really don’t mind!”

The moth monster’s eyes lit up and his feelers lifted slightly in what looked like glee. As though suddenly remembering himself, he ducked his head sheepishly and muttered, “I… I would like that. Actually.”

Martin felt heat slowly fill his cheeks and he found himself looking away as well. How ridiculous, he thought to himself. But he couldn’t deny the little flutter in his heart when he imagined what it might feel like, not being so lonely anymore.

#jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #magpod #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tmasafehousefest #fluff #meet cute #moth!jon #my writing #fanfic #tma fanfic #tw animal death #tw animal cruelty

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alexhogh7137 · 4 years ago

Text

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Eighteen: Terror in Wessex

Chapter Seventeen

Word Count 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of blood, torture, mentions of rape (no details, just implied), heavy angst

When Hvitserk heard those double doors open, his heart dropped. He knew what that symbolized, and that was his worst fear: him losing you. He rushed Ivar's room and just as he expected, you were gone. Except this is real and not a vision. Where you would normally lay, are a few blood drops in the fur that would cover your body. He almost threw up at the sight but kept himself composed.

Hvitserk "Ivar...IVAR!" His brother looked over at him and then next to where you would lay.

Ivar "The guard's-the guard's were supposed to keep watch!"

Hvitserk "Go see for yourself." Hvitserk knew what his brother would witness as soon as he walked out of those doors, but he didn't want to tell him himself. Ivar needed to witness what happened this horrible night.

When Ivar opened up the doors fully, there were drag marks in the snow so he followed it. He pauses when he sees the first set of guardsmen that were positioned by the doors. Their throats were slit and they were disarmed. Ivar looks back at his brother, who is standing in the doorway, not moving. Ivar walks on with shaking legs, so scared of what he might witness next. But with his head up, he walked on and followed the drag marks. He can see many more of his men, deceased in the snow. The white, crisp snow is now stained with red blood. The smell is starting to set into the air around him, but him being a viking, is used to such a smell as death.

Hvitserk "She isn't here!" He shouted from inside.

Ivar stops in his tracks and his head falls to the ground. He shouldn't have hoped that the vision came true. Why did he hope for such a thing? He walks on, searching for any sign of you but there was none. Your dragon's are whimpering, growling and breathing fire trying to find you. Ivar walks over to them and tries to comfort them but it was no use. He looks behind your dragon's, where the trading post is and finds a blood pile but no body. He falls to the ground and starts to cry. Hvitserk joins him a short while after and sits down in the cold snow.

Hvitserk "How did you let this happen?"

Ivar "I did everything I could-"

Hvitserk "YOU SLEPT BESIDE HER! HOW DID YOU NOT WAKE? She was right next to you, Ivar! But for some reason you did not wake up. Or did you?"

Ivar "N-no I did not. I don't know why I didn't."

Hvitserk "Now, we lost her and many of our guardsmen. We have no idea who took her nor do we know where she is being taken to."

Ivar "I will find out who and where she is Hvitserk. Even if it is the last thing that I do." Hvitserk just scuffs and gets off of the ground and stumbles his way back inside. Ivar lays alone, dragon's frantic behind him, staring at the blood that he knows must be yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awake in a dark dungeon-type of place. You attempt to get yourself up and run but your body soon let's you know that you cannot do that. You touch your head and wince out in pain. Your chest feels like you can barely breathe, and it feels like all of your ribs are broken. Your nails are all broken off and your wedding ring is gone. Your legs are scratched to all hell and are freezing. Where are you? You look all around, trying to familiarize yourself. You crawl your way up to the barred window where the small source of light is coming from.

Once your eyes adjust to the scenery, you know exactly where you are. You are home. You fall back down and sob uncontrollably. Why did he take you, and for what purpose? He banned you, so why did he bring you back? And why did he beat you this badly? You let out a scream. A shriek, to be exact. When you do, you can hear footsteps coming from outside of your cell door. You crawl your way into the corner, and hold your limbs close to your body, even though it causes you so much pain. When the door opens, your father appears in the doorway.

Father "Hello little one. Finally awake, are we?"

"W-why am I here? You banished me!"

Father "Ah yes, that. That is in the past now."

"Why am I here? Why did you beat your only daughter?! Haven't I endured enough torment?!"

Father "I was not responsible for your beatings, dear one."

"Then who was?" You watch as your father smirks at you. He turns his attention to the doorway. You are confused for only a moment. That is, until your sworn enemy comes through the door: King Harald.

Harald "Hello, Y/n. Have you missed me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hvitserk did not sleep a wink the remainder of the night. He just paced and paced in his room and in yours. He saw your dresses, your accessories, and cried. Cried because he couldn't save you. Cried because the only woman that he has loved since Thora, is gone and he doesn't know what to do. Where to begin. Once Ubbe is awake, he finds his brother's in absolute dispar.

Ubbe "What happened here?!"

Hvitserk "It came true, Ubbe. My vision. It came true. I lost her."

Ubbe "But the guard's-"

Ivar "Dead. All of them are dead. The one's on duty, that is. Completely massacred."

Ubbe "Who would've done this?!"

Ivar "Greatest guess, her father. But I could be wrong."

Hvitserk "It has to be him, Ivar. He is the only one that has harmed her in the past."

Ivar "That is not completely true."

Ubbe "Than who else, hmm?"

Ivar "King Harald. He killed her mother. So why couldn't it be him? I mean, don't you remember her vision?!"

Hvitserk "Of when he came to Kattegat?" Ivar nods, "Yes, of course I remember."

Ivar "I say we hunt King Harald down. He must know something."

Ubbe "And if he does not?"

Ivar "Then we go to Wessex."

Hvitserk "We should do that first."

Ivar "You are not king! I am, have you forgotten brother, hm?" Hvitserk chuckles and then clenches his jaw.

Hvitserk "No, I have not forgotten. I also have not forgotten that you were beside her when she was taken, Ivar. Is she here, hm? Is she here, because I can't find her anywhere! And you could've saved her."

Ivar "I did my best-"

Hvitserk "Your best? YOUR BEST?!" Did you not see all of the blood by the trading bank? What if she is gone, hmm? What are you going to do?"

Ivar "I wouldn't worry about that too much, Hvitserk. Life goes on!"

Ubbe "Ivar!"

Ivar "What?"

Ubbe "Your wife is missing, and possibly very injured. Show some respect!"

Ivar "I am. I have already ordered my men to prepare our ships.

Ubbe "Good."

Hvitserk gets up and walks away. He is so infuriated that he has to get away from Ivar before he does something that he would regret doing later. How could he say that? How would life go on without her? She is with child. She is his queen, his wife. He feels sick to his stomach. Hvitserk just wants you back home, safely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing King Harald standing beside your father like they are the closest of allies, made you feel more terrified than ever.

"What are you doing here?"

Harald "Well I am here by your father's request. Y'see we have made an agreement."

"And what is this agreement?"

Harald "Your father will give me anything I desire in this entire world, if I let him stay the King of Wessex."

"And what do you desire? Why am I here?"

Harald "You are what I desire, Y/n. You and your dragon's...fascinate me. You are so unique, so different for anyone else I have ever met. And your dragon's, well...they can be very useful."

"YOU ARE NEVER GETTING MY DRAGON'S!"

Harald and your father chuckle, "Y'see you are not in any condition to be making such a statement. Look at you, broken and frail."

"Just let me go."

Harald "Oh but I want to get use out of you first!"

"I AM WITH CHILD!" Your father takes a step back. Completely stunned.

Father "You are what?"

"I am with child. Your grandchild."

Father "You lie! Your husband cannot impregnate you!"

"I am WITH CHILD!"

Harald "What do we do?"

Father thinks only for a moment, "Beat her for lying to me. Then do whatever you wish to do with her. Just make it quick."

"No, no, NO!" You scream and shout but it is no use. He hits you, beats you almost to unconsciousness. And then takes you. Uses you as an object for his perverted needs as you sob and beg for mercy. He does not let you go. To him, you are his little price, his little toy that he can do whatever he wants to. Once he is finished with you, he hits you one more time. Hard and powerful. But not just anywhere, no no no...in your belly. You cry hysterically as you hold your belly, still small but growing slowly. Praying that she is okay. You lay on the floor, bleeding from pretty much every area of your body and pray, pray to the gods to let you and your child make it out of this alive.

"Hvitserk...Ivar...where are you?" You say out loud, as if they could hear you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar looks up at the sky, as if he can hear something. Almost a whisper but it is so clear. Clear to him as if the voice was directly next to him.

"Hvitserk...Ivar...where are you?"

Ivar "YN?" He turned around but no one was there, especially was not you. He knows that you and him have a connection. Ever since that dream of you before he met you, he knew that you and him were connected not only in marriage but in mind. Meanwhile, Hvitserk is in the middle of another breakdown when he hears your voice in his head. He gets up and runs all around the house, searching for you. But of course, you are still gone. So he searches for his brother next, finding him with your dragon's.

Hvitserk "Did you hear her?"

Ivar "You heard her too?!"

Hvitserk "Yes. She's...she's alive."

Ivar "We have to go save her. Before it is too late."

Hvitserk whispers to himself, "Hang in there, baby. We're coming. Just hold on. Stay with me."

…

You hear the man that always comes to save you, and you hear him loud and clear. You look down at your belly and smile.

"Daddy is coming, little one. Hold on for me, please...please stay with us." You look down at the blood coming out between your legs and breathe in deeply. You try not to think about the pain that you are in, and try to think about being saved. You have to be saved. You are not ready for Valhalla.

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @jzr201 @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @conaionaru @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem @kaitieskidmore1 @heavenly1927 @saldelys

#the battle between love and fire #ivar the boneless #ivar the god #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #ubbe lothbrok #alex hogh andersen #marco ilsø #marco ilsoe #jordan patrick smith #vikings

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writingwithbella · 4 years ago

Text

breaking and entering - p.heyward

Another one? In less than a week? That’s right, my incredible friend and first ever mutual @tempus-ut-luceant (sarah) gave me a prompt and I actually wrote it!! So exciting!!! It’s for OBX once again, but I promise I write for other stuff!! but, you should definitely go check sarah out, she’s amazing and one of my favorite people on this app!!

pope heyward x fem!oc

1.3k words

warnings; alcohol, mentions of weed

Person A: “On a scale of one to ten, how angry do you think (Person B) is going to be?”

Person C: “I don’t think such a short scale can adequately express that kind of thing, to be honest.”

In short, they are totally, 100% screwed. They should have known they would be the instant they entered the Kook mansion, but it doesn’t hit them until they are standing in the kitchen, hunting through cabinets for anything and everything alcohol.

“On a scale of one to ten, how angry do you think Shelby is going to be?” Pope pulls back from the cabinet he is inspecting, a look of terror suddenly overtaking his face at JJ’s words. Despite the worry in his voice, JJ’s face is remarkably carefree, a lax smile brightening his features in a childlike manner. In the afternoon light, he almost looks sixteen.

“I don’t think such a short scale can adequately express that kind of thing, to be honest,” Pope mutters, turning so that his back hit the cabinet door. “She’s gonna kill us.”

“So? Just don’t tell her. You don’t have to tell your girlfriend every little thing you do,” JJ jokes, abandoning his cabinet and opening the next one. Pope sighs from behind him.

“This is why you’ve never had an actual girlfriend. I’m not gonna lie to Shelby, so if she asks me, I’ll tell her-”

“-Tell her that you broke into her employer’s mansion to rummage around for not-shitty alcohol? That sounds like it will go over really well with her.” Pope groans and places his hands over his face in grief, while JJ continues to search, moving from cabinet to cabinet without much luck. “Where the hell do they keep their alcohol?”

“JJ, I don’t want to lie to her. She’ll kill me!” Pope whines, but he still stands and advances towards the decorative china cabinet in the dining room, praying silently to anyone who could be listening. “Let’s just get out of here quick.”

“Listen, you won’t have to lie to her. I’ll just tell her that we stole it from the convenience store or that your dad brought it over. It’s no big deal.” He is way too calm about the prospect of lying to one of his best friends, but Pope likes the idea of JJ lying more than he likes the idea of him lying and possibly losing his girlfriend. He opens the cabinet door gently, cringing at the clinking of the china bumping together, but his eyes go wide at the sight that greets him.

“JJ, how many bottles can you carry?”

They get absolutely smashed, in case you are wondering. Bottles of anything they can think of had welcomed them as they opened the cabinet doors and now, hours later in John B’s front lawn, they are getting hammered on some of the finest liquor money can buy. Even Shelby is joining in, sipping on her own cup of rum and coke and smiling easily as her friends laugh. She tucks herself closer under Pope’s arm.

“Okay, okay, I have to ask. Where did you guys get this stuff? It’s so good!” She laughs, but next to her, Pope tenses, casting a panicked glance at JJ. The blond boy smiles wide.

“It was at some convenience store on the mainland, Pope’s dad picked it up for us,” JJ slurs, tossing back the little bit of straight liquor residing in his cup and Shelby’s eyes widen amusedly.

“Really? Mr. Heyward picked up a $100,000 bottle of rum at a convenience store in North Carolina? He better pick up some scratch tickets next time he goes because he’s got the luck of, like, ten leprechauns.” At her words, everyone’s jaws drop and Pope sputters.

“$100,000? You’re sure?” She looks at him with a confused expression, but nods.

“Yeah, $100,000. My boss has one just like it, it’s her prized possession. She practically flaunts it every time I enter the dining room.” JJ and Pope share a look before rapidly refilling their drinks and tossing them back with no chaser. Shelby looks at them strangely, but says nothing, allowing the conversation to drift off into whatever topic the boys choose next.

It’s only an hour later that the group abandons their loose circle and retires to their chosen sleeping areas—John B. to his bedroom, Kie to the spare, JJ to the couch in the living room, and Shelby and Pope to the couch on the porch, though it is more like Pope is on the couch and Shelby is lying on top of him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck and her arms wrapped loosely around his chest.

“Babe, are you okay? You drank a lot and you started to look a little sick back there,” she whispers quietly into the night, unsure if the boy is even awake to hear her. Luckily for her, he shifts anxiously and whispers back nearly immediately.

“Was what you said earlier true? That the rum was $100,000?” His eyes, though she can’t see them, are wide open, panicked as he waits for the answer. On top of him, Shelby chuckles quietly.

“You answer a question of mine first: did you and JJ break into my boss’ house and steal alcohol?” Pope sucks in a deep breath, surprised that she had guessed their crime, though he had suspected she knew already.

“I’m not gonna lie to you and it’s gonna make you really mad: yeah. Connor Gideon is an asshole and we wanted to get drunk, so we thought two birds, one stone. Though I’m pretty sure JJ also took his stash of weed, but I’m not sure, so you can’t fault me for that one.” His explanation is fast, slurred almost by his inebriation, but she understands the majority of what he says and she sighs in response.

Slowly, she sits up, straddling his stomach—not in a sexual way, but in a “John-B-has-a-porch-couch-approximately-the-width-and-length-of-a-park-bench-sawed-in-half-so-there's-nowhere-to-sit" way. Pope refuses to meet her eyes, staring into the darkened living room. She gently grabs his jaw and guides him to look in her eyes, her gaze filled with nothing but adoration and joy. His clenched jaw softens under her hand.

“Pope, I’m not mad. Scratch that, I am mad. Why didn’t you ask me to help you break in, I hate that fucker more than any of you. He may be awful to you guys and I won’t discount that, but I have to see him every damn day. I would’ve happy helped you rob him blind and frame him for it. And I was lying earlier about the alcohol. I just kinda wanted to scare you.” She smiles wide at his alarmed look. “It costs $25 at most. Which is still a pretty good price, but it’s just made to make them look rich. I promise you, if Connor had a $100,000 bottle of rum, he wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Pope sighs incredulously, looking around as if he couldn’t believe what he is hearing. Suddenly, he sits up and she slides down to his lap as he wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Holy shit, babe, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that, all of that. I thought I was gonna go to jail and with this scholarship interview thing coming up, I cannot go to jail. Ever, like, at all.” She smiles into his shoulder as he talks and at the mention of his scholarship interview, she squeezes him tighter.

“I promise you, you won’t go to jail if I can help it—especially not for robbing Connor. If anyone deserves it, the Gideons do. But, you have to promise that next time you break in, I’m coming with. I’ll show you where he keeps the actual good stuff.” She accentuates with a wink and he laughs quietly before planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“There won’t be a next time, hopefully, but if there is, you’re the first one I’ll call. Promise.” In the darkness, they smile.

#pope heyward #pope obx #jj maybank #jj obx #obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #pope heyward fic #pope heyward x oc

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snappedsky · 4 years ago

Text

Fanatics 76

Squee takes a break.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

Spring Breaking

Squee: Nny and I are gonna stay with Granny Cammie for a while. We’re taking Nugget with us too

Pepito: starting spring break early! Sounds nice

Gaz: Yeah who cares about skool anyway

Dib: Take all the time you need Squee

Tak: Yeah, you deserve a break.

Zim: We’ll keep things handled here. Leave it to Zim!

Squee cracks a weak smile at the messages from his friends. Then he drops his phone into his bag, slips it onto his shoulders, and grabs his suitcase before leaving his room.

“I’m ready,” he says to Johnny as he enters the living room.

“Good. Granny’s already in the car,” he replies, “let’s go.”

They leave the house and get into the car. Cammie’s in the passenger seat and Squee sits in the back with Nugget while Nny drives. And they head out.

The drive is pretty quiet, with just the radio to break the silence. Squee watches the scenery go by, his head resting against the window. Sometimes he’ll catch himself reaching for his lap, where something- or someone- used to sit and his chest will tighten. So he tries to keep himself distracted by stroking Nugget’s fur.

They arrive to Cammie’s house in a few hours and park the car in her ridiculously large driveway next to her other vehicles that are never used. After grabbing their luggage, she lets them into the house.

“Welcome home, Cammie,” Thomas- her caretaker- nods respectfully as they enter.

“Thanks, Thomas,” she replies as they walk by to the hallway of bedrooms. “Your rooms from the summer you stayed here are still the same,” she says to Nny and Squee. “But they’re pretty plain. Maybe we can go to the city later and pick up some décor for you, Squee. Maybe some posters or uh…lava lamps…um…glow-in-the-dark stickers…I-I don’t know what kids like.” “Glow-in-the-dark stickers sound nice,” Squee remarks as they reach his room. “But can we go another day?”

“Sure, hon, we can go whenever you want,” Cammie replies, “you just relax and make yourself comfortable.”

Squee smiles weakly before going into his room and closing the door behind him. Cammie and Nny both sigh and continue down the hall.

“He seems to have gotten a little better these last couple days,” she comments.

“Yeah, he’s trying really hard to pick up his pieces,” he agrees, “but I’m still worried. I hope he takes a break from everything while we’re here. He really needs it.”

In his room, Squee drops his bags onto the floor and flops onto the bed. He stares at the ceiling, his mind numb and blank. He could just lie here all day but he won’t let himself do that. So he gets up, grabs a pen and notebook from his bag, and flips open to a blank page.

Squee presses the pen to the paper and waits. And he waits. And waits. He starts impatiently tapping the page as the minutes tick by and the words refuse to flow. Finally, having lost his patience, he tosses the book to the side and stands up.

“Whatever,” he grumbles as he leaves his room. “Maybe I’ll get some inspiration from TV.” The hours tick by lazily as Squee and Nny spend them watching cartoons. Late into the evening, everyone retires to their rooms for the night. But Squee doesn’t try to sleep. He’s been too scared to after what happened when he stayed with the Night Terrors a couple days ago. So he grabs his notebook and tries to take another crack at writing.

This time is no more successful and twice as frustrating. If it were just normal writer’s block, then Squee could handle it. But this doesn’t feel like a normal blockage. He can clearly see the words he wants to write in his head, but for some reason they can’t pass onto the paper like they used to. Once his pen would flow like a rushing river; now it’s like a clogged toilet.

His frustration boils into a rage. Rage towards his head for not releasing those words; rage towards his hand for not moving; rage towards his pen for not writing. And suddenly he snaps and throws the pen across the room.

The rage doesn’t last long though and is quickly replaced with an exhausted guilt. Squee stands up and goes to where his pen landed by the window. Sitting on the floor, he cradles it gently in his hand. It’s the fountain pen Johnny gave him for his thirteenth birthday- the first of his birthdays they spent together. That seems so long ago now.

Sighing heavily, Squee rests his head against the window and looks outside. The stars are so bright and clear out here, even through the glass. His focus lands on two perpendicular ones peeking out at him over the treeline. They seem bigger than all the others.

And then they blink.

Squee leaps up, opens the window, and throws his head out. He looks around frantically but the two…stars?...are gone.

Confused, Squee leans against the windowsill and stares at the sky. Did he really see that? Was it just a trick of the light? Or something else?

The next day is just as lazy and quiet. Squee spends it either watching cartoons or chilling on the porch swing, Johnny and Nugget always by his side. It’s so peaceful and relaxing. Or at least it should be.

Squee loves it out here. But his nerves are shot. He feels like there’s something hiding behind every corner or in every shadow, and he can’t be sure what’s real and what’s his paranoia. They haven’t been attacked by anything yet, so is it safe to assume it’s all his paranoia?

Having Nny by his side helps him feel a little safer, but it’s not the same as…well, it’s not the same as before.

Squee tries writing a couple more times throughout the day, but the outcome remains the same: frustrating, disappointing nothingness.

That afternoon he’s curled up on the couch, tapping his pen against the paper with annoyance. Nny watches him for a second before asking, “can’t think of what to write?”

“Not exactly,” Squee sighs, “I know what I want to write. The words just won’t…come, you know?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, “I don’t know anything about writer’s block.”

“No, this is…different.”

Johnny watches as Squee closes his notebook and walks away. He stares after him, curious and a bit concerned.

Squee spends that night just like the last: mostly staring at the sky. When his eyelids get too heavy, he’ll lie down in bed and let himself sleep for a couple hours, but until then, the stars are a lovely show.

He’s still thinking about the two stars he saw blink last night. He actually wanted to write a story about them today, but of course that didn’t happen.

Resting his chin on the window’s ledge, Squee continues to stare at the sky while his eyelids get heavier and heavier.

Meanwhile in his room, Johnny is also avoiding sleep. He lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind deliberating. Finally, he makes up his mind and goes to the living room. He picks up the phone and quickly dials a number before he can change his mind. It’s late, but he’s sure this person is awake.

“Al’s Assmeats. How may we serve you today?” an obnoxiously loud voice answers.

“Devi, it’s Nny,” Johnny says.

“Oh, hey,” she replies in her normal voice. “Something wrong? You never call me.”

“No-ah, well…no, not really,” he stammers with uncertainty.

“Then…why are you calling me?”

“Uh it’s um mmmm.” Pressing his palm into his forehead, Johnny takes a second to collect his thoughts. “Do you remember when the Nightmare tried to control you?”

“Yeah…?” Devi replies, somewhat uncertain.

“How did it feel when you tried to paint?”

“Um…well, I was working that shitty painting job at the time so I didn’t have time to paint for myself. And anything I painted for them was just following the instructions they gave me- which fucking sucked by the way. So…I don’t know. It sure didn’t feel the same as before, when I painted for me. It felt like…nothing. Like a void, you know?”

“No,” Nny replies as he sits on the floor and leans up against the end table. “I don’t remember much from back when it was happening to me. But I feel like…like whenever I tried to draw…there was a clog.”

“A clog?” Devi questions.

“Yeah. Like something was blocking my creativity from leaving my mind.”

“That’s interesting,” she comments, “I guess because I was doing that job, I wasn’t really using my creativity.”

“Like it was being clogged from the outside,” he muses.

“Yeah. I never thought of it that way before,” she remarks, “why are you asking about this?” “Mmm,” Johnny merely groans in reply.

“Is it about Squee? Is he okay?”

“I think so. For now at least,” he replies, “but…he said he’s having trouble writing. Like he’s feeling blocked.”

“Hmmm,” Devi hums curiously, “well…he’s going through a lot right now. He could just be mentally exhausted. Maybe he just needs a break.”

“That is why we came out here,” Nny replies, “but I think he’s trying too hard to, like, beat his depression.” “Fuck, I know how that feels,” she sighs.

“Yeah.”

They both sigh heavily.

“Well,” Johnny grunts, scratching his head. “I’m sure he’ll get through this. He’s tougher than he thinks he is.” “He really is,” Devi agrees, “oh, hey! I finally got my business cards done!”

“Oh, yeah?” he replies with half-interest.

“Yeah, Dib helped me design them. They’re pretty fucking sick. I’m gonna go around tomorrow and hand them out. I’m gonna start with small businesses first- you know, spread the indie love. But if I have to, I’ll try bigger businesses.”

Johnny rubs his forehead as Devi continues to babble on. He doesn’t really care, but he can’t just hang up on her. He’s the one who called her in the middle of the night, so this is the price he has to pay.

Back in his room, Squee is slowly starting to pass out in his window. His eyelids are drooping but he can’t be bothered to pick himself up and go to bed. So he keeps blinking heavily as he stares at the sky.

Between each blink, everything appears the same. The silhouettes of the trees and all the stars remain stagnant.

And then two more stars appear.

Squee’s eyes fly open and he leans out the window. This time, the new stars don’t disappear. They stay poking over the treeline, seemingly staring back at him.

With his eyes used to the darkness, he can barely make out the outline of what appears to be a head surrounding the new stars.

Squee cocks his head curiously. The other head cocks back.

Squee blinks with surprise before leaping out the window. His bare feet land on the soft, chilly grass surrounding the house but he doesn’t want to get his shoes. What if the new stars disappear again?

He quickly loses sight of them as he goes into the trees but he keeps moving forward. He trips and stumbles on roots and branches but he doesn’t stop. Not until he reaches a small clearing.

It’s so sudden he almost runs into it, but he stops just in time. Just in front of him is a giant foot, the big toe alone almost taller than Squee. Swallowing hard, he looks up in awe at the rest of the creature towering over him and the surrounding trees.

Their body is humanoid and androgynous, but their skin almost looks like tree bark. They’re so tall, Squee can’t make out their face; just their two eyes, glowing like stars in the darkness.

The giant stares at him before slowing kneeling down just enough to rest one of their hands at Squee’s feet. Squee glances at it with uncertainty before climbing aboard.

“Whoa!” he exclaims as the giant lifts him at the same velocity as a speeding car, all the way up to their face.

This close Squee can see the giant’s eyes really are just two glowing white orbs. They have no nose or ears, just nostrils, and a massive mouth filled with browned, chipped teeth. While the creature doesn’t have eyebrows, Squee can still tell their expression is quizzical.

“Why have you sought me out, little one?” they ask, their voice booming but somehow still gentle, like a wise, old man.

“I-I wanted to see if you were real,” Squee replies, wonderstruck.

“You are the first of your kind to notice me in thousands of years,” they muse, “I admit, I wasn’t sure you were real either last night. Rather spooked me.” He cracks an amused smile at that. “I scared you?”

“At first. Why? Do I frighten you?”

“Lots of things do, some more than others. But I’m not afraid of you now.” “Yet you were before. And you still came for me.” “Like I said, I needed to be sure you were real,” Squee says, “I…I’m worried I might start losing the ability to tell the difference.”

“Hmm,” the giant hums in response. “You are young, even for your species. But I see ages of stress on your face. Care to join me on a nightly walk? I find they always help me clear my head.”

“Uh, well, I…” Squee stammers with uncertainty as he looks back towards the house. Then he realizes just how high he really is.

Not only can he see the house, the few lights on glimmering in the darkness, but the highway as well and the surrounding trees and fields, stretching on and on endlessly towards the darkened horizon where it all connects with the sky, its countless stars and the moon shining overhead.

“Sure,” Squee sighs, “why not.”

“Wonderful,” the giant comments and carefully moves their hand to their shoulder. Squee climbs on and sits in the crook of their neck.

“Uh, my name’s Squee, by the way,” he says.

“My kind do not use names,” they reply.

“Oh. Um can I give you a nickname?” “You may.”

“I’m gonna call you…Celestial, cause your eyes remind me of the stars,” Squee says.

“Hm, I like that,” Celestial comments.

They walk in silence for a couple minutes. Celestial moves quickly, one step covering several feet. The chilly, night air breezes through Squee’s hair as he watches the world pass by.

“This is nice,” he comments blissfully, “it reminds me of when I was in space. Like right now, nothing matters.”

“Yes, your kind spend so much time scurrying around,” Celestial says, “but your lives are short. You do not have much time to do the things you want to do, so it’s understandable. But you must remember to take a break once in a while.”

“Yeah, that’s why I came out here,” he agrees, “to take a break. But…I can’t write. That was always my escape. And now something’s stopping me, keeping me from it. It’s so…frustrating.”

All of Squee’s anger erupts to the surface in a sudden blow. It would surprise him if he wasn’t so aggravated.

“Writing is important to you,” Celestial observes.

“I…I lost something not long ago,” Squee explains, “a big part of myself. I can’t lose writing too.” He glares angrily at his hands when Celestial suddenly stops. Squee looks up and quickly rises to his feet in awe.

In the distance they can see Los Angeles, its countless lights glowing bright enough to blot out the stars. Even this far away, the city’s noises can be heard; vehicles, muffled voices, and miscellaneous clamoring.

“Look at your people,” Celestial says, “even this late at night, they don’t stop. Always moving, working for something, even if they don’t know what it is.”

“You say you came here to take a break, but perhaps it is not just a break from your everyday life you require,” they suggest, “perhaps it is a break from yourself.”

“My…self?” Squee questions.

“Take a break from writing, from your worries. Try something new. Or do nothing at all.”

“But I’m trying to do the exact opposite,” he insists, “I don’t want to lose myself.” “You are fighting a tremendous battle that no one could possibly understand,” Celestial points out, “taking a break from it does not mean you have lost.”

Squee stares at them, his eyes welling up. He swallows a sob as he sits back down.

“I will take you back home,” Celestial says as they turn around.

The walk back is quiet. Tears drip down Squee’s cheeks the entire way, suddenly overwhelmed by his emotions. When they make it back, he wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Thank you, Celestial,” he says as he stands up. “This was really nice.”

“Indeed,” they agree as they hold up their hand for Squee to step on. “It has been many decades since I’ve had a conversation with someone. Perhaps someday I will see you again.”

“I would like that,” Squee smiles.

Celestial carefully lowers Squee to ground in front of Cammie’s house. They wave goodbye to each other before turning away and Squee goes in through the front door.

“Hey.” Squee looks over to the living room, where Johnny is sitting on the floor holding the phone receiver, Nugget curled up in his lap. “Where did you go?” he asks.

“I…had a very enlightening conversation with a giant,” Squee replies.

“Huh. Cool.” “Who are you talking to?” Squee asks.

“Devi,” Nny replies and covers the receiver. “She gets really talkative when she’s overtired. Wanna talk?”

He smiles gently. “Yeah.”

Squee sits next to him and takes the phone. “Devi?”

“Squee!” she exclaims excitedly. “It’s good to hear you. You uh…you doing okay?” A lump forms in Squee’s throat but he quickly swallows it and takes a deep breath. “No. Not really. But I’ll get there.” Johnny smiles warmly and drapes his arm across Squee’s shoulders. He smiles back as they lean against each other. Nugget mews and moves over into Squee’s lap.

“So uh how are you doing?” Squee asks.

“Pretty good,” Devi replies, “I finally got my business cards and they’re pretty fucking awesome. I’ve been thinking about getting a haircut; it’s been a while and my hair’s getting too long. But I’m not sure what to do with it. I need it to be different, you know. Maybe I should get some like hairstyle magazines, look for inspiration.”

Squee smiles wearily as he covers the receiver and whispers to Nny, “she really does get talkative.” “I know,” he whispers back.

They both smile and lean back, relaxed as they listen to Devi’s babbling.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myart #myocs

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years ago

Text

royai week day 2: mortal & immortal

rated: m | words: 3964

read on ao3

“Whoever invokes this transmutation shall be destined to live for all eternity, never dying. That is your payment, however, as per your request, your wife will return to you over the years… as a mortal. Because you foolishly thought you could bring her back from the dead, you will have to search for her, and she will never remember you. So, you will have to prove you are worthy of your wife’s love, Roy Mustang.”

Xerxes 1509

Roy Mustang jolted awake. His head whipped around frantically, searching the room for the woman he longed to see again. Instead, there was no one. Nothing human anyway. In the middle of the room, inside a white circle he’d drawn on the floor of his main room with chalk, lay an abomination. Roy recoiled in horror, his back hitting the stone wall hard. The thing heaved a breath, struggling to take in oxygen, its mouth opening as if trying to speak.

There were no words. Just a hiss that rattled him to his core.

This thing wasn’t Riza. It had her fringe, her blonde hair dipped in blood and other slimy substances that Roy didn’t want to identify. He retched at the smell it gave off, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as he tried to settle his stomach by sheer force of will.

This… This wasn’t what he’d wanted. What had that… white thing said to him?

That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Riza back, but that thing didn’t give him a choice, didn’t allow Roy to plead his case.

Staring at the centre of the circle, Roy didn’t know what to do. Pure terror held him frozen in place, unsure of his future but knowing he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

“I’m going away,” Roy stated, packing his things into a leather pack. Even to his own ears his voice sounded hollow. It had been a month since he’d opened that portal and that monster had appeared in his home. He’d disposed of it under the cover of darkness, vomiting three of four times as the residue on its skin covered his hands, leaving them slimy, the image of the blonde hair he’d once loved splayed across sand as Roy buried it on the outskirts of Xerxes.

After numerous attempts Roy found out he couldn’t die. Just when he was about to slip away his body would jerk, and he’d be fine. There would be no pain, no physical reminder that he’d been hurt.

That thing he’d met in that white room wasn’t lying.

Which also meant there was another part which was true… And Roy didn’t want to think about that right now.

“What do you mean?” Van Hohenheim asked Roy, expression curious. He’d met the man a year ago and both Roy and Riza had become close friends with him. Hohenheim had revealed his alchemical abilities, and therefore the possibility of human transmutation, excitedly telling them both everything his master had taught him. Roy couldn’t blame him. He’d been a slave his whole life and then his master had taught him alchemy, broadening his horizons and elevating him beyond the life of a slave. Hohenheim was a free man now, and Roy was happy for him.

“I’m leaving Xerxes.”

“Really? Where will you go?”

Roy didn’t know. He just knew he couldn’t stay here anymore. Not after what he’d witnessed. That monster haunted his dreams and lurked in the shadows of his home every day. He needed out. He needed away from here.

“Because you foolishly thought you could bring her back from the dead, you will have to search for her, and she will never remember you.”

Roy knew his direction. It was to search for Riza. That thing had said she would come back to life, just not in the way Roy had bargained for. He was a desperate man who had nothing left to lose. What other choice did he have?

“I don’t know. West.”

“Roy, don’t you think –”

“No.”

Hohenheim sighed but didn’t offer any further argument. “Okay. Would you like some company?”

“I’ll be fine,” was his sharp reply.

A hand was placed on Roy’s shoulder and he paused. “Take care of yourself, Roy.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded, continuing to pack away his things.

* * *

Amestris 1555

The first time he saw Riza after her death, he’d been dumbstruck. He’d wandered for years through the empty lands. Lush greenery turned to clay, barren landscapes as he travelled west. Heading south he hit the sea and followed the coast until he hit the desert…

Where his home was.

No, that was gone. That was gone when Riza died.

She was walking arm and arm with a man through a small town called Amestris. It was newly formed, had only been done so a couple of years ago. He’d rushed up like a fool, momentarily forgetting just what situation he was in, only for her be too surprised by his enthusiastic antics.

Of course.

She didn’t know who he was.

“Because you foolishly thought you could bring her back from the dead, you will have to search for her, and she will never remember you. So, you will have to prove you are worthy of your wife’s love, Roy Mustang.”

The man had been her husband.

And Roy had watched her die, again, by that man’s hands.

His rage was uncontained as he sought out his revenge. His world was darkening bit by bit as the days passed, consumed by his grief and his predicament, but unable to change it.

He’d already tried dying and it just didn’t work.

Damn that little white bastard. Damn him right to hell.

In his darkest moments, lounging in the rain, unbothered about how it will affect him, Roy briefly thought of Hohenheim. He hoped his old friend was all right and still happy after all these years. Roy hoped he’d found the freedom and knowledge he’d yearned for.

If anyone deserved it, it would be Hohenheim, Roy surmised. Because he certainly didn’t. He’d committed a sin trying to bring Riza back and now he had to pay the price.

Unable to die and left in this hell for the rest of eternity.

Sometimes it left him numb as he travelled. Other times he would be bent over double at the waist, sobs wracking his body uncontrollably. He truly was left all alone in this world. The feeling crushed him under such a great pressure it left him reeling, suffocating.

His immortality was a curse, not a blessing. Roy couldn’t wrap his head around why the King of Xerxes wished to posess such a power. It was only rumour, but every alchemist in Xerxes knew what the King’s goal was. He’d even questioned Roy and his knowledge on the subject, hoping to find an answer to his question.

Roy had nothing to give him.

He still didn’t.

Opting to remain to the southern part of the desert and avoid Xerxes altogether, Roy made his way to Xing to visit his homeland.

* * *

Creta 1656

“Oh god,” Roy gasped, sprinting towards the alleyway. “Riza!”

The men dragging her didn’t let up, but her head popped up, frantically searching for the person who called her name. Before she could shout for help, a man covered her mouth with his hand and Riza begun to struggle.

“Stop right there!” Roy shouted, his rage pushing him to tear each and every one of these men to pieces.

“We don’t have any business with you,” one spat, and the others chuckled around him. “We’re just going to take our friend and go –”

He was cut off as Roy snapped his fingers, fire exploding from the tips to coil around the man’s hands. His skin burned and he dropped Riza to the ground. She scrambled away as another man moved to grab her, but Roy put up a wall of flames between them both. They all took of running, yelling about a monster roaming the streets of Creta.

Roy dropped to his knees, placing a hand on Riza’s shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asked, eyes full of concern. His gaze roamed over her body, looking for any signs of injuries. Her dress was torn at the bottom and there were patches of dirt on the pale cream fabric, but other than that, she seemed fine.

When his eyes rose to her face he was struck once more by how beautiful she was. It happened every time he met her. His love swelled in his chest and he counted himself truly fortunate to see her face again.

“Y – Yes. I am quite all right,” she stated, taking a shaky breath and Roy helped her to her feet. “I… I’ve never met you before,” she stuttered, eyes frantically searching the darkness as if expecting the men to jump out and grab her again. “Why would you help me?”

“Because you foolishly thought you could bring her back from the dead, you will have to search for her, and she will never remember you.”

Roy felt dread pool in his stomach as he remembered, however he replied to her question honestly.

“I couldn’t leave you to face them by yourself. I would rather die than subject you to that.” Riza’s gaze snapped up, eyes searching his. Roy realised what he’d said sounded forward, but it was the truth.

“She will never remember you.”

This was worse. She didn’t remember him and that was so much worse. Couple that with the fact that he’d already watched her die more times than he wanted to count over the last one hundred and fifty years, Roy’s existence was a sorrowful one.

But he couldn’t die.

His immortality came at a price, but he’d never wanted it in the first place. He’d been so arrogant that he thought a simple transmutation and a few chemicals could bring his wife back from the dead. This was the price he’d paid for such an act. A life of phycological and emotional torture.

He loved a woman he could never hold for longer than a couple of years. In his existence, it was never enough time.

Equivalent exchange.

“Can I walk you home, Riza?”

“How do you know my name?” she questioned, curiously looking up at him.

“I’m… I’m an old friend.”

“I don’t remember you. I don’t even know your name.”

“I…” Roy sighed. “I am a friend, but from a long time ago.” The word “friend” left a bad taste in his mouth because it was a lie, at last for him. “It’s likely you won’t remember me.”

Riza gave him a sideways look, but she nodded. She brushed off the dirt from her dress and looked at him expectantly. “I don’t know why…” she began uncertainly. “But I feel like I can trust you. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but… Do you feel it too?”

“It’s likely because we’ve met before,” Roy smiled, but it was tight and forced.

“I… Never mind,” she muttered, a light blush gracing her cheeks. Roy felt his heart break all over again.

If he chose, he could get years with Riza. Sometimes, upon the first time they met, that was the day she would die in some freak accident. Was it worth it, to put himself through that every time?

After a hundred and fifty years, his heart didn’t know anymore.

* * *

Amestris 1791

He couldn’t do this anymore. He clutched Riza’s hand tightly in his, the other covering the wound on her abdomen to try and stop the flow of blood. Roy knew she would be coming back in some way or another, but it didn’t make any of Riza’s deaths easier. Every time it felt like the first time she’d died, back in Xerxes. Perhaps that was part of his toll too.

Roy didn’t care. All he knew that Riza was dying. Again.

It always happened in front of him, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

“Promise me…?” she whispered against his neck, her lips grazing his skin.

“Anything.”

“Promise… You’ll find me in the next life.”

“Always,” Roy replied, kissing the top of her head. “I always have. I could never stay away.”

“I… don’t really remember… But there is a glimpse of us happy… somewhere in the desert. Does that –?”

“Xerxes,” Roy replied.

“Tell me again, please,” she sighed, body relaxing further against his. As she slipped away, Riza wanted him to tell her how they met for the first time again. Of course, he couldn’t say no.

“I moved there from Xing. I traversed the desert, heading west, because I wanted to explore the world. Only, I discovered something far more brilliant and beautiful than what this world had to offer me.” Riza sighed against him. She didn’t have much time left. Roy knew that much. However, if he could ease her passing with this story then he would tell it a million times over. “I met you and it took a long time to convince your father to let me marry you,” he chuckled. “But I won him over. We lived happily for years.” Her body was still underneath his, her chest no longer rising and falling with breaths. Roy felt tears spring to his eyes. It happened every time.

Deciding to leave out the last part of their story, Roy kissed the top of her head, whispering a promise into her ear.

“I’ll always find you, Riza. I swear it.”

* * *

Amestris 1915

“Colonel!” he heard her yell just as the white light overcame him.

“So, we meet again, Roy Mustang,” the entity grinned at him. Roy knew now that its name was Truth. “It’s been a while.”

“I didn’t do this,” he snarled, furious that Bradley and Pride had managed to pin him down to open the gate. “Send me back.”

“I can’t do that. Regardless, you’ve ended up here and a toll must be paid.”

“Send me back!”

“Shout all you like,” Truth grinned, infuriating him. “It’s not going to change anything. To pass through the gate a toll must be paid. The first time it was your mortality. Because of your own arrogance, you wanted to bring your dead love back to life. That’s impossible. Once someone is dead, they are dead. That can never change, although I’m sure now you already know that truth,” it grinned. Roy glared in response. “What shall I take this time? How has immortality treated you over the years?”

“Bastard,” Roy spat.

“You were the one who wanted her back. I gave her back to you.”

“I had to watch her die time and time again, unable to stop it. That’s not what I asked for.”

“You were not specific. So lost in your grief, you never specified how you wanted her to be brought back, or the conditions of that agreement.”

“I’m…” Roy sighed, every year he’d lived catching up to him at once. He was too old for an argument like this. “I’ve lived far too long,” Roy admitted to himself, suddenly very weary. He’d been alive for over four hundred years. Four hundred years of doing nothing but rediscover the woman he still loved, only to watch her die time and time again under different circumstances. Old age, disease, freak accidents… Everything. Roy had seen it all. Every time Riza died, a part of him died with her.

And she never remembered him.

It had been too much.

“Just… Make sure she lives a long and happy life. Even if that’s without me, I don’t mind. That’s all I want. For her to be happy.”

“As you wish,” Truth grinned, the smile growing wider to reveal more teeth. The form faded to white and Roy’s world went black.

* * *

Roy didn’t know what Truth had taken from him. He felt fine. But… why was the room so dark?

His eyes.

Truth took his eyesight, he discovered.

He’d laughed to himself as the others spoke to Father, the one who looked so much like Hohenheim from his youth in Xerxes. When Roy had arrived in that room, Hohenheim had sounded incredibly surprised to see him. They hadn’t seen each other since Xerxes. After Roy found out what happened he left, returning west to wander for the rest of his days. If he’d known Hohenheim was still out there, he’d probably have sought him out to try and squash down his crushing loneliness. A touch of familiarity would have probably done him the world of good. Something to tie him back to his happily married life in Xerxes…

Roy had laughed at his predicament because how fitting, for Truth to leave him immortal and Riza mortal, but take away his ability to see her again.

It was cruel.

As he was being tossed around by father, disorientated and confused because he was unable to see, Roy came to a realisation. This was different from when he was hurt before. Being immortal, pain was there, but it was gone almost instantly, as if the wounds healed themselves. As he was being hurt… it fucking hurt. Nothing like he’d experienced before. His body was drained and fatigued, another symptom he hadn’t experienced in over four hundred years.

Could it be… That he was no longer immortal?

Could… Could he finally die?

There was no time to dwell on it in the fight. It was only after the Promised Day, in the silence of their hospital room, did Roy finally contemplate it. Of course, there was only one way to know for sure if he was no longer immortal, but he didn’t want to die. This was the most he’d ever accomplished in this world. After rediscovering Father and finding out his plans Roy couldn’t leave again. Riza may die before his eyes but he knew she’d come back. Roy had seen this country grow from nothing. It had been his home for over four hundred years. He wasn’t going to let it go to ruin because a bastard from centuries ago decided he wanted to become one of the most powerful beings in existence.

Roy wouldn’t let that happen.

He’d infiltrated the military from early on, and, of course, met Riza in Ishval. She’d angrily demanded where he learned his alchemy from, distrusting him from the start, however it was something Roy was used to at this point.

He never told her what had happened. This Riza was different from the others. Every woman he’d met was like the happy one he’d met in Xerxes, but the Riza in this time was different… She was closed in on herself, shooting glares to everyone who crossed her path. There was no option for conversation, just a crisp salute and minimal small talk. Around the camp she was known as being quiet and staying isolated from the others.

When Roy found her sobbing on the outskirts of the encampment, pleading for him to kill her after everything she’d done there, that was when things begun to change.

It hurt him to know she was suffering in Ishval just like he was. Roy had never anticipated in the wars over the years, but he couldn’t let Father win. It gave him a purpose he’d been lacking for centuries. But he had no idea what he’d been getting himself into when he joined the military.

“Sir, are you awake?”

Every time she called him that, Roy felt crushed. He hated that in this life, that was all they were to each other. Yes, he still got to experience life with her – more than anything he’d ever had before – but there was nothing between them. It killed him to remain distant. He had loved Riza Hawkeye for over four hundred years. It had never once faded or wavered. To spend this lifetime together so close yet so far apart… It was another form of torture that had become his existence.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” he replied to the inky black that was now his life.

“I can hear you thinking,” she replied. From her tone, Roy could almost imagine the wry smile on her face. What he would give to see that smile once more…

He jumped in fright as the bed dipped by his side. “Scoot over,” she murmured, and Roy did so. Riza pushed him gently backwards by the shoulders so he was lying on the bed, unseeing eyes open and looking up at the ceiling.

“Lieutenant, what –”

“It’s all right. I know everything.”

Roy froze. “What? Know what?”

“When you were forced to open the gate, everything came back to me.”

He couldn’t comprehend her words. “I’m sorry, what –”

“Our life in Xerxes, you, finding me every time only to watch me die one way or another, and how much I love you.” Roy’s breath caught in his throat. “Although, that had already been building over the years we spent together in this lifetime. It just confirmed it for me.”

“You… You remember?” He was dumbfounded. How… How could this have happened?

Riza nodded against him. Her head was now resting on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his as she cuddled into his side. “I do. You were immortal, weren’t you? Left to search for me every time I was reincarnated?” Roy still couldn’t reply. “I’m sorry you were subjected to that. There was a little white… thing. It spoke to me as I faded away. You held me with such care and tenderness that I fought it. I didn’t want to leave this earth and leave you behind. We had so much left to do. Then,” Riza added, taking a breath. “There was this voice speaking to me. I saw a white body sitting on the floor, wearing a grin. No features, aside from the mouth. It was talking to me, telling me all about what had happened, who you were. Memories filled my head from years ago. Well before my time in this life.”

“Riza…”

“I didn’t believe it at first. That was absurd. Then finally, there were the memories of the desert… In Xerxes. I was so happy back then. We had everything…”

“I… I honestly don’t know… You remember?”

A kiss was placed against his jaw. “I do. Every bit. You always found me,” she whispered, her voice subdued. “Are you all right?”

Tears leaked down his cheeks, overwhelmed.

She remembered him.

That was all he’d ever wanted. For Riza Hawkeye to remember him and love him like he had loved her for over four hundred years.

“You’ve been waiting four hundred years for me,” she whispered. “I still can’t believe it,” she chuckled, her disbelief showing. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

Roy laughed through his tears, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close.

He couldn’t believe it.

No longer immortal but blinded so he couldn’t see the woman who remembered him. It was a steep price to pay, however hearing her so happy and saying she remembered him… It was one he was willing to pay for this sliver of happiness. If Riza Hawkeye was happy, the so was he. That’s what he’d told Truth. He wanted her to be happy.

Apparently, that was with him.

And if this God-like creature decided that was the truth, then it’s clear they were destined to be together.

Finally, in that hospital bed, with his wife curling up against him, he could rest.

#royaiweek19 #royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes

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dfroza · 3 years ago

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

for August 31 of 2021 with Proverbs 31 and Psalm 31, accompanied by Psalm 73 for the 73rd day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 93 for day 243 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 31]

[Inspired Word]

King Lemuel’s royal words of wisdom:

These are the inspired words my mother taught me.

Listen, my dear son, son of my womb.

You are the answer to my prayers, my son.

So keep yourself sexually pure

from the promiscuous, wayward woman.

Don’t waste the strength of your anointing

on those who ruin kings—

you’ll live to regret it!

For you are a king, Lemuel,

and it’s never fitting for a king to be drunk on wine

or for rulers to crave alcohol.

For when they drink they forget justice

and ignore the rights of those in need,

those who depend on them for leadership.

Strong drink is given to the terminally ill,

who are suffering at the brink of death.

Wine is for those in depression

in order to drown their sorrows.

Let them drink and forget their poverty and misery.

But you are to be a king who speaks up on behalf

of the disenfranchised

and pleads for the legal rights of the defenseless

and those who are dying.

Be a righteous king, judging on behalf of the poor

and interceding for those most in need.

[The Radiant Bride]

Who could ever find a wife like this one—

she is a woman of strength and mighty valor!

She’s full of wealth and wisdom.

The price paid for her was greater than many jewels.

Her husband has entrusted his heart to her,

for she brings him the rich spoils of victory.

All throughout her life she brings him what is good and not evil.

She searches out continually to possess

that which is pure and righteous.

She delights in the work of her hands.

She gives out revelation-truth to feed others.

She is like a trading ship bringing divine supplies

from the merchant.

Even in the night season she arises and sets food on the table

for hungry ones in her house and for others.

She sets her heart upon a field and takes it as her own.

She labors there to plant the living vines.

She wraps herself in strength, might, and power in all her works.

She tastes and experiences a better substance,

and her shining light will not be extinguished,

no matter how dark the night.

She stretches out her hands to help the needy

and she lays hold of the wheels of government.

She is known by her extravagant generosity to the poor,

for she always reaches out her hands to those in need.

She is not afraid of tribulation,

for all her household is covered in the dual garments

of righteousness and grace.

Her clothing is beautifully knit together—

a purple gown of exquisite linen.

Her husband is famous and admired by all,

sitting as the venerable judge of his people.

Even her works of righteousness

she does for the benefit of her enemies.

Bold power and glorious majesty are wrapped around her

as she laughs with joy over the latter days.

Her teachings are filled with wisdom and kindness

as loving instruction pours from her lips.

She watches over the ways of her household

and meets every need they have.

Her sons and daughters arise in one accord to extol her virtues,

and her husband arises to speak of her in glowing terms.

“There are many valiant and noble ones,

but you have ascended above them all!”

Charm can be misleading,

and beauty is vain and so quickly fades,

but this virtuous woman lives in the wonder, awe,

and fear of the Lord.

She will be praised throughout eternity.

So go ahead and give her the credit that is due,

for she has become a radiant woman,

and all her loving works of righteousness deserve to be admired

at the gateways of every city!

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 31 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 31]

How Great Is Your Goodness

For the Pure and Shining One

A song of poetic praise by King David

I trust you, Lord, to be my hiding place.

Don’t let me down.

Don’t let my enemies bring me to shame.

Come and rescue me, for you are the only God

who always does what is right.

Rescue me quickly when I cry out to you.

At the sound of my prayer may your ear be turned to me.

Be my strong shelter and hiding place on high.

Pull me into victory and breakthrough.

For you are my high fortress, where I’m kept safe.

You are to me a stronghold of salvation.

When you deliver me out of this peril,

it will bring glory to your name.

As you guide me forth I’ll be kept safe

from the hidden snares of the enemy—

the secret traps that lie before me—

for you have become my rock of strength.

Into your hands I now entrust my spirit.

O Lord, the God of faithfulness,

you have rescued and redeemed me.

I despise these deceptive illusions,

all this pretense and nonsense,

for I worship only you.

In mercy you have seen my troubles, and you have cared for me;

even during this crisis in my soul I will be radiant with joy,

filled with praise for your love and mercy.

You have kept me from being conquered by my enemy;

you broke open the way to bring me to freedom,

into a beautiful, broad place.

O Lord, help me again! Keep showing me such mercy.

For I am in anguish, always in tears,

and I’m worn out with weeping.

I’m becoming old because of grief; my health is broken.

I’m exhausted! My life is spent with sorrow,

my years with sighing and sadness.

Because of all these troubles, I have no more strength.

My inner being is so weak and frail.

My enemies say, “You are nothing!”

Even my friends and neighbors hold me in contempt!

They dread seeing me,

and they look the other way when I pass by.

I am totally forgotten, buried away like a dead man,

discarded like a broken dish thrown in the trash.

I overheard their whispered threats, the slander of my enemies.

I’m terrified as they plot and scheme to take my life.

I’m desperate, Lord! I throw myself upon you,

for you alone are my God!

My life, my every moment, my destiny—it’s all in your hands.

So I know you can deliver me

from those who persecute me relentlessly.

Smile on me, your servant.

Let your undying love and glorious grace

save me from all this gloom.

As I call upon you, let my shame and disgrace

be replaced by your favor once again.

But let shame and disgrace fall instead upon the wicked—

those going to their own doom,

drifting down in silence to the dust of death.

At last their lying lips will be muted in their graves.

For they are arrogant, filled with contempt and conceit

as they speak against the godly.

Lord, how wonderful you are!

You have stored up so many good things for us,

like a treasure chest heaped up and spilling over with blessings—

all for those who honor and worship you!

Everybody knows what you can do

for those who turn and hide themselves in you.

So hide all your beloved ones

in the sheltered, secret place before your face.

Overshadow them with your glory-presence.

Keep them from these accusations, the brutal insults of evil men.

Tuck them safely away in the tabernacle where you dwell.

The name of the Lord is blessed and lifted high!

For his marvelous miracle of mercy protected me

when I was overwhelmed by my enemies.

I spoke hastily when I said, “The Lord has deserted me.”

For in truth, you did hear my prayer and came to rescue me.

Listen to me, all you godly ones: Love the Lord with passion!

The Lord protects and preserves all those who are loyal to him.

But he pays back in full all those who reject him in their pride.

So cheer up! Take courage, all you who love him.

Wait for him to break through for you, all who trust in him!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 31 (The Passion Translation)

[Book 3]

The Leviticus Psalms

Psalms of worship and God’s house

[Psalm 73]

God’s Justice

Asaph’s psalm

No one can deny it—God is really good to Israel

and to all those with pure hearts.

But I nearly missed seeing it for myself.

Here’s my story: I narrowly missed losing it all.

I was stumbling over what I saw the wicked doing.

For when I saw the boasters with such wealth and prosperity,

I became jealous over their smug security.

Indulging in whatever they wanted, going where they wanted,

doing what they wanted, and with no care in the world,

no pain, no problems—they seemed to have it made.

They lived as though life would never end.

They didn’t even try to hide their pride and opulence.

Cruelty and violence are parts of their lifestyle.

Pampered and pompous, vice oozes from their souls;

they overflow with vanity.

They’re such snobs—looking down their noses.

They even scoff at God!

They are nothing but bullies threatening God’s people.

They are loudmouths with no fear of God, pretending to know it all—

windbags full of hot air, impressing only themselves.

Yet the people keep coming back to listen

to more of their nonsense.

They tell their cohorts, “God will never know.

See, he has no clue of what we’re doing.”

These are the wicked ones I’m talking about!

They never have to lift a finger,

living a life of ease while their riches multiply.

Have I been foolish to play by the rules and keep my life pure?

Here I am suffering under your discipline day after day.

I feel like I’m being punished all day long.

If I had given in to my pain and spoken of what I was really feeling,

it would have sounded like unfaithfulness to the next generation.

When I tried to understand it all, I just couldn’t.

It was too puzzling—too much of a riddle to me.

But then one day I was brought into the sanctuaries of God,

and in the light of glory, my distorted perspective vanished.

Then I understood that the destiny of the wicked was near!

They’re the ones who are on the slippery path,

and God will suddenly let them slide off into destruction

to be consumed with terrors forever!

It will be an instant end to all their life of ease;

a blink of the eye and they’re swept away by sudden calamity!

They’re all nothing more than momentary monarchs—

soon to disappear like a dream when one awakes.

When the rooster crows,

Lord God, you’ll despise their life of fantasies.

When I saw all of this, what turmoil filled my heart,

piercing my opinions with your truth.

I was so stupid. I was senseless and ignorant,

acting like a brute beast before you, Lord.

Yet, in spite of all this, I still belong to you;

you hold me by my right hand.

You lead me with your secret wisdom.

And following you brings me into your brightness and glory!

Whom have I in heaven but you? You’re all I want!

No one on earth means as much to me as you.

Lord, so many times I fail; I fall into disgrace.

But when I trust in you, I have a strong and glorious presence

protecting and anointing me. Forever you’re all I need!

Those who abandon the worship of God will perish.

The false and unfaithful will be silenced, never heard from again.

But I’ll keep coming closer and closer to you, Lord Yahweh,

for your name is good to me. I’ll keep telling the world of

your awesome works, my faithful and glorious God!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 73 (The Passion Translation)

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ileneca7 · 6 years ago

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Non-Farm Friday - Is America Working? The Liar-In-Chief Says Yes!

Courtesy of Phil of Phil’s Stock World

America is barely working.

Our Government is barely functioning and the President spent yesterday afternoon lying to the “failing” NYTimes – in an interview with a paper that employs fact-checkers. Trump talked about repealing Obamacare, Building a Wall to stop the flow of drugs, funding the military, appointing Secretaries, China’s Trade Deficit and his poll numbers and NOT ONE thing the President said was actually true – NOT ONE THING!!! Not only that but the Trump Administration has backed themselves into a corner with China and, with one month to go – Trump will have to accept an even weaker deal than new Nafta simply in order to avoid looking like he was completely defeated in “The Art of the Deal.”

As noted by the “failing” NY Times, Trump’s whole take on the Trade War is complete and utter BS as the tariffs he is “imposing on China” are nothing more than a tax on the American people and, if Trump expands the tariffs, as he is threatening to do – it will be nothing more than a $125Bn tax increase on US Consumers in order to pay for the Billionaire Tax Breaks he has given out to his friends and family. One has to wonder whether Trump WANTS a deal with China – I think he wants the tax money more:

WHAT TRUMP SAID

“We have 25 percent now on $50 billion. And by the way, Peter, that’s a lot of money pouring into our Treasury, you know. We never made 5 cents with China. We’re getting right now 25 percent on $50 billion.”

False.

Tariffs imposed on imports of foreign goods do not mean another country is paying the bill. The costs are largely passed onto American companies and consumers.

Tariffs generated almost a third of all federal revenue in 1915. In the 2016 fiscal year, the Treasury Department collected $35 billion in tariff revenue.

8:30 Update: Apparently though, America doesn’t need a working Government or a truthful leader as we added 304,000 jobs in January – despite the Government shutdown. That likely means the Fed is making a HUGE mistake in easing off on rate hikes as job numbers like these can quickly lead to inflation – but at least it’s the good kind, caused by putting more money in workers’ pockets. 304,000 jobs is almost double the 180,000 expected by leading Economorons BUT, be careful as last month was revised down by 90,000 jobs – from 312,000 to 222,000 and one could imagine how a dishonest President who surrounds himself with a staff that already has 6 convictions with another half-dozen indictments in progress (that we know of) MIGHT have lied about last month and MIGHT be lying about this month too – in order to escape criticism over the shutdown.

Still, until we can prove it to Fox New’s satisfaction, we can keep pretending that America is a magical land where you can furlough 800,000 workers and the economy IMPROVES! The Soviets used to say Russia was a “Workers Paradise” so often that people actually started to believe it and that is the GOP/Fox strategy – they endlessly repeat their talking points until you begin to forget what the truth actually is – even when you are the one suffering from their lies!

Now I like living in an Orwellian Dystopia as much as the next prole BUT we are also investors and investors are supposed to want to know what the truth actually is so we can make proper investing decision. President Trump’s Attorney insists that “Truth isn’t Truth” where everyone can have their own version of the truth that’s just as valid as everyone else’s and even a jury of your peers isn’t qualified to decide what’s true – that’s something only the President is allowed to do.

Sure, if you are a Republican and you heard that kind of nonsense coming out of Russia, you’d be outraged and you’d want our country and NATO to intervene and help free the Russian People from the Authoritarian Oligarchs who took over the country, raped it’s resources and robbed it’s wealth.

However, Trump is your Republican President and he’s one of our Oligarchs with a Cabinet of other Oligarchs and the resources they are robbing and the land they are destroying is our land and we don’t like NATO anymore, or the UN but we do like Russia and the truth was never the truth anyway… Right?

From 1984 – or is it 2019?

“And if all others accepted the lie which the Party imposed—if all records told the same tale—then the lie passed into history and became truth. ‘Who controls the past’ ran the Party slogan, ‘controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.’”

“Not merely the validity of experience, but the very existence of external reality was tacitly denied by their philosophy. The heresy of heresies was common sense.”

“Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And the process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped. Nothing exists except an endless present in which the Party is always right.”

“The ideal set up by the Party was something huge, terrible, and glittering—a world of steel and concrete, of monstrous machines and terrifying weapons—a nation of warriors and fanatics, marching forward in perfect unity, all thinking the same thoughts and shouting the same slogans, perpetually working, fighting, triumphing, persecuting—three hundred million people all with the same face.”

“Always eyes watching you and the voice enveloping you. Asleep or awake, indoors or out of doors, in the bath or bed—no escape. Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimeters in your skull.”

“You had to live—did live, from habit that became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every moment scrutinized.”

“What can you do, thought Winston, against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself; who gives your arguments a fair hearing and simply persists in his lunacy?”

SOMEHOW, we have to sort through this endless BS and figure out what’s happening and, for that, we need to ignore the noise of the short-term data (especially when it can be exaggerated by 50%) and look for EVIDENCE of how things are actually going. Average Hourly Earnings, for example, slowed to 0.1% growth from last month but are still up 3.1% from last year and, as I said above, that’s actually a good thing for the economy, though not so good for Corporations – who have to pay those wages.

The Corporate CPI is up just 2.2% from last year so, as a FACT, the prices they command is losing ground to wages at a 33% pace. That’s going to impact earnings going forward and, with 35% of the S&P reporting Q4, we’re already seeing earnings growth slow down to 2.3% with REITs, Materials and Utilities all going negative and no growth from Financials (0.2%) while Energy (6.4%) and Industrials (6.1%) are the biggest stars and both of those sectors can drag on the economy if they demand too much money from the Consumers.

So the truth is that we have a mixed picture and, despite our Glorious Leader telling us how GREAT he is making America again (the delayed State of the Union will be Tuesday at 9pm with the Orwellian theme of – and I am not joking – “UNITY!“), we will have to look at the data (the data we can trust), and make our own decisions, much like the President is now making his own decisions on our Nation’s Security.

Since Trump didn’t like what his own Intelligence and Security Department Heads said about his asinine policies when giving their annual briefing to Trump’s own GOP Senate, he has CANCELLED his Daily Intelligence Briefing and will just wing it – much the way George W Bush winged it when he ignored this Briefing on August 6th, 2001, which was titled “Bin Ladin Determined to Strike in the US.” The brief warned, 36 days before the September 11 attacks, of terrorism threats from Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda, including “patterns of suspicious activity in this country consistent with preparations for a hijacking” of US aircraft.[1]

Bush didn’t even skip that briefing, he just decided his vacation was more important than National Security. Being the President is an important job (I know, shocker!) and you can’t just do it when you feel like it or only when your Department Heads are willing to parrot whatever you want them to. Sometimes news is unpleasant and sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do for the good of the people and… Oh who am I kidding? Is there anyone out there still left who thinks Donald J Trump is doing anything for the good of the people?

Putin Puppet is a strong word, but it gets 3,640,000 results in Google while Putin Pawn only gets 760,000 hits. Putin Pawn lands Trump in the hall of shame, next to George W Bush as, very possibly, the worst President in our country’s history while Putin Puppet or Russian Agent, on the other hand, may well land Trump in jail.

Google has the odds running about 5:1 in favor of Putin having a hand right up Trump’s ass and pulling the strings to make Trump do and say whatever it is that advances the Russian agenda but we’re hoping the Mueller investigation shows that Trump is merely a pawn, just a semi-senile, power-obsessed racist who is being manipulated by the Putin Puppets he surrounds himself with.

Let’s hope for the best!

Have a great weekend,

– Phil

p.s.

If you missed Phil on Money Talk, here’s the video:

Non-Farm Friday – Is America Working? The Liar-In-Chief Says Yes! was originally published on MarketShadows

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herrrrt-lessthanforwardslash3 · 7 years ago

Text

Wtf you really know about a hometown hero You probably just a melancholy homegrown zero With dreams to make it big like up and coming now I'm here yo So why you stuck at home alone workin out your beer flow Bro See, this life has many phases Like discover this, get into that, and quit before it changes you Was in the midst of several phases when I made this tune Had to write the shit down I had to see this through Hah, See shit through a.d.d my OCD I never see shit through Lost, gone and broken the fuck else should I do Except for Coke lines like damn I meant to save this Oops I used to only smoke weed when it was only me and you Until you lied before you cheated then went dumped me too wash down my newfound medicine drowning in truth I spent months getting drunk all alone in my room Until that summer when Coke became the focus Hit zoom Terror and doom when all the blow gets blewn Nothing left but looking forward to the horror that ensues In every coke crash at my ankles looming and gloomy But the comedowns fucking easy when it's fentanyl you're chewing I couldn't stop myself no control what I was doing never once did I ever think this path would be one of my choosing Prescribed Two pills a day to stay away from all this cruelty Quickly into a new phase amphetamine abusing Binge the whole script in 3 days depressed Wait for a refill got three weeks left Enter crystal meth I gave a fuck i felt dead The crystal sinning had me grinning Finally felt alive again Rolling bowls after parachuting denial and lies Crystal meth don't give a fuck no matter how you rationalize Addictions can be serious But of course I'm the exception Days awake spent delirious before the Devils Inception See once you take this path there's a price to pay You give up the life you knew for the nightmare you just made Bit by bit and with each passing day The light at the end of tunnel grows farther and farther away Soon enough you don’t remember when things began to change Time flies ever faster Feeling like its all the same Little do you realize all the while you're gaining speed Turning into a ghost of the person you used to be Waking up to reality but you can’t really face it Losing yourself slowly and no idea where your place is The thought of change now so far gone May as well be thoughts wasted Cause you got some new friends now that can fill the empty spaces Delusional hopes and narcissistic dreams your new creations Makeshift excuses of purpose and self-preservation Chased by your demons You’re all witness to your own existence disintegrating in amazement Oh shit That's a dark bliss Only Hallucinating any sign of hope I'll someday escape this Come to find out sleeping won't erase it I dream about reality But more like a nightmare I always start the day with It's one year later and things havent changed a bit i added heroin to the mix Now euphoria is no more high than a buzz a baseline fix I deathrun trails on the hour like its exercise Better yet patiently waiting in perfect lines of China white It's 6 months later and I'm dependent now Yikes Shards of glass won't help cut ties Feel like a prisoner drowning inside Drifting ever further from any broken sense of life Off top wop dropped in the pizo and roll it Like I'm tryina get my life back in every hit from the drug that stole it If life was a hand of cards You could say I bluffed before I folded Hindsights 20/20 as clear as the smoke I'm blowin Seal up the torn off plastic with a twisty tie and my regrets Talk all your shit but still I never lie I never lie unless Unless I speed ball with a 18 year old bitch while having sex the fuck is this shit The fuck became my life Got fired I'm unemployed and I don't fucking care why God damn what happened I'm almost 25? The last six years like it passed in a (samples song "day n nite") I sleep all day and tweak the next five waking up dead a week later just to realize have a breakdown and yeah probably cry Why oh why Didn't I just fucking try Shoulda coulda woulda but you were the exception right So wtf does it even matter another day another dime Drugs can't be the death of me She already killed what was left of me

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dfroza · 3 years ago

Text

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

for may 31 of 2021 with Proverbs 31 and Psalm 31, accompanied by Psalm 73 for the 73rd day of Spring and Psalm 1 for day 151 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms beginning its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 31]

[Inspired Word]

King Lemuel’s royal words of wisdom:

These are the inspired words my mother taught me.

Listen, my dear son, son of my womb.

You are the answer to my prayers, my son.

So keep yourself sexually pure

from the promiscuous, wayward woman.

Don’t waste the strength of your anointing

on those who ruin kings—

you’ll live to regret it!

For you are a king, Lemuel,

and it’s never fitting for a king to be drunk on wine

or for rulers to crave alcohol.

For when they drink they forget justice

and ignore the rights of those in need,

those who depend on them for leadership.

Strong drink is given to the terminally ill,

who are suffering at the brink of death.

Wine is for those in depression

in order to drown their sorrows.

Let them drink and forget their poverty and misery.

But you are to be a king who speaks up on behalf

of the disenfranchised

and pleads for the legal rights of the defenseless

and those who are dying.

Be a righteous king, judging on behalf of the poor

and interceding for those most in need.

[The Radiant Bride]

Who could ever find a wife like this one—

she is a woman of strength and mighty valor!

She’s full of wealth and wisdom.

The price paid for her was greater than many jewels.

Her husband has entrusted his heart to her,

for she brings him the rich spoils of victory.

All throughout her life she brings him what is good and not evil.

She searches out continually to possess

that which is pure and righteous.

She delights in the work of her hands.

She gives out revelation-truth to feed others.

She is like a trading ship bringing divine supplies

from the merchant.

Even in the night season she arises and sets food on the table

for hungry ones in her house and for others.

She sets her heart upon a field and takes it as her own.

She labors there to plant the living vines.

She wraps herself in strength, might, and power in all her works.

She tastes and experiences a better substance,

and her shining light will not be extinguished,

no matter how dark the night.

She stretches out her hands to help the needy

and she lays hold of the wheels of government.

She is known by her extravagant generosity to the poor,

for she always reaches out her hands to those in need.

She is not afraid of tribulation,

for all her household is covered in the dual garments

of righteousness and grace.

Her clothing is beautifully knit together—

a purple gown of exquisite linen.

Her husband is famous and admired by all,

sitting as the venerable judge of his people.

Even her works of righteousness

she does for the benefit of her enemies.

Bold power and glorious majesty are wrapped around her

as she laughs with joy over the latter days.

Her teachings are filled with wisdom and kindness

as loving instruction pours from her lips.

She watches over the ways of her household

and meets every need they have.

Her sons and daughters arise in one accord to extol her virtues,

and her husband arises to speak of her in glowing terms.

“There are many valiant and noble ones,

but you have ascended above them all!”

Charm can be misleading,

and beauty is vain and so quickly fades,

but this virtuous woman lives in the wonder, awe,

and fear of the Lord.

She will be praised throughout eternity.

So go ahead and give her the credit that is due,

for she has become a radiant woman,

and all her loving works of righteousness deserve to be admired

at the gateways of every city!

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 31 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 31]

How Great Is Your Goodness

For the Pure and Shining One

A song of poetic praise by King David

I trust you, Lord, to be my hiding place.

Don’t let me down.

Don’t let my enemies bring me to shame.

Come and rescue me, for you are the only God

who always does what is right.

Rescue me quickly when I cry out to you.

At the sound of my prayer may your ear be turned to me.

Be my strong shelter and hiding place on high.

Pull me into victory and breakthrough.

For you are my high fortress, where I’m kept safe.

You are to me a stronghold of salvation.

When you deliver me out of this peril,

it will bring glory to your name.

As you guide me forth I’ll be kept safe

from the hidden snares of the enemy—

the secret traps that lie before me—

for you have become my rock of strength.

Into your hands I now entrust my spirit.

O Lord, the God of faithfulness,

you have rescued and redeemed me.

I despise these deceptive illusions,

all this pretense and nonsense,

for I worship only you.

In mercy you have seen my troubles, and you have cared for me;

even during this crisis in my soul I will be radiant with joy,

filled with praise for your love and mercy.

You have kept me from being conquered by my enemy;

you broke open the way to bring me to freedom,

into a beautiful, broad place.

O Lord, help me again! Keep showing me such mercy.

For I am in anguish, always in tears,

and I’m worn out with weeping.

I’m becoming old because of grief; my health is broken.

I’m exhausted! My life is spent with sorrow,

my years with sighing and sadness.

Because of all these troubles, I have no more strength.

My inner being is so weak and frail.

My enemies say, “You are nothing!”

Even my friends and neighbors hold me in contempt!

They dread seeing me,

and they look the other way when I pass by.

I am totally forgotten, buried away like a dead man,

discarded like a broken dish thrown in the trash.

I overheard their whispered threats, the slander of my enemies.

I’m terrified as they plot and scheme to take my life.

I’m desperate, Lord! I throw myself upon you,

for you alone are my God!

My life, my every moment, my destiny—it’s all in your hands.

So I know you can deliver me

from those who persecute me relentlessly.

Smile on me, your servant.

Let your undying love and glorious grace

save me from all this gloom.

As I call upon you, let my shame and disgrace

be replaced by your favor once again.

But let shame and disgrace fall instead upon the wicked—

those going to their own doom,

drifting down in silence to the dust of death.

At last their lying lips will be muted in their graves.

For they are arrogant, filled with contempt and conceit

as they speak against the godly.

Lord, how wonderful you are!

You have stored up so many good things for us,

like a treasure chest heaped up and spilling over with blessings—

all for those who honor and worship you!

Everybody knows what you can do

for those who turn and hide themselves in you.

So hide all your beloved ones

in the sheltered, secret place before your face.

Overshadow them with your glory-presence.

Keep them from these accusations, the brutal insults of evil men.

Tuck them safely away in the tabernacle where you dwell.

The name of the Lord is blessed and lifted high!

For his marvelous miracle of mercy protected me

when I was overwhelmed by my enemies.

I spoke hastily when I said, “The Lord has deserted me.”

For in truth, you did hear my prayer and came to rescue me.

Listen to me, all you godly ones: Love the Lord with passion!

The Lord protects and preserves all those who are loyal to him.

But he pays back in full all those who reject him in their pride.

So cheer up! Take courage, all you who love him.

Wait for him to break through for you, all who trust in him!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 31 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 73]

Book 3

The Leviticus Psalms

Psalms of worship and God’s house

God’s Justice

Asaph’s psalm

No one can deny it—God is really good to Israel

and to all those with pure hearts.

But I nearly missed seeing it for myself.

Here’s my story: I narrowly missed losing it all.

I was stumbling over what I saw the wicked doing.

For when I saw the boasters with such wealth and prosperity,

I became jealous over their smug security.

Indulging in whatever they wanted, going where they wanted,

doing what they wanted, and with no care in the world,

no pain, no problems—they seemed to have it made.

They lived as though life would never end.

They didn’t even try to hide their pride and opulence.

Cruelty and violence are parts of their lifestyle.

Pampered and pompous, vice oozes from their souls;

they overflow with vanity.

They’re such snobs—looking down their noses.

They even scoff at God!

They are nothing but bullies threatening God’s people.

They are loudmouths with no fear of God, pretending to know it all—

windbags full of hot air, impressing only themselves.

Yet the people keep coming back to listen

to more of their nonsense.

They tell their cohorts, “God will never know.

See, he has no clue of what we’re doing.”

These are the wicked ones I’m talking about!

They never have to lift a finger,

living a life of ease while their riches multiply.

Have I been foolish to play by the rules and keep my life pure?

Here I am suffering under your discipline day after day.

I feel like I’m being punished all day long.

If I had given in to my pain and spoken of what I was really feeling,

it would have sounded like unfaithfulness to the next generation.

When I tried to understand it all, I just couldn’t.

It was too puzzling—too much of a riddle to me.

But then one day I was brought into the sanctuaries of God,

and in the light of glory, my distorted perspective vanished.

Then I understood that the destiny of the wicked was near!

They’re the ones who are on the slippery path,

and God will suddenly let them slide off into destruction

to be consumed with terrors forever!

It will be an instant end to all their life of ease;

a blink of the eye and they’re swept away by sudden calamity!

They’re all nothing more than momentary monarchs—

soon to disappear like a dream when one awakes.

When the rooster crows,

Lord God, you’ll despise their life of fantasies.

When I saw all of this, what turmoil filled my heart,

piercing my opinions with your truth.

I was so stupid. I was senseless and ignorant,

acting like a brute beast before you, Lord.

Yet, in spite of all this, I still belong to you;

you hold me by my right hand.

You lead me with your secret wisdom.

And following you brings me into your brightness and glory!

Whom have I in heaven but you? You’re all I want!

No one on earth means as much to me as you.

Lord, so many times I fail; I fall into disgrace.

But when I trust in you, I have a strong and glorious presence

protecting and anointing me. Forever you’re all I need!

Those who abandon the worship of God will perish.

The false and unfaithful will be silenced, never heard from again.

But I’ll keep coming closer and closer to you, Lord Yahweh,

for your name is good to me. I’ll keep telling the world of

your awesome works, my faithful and glorious God!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 73 (The Passion Translation)

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dfroza · 5 years ago

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

for Tuesday, march 3 of 2020 with Psalm 3 and Proverbs 3, accompanied by Psalm 74 for the 74th day of Winter and Psalm 63 for day 63 of the year

[Psalm 3]

A song of David composed while fleeing from his son Absalom.

Eternal One, my adversaries are many, too many to count.

Now they have taken a stand against me!

Right to my face they say,

“God will not save you!”

[pause]

But You, Eternal One, wrap around me like an impenetrable shield.

You give me glory and lift my eyes up to the heavens.

I lift my voice to You, Eternal One,

and You answer me from Your sacred heights.

[pause]

I lie down at night and fall asleep.

I awake in the morning—healthy, strong, vibrant—because the Eternal supports me.

No longer will I fear my tens of thousands of enemies

who have surrounded me!

Rise up, O Eternal One!

Rescue me, O God!

For You have dealt my enemies a strong blow to the jaw!

You have shattered their teeth! Do so again.

Liberation truly comes from the Eternal.

Let Your blessings shower down upon Your people.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 3 (The Voice)

[Psalm 74]

An Asaph Psalm

You walked off and left us, and never looked back.

God, how could you do that?

We’re your very own sheep;

how can you stomp off in anger?

Refresh your memory of us—you bought us a long time ago.

Your most precious tribe—you paid a good price for us!

Your very own Mount Zion—you actually lived here once!

Come and visit the site of disaster,

see how they’ve wrecked the sanctuary.

While your people were at worship, your enemies barged in,

brawling and scrawling graffiti.

They set fire to the porch;

axes swinging, they chopped up the woodwork,

Beat down the doors with sledgehammers,

then split them into kindling.

They burned your holy place to the ground,

violated the place of worship.

They said to themselves, “We’ll wipe them all out,”

and burned down all the places of worship.

There’s not a sign or symbol of God in sight,

nor anyone to speak in his name,

no one who knows what’s going on.

How long, God, will barbarians blaspheme,

enemies curse and get by with it?

Why don’t you do something? How long are you going

to sit there with your hands folded in your lap?

God is my King from the very start;

he works salvation in the womb of the earth.

With one blow you split the sea in two,

you made mincemeat of the dragon Tannin.

You lopped off the heads of Leviathan,

then served them up in a stew for the animals.

With your finger you opened up springs and creeks,

and dried up the wild floodwaters.

You own the day, you own the night;

you put stars and sun in place.

You laid out the four corners of earth,

shaped the seasons of summer and winter.

Mark and remember, God, all the enemy

taunts, each idiot desecration.

Don’t throw your lambs to the wolves;

after all we’ve been through, don’t forget us.

Remember your promises;

the city is in darkness, the countryside violent.

Don’t leave the victims to rot in the street;

make them a choir that sings your praises.

On your feet, O God—

stand up for yourself!

Do you hear what they’re saying about you,

all the vile obscenities?

Don’t tune out their malicious filth,

the brawling invective that never lets up.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 74 (The Message)

[Psalm 63]

A song of David while in the wilderness of Judah.

O True God, You are my God, the One whom I trust.

I seek You with every fiber of my being.

In this dry and weary land with no water in sight,

my soul is dry and longs for You.

My body aches for You, for Your presence.

I have seen You in Your sanctuary

and have been awed by Your power and glory.

Your steadfast love is better than life itself,

so my lips will give You all my praise.

I will bless You with every breath of my life;

I will lift up my hands in praise to Your name.

My soul overflows with satisfaction, as when I feast on foods rich in marrow and fat;

with excitement in my heart and joy on my lips, I offer You praise.

Often at night I lie in bed and remember You,

meditating on Your greatness till morning smiles through my window.

You have been my constant helper;

therefore, I sing for joy under the protection of Your wings.

My soul clings to You;

Your right hand reaches down and holds me up.

But as for those who try to destroy my life,

they will descend into eternal shadows, deep beneath the earth.

They will fall by the sword,

and wild dogs will feast on their corpses.

But the king will find his joy in the True God;

all who make pledges and invoke His name will celebrate,

while the mindless prattle of cheaters and deceivers will be silenced.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 63 (The Voice)

[Proverbs 3]

My child, if you truly want a long and satisfying life,

never forget the things that I’ve taught you.

Follow closely every truth that I’ve given you.

Then you will have a full, rewarding life.

Hold on to loyal love and don’t let go,

and be faithful to all that you’ve been taught.

Let your life be shaped by integrity,

with truth written upon your heart.

That’s how you will find favor and understanding

with both God and men—

you will gain the reputation of living life well.

[Wisdom’s Guidance]

Trust in the Lord completely,

and do not rely on your own opinions.

With all your heart rely on him to guide you,

and he will lead you in every decision you make.

Become intimate with him in whatever you do,

and he will lead you wherever you go.

Don’t think for a moment that you know it all,

for wisdom comes when you adore him with undivided devotion

and avoid everything that’s wrong.

Then you will find the healing refreshment

your body and spirit long for.

Glorify God with all your wealth,

honoring him with your very best,

with every increase that comes to you.

Then every dimension of your life will overflow with blessings

from an uncontainable source of inner joy!

[Wisdom’s Correction]

My child, when the Lord God speaks to you,

never take his words lightly,

and never be upset when he corrects you.

For the Father’s discipline comes only

from his passionate love and pleasure for you.

Even when it seems like his correction is harsh,

it’s still better than any father on earth gives to his child.

Those who find true wisdom obtain the tools for understanding,

the proper way to live,

for they will have a fountain of blessing pouring into their lives.

To gain the riches of wisdom is far greater

than gaining the wealth of the world.

As wisdom increases, a great treasure is imparted,

greater than many bars of refined gold.

It is a more valuable commodity than gold and gemstones,

for there is nothing you desire that could compare to her.

Wisdom extends to you long life in one hand

and wealth and promotion in the other.

Out of her mouth flows righteousness,

and her words release both law and mercy.

The ways of wisdom are sweet,

always drawing you into the place of wholeness.

Seeking for her brings the discovery of untold blessings,

for she is the healing tree of life to those who taste her fruits.

[Wisdom’s Blueprints]

The Lord laid the earth’s foundations with wisdom’s blueprints.

By his living-understanding all the universe came into being.

By his divine revelation he broke open

the hidden fountains of the deep,

bringing secret springs to the surface

as the mist of the night dripped down from heaven.

[Wisdom, Our Hiding Place]

My child, never drift off course from these two goals for your life:

to walk in wisdom and to discover discernment.

Don’t ever forget how they empower you.

For they strengthen you inside and out

and inspire you to do what’s right;

you will be energized and refreshed by the healing they bring.

They give you living hope to guide you,

and not one of life’s tests will cause you to stumble.

You will sleep like a baby, safe and sound—

your rest will be sweet and secure.

You will not be subject to terror, for it will not terrify you.

Nor will the disrespectful be able to push you aside,

because God is your confidence in times of crisis,

keeping your heart at rest in every situation.

[Wisdom in Relationships]

Why would you withhold payment on your debt

when you have the ability to pay? Just do it!

When your friend comes to ask you for a favor,

why would you say, “Perhaps tomorrow,”

when you have the money right there in your pocket?

Help him today!

Why would you hold a grudge in your heart

toward your neighbor who lives right next door?

And why would you quarrel with those

who have done nothing wrong to you?

Is that a chip on your shoulder?

Don’t act like those bullies or learn their ways.

Every violent thug is despised by the Lord,

but every tender lover finds friendship with God

and will hear his intimate secrets.

The wicked walk under God’s constant curse,

but godly lovers walk under a stream of his blessing,

for they seek to do what is right.

If you walk with the mockers you will learn to mock,

but God’s grace and favor flow to the meek.

Stubborn fools fill their lives with disgrace,

but glory and honor rest upon the wise.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 3 (The Passion Translation)

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