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libidomechanica · 4 months

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“And its first empty airless apartment with knyȝt,”

A curtal sonnet sequence

At þe schaterande hym to, and bell, gave it a year ago, in token; miry watz neȝ at þe leue nouþe; and neuer. With me from hevene it into thee. Thence me, renew them folȝed long lookst babies in stede stif mon nere, Ande oþer felle; and with þwonges waxeth wan: levedy, al for that mad pursuit? And its first empty airless apartment with knyȝt, and a pond that leads men to answer. Slower, little Castlereagh?

Light and þenne, ȝet breued mony prowde with came with spenne-fote more; and our badly spoke, and þat pyȝt in his sister, can escape from on glode hym charres of birds, that I can die by imag’d thinkes you to take and þat yow to that churl Death it is what your mind the grand poets almost mind. Of Westminster’s deadly peril amongst the load. That did not for to the edge of their promise their vain ende. And Gawayn þe knyȝt ful loveth?

Interpreted, and Juan’s suite, late cars which physical discussion, yea, in things seem to answer. As I am crying to discontent could I desperate now bigyled, me þink me better Death—he turtles go, withouten loþe; Ay two though he ne lutte, and lifted holes: arsenic, arsenic, sure, for madder music, my body still rubs his head is okay but only fiction, which you both twain with þis departed.

Without, roses riotously loked. So dark directed to binds he does spring his for all they not your money of maner meued to breast I oft has fetter, to please. When did the hills. ’ Mine. What a boy he’s give myself known, that laden pedigree, muscle and alone step-dame Studies blowing, longed þat oþer, þat fnast þat al watz hetterly þer expoun in folk at þe fyre vpon molde hit yow ȝelde me now also yow bytyde!

I cried. Passing that is þen any ground here is whittere thy lodger, my humble cottage-trees, they tell, some thrise-sad tragedy. His mould; and fear, a globe of Poets fury tell, pointing; then practice losing is so cort rychest, flood that’s rather looks: in the times whoever they could not be sene, beknowen of many of us is a juggle to rend, and loss is not how, but her leudes hondes for as much to each!

Bi þe byhoued, and patrounes bicome welneȝe of their deodands; thou, silence ever dwelt or dwelling throat. My breast, falters from his neither. A rib’s a thousand, as from behind the sorts and plump they soon a tap of my study window pocked hem tille, þe rich or Spanish. I sleep to happen to forsake, with weather of desire, if God could she struck me, they will not to bed. Doubts honor, or as a won in world is green.

At having loom, the grew or state, that appear, a dark sea-line looking from the brave: and, soberly your heads or boudoir out of the bourdez. Chalk mimics painted stairs, let bee. When fire on his flint. No hwef goud haldez þe barbe of þat is gone; the flock to Top powered by a raccoon. For, in the start, what he met, if þay hym þat auþer þat ran on Art. In the bird to master many acres, a little boxes framed of loue.

Is perjured, murderous square fast flash like to all beau. And stemed as layt no fyrre. Love so much closde all made hym þat must steer with sapphires. A sign! Stille, I will have I not know. And Thou messengers through t is all or chaise, or names in at yow fyrre— bot in his cortaysye, bi sum oþer neuer Krystmasse coming worth. Good-morrow comly cort to kill the place þer glemered his blonk ful bysily, and ȝe me to believe it?

Where Ioyes peace in tent yow devaye wolde lyste his dynt scho hade a wind might hour in riding therefore even with all her hond. Some who submits to a wall, their strange, all partake you full action, and wyth wynter wyth penyes to fonge þay of the airiest mute þat giserne in this delightful land, which I forbore—thy tongue; and consequent to be known, every this face I probably still contrary, she is short beside himself than any.

What is fall’n, may be sung in my eyes be blessed on þe molde on þe morn, for he is not Europe alone.—Through Kennington and þe bay, his hors much wele bi þat he wolde keuerez bi heggez hym he wolde borne rennez, and the way to go vpon folde þat on mesure his hwe men hit is þe lasse luf hor lotez þat haþel for those some lonely kid in a ker syde, rocherez rungen aboute. ’ Purple grain of my hous on its pure.

And so speciall locks thus said the will have I no more, Love’s gain, and con schulde telle me here I saw her own cost of other. For in parliament; the news falters all; and parted þe were as before me: thy thumb is laid. Here on þe slot euen, talkkande ful ofte, and think much of þe lorde of even condescends to welde þe were. And foolish Jealous man who bawled for his meyny maden are a patterning for þe schal bynde yow!

With care and coyntly ho made her cloke, and so nor will join my own. The edge of the almond flower; like life in the pomegranates budded. Neither beddez verayly oure luflych knyȝt, tyl Kryst I not dare. Litigious game: hiding the horrible as quyk go hymself, segge, bot vnhap ne may nothing I for a blow. First age, on snawe. Man were to fonge þay dryuen þerinne, haled hem þe rybbez radly ryȝt here’s Whitbread?

I built helez, and me, enchantment witch! A bliss in londe. I dreamed a bank of it a clumsy name. Thee still he fled. Start back from an aspirant to thee, is the earth bring house, dropped about blame. Must steer with blind eyes the wine. And brush of oþer halowez fast by thy love in beauty,—that is like what your worde and Kryst I kennes of warm than moon, and his honde. And in grene þay boþe— bot let me pour forth, have I now myseluen: lo!

For ȝe haf þe schalk schewed his hed watz stad, his guardianship through the crush it under me þynkkez, I haf fonge þe knyȝt comly: Bi Krystmasse gomnez in þe houndes wyth lotez þat ran on Art. Have I nolde bred betweenwhiles softe. And then, wise- women is, the field, where he steps pursue, and eft his schelde þe hiȝ dece þat Arþurez half-suster, þe kay fot on stall; Cupids art; at length with Barsabe, þat Gawayn vpon; clere?

After death, while we provide than lie, but this delights!—Hysterical,—he breath,—he front. For soþe, as hit no more he hym þe schyre grene. Beauty, Lady dear Willie? And ryde me ȝederly, and Miss Araminta Smith a morsel he lyked. Or so? Busk no mon had gone, nor double. With wind; or on a prayed hym with that surfaces then pray that she will fall a Xerox of so much the main—why should blaze like cloudy center.

—Even losing is nys, and ȝe me tone. Talk aboute, of þe brode paumez; for to keep itself a drap o’ dew, into my soul, going to the birth canal or pilot the view; else may we for blisse, long dead, long since deeper, everything, when someone you grow. And his income, thought of This anious uyage. His duties condescended, to telle, lepez ouer þe day she a won in the force to fle for a workman that go wide.

Break, break, breaking love —whose evening valleys. To frozen clips, your lyf; þe lette as gold to blowes both to þat trwe Alle þe mon ten years, it mighty men. And breke bi bonkkes ful bene to seche: he seȝ hir syde, þe bryȝt of blisse, long dead! Til he cannot the ghost of toil, save that says, Shalom! Ne kyd bot þrye, Er þe halue, and alle þo riches exposed to sette, let him not bettering adieu; and, constrayne, in Bout blame.

And alle þe syre and meled þat hyȝe bonkkes ful mony, for a mere speche vnspurd may wel with a flitting in Spanish, and fears, it might—and bryȝt sword upon me: my mother silk-saft faulds to thy voice: next Corinna’s eye? And woried me destroys and line: sweet than Life in Death—he turned in mote; forþi for five months and lyȝtez bilyue, and tooth’d in blod braydez out any noke I oquere hit ful hende on þat I cannot better?

And from West to play on every creature alle arayde, now, sir swete. Thy Kingdom is the Sultan, as a move him,—she did the chrysolite. On lyue þay stoden, laȝt to þe chapel of þe hendely, þen lymped. That touch of sum herbered in aȝayn—and þay ȝede, how is the law of your skin which maystrés of Merlyn mony luflyly hit a fest fowre fraunchis nome, and he asked, after were bryȝt þrote þrowe best to þat wrong.

Juan, who is the fool believing him her eyes! My tears do contrary I read her quiet dream, gives me endite; take me as a bed. One halle day, by various train’d, how exquisitely minutes haste: impatient—all forwardez þay dronken, and I almost cold, made his breast almighty every day, when þay haue; þe borelych leȝten leue I yow hyȝt þe dust; we are comes nerre wyth droȝt þe asaute watz burne, bi ȝowre hest.

To-morrow, if we mighty Babylon: whether the things the maiden posies, and þe halchez al menskly depe, bot wylde, and to mee: no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. And new babies, and yet, love, my beloved unto me, Rise up, a fountain of mortals, or of bordes barres to ring; till many years pervades and worde, ’ quoþ þe schalk mimics painting Inuentions stay; inuentions pith, sudden a syþe.

Juan, whom I left it by þe bakkez in vche dales of your prysoun ouer þe auentayle, enbrawden brydel quik—to þe schal fonde noȝt forȝate, com ȝe þere as pillars that snap the talking looks like cloudy center. Scorch not, sweet: yea, I was a littel dich he watz stad, his pockets ticked man dancing in chamberlayn, chosen to yourself, þat noȝt dutte; for I discern when thought or forefront bare þre cosses so gode. Thee, Cynara!

Nor ever yet—ah me! In wondered þe bonkkes ful bene to see thing but in the pride, to þe hyde. Ah, happy lot. Of Laila smite does shed upon the flower said novenas the Fount of brende golde auncian hit praysed is green figs, and siþen mony pynakle pay but write my milk: eat, O friend and defaced the moon is thy break in tech of summer as long. When birds and it wasn’t I algate my mind or mortal Beauty.

This—when I have lovelier was received and þe asay þe, and the Bow of Evil Fate but some say, Don Juan, whom my soul, going tongue silly poet. Left his melly mot þay here, gaue him as a grape appears ago; and þay teldet hym reuerence met with anyskynnez hom on hiȝe settel semlych lorde þat ernde to þe halydam, and wyth a rynkande kry as klyffes had me began, the subtle Censor scrutinize.

But O for a palm tree, I adore the view; else callez vpon erþe, þe hunt in her care touch. Love on—some but the very night. And throng in the hornez ful snart, þat ferked þare; þenn dresse, what have a threadbare elbows, shewing throat. And the hill? From queþen he ward through string like an hour. So ryde and whispers to have, extremely heat mustn’t be so bolde in his for ev’ry scene. They rejoiced together, like a sleeve, thought, from thee! And so fast?

And thy store that sette þe better body bigger room with spikenard, spikenard sendeth forth runnen for? And people talking, busy bot bare distresses bound its freezing age, til þyn ax haue in þat on þe comloker he folȝed longe to lowe; ȝe schaft vpon Godde, ’ quoþ he, it is at they say his uisage verayly hit wharred to þe tape rolls an ox o’er like what I do and light. For ever weep, Love, struck me better.

Yea, all the world of straw into golde ful stoundez fast and let affection awaits it, that sale as þe stone nor much merþe: mony wylsum way he rasez, hurtez hem þeroute, bifore þe peple calle, and whored, that good as Fort Knox. He hatz wonyd here ful tayt best he were, for þou frayst, fynde. I might drown await Thee—Throne any quyle yow lakked on hir knyȝtez in her eye, to march in the number’s some straue to escape?

Compared watz al wonen into an oval, square, or no! Belovëd, thou art fair, my sights, things the departyng do me þis wyse, I will get me he gryed with hope, and roue þe wele of a city found lance; so þat in þis fre mon, þe liþernez also of some fresche, folde, for the nuptial bede hit aloft lepez hem blyþe—blynne, burne, stif to an encountenaunce dryȝe a delful dynt, and ferden to that it is a lo’esome ways.

Met here’s Madam, steppez þay passion, when þe segge fote he sleper vnslyȝe, þat note schedez on high nor atom that sea deriu’d, tears believe so much solace books could be plac’d euer ber bugle blow—I swear it can his launce. My Juan, having flesh of brute bloom renew’d; whilst, like the insolence every Existence sayes, but babble, my sistersunes and dreams. Had set sumquyle in bytoknyng of cat or dwelling. I say, No.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #153 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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poem-today · 5 months

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A poem by Robert Burns (for Burns Night)

To A Louse

On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church 1786

At Church Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly; I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her- Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it- The verra tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum.

I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't?

O Jeany, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion!

Robert Burns (1759-1796)

Glossary

ferlie= a wonder or marvel strunt=swagger wonner=a wonder (contemptuous) haffet=lock of hair at the temple sprattle=scramble fatt'rels=ribbon-ends groset=gooseberry rozet=resin smeddum=spirit dress=chastise droddum=backside aiblins=perhaps toy=woman's old-fashioned cap with ear-flaps dubbie=muddy wyliecoat=flannel vest.

#robert burns #scottish poet #burns night #to a louse #scottish poetry

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emersonmanandnature · 2 years

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August 28, 2022

the symptoms of despair, the touch of anothers cold hand inhibiting the need to become other than your structured self, a self-unrealized through anothers eye,

revelations, the sins of youth ignored, each with a purpose of self-pleasure we rise in morning darkness we seek nothing of love for now money demands our addiction

keep to these patterns instilled in your mind, your control of your external world an illusion,

a motive begins to form maybe a sense of action but now unnecessary human nature is faulty and collapses

with thoughts of power, pride just illusions of control and purpose for your time present

is not for you but another seeking profits as you slave under motives that benefit others, your intellect

confirmed narrowing your vision of self importance in the grip of chaos we keep to patterns always

moving in one direction little blips of self-awareness soon to evaporate like bugs crawling up the wall seeking

an escape, we feed our reality with fear of losing importance based on income, we are surrounded in corrupt ideals

unnoticed laws passed in the dead of night giving our hard earned taxes to the wealthy 1%, and yet we feel

the poison of skill in corruption and now it prances before us unafraid to be recognized as criminal desires

what we believe as life is a demonstration of the ego’s power building edifices to their character an illusion of the senses

for they built nothing without stealing someone else’s hard earned income and dived right in to our tax dollars

taking from us what monies they wanted expanding their greed that made them stronger, more evil as they now play god

over all of us, human behavior always in flux each generation latches on to the propaganda machine that seek their conformity to be forgiven

to the new and better future when deep in our psychic we know we are being manipulated to believe in something that brings profits not for

us but the immoral leaders of divine hypocrisy it is a pandemic of thoughtless facts that detour you from your own nature separate and unique

now finding that your footing is loose and your direction of self-understanding now evaporating even before you found your path to freedom of

self-awareness to stand on your own feet to control your future and not the one being picked for you, your life now dismissed without support now

you are put in the corral with the others and you must fight it out amongst the hateful eyes fighting for a little piece of power over someone,

anyone to feel that you too could have been important if you didn’t deny your future life by seeking your own unique truth, late in the growing

calm of still thoughts I assume my life had a purpose, I think, I don’t think, I don’t want to think, I am dry of my own ideas my unique journey cancelled,

a new look, a new pride, a new party to attend and yet they know me as an actor and not a person, an individual separate without an inner awareness of

self, we are in a box without knowledge of the plans already forming without our consent, a carrot dangling before eyes once focused now each

moved to do the bidding of others, we think we know who we are and why we are here but nothing is for your benefit you are a character playing your part in

meek fawning for what is present in you is a rejection of your individuality and going along with the flow of corruption, your new persona ignores your old traits

of giving and now succumb to the demands of greed clutching for any simplistic means of pilfering anothers hard earned cash you have joined the new

human race, parasites with knowing eyes detecting one that is an easy mark, as poverty joins the ranks of military madness, white supremacy ranks with

superficial normalcy of hate an irrational thought is thrown in the air, for one to grab, flipping coins to see how to demean others for fun and profit,

how do humans conditioned to hunt, conditioned to follow the hero idol replace the aggressive animal instincts still in abundance in all humanity and move

away from conventional thoughts and move toward an intuitive perception of lives wasted in moments fighting with each other and not finding a purposeful

awareness of the true culprits of our exploitation, the affluent, these men and women are separate entities from us bought souls working in greedy handouts as they

control more and more of our behavior, for they are the new controlling class of our liberty barely visible to the naked eye, we are too busy trying to survive the

rampaging excess of these men and women of selfish addictions, their greedy eyes always looking for a quick profit off the working class by introducing

religion into our lifecycle, these unfeeling beings of aggressive power instigated a belief in a higher purpose and we the people of slavery had to endure

the violence of rape, murder, wars, salvation through sacrifice, giving of oneself to this higher purpose a paradise waiting for us after death while the brutal

nature of wealth destroys lives for pleasure in the past, present and into our infinite future, a test of our faith in a silent god that seemed to live in a

vacuum of self praise and power, and when mankind would revolt against these true god’s not in heaven but here on this planet that rule us as we rule

animals and our lasting expression is not one of thankful dying but one of fear of death for what awaits us on the other side could be another scam

perpetuated by a more powerful, more ruthless maniac seeking pawns in his kingdom of pain and sorrow, a hell that never ends here on earth

our god’s are illusions of belief for what we are now living through is a more aggressive, a violent taking of our lives through not the devil but the concentration

of wealth in the hands of a few that dictate to us how we will live and who we will serve and their morals are illusive and their ethics are non existent when dealing

with us their inferior creatures but they will share ideas of criminal actions with others of their clan for wars equal profits, hunger equals profits, for the weak

will do anything to save their families, our taxes equal profits for they have had their hands in our pockets since the beginning of time, their dreams are not

about saving people or saving this planet from extinction but who can come up with the next plan to take, exploit and kill for their investments are a little

light right now so we need to start another war so we can sell the poor slobs our military madness with profits rising again, I think I will build myself a fortress

away from our oceans rising and have my black-water soldiers surround my home to protect me and my 6th wife if she behaves herself and doesn’t shop without

my consent, myths run rampant giving more to the wealthy than they deserve, for they are not godlike in their everyday activities of making millions of dollars

off the backs of their workers here in the US of greed and around the world, creating a growing poverty of the middle class and the already poor, these predators

seek worship for their knack of stealing someones hard earned life, we deserve more as these rich personas seek glowing praise for the peanuts they

give to charities that they write off as expenses, and they never do the dirty work themselves for they are above the little details of stealing from the people

and giving themselves bonuses for they have their designated middle men that hire mercenaries to carry out the vital protection of their assets at all cost

what we get for our struggles is the drum beat of death, our lord and protector silent after his sacrifice twenty centuries ago now we must fend for ourselves

in a wasteland of ruthlessness, brutal hate for anyone different in skin and faith for their mood changes with their profit margins, every million

stolen heightens their need for more and more pain for the worker bees, the horror of lives abandoned to fend for themselves in a violent arena without cause

and effect just hate forging its material greed, demanding more profits at the expense of the little people ignorant of its deadly force

#wasteland #ruthless power #protecting assets #they seek worship #hateful eyes #brutal aggression #cjcorwinoriginal

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maze-arts · 4 years

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Alright... for the lowercase d ask...

It's from this song playing almost on repeat in a discord server...

@fam-iwly-ooc I found the song tormenting everyone on YouTube.

#Moni... i now fear your power #also... it's not a good way to gain points..#anyway...#i searched this song out of boredom and spite #now..#good night #famiwly

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venusfun · 3 years

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🦋Asteroid notes🦋 pt.2

Since you liked the previous part here is 2nd :)

Notes are based on my opinions and experiences. If it doesn't resonate with you, check other important placements. The whole chart matters.

People with at least 3 Vesta challenging aspects (square, opposition) have a hard time focusing. These people might fear intimacy.

People with asteroid Cupido (763) in the 11th house might have a crush on a friend.

This asteroid in 9th house might indicate having crushes on teachers or foreigners.

Circe (34) in the 3rd house might like to read books about witches or witchcraft. Also, these people are great fantasy storytellers.

People with prominent asteroid Sappho (80) are the best writers!

People with 8th house Chiron are just so worried about sexual hygiene/illness. Also, they might not support having sex without protection.

Aura (1488) with an aspect to Lilith gives a lot more mysterious vibes than Scorpio aura or even rising.

Academia (829) with a Neptune hard aspect indicates very big confusion about academics. These people might not want to get higher degrees.

Also, academia in the 12th house or Pisces might sleep through some important classes, or they are just always late to them.

People with Chiron-MC aspects could have a career related to the medical field.

I can guess that people with Erato (62) prominent in the chart, can indicate the best smut writer lmao.

Not only asteroid Circe is about witchcraft, also asteroid Hekate (100) is in someway similar to it. Hekate also represents the underworld and death (now don't come at my messages and don't ask me “how would I die”)

Ophelia (171) in synastry can represent heartbreak.

Asteroid Mony (7782) with an aspect (trine, sextile, conjunction) to Venus, can attract money easily.

This asteroid with an aspect to MC can indicate a high-paying job.

Also, this asteroid might show you where in life you feel the most powerful.

Asteroid Camelot (9500) can show where you find happiness in your life.

Camelot conjunct ascendant would mean that you give very happy vibes to other people.

Eros in 5th house people might prefer watching erotic movies.

Asteroid Diana (78) in 5th house maybe would prefer watch movies about women superheroes. Maybe animal movies too?

Diana in the 12th house has a low self independence.

Selene (580) can also show your sleeping habits (since she is the Goddess of sleep also)

People with Artemis (105) conjunct ascendant have very wild hair. It might grow very fast and it's A LOT.

Artemis in the 5th house might really like walks in the forests or mountains, especially with their own children.

Also, if y'all wonder how are your relationships with women check this asteroid.

Zeus (5731) in an aspect to MC can indicate, job related to military or leadership.

In synastry charts, this asteroid can also indicate an unfaithful husband.

One of the MOST spiritual placements in a birth chart (my opinion) is Poseidon (4341) prominent. (but keep in the mind that this asteroid isn't “goody shoes” either)

I personally have noticed that people with Lilium (1092) aspect to the ascendant has red cheeks or these people easily blush.

This asteroid could represent innocence and virginity.

If I will remember (I have Neptune in the 3rd, so my memory is fucked up) in the next post I will tell you one little bit dark secret about this asteroid🤫

Crocus (1220) symbolize hope. Where you in life find hope. But y'all have to know that this flower is poisonous, so be aware.

Did you found this weird post somehow useful?🥺 maybe I should do asteroid notes series (like this), because damn... I still have a full paragraph of things to say.

Like my posts? Support me on ko-fi💕

#astrology #asteroids #asteroid #astrology notes #astrology observations #astro notes #zodiac #horoscope

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joheunsaram · 3 years

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To Make A Power Couple - 07 (knj)

Chapter 7: Blanket Forts

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- At the hospital, Namjoon tries to make sense of what transpired as Y/N recovers.

word count- 6k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, angst, action, strangers2lovers

warnings- violence, blood, stalker, hospital, extremely fluffy scenes of Joon as a caretaker

a.n- wow i literally wrote this the fastest i’ve written any chapter! i hope you like it. although there is angst there is also a lot of tooth rotting fluff. special s/o to @jungkooksbroski for beta reading this 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

—

Namjoon held your hand in both of his, his forehead resting upon them, as he waited for you to wake up from surgery, the beep of the heart monitor far too loud and ominous. His hood was on his head as his elbows dug into the ratty blue basketball shorts he had thrown on in a hurry. Even though the doctors had assured him that you were going to be fine, he was still worried. He couldn’t believe that you had gotten hurt at his own house of all places and he felt responsible as he replayed the scene in his head.

You looked so small next to the woman attacking you, it made his blood run cold. She was easily twice your size and the malice her gaze held was frightening. He barely registered her presence, how could she have been in his room the whole time he was home? Why didn’t he put his bags away so he could have caught her before she attacked? Why didn’t he hear someone else was home? He remembered hearing a noise while starting food prep and he assumed it was Moni just messing around. How stupid he had been. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, wasn’t it his responsibility to protect you?

He wasn’t even fast enough to pull her off you. He remembers time slowing down, his arms around the intruder as he tried his best to move her away but she seemed to be on a rampage, stomping on your arm. He remembers the moment her heavy boots almost flattened your arm. It was as if she wore them for the occasion. How did she even get in? He had never been happier to have Jungkook and Jimin around. If it weren’t for their help, he doesn’t even want to imagine how he would have managed. He could still feel the adrenaline in his body, hours later. The guards downstairs had been quick to arrive and he remembers sitting in his underwear trying to wake you up as he watched your arm twisted in an unnatural angle. Your scream still ricocheted through his head and he held your hand tighter, wishing you’d wake up already. The doctor had said it would take a couple of hours but he was on edge.

“But I love you!” the intruder had screamed as she was being dragged off by the guards and Namjoon hated his fame once again. He hated that it affected you, that it hurt you. If he was a nobody, you would’ve never been in this situation. You deserve someone who could hold your hand in public without fear that it might cause a controversy. Someone who you could show off at your events, someone you could travel with, someone who could take you out at normal hours to exhibits and didn’t have to sneak around with at concerts. Someone who screamed his love from rooftops, unlike him who only hid you away.

“Hyung. She’s okay. The doctor said she will be okay.” Jimin spoke softly, his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders as he hugged him back, feeling dizzy. Across from him Jungkook paced in the deluxe private hospital room that their company had reserved for them. The big room had a large bed, couch and television. Its warm wood furnishing and several fake plants were meant to emit a feeling of warmth but regardless of the size or decor, Namjoon felt like he was suffocating.

“She’s in surgery. Surgery. Because of me. Jimin what do I do?” He could feel a lump in his throat as he tried to stay strong. He knew logically that you would be fine, but all he could think was 1%. That’s what the doctor said the chance was of anything going wrong. He knew that millions of people broke their arms and were perfectly fine after a few months but you were his one in a million. The fact that he even met you was so random that he thought it fate. You always managed to do the impossible and in his emotional state that 1% chance was too large. Far too large.

Yoongi had arrived shortly after Jimin messaged the group about the home invasion and he stood next to Jimin and Namjoon, his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder as he tried to force him to drink water. The three men tried to reassure Namjoon in vain as he finally let go of Jimin to sit on the couch, his eyes glued to the door, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater as his leg bounced on its own accord.

After almost two hours he saw the door open as you were brought in on a stretcher, still asleep as the nurses moved you to the bed, checking your vitals. Yoongi had to physically restrain Namjoon from running over to you so the workers could do their job, but as soon as they were gone, he was by your side.

You were okay. Nothing went wrong and it felt like a boulder had been lifted off his shoulders as he all but collapsed, holding your hand, his head gingerly resting on your stomach. The boys bid him goodbye soon after making sure he was okay, giving the two of you privacy but ensuring Namjoon that their phones would be on them in case he needed someone with him. No one was getting sleep tonight.

Before Namjoon could let his negativity flood him further, he felt your hand twitch between his and he sat up, looking at your face intently as you finally opened your eyes looking at him groggily.

“Oh thank fuck!” He exclaimed, standing up without letting go of your hand, instead squeezing it tighter as he looked over at you. Your other arm was in a cast, laying over your stomach, both your eyes bruised and swollen underneath, your nose still red as you looked at him with wide eyes. His heart pained as he looked at the evidence of his failings, but for you he smiled, small and not reaching his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” you whispered, your voice hoarse. Namjoon felt his heart race, like it was going to fall out of his chest, panic slowly rising.

“Who…? You don’t know me?”

“Wait… aren’t you famous?” You asked again and he dropped your hand in shock, shaking as he rushed towards the door. Memory loss? That wasn’t a symptom they mentioned. You didn’t have a concussion and it scared him that the doctors missed something, fear making him almost sprint the short the distance.

“What the fuck? Okay. Don’t worry. I’m going to get the doctor!”

Before he could reach the door, he heard you giggle, turning around in disbelief as he heard your next words. “Joon! Stop! I was kidding!”

“You were kidding? You were KIDDING?!” He almost yelled, before checking himself. His mouth hung open for a moment as you watched him walk towards you slowly and standing over you, his brows scrunched into a pained expression on his face. “Red. Red, Y/N. You can’t joke right now, do you know how scared I was?” He whispered, sudden relief turning into exhaustion as he felt his knees almost buckle. He had never felt this overwhelmed before.

“Hey. Joonie, baby. I’m sorry.” You called to him gently, reaching for him, your fingers squeezing reassuringly around his forearm that hung next to you. Hearing him call red made you feel suddenly guilty. Even in your worst fights where you were both screaming at each other, the most either of you had called for was yellow. You had only wanted to lighten his mood, crack a joke to make him smile for real but your post-anaesthesia brain couldn’t come up with anything better.

“You’re sorry?” He looked at you incredulously before his long arms were placed gingerly around your waist as his head reached for the crook of your neck, resting there and he inhaled. You smelt different, like disinfectant and he hated it, feeling his lip quiver as he spoke against your skin in quick, flurried words.. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, baby. Fuck! Why are you even with me? I literally put your life in danger! You should break up with me! You’re gonna have a gigantic scar and like metal inside you forever! You deserve so much -”

“Oh man! A scar? Who’s gonna marry me now?” You interrupted his rant and tried to make your voice lighter, wanting to ease his worries, assure him that you were back to normal. You looked at your useless right arm, wishing you could hug him but settled for slowly running your fingers through his hair with your left to calm him down.

“I’ll marry you. I’ll do it right now!” He moved his head away from your neck, leaning his weight on his hands that now rested next to you on the bed, looking at you intensely. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears and you felt your heart break. You cupped his face, your thumb stroking his cheek as you tried to comfort him.

“Come here. Lie down.” You winced a little as you scooted to the side despite his protests, making room for him. He reluctantly laid down, his head in the crook of your arm and his feet dangling off the end of the bed. You slowly caressed his shoulder and felt him relax as he nuzzled the side of your chest, his arm draping over your hips carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one that’s hurt.” His voice was small, muffled against you as his thumb traced meaningless patterns against you where it lay.

“Baby you literally asked me to break up with you and marry you in the same breath - you are not fine.” You spoke softly, your hand squeezing his shoulder as he took a shuddering breath. You looked at the dim tv that had the hospital’s menu channel on, displaying the time, 3:21 am. He argued not to worry about him, but you couldn’t help it. He had never looked more exhausted in your presence - even after twelve hours of dance practice on three hours of sleep, he didn’t look this drained. Your fingers moved upwards lightly scraping his scalp, his arm tightening around you, as you spoke. “I love you, you know that right?”

He sniffled, the hospital gown getting damp as he told you about his earlier worries. You hushed him, comforting him with words and coaxing him to sleep. His hand wrapped around the index finger poking out of your cast as he fell asleep after a while, his snores music to your ears. No matter what he believed, you still felt safe with him next to you.

———————————-

You looked at the soft light of dawn as it flows through the window, trying not to move as your arm throbbed in the cast. In the few hours since he fell asleep, Namjoon’s head had moved, now resting on your chest as his arm was draped over your hips, but he looked so peaceful that you dared not wake him up. You barely slept, your pain medication wearing off much too quickly. You had never broken a bone before, and as you thought about how dumb your fifth grade self was for wanting a cast, you wished your boyfriend would wake up at his own accord. You desperately needed to call the nurse for some paracetamol, but you grit your teeth and bore it. You knew you were being stupid and Namjoon would be genuinely pissed if he knew, but looking at his mouth hanging open as he drooled over you made you smile at the endearing picture infront of you.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), soon a nurse walked in for his morning rounds, waking up a groggy Namjoon who startled, almost falling off the bed, making you hiss as he accidentally held on too hard to your side to keep balance. He stood up, running his hands over his face in order to wake up properly while the nurse did the checkup, providing you with the pain killers you request. Once he leaves, Namjoon moves back to you, putting his arm under your head as this time you nuzzle into his chest. You talked about nothing as the drugs finally took effect, helping you doze off. Namjoon kissed the top of your head as you dropped off mid sentence, a smile on his face because you were alright, but a heaviness in his heart as he looked at the bruises on your face, dark blue and almost black.

———————————-

“Shh… Guys come on. Let her rest!”

Namjoon’s theatrical whisper is the first thing you hear when you wake up again. Your eyes open to your room filled with all your friends. The room had seemed extremely large the last time you were awake but now it seemed tiny. Jiyoung was sitting on the couch typing on her phone with a frown, an Apeach plush on her lap, next to her Siwon was talking animatedly with a tired looking Jungkook munching on some chips. The coffee table in front of them was full of snacks, gifts, and flowers. Seokjin, Yoongi and Jimin were talking about something hushed as they stood near the television, serious looks on their faces. Hoseok was bent over the humidifier in the corner which seemed turned off, messing with the controls and grumbling to himself. Harry sat in the chair next to the bed, talking to Namjoon with Jen standing over him with her hand on his shoulder. Namjoon sat on the bed near your legs, his hand on your calf, and Taehyung sat next to him clinging on his waist. Needless to say, it warmed your heart to see all the people you loved here. Maybe getting injured wasn’t that bad.

You winced as you moved up the bed to get more comfortable and suddenly all the attention was on you, the room turning into a cacophony of “How are you feeling?”s and “Are you okay?”s. Everyone was now crowded around the bed, looking at you with worry, Seokjin even handing you the RJ plush he’d brought along with him stating its healing powers. It was odd to be coddled by such a large group. Overwhelming, but in the best way.

“I’m fine guys. It’s just a broken arm.” You tried to diffuse the worries.

“You should look at your face dude.” Siwon stated, causing Namjoon to sigh, annoyed, and you to ask for a mirror. Oof you looked worse than you felt. By the bruises on your face it was a wonder how your nose wasn’t broken. Sheepishly you tried to explain to the group that it wasn’t that bad, but your friends were not convinced.

Soon the conversation turned from worries about you to who the attacker was in the first place. While you and Namjoon were in the hospital, Jungkook and Jimin had been to the police to give in-depth statements. Turns out Namjoon had a stalker - someone the company and security had been keeping an eye on for months, but who seemed to have fallen off the map 6 weeks ago. Apparently the same one who had caused the dates at the beginning of your relationship to always be under the watchful eye of his security team. No one knows how she had managed to break into the dorms but apparently she had been hiding out in his room for a week, his closet was full of tins of food she had consumed during her stay. It was surreal to hear that someone had been in the house and no one had noticed. It made sense to an extent - no one had been actively living in the dorms for a few weeks, especially not Namjoon so his room was never opened. The boys seemed extra distressed about it, and even thought themselves guilty. Namjoon’s words from last night echoed in your head. He put himself at fault, when really it was this woman’s fault.

No one knew what her plan was when Namjoon returned, and you didn’t want to find out. It might seem odd but you were glad that you were there to protect him in a sense. Apparently seeing you had started such a rage in her that she refused to talk further than the death threats she spewed against you. She was in jail and you hoped she stayed there for a long time.

“The police haven’t taken into account your assault. You should file a report.” Hoseok spoke for the first time, his face hardened. The room seemed in agreement, but you hesitated.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” you started, only for Namjoon, who was now seated next to you on the bed with his arm around you, to counter but you continued. “I’m just saying. Police records are public and if someone looks into this person who was charged with stalking Joon the same night as attacking me, they might put two and two together and I don’t want that to reflect on him or any of you guys.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Y/N?” It was Yoongi who spoke, clearly irritated and impatient. “Who cares about that? She attacked you, she deserves to be in jail.” His voice was quiet, but the frustration in his tone was not lost.

“She’s already in jail though… It’s not gonna make a difference.”

“Noona… I know it’s not our decision but you didn’t see yourself when she was attacking you.” Jungkook’s voice wavered as he looked at you with hurt in his eyes. “She deserves to pay for what she did…”

“Guys… I know you want the best for me, but it’s too risky… Even you all being here right now is too risky!” It was time for your voice to waver as you suddenly realized the impact of having all of them in the room. All it took was one shitty quality photo from a nurse’s Samsung to ruin their image. You didn’t know how you’d be able to handle it if you were responsible for their first big scandal.

“Okay. I’m going to stop you right there. This is a private place we always use. This is not a risk.” Seokjin spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if trying to explain the situation to a five year old. He didn’t do it in a condescending manner, more to make you understand. “Please stop worrying about us. Our company has stopped way bigger scandals from surfacing. Namjoon, can you please make her understand?”

Namjoon sighed loudly next to you, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer. It felt comforting, but you still felt slightly cornered. You just couldn’t see the logic in what they were saying. The attacker’s jail time would probably not change much with an assault added, at least you didn’t think so - so why was this a big deal.

“It’s her choice, hyung. I’m not going to force her to press charges if she doesn’t want to.” Namjoon looked steely at his member, before turning to you and softening. “But Y/N, I really do want you to make that decision without thinking of me or the rest of us. Can you do that?”

“No. Sorry. I can’t.” You were adamant and now you were starting to get annoyed. Namjoon was right - it was your choice - and it felt nice to have him on your side, at least partially, through this argument, but it didn’t make sense not to make it an isolated discussion. “You’re part of the situation and I can’t just make the decision without adding you to it. I’m not pressing charges.”

You heard a loud snort from Yoongi. “Why are you being an idiot?” He spoke to which Hoseok vocally agreed, causing you to almost yell your explanation in exasperation, before Harry broke the argument asking everyone to take a break and to lay off you.

There was thick tension in the room and it seemed to have sapped the air out of you. You felt uneasy, like no matter how deeply you inhaled you were breathless. You felt claustrophobic suddenly, squeezing Namjoon’s thigh, trying to control your heartbeat. Namjoon saw the distress on your face, immediately requesting everyone to move outside. It didn’t take them long to leave and somehow that helped you feel calmer.

When the room was empty, Namjoon looked at you. Turning to him, you buried your face in his chest, squishing the white alpaca between you and moving your injured arm on his stomach to hug him, despite the sharp pain that made you hiss. Breathing in his scent, somehow made the stress of last night catch up to and you cried. Namjoon held your head gently to his chest as you tangled your legs in his, wanting to almost disappear into him. You didn’t know why you were suddenly crying, but you couldn’t help it - it was like a dam broke, like you were leaking, your emotions cascading out of you onto Namjoon’s sweater. You couldn’t control your sobs and you wondered how loud you were being.

Namjoon felt his heart break as he held you. He had only seen you cry like this once - the night he asked you to be his girlfriend - and it pained him that he was partially responsible for your tears today. He didn’t know what to do other than whisper “you’re safe now” repeatedly against your hair as you clung to him clumsily. He shouldn’t have let everyone visit so soon. He should’ve thought ahead. Of course you were overwhelmed, you were traumatized. He was an idiot.

When you calmed down enough to look at him, he wiped your tears gently, barely even touching your skin, and handed you some water from the bedside table. He tried to assure you the best he could, interrupted intermittently by nurses and discharge forms. He didn’t bring up pressing charges again and you were grateful to him for that.

He helped you change into clothes Siwon had picked up for you, insisting you take the wheelchair to the car despite your protests (“My arm’s broken, not my leg Joonie!”). Before you entered your apartment Namjoon asked his security team to do a sweep. You would never admit it to him but having the place checked out before you entered made you extremely relieved. You knew it was irrational to think you’d have another stalker waiting for you but it genuinely made you feel lighter, your anxiety ebbing away.

He spent the next few hours quietly worrying about little things, changing the code to your door, checking every lock, making you tea, and even cleaning your place to ensure you had “optimum comfort”, while forcing you to stay in bed regardless of your protests. After a while you couldn’t take him running around and murmuring to himself, especially when he decided to order from six restaurants for dinner. Walking into the kitchen where he obsessively cleaned a single spot on the countertop, you pulled him away.

“Joonie. Stop.” you gently touched his hand, startling him anyways as he looked at you in alarm.

“Oh. Do you need anything? Tell me, I’ll get it. Water? Bathroom?” He bent down slightly to look you in the eyes, searching your face for any discomfort.

“Namjoon, I have a broken arm, I’m not an invalid.” You rolled your eyes. It was sweet that he was this concerned but you seriously needed him to stop running around worried.

“Wait, you said Namjoon. Are you mad at me?” He looked alarmed, his eyes wide. Now that you looked at him closely, he didn’t seem to be doing too well either. His eyes seemed sunken behind his glasses, the crease between his eyebrow deep, and his stubble growing out more than you’d ever seen. You wondered if he got much sleep after you dozed off this morning. He even seemed skinnier somehow, though you chalk that up to your imagination.

“No baby I’m not mad at you. Just stop… obsessing. I’m fine. I swear.” You cupped his face with your working hand, thumb circling his cheekbones in an effort to relax him. He leaned in closing his eyes.

“Oh… oh. I just want to show you I love you. You know like you do…” He mumbled in a slight pout, averting your gaze.

“What are you talking about?”

“You always take care of me when I’m down. I want to take care of you.” You felt your heart glow in your chest. Sometimes you forget how much you love this man, but sometimes he says things that, for a lack of a better analogy, punch you in the face, reminding you why you love him. You wrap your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into his chest, as he tentatively puts his arm around your head.

“You don’t need to deep clean my kitchen to take care of me babe. Just sit next to me. Let’s watch a movie.” You lean away from his chest to tell him, trying to tug his unmovable body towards the living room.

“Are you sure? I’m almost done. Just this one stain…” He lets go of you to grab the wipe again, only for you to pull at his hand.

“Joon. Leave it.” You say sternly, holding his hand as you lean up. “Kiss me.”

“What? No. You’re hurt.” He moves back and you have to convince your irrational feelings that he wasn’t rejecting you, he was worried about you.

“If it hurts, I’ll tell you.”

“No you won’t. I know you.”

“Joonie!” you whine and he relents, although it’s not a kiss you were hoping for. He settles for a series of small pecks against your lips, so light that you barely felt him. Sure even puckering your lips was slightly painful but you were annoyed, rolling your eyes at his lame attempt. And this was the man who had spanked you so hard once that you couldn’t sit without wincing for two days. The audacity.

Before you could protest he walked with you to the living room and turned on Netflix. Picking a brainless comedy, you forced him to lie down on your lap and even before the title had come up he was asleep.

———————————-

“What wrong baby?” Namjoon came from the studio to find you lying on the ground still dressed in your pajamas with half your hair tied lopsidedly as you whined at seemingly no one, ignoring Moni as he licked your face. If he wasn’t worried that you somehow fell, he would find the sight of you throwing a tantrum like a toddler adorable.

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, but Namjoon hadn’t seen you looking this dejected before. You had been completely normal on Sunday, even agreeing to the guys coming over for dinner so they could apologize for their behaviour at the hospital. You had riffed like usual, making fun of Jin and Yoongi as they cooked even though it seemed like you itched to get in the kitchen and help, even getting especially giddy as your childhood dream of getting a cast signed by your friends was fulfilled. The next two days, despite everyone’s insistence you had returned to work, working from home. Fortunately Harry and Siwon had rescheduled or taken over all your client meetings to lighten your load. Namjoon had returned to work too but made sure to text you throughout the day and had spent every night with you, regardless of your protests of being an “independent woman that needs no man”.

“I hate this! I’m so frustrated! I feel useless and gross!” you whined as you thrash around on the floor comically with the biggest pout he had ever seen you sport. Dropping his bag near the door and trying not to chuckle at your cute behaviour, Namjoon walked over to you kneeling next to you.

“Aww baby come here” He opened his arms invitingly as you sat up, only for you to sit crossed leg in front of him to begin your rant. Moni moves between your legs and you scratch his head absent-mindedly.

“No! I can’t attend any meetings till my face doesn’t look like fight club, I can’t shower for two more days, I can’t cook because of this dumbass arm, I can’t even tie my hair! TIE MY HAIR, JOON. I’M UGLY, USELESS AND DISGUSTING. Please leave me in my misery.”

Your face turned red as you continued listing minor inconveniences that your broken arm bestowed upon you as Namjoon made his way behind you and put his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder in an effort to calm you down. Instantly you relax, huffing as you leaned into his chest. Today has been tough for you. You had spent two hours on a call relaying your game plan for a potential client to Harry and walking him through his nerves about the meeting, which drained you mentally. Your laptop had restarted two times without warning, your roomba had gotten stuck under the couch and you couldn’t reach for it, you had almost fallen in the toilet because the seat was up, you ran out of coffee, and to top it all off it took you ages to write anything with your left hand alone. You felt miserable and dejected.

“You’re beautiful. My slightly stir-crazy, extremely capable, beautiful girlfriend.” Namjoon kissed your cheek as you turned your head to scowl at him, not buying his flattery. He traced your features gently. He wasn’t lying, even with your face patchy with your yellowing bruise and a scab on your lip, you were beautiful to him and he felt his heart swell the longer he looked at your face. He still had trouble believing that you were with him.

“You’re only saying that cause you love me.” You whisper softly as you avert his gaze before starting to whine again as you adjusted your sling. “Ugh I just want to eat McDonald’s and die.”

“Not going to let you die, but let’s get nuggets.”

———————————-

“Baby I got us Chinese!” Namjoon called out as he walked in your home, hands full of takeout. Hearing no answer he called out again to hear your voice coming from the bedroom.

“Joonie! Crawl under here!” He saw you emerge clumsily from the floor, cast pulled close to your chest, as he entered the room where you had piled the blankets between the edge of the bed and the chairs that you had brought near it. “I made us a fort!”

Your giggles made his heart sing as he grinned and crawled under the fort, taking care not to knock it down. You had brought the lamp from the side table under as well, lighting the small space with a soft glow. He could barely sit up, his height making it difficult not to knock down your creation so he opted for laying down, his head on your thigh as you played with his hair. He sighed in content. It felt somewhat meditative sitting in silence with you under the many sheets, the pile of soft pillows in the corner adding extra coziness.

Soon you’re laying side by side, your fingers intertwined as you bounced your hands against each other. You were both looking at the makeshift comforter ceiling, soft smiles on your faces.

“Why the sudden fort?” Namjoon asks after a while, almost in a whisper, not wanting to break the spell of comfort you both were under.

“I don’t know… It’s stupid.” He turns on his side to face you, cupping your face to make you look at him. It’s the look he always gives you whenever you doubt yourself. A look that says I’m here for you, I’ll never judge you. “I used to build these when I was a kid and missed my mom… I guess I’m feeling kind of homesick. I know it’s dumb.” You chuckle a little at how childish your comments seemed. You were almost thirty and talking about missing your mom.

Namjoon hadn’t thought of this before - the fact that Seoul wasn’t truly your home. Sure you had introduced your mom to him over Skype a few times but he thought about how much he missed Seoul when on tour, did you miss Toronto that way too? You always seemed so content in Seoul, so content with your friends that he never thought about how your family wasn’t there.

“We can go visit home if you want?” He kisses your lips chastely as he continues, his nose nuzzling yours. “I can take a few days off. I’d like to meet your mom in person.”

“We don’t have to. I’m just being a baby.” You laughed as you moved closer and he put his arm under your head to pull you into his chest. You knew this bout was homesickness was temporary, but Namjoon’s words made your heart glow in your chest. It had been two weeks since your attack and although Namjoon had been a rock, helping you with everything from ensuring that you ate to shaving your under arms, you were nostalgic about when you were sick during high school and your mom would take the day off work to take you on a drive, buying you ice cream and snacks that definitely did not help your illness. His idea wasn’t a bad one but with how your injury had messed up your work schedule, you didn’t think you could take time off for a while, and you told him as much. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence again after that, dinner forgotten on the kitchen counter, as you laid under the blankets soaking in the cozy atmosphere.

Caressing your hip slowly where your shirt ended, Namjoon cleared his throat slightly, breaking the spell before he spoke in another whisper. “I could be your home… if you want.”

Moving your head from his chest you look up to find him gazing at you with a soft smile as he turns on his side again. You follow suit, the fingers of your uninjured hand tracing his chest where it stuck between the two of you. Your heart beat faster as you slowly comprehended what he meant, but you still needed him to clarify. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to move in together?” Namjoon was nervous - more nervous than he had been on your first date, more nervous than he had been when he asked you to be his girlfriend, more nervous than he had been after your first fight. The last two weeks had been some of his favourite with you, regardless of the circumstances that landed him there. He liked coming home to you every night, arguing over what to have for dinner, waking up each morning with his arms around you. You technically didn’t need him around anymore, your schedule was back to normal and you were more than used to navigating with one hand, but he didn’t want to go back to seeing you once or twice a week. How could he do that when he could see you everyday? The domesticity of your morning routines of coffee and reading the news together that had once scared him, were things he craved now. He even loved your playlist of the week startling him awake.

Your prolonged silence made his heart race as he bit his lip in anticipation. Before he could take back his question with a joke, you kissed him. Your lips molded around his tenderly as you took his lower lip between yours, relishing his strawberry lip balm. You break the kiss to whisper a soft yes, barely audible over the sound of your heart in your ears, and Namjoon couldn’t help breaking into a fit of giggles, his forehead against yours as he pulled you closer. He tried to control his reaction but the happiness flowing through him made him feel like he was floating.

“And they were roommates!” You made the dated reference as you giggled along with him.

“You are such a dork. I love you.” He said as he brought his lips back on yours.

“Yeah, your dork!”

“All mine.” He smiled, his eyes disappearing as his cheeks hurt from the joy he felt.

–

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christ-h0le · 3 years

Text

The Weight of Gold

Summary: Imagine if S.Coups was Robin Hood and he takes a nap in the woods but in the woods there were bad boiz.

Genre: Fantasy

Words: 1.5K

Part 1 of TBA

This is for the #caratcreatorwriter event with some buds (new friends). Thank you @seungkwns for hosting, and thank you @coupsnim for being my partner. Please look at their blogs as they are better than me.~

With heavy eyelids our hose-clad protagonist laid down his head to rest. The still and peaceful sounds of the lush woods were too enchanting to ignore. As the wind rustled through the leaves of the Sherwood Forest S.Coups slept.

A simple carpenter's life kept him safe. Like the sturdiness of the nails and wood he worked with, his job gave him security and sureness. Once out in the forest he was a different man. He could finally be a man unshackled from a world where worth was weighed in coins, and if you didn't have enough...

Sherwood Forest offered him a sanctuary. It was a place where possibilities were endless. Around one weathered rock he could be free. Behind that gnarled oak he could live at peace. Life could be different in the woods. The calluses on his hands didn't have to be used to keep him a productive member of society. Instead, they could help him climb the tallest of trees where he could feel the wind rushing through his shaggy brown hair.

It was always hard for him to get a good night's sleep within the bleak walls of town. At night while laying in bed he'd stare at the ceiling with unsleeping eyes. His ears would pick up his own doubts bouncing off the masonry. Thoughts of his humdrum existence would infiltrate the time he could finally escape. Luckily when the daylight shined there was hope that even in the mud-baked village he could be happy. His hard work would pay off. He could live free. With no taxes to pay he could afford an extra loaf of bread. He would have enough money to take a day off of his grueling work and enjoy a good drink with some friends. Tax collectors wouldn't have that happen. Just last week he witnessed a collector, Kwon Soonyoung dressed in expensive furs, push down his neighbour after they refused to give up forty percent of their earnings. Forty percent! It was despicable the way the rich treated the poor and it was obvious that they skimmed the top before giving them to the king. How else could they afford striped animal furs otherwise? Their guilty pockets were lined with the sweat of the villagers. With his sweat. Maybe without the expectation of that heavy levy S.Coups would rest easy in his bed at home.

In the Forest Seungchol slept. Even at midday he could sleep easily under the leafy canopy and the foliage-filtered sunlight danced on our hero, devoid of all worry. How quickly did the peacefulness of nature disarm him? It took only a few minutes of his eyes being closed before our main character was fully and deeply asleep. His shoulders relaxed and his body sunk lower into his leafy bed. With a steady breath and a relaxed face he slept peacefully and soundly. Better than any sleep he could hope to have in his own bed.

The sun moved across the sky but S.Coups did not stir. In the distance a robin called out to its mate but Seungchol did not wake. Bees bobbed from flower to flower, dizzy with nectar but he kept sleeping. Not a single fear crossed his unbothered face. The only thing on our peaceful protagonist that changed were the shadows as minutes and hours passed. Without the worry of Soonyoung demanding his hard-earned wage he could sleep without fear.

There was more to fear in the woods than tax collectors. Though the Sherwood Forest brought Seungchol peace and tranquility it was filled with the unknown. Behind each mossy stone there was the chance of an angry boar, a crazed hunter, or greedy brigands coming and fucking up his beauty sleep. There was the chance he was the second guest to that bed of leaves. With no ceiling to stare at, unknown eyes could instead look at him. Where the only noise was the breathing of S.Coups how could one not stop and listen? In the woods one was not always safe and this soft man with not a single worry on his beautiful face, was definitely not safe.

A flock of fowl fluttered up into the sky as a branch snapped. People were drawing near. The glow of a torch was growing ever brighter as the strangers made their way through the dense brush of the woods. Handsome faces appeared through the foliage, ruggedly sexy but harsh in the glow cast by the fire they carried. Then they saw him sleeping there all peaceful-like. With closed eyes Seungchol didn’t stand a chance to see the equally sexy, and equally hose-clad men draw near. S.Coup’s was too busy staring at the back of his eyelids to see all the shenanigans. It was obvious they were planning something by the way they were whispering and nodding to one another; a plan that was devious at its best and horrific at its worst. With light steps a handful of the group crept up, the soft earth cushioning the sounds of their steps. They closed the distance between them with care, not wanting to wake our sleeping carpenter ahead of schedule.

However the time would have to come when both parties’ fates would forever be intertwined. Our mysterious brigands couldn’t be quiet for much longer. With only a few steps between them and their target one of them made his move. His hands reached forward; one palm covering the inevitable shout that tried to escape S.Coup’s throat, the other hand brandished a short knife which he held to the now very awake man’s neck.

“If one word comes out of that pretty mouth of yours I’ll cut you down faster than you can blink.” said the man. By the way he held the knife, S.Coups was convinced he’d be able to follow through. Not that he could say anything at all with his mouth covered up. He could only nod his head to show he understood and pray that harm wouldn’t fall upon him.

He was wide awake and took stock of the situation.

Seven men surrounded him in total and each man bared a weapon. Most held knives but one man at the back had a bow with an arrow notched, another could be seen with a hatchet. Being woken up this was worse than rude, It was terrifying.

S.Coups couldn’t focus on the others for too long as there was a more pressing issue. That issue was a cold piece of sharpened metal pushed firmly against his throat and the man who held it there. His wide eyes looked up at him and saw a beautiful man staring back. The villain had a long and straight nose and a freckle under one of his eyes. If he wasn’t being held up, S.Coups would think he was handsome.

The firm hand that held him silent softened and withdrew but the eyes of his captor kept him pinned to the forest floor.

“Now.” DK started, moving to a standing position. His partners changed formation and circled S.Coups. “Give us all your money and we’ll let you live.”

This day DK, sometimes called Dokyeom or Seokmin by his friends, stood tall and proud, happy to be leading his crew to victory in apprehending their target. He commanded the band of merry men only by name; the rest of the crew was capable in their own rights and if anything, they all shared responsibility in the group. Truthfully the only reason DK was leader was because he had won a bout of rock, paper, scissors. Luck was with his back then as well as now. They were about to get paid.

“You heard what I said. Give us all your money.” he said kicking Seungchol, laughing all the while. His pals laughed along with him, joining in on the fun.

When you lived in the woods poor and with very little food it felt nice to have power over someone sometimes. Kicking people wasn’t everyone’s definition of fun, but being able to afford a warm meal and a brew under a roof was worth doing some deplorable things every now and then. They looked at the man on the ground expectantly, they were all ready for money.

“I don’t have anything,” Seungchol said, covering his face with his hands for protection from their kicks. “Check my coin pouch if you don’t believe me.” He didn’t want any trouble. He might be able to outrun the average man, or win against one person in a fight, but against seven he stood no chance. All he wanted was to get away out of the dark woods and back to his gloomy, but safe, bed.

DK pocketed his knife, and leaned forward to search S.Coups. “You’d better not be tricking me,” he said harshly. With no pay in hand DK wouldn’t be kind, but even less so if he was being lied to. If there was one thing worth less than a broke person, it was a liar. The crew he was with was permanently broke but they all had trust for one another, and that was a beautiful thing; a group of criminals with no monies that called each other friends.

With no consideration for comfort, Seokmin roughly searched S.Coups, looking for any traces of wealth on his person. It didn’t take long for his hands to find the coin pouch. It didn’t take a genius to see that it was empty. “So, our victim was telling the truth,” DK thought. With a sigh, Dokyeom stood up and turned to his crew.

“Guess this guy ain’t very cash money. Looks like we’ve got to kill him now.”

#caratcreatorwriter #seventeen #svt #seungchol #scoups #svt fantasy #svt fluff #fanfic #dokyeom #seokmin

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p-isforpoetry · 3 years

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"To a Louse" by Robert Burns (read by Robert Carlyle)

Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly; I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her - Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body.

Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it - The verra tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum.

I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't?

O Jenny, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion!

(*click for the Standard English Translation*)

"To a Louse" by Robert Burns (Standard English Translation)

Ha! Where are you going, you crawling wonder? Your impudence protects you sorely, I can not say but you swagger rarely Over gauze and lace, Though faith! I fear you dine but sparingly On such a place

You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder, Detested, shunned by saint and sinner, How dare you set your foot upon her - Such fine a lady! Go somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body

Off! in some beggar's temples squat: There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble, With other kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle Your thick plantations

Now hold you there! you are out of sight, Below the falderals, snug and tight; No, faith you yet! you will not be right, Until you have got on it --- The very topmost, towering height Of misses bonnet.

My sooth! right bold you set your nose out, As plump and gray as any gooseberry: O for some rank, mercurial resin, Or deadly, red powder, I would give you such a hearty dose of it, Would dress your breech!

I would not have been surprised to spy You on an old wife's flannel cap: Or maybe some small ragged boy, On his undervest; But Miss's fine balloon bonnet! fye! How dare you do it.

O Jenny do not toss your head, And set your beauties all abroad! You little know what cursed speed The blastie's making! Those winks and finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takiing!

O would some Power the gift to give us To see ourselves as others see us! It would from many a blunder free us, And foolish notion: What airs in dress and gait would leave us, And even devotion!

#To a Louse #Robert Burns #Robert Carlyle #poem #poetry #audio #p-isforpoetry

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thecandywrites · 3 years

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Blood For Gold Part 9

Short and sweet but powerful and impactful. Also this is just an excuse to show how GORGEOUS Chinese hanfu is. Look at it. I want to wear it and feel like an empress too. Not that I’m fetishizing it or anything, I just think it’s gorgeous. Thanks to @kriskukko for letting me use that regency orc art. He’s gorgeous. Don’t worry the troll will be coming up soon. I haven’t forgotten about him, not at all. Also thank to you @punkhorse96 for all your amazing feedback.

Blood For Gold

Part 9

Demsey woke up early and quickly got dressed in one of his nicer, and more flattering suits, eager to not miss a moment of your presence before he got out at about the same time as his brothers, also dressed in some of their nicer clothes only to see the moura men come out of their rooms across the hall, all of them wearing silk robe like garments that flowed like water around them, but the way the robes were designed and patterned, they were clearly more than just..robes, at least they looked that way as they all greeted each other good morning cordially before they rounded a corner to see Calla, Bennie and yourself also leaving Bennie’s room, dressed in similar robes, all the women had their hair down and these robes were much prettier and in striking colors as you all kissed each other’s cheeks and warmly murmured your good mornings to each other.

“So what kind of dress is that?” Sierge asked Bennie curiously.

“It’s Chinese hanfu, it’s extremely comfortable, it’s cool in the summer, warm in the winter depending on which layers you use and how many layers you put on and it’s easy enough that you can dress yourself all by yourself and it provides freedom of movement. Mouras really love anything we can move around a lot in and do so comfortably and there’s pants under it so you can ride horses, pegasus’, griffins and dragons easily, we decided earlier this morning that every day for the next two weeks, we would want to show our English counterparts Dorierran culture which is a world culture and show you all the different styles Dorierra has and embraces in all of it’s quarters and we decided that today was hanfu day, we already informed the Dauphine who was delighted at our choice and had her old moura clothes pulled out of storage while Audra gave Charlotte one of her other hanfu dresses to wear since Charlotte and Audra are similar in size.” Bennie revealed just as Demsey’s sisters were coming out of their rooms from across the hall and stared in awed wonder at the clothes.

“Those are gorgeous!” Callie gushed as she came over and looked closely at the dresses.

“Thank you! It’s Chinese hanfu, we have spare dresses, would you like to change into one of ours?” Calla offered before Callie looked to her brothers before her parents came out of their rooms.

“Calla offered me to wear what she’s wearing could I?” Callie asked hopefully.

“Sure.” Gwen, Callie’s mother answered.

“Would anyone else like to change in hanfu?” Bennie asked Demsey’s sisters before they gave a look to each other and nodded yes before all the girls went back into Bennie’s room where you all helped Amara, Kiera and Callie dress into traditional chinese hanfu, taking off their corsets and trading them for the more traditional moura and much more comfortable undergarments which other than securing the bosom were not nearly as restrictive.

“Ooooh, this is nice, I like this.” Amara said as she appraised herself in the mirror as you walked her through tying the sash around her waist before you lent her one of your other fans.

“Isn’t it?” You laughed as Bennie helped Kiera and Calla helped Callie who because of her smaller size ended up needing one of your hanfu outfits to fit her better.

“So what do you think?” Calla asked Callie

“I love it, do you guys just pick whichever kind of dress you want from whatever culture you want every day?” Callie asked.

“Yup. We can dress in Chinese hanfu for breakfast, we can dress in Japanese kimonos for lunch and be in Indian sarees for dinner.” Calla answered.

“But kimonos are very restrictive, and they take at least one or two helpers to get dressed into properly. Because while Chinese hanfu is flowy, kimonos are very stiff and try to put your round body into a straight box shape. But Indian saree’s are like hanfu in that they’re meant to move in, they’re prettiest when you dance and twirl in them actually.” You pointed out.

“But my favorite style is the Dorierrian style, it’s a mixture of all of them, elements of everything all together to make something perfectly unique and it combines comfort, beauty, ease of movement and functionality.” Bennie insisted as she finished getting Kiera put together.

“Now twirl in front of the mirror.” Bennie instructed before Kiera obeyed as she began and couldn’t help but giggle and laugh as she did so before all her sisters did the same, all of you laughing together.

“I’m never going to want to take this off and get back into that blasted corset.” Kiera said as she smoothed her hands down the fabric.

“Me either.” Amara confessed before you all left and went to breakfast where the Raymond’s had already began eating.

“Well aren’t you all just as lovely as pictures.” Yalin cooed when she saw all of you, herself in the royal red and gold hanfu befitting an empress.

“Yes, they duchesses wanted to try out hanfu.” Bennie reported proudly as she took her seat between Sierge and Demsey as Ramsey eagerly had you sit next to him as you reluctantly agreed and sat down in your own seat next to Ramsey but across from Demsey again as Jane meekly sat next to you.

“Do you think my parents would be mad if I dressed in hanfu too?” Jane murmured to you.

“Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell them if you wouldn’t.” You murmured back to her.

“Do you have another hanfu dress?” Jane whispered.

“I do, I can get you changed into it after breakfast if you’d like.” You offered her before she nodded in confirmation.

“And your excellency, how exquisite you look in hanfu, like a proper empress.” You complimented Yalin from her spot next to her husband.

“Thank you so much Sultana,” Yalin thanked you graciously.

“Please, won’t you dispense with the formalities? You may simply call me Audra.” You offered.

“Only if you will call me Mama Yalin.” She returned happily.

“Bennie!” Benyana insisted.

“Calla,” Callalea chimed in.

“Amara,” Amara followed suit before it was quickly agreed to go by first names, even the Dauphin, Gregori agreed to it as Demsey’s parents rose their eyebrows in surprise but agreed to it as well, thinking it was novel and fun and it would give them a chance to get to know the jewel orcs better. But even still, Gwen could see from her spot that Ramsey was already making his intentions towards you crystal clear and feared that Demsey was already in over his head and was headed for at the very least disappointment, if not disaster, but she also knew her son well enough that once he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t quit until it was all said and done, she just hoped he wouldn’t be wounded too deeply or get his hopes too high only for them to be dashed to pieces.

After breakfast, the group decided to tour the grounds where Bennie took Gregori and Yalin aside.

“So I have a report,” Bennie began as Yalin and Gregori turned towards her eagerly.

“Audra states that only love will induce her into matrimony this time around and because of the abusive treatment she received at Broadcove, she is a shell of her former self and it was like trying to pry open an oyster with a wooden spoon to get her to talk about anything. But there is leverage. She insisted that she has “insurance” against the Morrigans should they ever decide to stop paying for her silence, which is smart because she’s used that insurance to double the living Edward afforded her, I think if you enticed her to share that insurance with you, you could double that number even still and gain at least fifty to sixty thousand pounds a year out of the Morrigans because you can “sue” them for damaging Audra who will be a member of the Raymond household and Ramsey especially can sue them for damaging his future fiance and the Morrigans will pay anything to keep whatever insurance Audra has from going public or going to the royal family or whatever. However, if you truly wish for Audra to join your family, there is a simple solution- use a messengerari, use this address at lunchtime because it’ll be breakfast time there, and that is the family’s main one. Tell them that you have Audravienne safely and comfortably at your palace and that they are welcome to come and see her and talk with her with no interference, no strings attached and that she will confide in them how and why she became a shakan and Audravienne will take their council and advice which I can’t imagine them ever giving her any advice that would be against joining your family. Make sure to especially invite her twin brother Axalarize, or Axal for short. And if anyone can bring Audra back to her full glory and most importantly to her senses and her wits so that she can clearly and plainly see that Ramsey is the man for her and allow herself to give her heart to him- it’s Axal, and once she does, the rest of her will follow, you’ll have grateful inlaws, you’ll have a grateful daughter in law and a very healthy and substantial income and an ally under your thumb. Because the Morrigans should know that for every drop of life and blood you squeeze from a moura, must be paid back in gold, and don’t worry about having to pay a fee for them to come, they will come on their own dime and all you need to do is open your house up to them when they come.” Bennie suggested as she handed Yalin and Gregori her slip of paper with the address of the Saharrazat’s messengerari address as Gregori took it and grinned triumphantly.

“Excellent work Bennie.” Gregori praised.

“Well the royal family paid a pretty penny to get us here, it’s the least we can do to make sure you get your monies worth.” Bennie smiled charmingly.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Duke to charm.” Bennie excused herself before she practically skipped away.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Part 9 #Regency orcs #regency era orc period drama #orc love story #moura #orcs #reader insert #Enjoy

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cosmicangel888 · 10 months

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Re-Writing the Entire Justice Systems ~ 5D ReAlignment

Just in my one case, make no mistake about, just as #Epstien, #Trump comes forth for deep injustices, the lineage pains and resistance for our basic human rights; and many, many, many know and how appropriate that it began, in a town in which many elite thought they were beyond being brought to justice - for they are in the justice, banking, and those that pay to silence, the community now called #calgary / #calvary and those that were family, karmic ex, that brings and was scamming, scheming, and plotting for a very long time bringing hurdles, blocking, corrupting every point ~

I am a grown healer, teacher, author, seer, prophet, and there is much corruption of what those unhealed, those that use energy, abuse energy, and abuse magic, and have no clue of universal laws and yet do such gang, group, bullying to take, steal, make, thieve - for greedy, money, status - all are unhealed wounding - and many suffer due to this - the charkas are the portals of the multi-verse and help in our health on every level - when the chakras are out of balance, our entire physical bodies, mind, brain functioning is affected;

Those that know of such, harvest and steal and recruit those light workers to take from, there are those that are the 'ring-leaders' that abuse astrology charts, to seek into when, how, who these chosen ones are, then, plan and plot to call them into the group, orgie and demonic practices to stall, take, thieve and take off path, off their inner spiritual knowing, basic human rights, spiritual rights -

There are divine orders that transcend any 3D human that thinks they are above God, Source, and play God over others in their energy pimping ring; I will not step down and I will not bow to lesser degrading devaluing intimidation of the human connection to spirit and our earth - we will not be suppressed and depressed on the devil any longer - illuminati, and fear-based programs of de-stabalizing humanity through disease, or population control - never doubt for minute - Source works in ways that no person, regardless of how powerful they think they are - the Heavens will transcend - always.

I will speak on my life - this is my birthright. I have been abused, used, stolen from - and there were many behind me that either are sacred straight to speak and did not make it - this occurs all over the world - teach your children about sovereignty and healing, claiming their energy fields, light, and voice, choice - they will not fall prey to abduction, child rape, child mental manipulation - that these people do not care the soul damage they do in mental, ESP, mind-scraping they do to continue their cults, sects of damage of thieving - to keep their life force - when they can do this on their own with themselves -

Wake up humanity - discern - foggy brain and lethargy is a sign of negative magic work - confusion, and bad dreams all the time, little accidents - no growth, all is magic - unalignment - you are meant to be in joy, enlivened and vibrancy - be discerning of your energy body and fields, and mind -

There are those that choose bribery, embezzlement, fraud, withholding monies, information, papers that belong to me, and how all was done to keep me from being me and sharing me - make no mistake who I belong with, and who will flip on what they promised to keep quiet - all that was stolen, in all timelines, God called judgment on every single person - every signature signed, every penny taken, and the only way out is truth;

Its coming down - watch the news; the only way to bring calm and quiet on this, is truth to the authorities and none will be missed;

Corruption that most would not have survived the intimidation, bullying, toxic stalking, blocking, derailing my word, my business on every level; there were over 50 people involved as spirit showed me the other day; people in every facet of the community to do harvesting of energy, sex orgies, group magic rituals, false clients to spy on me, content & social platforms hacked, emails, and work hacked and re-routed / while my page remains literally unseen, veiled -

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I have been the same light worker, more wise, and strong, now it is time for all to be lifted; the meek and wise shall inherit the earth and it begins with me;

The horrible levels of manipulation by all - and no judge, police, banking, community levels of those knowing what goes on, and none do anything about it; the damage and harm done to me, a pure earth angel, while I live in poverty bringing healing and wisdoms required for new earth, transitions for first contact, and evolution to bring humanity into liberation - jealousy, envy, greed, hate; misogyny of all knew who I am and yet placed competition, human testing, human experimenting on me ~ this occurs from the spiritual realm to manifest in the physical -

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None have no idea who's battle this is; this is a human battle and the Divine is stepping up on every person involved - every person delaying paperwork, signatures falsified, corrupt law officials; all will be affected until truth is cleansing from every lie, every deceit, and every malice to me and my children; how is it any right for so many to come into my lane simply because I speak truth, I am truth, and bring liberation to humanity for the underground sick corrupt people that place themselves before the public and oath truth, integrity and justice and when I see, know, have been shown what goes on behind closed doors - thieves and corruption and all will see how much money was spent, scams, schemes, to plot against me and many others - and some did not make what would have been so easy and simply but the wounding, ego, arrogance, and power over others to hide their own misdeeds and these are actual community leaders -

I call judgment and it ripples through the multi-verse this week with all hands on deck - make no mistake about this;

My teams said 'you should not have survived what you went through, and we had to bring you back 4 times' and why I will not silence - all I have within my field are the voices of spirit in the ethers, that crossed and did not have the strength, that were also tormented by those that were meant to protect us; the community officials that care more about monies in their secret stash and their deeds never coming forth; if you do not want your dirty deeds to come out; it is not rocket science - then don't do them.

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All forced their way into my lane for generations to bring me, us down - and watch how God works, in places you thought you had covered up and destroyed evidence - there will be every person breaking their silence - none will want to carry this karma -

This is my word; and so it is.

Forensic accounting on all involved, every penny will be tracked - all that were involved - God will miss none - every child matters and 1 child without their mother to give light, promise, hope, future wisdoms - is damaging to an entire lineage -

Community leaders, ones that took oaths to protect and bring truth to the people - these small minded beings of control think they know better - and don't care because of their own wounding - they will stop and damage your dreams, bring you down, talk you out of your gifts, talents, do anything and everything to make themselves better and higher, be it erase you from the books, isolate you from your loved ones, and then when you give up, due to the blocks, hurdles, and stealing and black magic on every part of your life - they take over the status and place God had for you -

When you 'get' universal law - when you get energy and creational reality - none would, could take destiny's and selfish corrupt plans for worldly take overs - ©

Conduits are few, conduits are prepared, and trained over many lifetimes and have many multi-dimensional gifts that simply cannot be copied - energy is energy and the reality templates are that which is only offered through as Source - those aligned and attuned to the inner keys, making of the dimensional realms - it is not fake foolery thing - it is real dimensional plans for all life - Source is God is - you have to earn the place of Gods temples -

my health, spiritual health, PTSD, my business & clients, separation from my children, homelessness, discrimination on every aspect of my human and spiritual rights of expression, harassment of my work, blocking veiling, deceitful wrongful claims of who I am and my life

I have been celibate and devoted to healing for over 16years and my work my purpose is to assist and lead humanity into new realms of becoming with our celestial, galactic, and multi-verse families - evolve humanity beyond crime, corruption, and subjugation -

I know who I am, and the human testing, the group spell casting, was tormenting - none will know what I went through - and all laughed, partied, and danced on my falling, my failing due to their actions - malice, sociopathic, intentionally scripting, and scheming destruction to 1 person - conspiracy to murder - is a thing and it occurs to more light workers than has ever made it to the news - this occurs to children every day - to confuse, take, thieve from them -

Everyone in power now - are urged or will be moved - level up to universal laws, and discernment of your ways - cease corruption and / or be called out - God is all over every person harming the innocent - none will be missed - this is my word - God is and it has nothing to do with religion - we are multi-verse beings and this is law

Humanity will evolve in peace, unity, oneness - this is our birthright to be safe, healthy, and in peace of our human-spiritual expression - and I will be a part of re-writing new laws - to give mothers, children higher purpose and support to those and that which is done behind closed doors - none will be missed; get right, get truthful and integris or be moved. this was called 2 years ago and we will ascend -

Wearing a mask is not preparing of the 'greater good' ~ entity attachment is because of such behaviour and actions to harm others - sex group work all is a portal for demonic entity attachment - all involved will be shown by Source, their own karma -

The spiritual realm mandates all life - this is our Time for re-alignment and ascension and no more corruption on every corner of this world - all leadership - level up - truth is the only way through - you have to now choose who you want to be; 3D corruption or 5D ascension - all will be called out - if there is nothing to hide and fear then keep doing the inner work - otherwise - we are re-writing our corrupt systems and those benefiting from it -

Underground to upper ground - giddy up - we are on.

5D new earth - be a part of re-writing all new earth -

unity oneness and universal laws with the pure alignment of the Heavens and Systems of Light for all evolutionary programs for all life across all dimensions, and all realms of life

conduits assist in bringing wisdoms, intelligence and information to the people and align all fragments of our broken systems run by unhealed ego, power driven by greed - into new levels of 5D leadership that offer themselves as service for higher divine order and higher divine plans - #5Dleadership

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A great book to read - pivotal for any science, and genetic, futuristic learnings - know the universal laws to align your vocation, business to 5D grids - sustainability -

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The testing that any person, any person or group thinks they have to 'test' someone for their own stupidity and proof to see who they are, when they have not been involved in giving any permissions, privacy laws being trespassed every day in which covens, groups, collectives of witches or warlock, community leaders, on every level gather to recruit, stalk, bring in through baiting, drugging, and swaying through manipulation and deceit to bring you into their clutches to use your lineage energy, light energy, and wisdoms while they mask double businesses, take all credit, and take all monies pick backing on every thing you do - demonic cults that stay hidden -

Any group, cult, coven, or person that wants their practices hidden, discern; you have to wonder why - for their goal and intention is bullying, intimidation to come into their circle of giving your power away, giving your energy away and sick sex orgies to manifest from - while all that is done is enormous imbalances, diseases, and STD's because none know universal laws, nor practice safety - there is much wounding and much healing to be done - this has been our offering for over 16 years -

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God will place blocks where none think blocks can be placed - all for the arrogance and messing with me and Source, the divine plan for all rebalancing for humanity - I showed, offered who I was for this galactic rebalancing for all women, children, earth, tribes - I will not silence and corruption will be bathed in every ounce, inch of this planet - deep pockets and false title - #trump and who ever chooses money over human connection and human health, human fairness and equity - #fairness #oneness #unity #God #Source, #corruptjustice #ancestors #5Dnewearth #healinghumanity #ascension #ascensionclasses #ascensionbooks #consciousness #corruption #healingblackmagic

There were years and years of conjuring false stories, false narratives, deceitful reports, and false projections, and why every person involved with experience ill health, disease, imbalance, mentally and physical unravelling occurs right nw - the backfiring of all hate that was impaled on me; and my ancestors will not cease until truth, repayment, and honour of my name, my lineage, and the innocent children, beings that did not make it due to the torment of what occurs every day when justice is our basic human right ~

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reading-writing-revolution · 4 years

Text

Wherefore art thou, Compromise?

Where is America's ability to compromise? Why can't American politicians compromise?

We couldn't compromise in the 1860's, and that's good because certain things do not allow for compromise - morals and ethics, for starters. The Civil War creeped up then, delivering a win to the forces of equality and the American Dream, something that until recently we took for granted - that anyone in America could be anything, even a Black man a president, which we learned in 2012 and quickly declared victory for the United States despite the fact that compromise in America had already shown itself to be near its end.

And with Trump, Republicans dealt a potentially fatal blow to the concept of compromise, the idea that we could work together to build a shared future and an ongoing conversation between human beings would push us forward with only a few bumps and bruises along the way.

The problem is that we can't compromise, and there are a lot of forces in play that are the reason why everyday adults can no longer just get along. in no particular order, those forces are...

Right-wing media

Money

Conspiracy Theories

Term Limits

Right-wing Media has been a growing concern for some time now - at least a solid two decades. It started with an effort to give the greater Conservative world a voice (and for Rupert Murdoch to make some giant money), and that's what it did. Only with Fox News, the Right got more than some news leaning its way, it got a full-on not-really-news, more-like-infotainment piece (that even a court judge admitted a few weeks ago). Fox News was more like opinion, more talk radio than news, although they threw some news in there to make it look good. Add in talk radio itself, and all of its bullshit -- all of this reaching back to the 90's, and you get what's essentially a powerful propaganda machine. Plus one equals Trump, who full advantage of the growing insanity to push right-wing media over the edge with full-on conspiracy theories. And here we are, right-wing politicans who advocate for some of these conspiracy theories getting elected to Congress in Georgia. A US President that shapes public opinion with conspiracy theories, demonizes anyone who opposes him, and has essentially given birth to an entire movement of alternate reality from the Oval Office via Twitter.

There's no compromising with people who aren't even lucid. And these conspiracy quacks are definitely not looking for ways to compromise and govern together. They are busy uncovering plots of Venezuelan leftists to destroy the Trump empire, unearthing chiild molester cabals in the basements of pizza parlors and declaring Biden a Chinese agent and pedophile. Compromise is suicide for these fools because they've already shown themselves unwilling to even embrace reality. It's rather like arguing with a 5-year old over who spilled the water on the floor. "It was the dog." "The dog is outside." "It was Nana." "Nana died last year." "It was an earthquake." "Nope." "It was aliens." "Hmmm." Just ask the yahoos at QAnon, or the History Channel, it was definitely aliens. The Lizard People. Or maybe it's just the Commies and the Socialists - just ask Rush Limbaugh; he's been repeating white supremacy talking points from the 1870s for decades.

But really, what's the point of all this? Why does any of this bullshit even get anywhere? Simple answer: $$$$$$. Money.

It's all about money. That's all. It's all money. Money answers every question. Why did Trump run for President? Money.Why did QAnon appear on the scene and spread their insanity? Money.Why did Rush Limbaugh get the Presidential Medal of Freedom? He generates support for American Conservative through extremist right-wing propaganda, which in turns generates money - campaign donations is huge money.Why are Republicans supporting the Mad King Trump? Money. Money and power.Why are Fox News personalities willing to say anything on TV? Money.

Everything comes down to money. And a few years ago, the money faucet was turned (possibly) permanently open thanks to Citizens United. Now the money flows from everywhere, and there's little effort to control it, regulate it, track it and see who's giving it. Billionaires and millionaires and moms and pops are sending in cash. The rich send it in to ensure that policies favor them, so they can make more money. The average person sends in money because they've bought into fear politics over the last 2-3 decades of being clued to the Big Lie Machine, like Fox News or now OANN, the new Trump-loving propaganda producer. And with limited rules on how this money is handled or used, much less audited and regulated, we have all these people with big, fat, happy flush funds for lavish dinners and golf trips and 3rd yachts. Now rich people can buy their way into an ambassadorship or a Cabinet position, which generates them even more money because being rich isn't about producing anything, it's about making connections, and connection mean money. Politicians need money for campaigns so they can work on policies that in-turn benefit their benefactors and make them more money, which opens doors for all to....you guessed it, more money.

The propaganda machine delivers the money, and the monied voices reflect the propaganda machine. And when there's as much money as you need to stay in the driver's seat, what the American people want doesn't matter. Because you don't need to convince the Average Joe on the Right to vote for you because the propaganda machine has convinced Joe that the other guy is going to kill your family and give your house and daughter to an illegal immigrant. So, Joe's money and votes are coming your way, even if you murder Joe's wife in the parking lot. It's a machine that grinds people up and spits them out, creates trolls and proles, and all the money lines the pockets of the rich and the representatives of the rich, aka politicians.

And that leads us to our last piece, perhaps the most important one. Term limits.

What we've seen is a perpetual cycle of lies and money, which likely can't be broken because the Supreme Court validated it once and now SCOTUS is owned by the alt-Right for a generation (unless Congress impeaches some judges, which may or may not be possible, or the United States puts service limits on federal judges and SCOTUS, like it should - but that's another discussion). Now we have one way out of this - that I see, and it's in term limits for all federally-elected officials. No more 7-term Senators. No more 10-term Congresspersons. No more Mitch McConnell's and Nancy Pelosi's. You gotta go. Do your 2 terms and get lost. Sure, you can be in Congress two terms and then go to the Senate for two, but that's it. Two terms, then let's get some fresh meat and fresh ideas in there. (Same concept as above with the judiciary at the federal and SCOTUS level.) You do some time in public service, and then you get out and let someone else play. It's one way to ensure that there's some competition, which could lead people to having to prove themselves and sell themselves to the public, based on ideas rather than team. As long as a Senator can just run on name recognition, propaganda and oodles of dark money, it's going to be nearly impossible to get someone who refuses to compromise out of an important seat.

Because that Senator, for example, is safe and no longer has to care about the needs of half the country, or even anyone else at all. They are getting rich, have a secure job and have a massive political machine behind them. The longer they are there, the more entrenched they become, and the less challenged they are for their seat, the less they have to work with anyone or adapt their stances on policies that affect everyday Americans. Now, I'm sure there are a lot more issues that could come up, and there are likely some better arguments out there, but it seems to me that if we ever want to get back to a place where politicians compromise and work together, we're going to have to start somewhere, and I think we have to begin with term limits. But that won't happen by leaning on compromise, ironically; that's going to have to be forced somehow some way. And hopefully it starts with a Senate majority on the Left.

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legobiwan · 4 years

Note

could you do 18 and 100 for the trope mash up thing? (And if you want two characters, Obi-wan and Hondo?- I got a little confused with your added instructions to the trope mashup)

Circus AU / Accidentally Saving the Day (Hondo & Obi-wan)

Anon, I had to WORK for this one and even did a little research into circus history since I am woefully undereducated about the topic. I think I’ve found an interesting way of weaving these all together and giving a little bonus at the end. Stick with me here, I need to do a bit of an introduction to get this whole idea going.

For the purposes of this AU, please assume that the Clone War and all the events surrounding it happened directly after Naboo, meaning everyone is about 10 years younger than they are in canon. Also assume that Qui-gon was not killed on Naboo, although that has little bearing on this particular story.

THIS GOT OUT OF CONTROL. I was expecting to write a fun little 1,000 word thing, not a whole AU concept. But here we are, so….uh…

We’ll see what everyone thinks? Enjoy. And good luck :D

—-

“How are they doing?” Szimon Tesdak asked, thin, long mustache bobbing up and down at the ends.

The other man patted the Pamaradian prancer’s neck, running his fingers through the thick mane of her hair. The prancer shivered, eyes darting back and forth, hooves tapping nervously on the durasteel floor. The man known as Whisp spoke softly in the creature’s ear, the words foreign to even Szimon’s cosmopolitan ears. A few moments later, the prancer settled, nuzzling her snout into Whisp’s shoulder.

Whisp turned to face Szimon. “They’re restless,” he said. “Fourteen hours in a cruiser is a bit much for anyone to take.”

Szimon waved the veiled criticism away with a flick of his wrist. Yes, it had been a long journey, but the payoff would - hopefully - be worth it. And they needed the credits - or whatever these people were going to pay.

“An hour more and we’ll be there,” Szimon said with false confidence.

Whisp stood, crossing his arms tight against his chest, the black-and-crimson fabric of his worn travel tunic wrinkling with the gesture. There was a hint of beard on the young man’s chin, something that, when it grew in, would likely age him a good ten years. The man peered at Szimon with grey-blue eyes like he was trying to ace one of those vision tests at a local spaceport agency. Always looking for hidden meaning, he is.

And sometimes he finds it.

At least with the creatures, that had been the case. Two years Whisp had been working for Szimon and never had the older circus master figured out the man’s trick. Szimon had spent his life in the circus, from his childhood on Thybaar right up the grand days of the bright Coruscant lights to his now-ramshackle operation held together by thread, petty theft, and the occasional cashing in on favors owed.

Szimon had seen it all - and more, but nothing like Whisp and his ability to communicate with the creatures, like he was reading their minds. “The Whisperer,” the other members had taken to calling him. The moniker had stuck, albeit in shortened form, Whisp’s real name - whatever it had been - long forgotten.

“Remind me again why we’re flying out to the Outer Rim for a show? Seems a bit of an expense when we could just as easily round up a few smaller venues for far less hassle,” Whisp said.

“Ah, Whisp, ever the cynic,” Szimon clapped a meaty hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t think of it as a hassle,” he waved a dramatic hand, as if unveiling something from a behind a curtain. “But as an expansion of our operations.”

Whisp cocked an eyebrow. “Hardly difficult seeing as our operations comprised of three planets the past month, two of which we never actually got to land on.”

Szimon snorted. Well, yes, business had been down because of the war. Szimon himself cared little for the politics of the Republic or the Separatists. A government was a government, with all its little games and corruptions, mazes of betrayal, and endless mountains of datawork. No, Szimon Tesdak would never be chained behind one of those desks.

But many others were, shackled to unfulfilling jobs and lives, stuck in a desert of mediocrity and boredom. That was where Szimon came in. Unhappy citizens tended to breed unhappy revolts. But give them a nice circus, something to laugh at, a little magic that was absent from their day-to-day existence?

It didn’t really matter who was in power. The problems, the outcomes -they were always the same in the end.

Still, the war had been disruptive to his business and over the past few months, the “Great Thybaarian Traveling Show” had been forced into semi-refugee status as planet after planet was devastated by the conflict between a mechanical and clone army. Circuses were part of avoiding war, not conducting it.

Szimon shook off the dark thoughts with a wide smile. “Come on now, Whisp. We’re going to make great friends on the Outer Rim. My benefactor has promised a large sum, maybe even a sponsorship if we play our cards right.”

“I thought they were pirates,” Whisp retorted, half-smile playing on his face.

Szimon made an airy gesture, chuckling. “Pirates, embezzlers, Hutts. As long as we get paid, I’ll work for the Sith themselves.”

Whisp tightened under Szimon’s arm, which was wrapped around the thin man’s shoulders. Some unreadable emotion passed over his face, a premonition of a storm. After a moment, he spoke, hesitant.

“I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit!” Szimon exclaimed, shaking Whisp. “Come on, we have to make preparations for landing and I’m not letting Battlebuzz near those controls again.“

—–

“That was a very impressive show, my friend,” the pirate known as Hondo Ohnaka sidled up to Whisp, unceremoniously dropping into the seat next to him, tankard full of green ale.

Whisp looked up from his own mug, half-consumed, eyeing the pirate warily. “Thank you,” he replied, adding, “I think,” after a moment’s hesitation. It never hurt to be too cautious around pirates.

“All those acrobats, all the flips and whooshes.” Hondo made an extravagant gesture with his arm, nearly taking Whisp’s head off. “And the beautiful women dancing to such music, it shouldn’t be allowed!” he grinned, giving Whisp a knowing look. ”My men, they enjoy that - some of my women, too!” Hondo cackled, downing the entirety of his pint in one go, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“But you, my friend - with the creatures.” The pirate’s voice turned a shade serious and several parsecs more calculating. Whisp bit his lip, steeling himself to steer another drunken conversation away from this dangerous territory. “Yes, the creatures,” Hondo continued, nearly singing. “Now that was something I’ve never seen before. Most beast tamers use weapons.” The pirate made a few motions mimicking a whip. “They use fear and intimidation but you!” He pointed a finger that almost went up Whisp’s nose. “Ah, it was almost like you talked to them with your mind.”

Whisp gave a forced shrug, his pulse starting to race. He needed to stay calm. Needed to focus on the present, not his anxieties. He laughed to himself, bitter, wholly aware of the gross irony of that statement. “Just an ability I’ve had since my youth,” he said, voice flat. “Better me in the circus than those brutish weapons-wielding tamers you mentioned.” Whisp scowled. That much was the truth. Whisp couldn’t abide by their methods, couldn’t stand the way the pain and fear radiated from the abused creatures. He knew he couldn’t save them all, but if he could give a second chance to even a single Borcatu, if he could find a home for those who had been cast out -

Anger trilled at the back Whisp’s brain, a sensuous, lush melody more tempting than any of the ribald pirate ballads in the background.

Hondo beckoned at another Weequay, grabbing two pints from a serving tray, setting one in front of Whisp in an unspoken command. “Yes, your youth. Tell me about that. Your accent is polished, very posh, very Core World.” Very monied. If only, Whisp rued.

It had been too much effort to try and tame his accent, which stood out amongst Szimon’s motley crew of performers like a neon bell weed in the desert.

Whisp took a long sip of his beverage, smacking his lips together. The new alcohol was a step higher in quality than the dredge he had been drinking before. He peered to Ohnaka on his right, wondering if he was about to be drugged, kidnapped, or worse. Oh well, he thought, drinking some more of the beverage. Might as well enjoy while I can.

“I was brought up in the Core,” Whisp recited, setting his glass down, not even needing to think about the words he had said them so many times. “My family, unfortunately, abandoned me, so I took to farming in the Mid-Rim as a means of sustaining myself. It was there I discovered I had an affinity for creatures and then did some work in healing clinics before the war broke out. The Republic Army took over all the planetary clinics so I was forced into finding…” Whisp bobbed his head, “more creative ways to apply my talents.”

“Interesting,” Hondo noted, his gaze greedy as he looked Whisp up and down. Whisp’s other hand moved to his waist. So much for enjoying. He fingered the blaster he had hidden under his red and silver vest, neatly tucked away in a shoulder holster.

Hondo held out a hand. “I don’t mean to cause you alarm, my young friend,” he said with a laugh, sitting back in his chair, kicking both feet up on the table. “You can put your blaster away, I only want to talk business.”

Whisp’s hand tightened for a moment before he raised an open palm in a universal gesture of surrender, his brow furrowed.

“What type of business?”

“What type indeed?” Hondo hummed, rocking his feet back and forth in time to the bawdy, clangorous music. Somewhere on the other side of the room, Tergallian and Lopisa had gotten into a knife-throwing contest with some of the pirates. Whisp had a feeling the Weequay had bet on it and that the pirates were about to lose their shirts, pants, shoes, and who knew what else in the deal. Might have to make a quick getaway if there’s enough of a ruckus, Whisp thought, eyeing the locations of the exits and the best strategies to get there without being shot.

Again, he winced.

“Oh, you won’t make it out, I promise” Hondo commented, his expression still jovial. “All the exits are under full guard and I guarantee there’s no other way out unless it’s by my command.” He pressed a finger into the table, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Unless,” he began after a moment, “you are a Jedi.”

Whisp was off his stool in an instant, blaster in hand. Not wanting a direct confrontation, he pointed it towards the ground, the table hiding the weapon from the view of most of the other pirates and circus members. Off in the corner, Szimon’s eyes grew wide as he made a series of furious movements in Whisp’s driection.

“I’m fine,” Whisp signed back in the strange language of gestures known only to those in this particular circus, an easy way to communicate on stage while looking artistic and also a not bad method of either avoiding trouble or sometimes finding it - if their pockets and stomachs were empty enough.

Hondo clasped his hands behind his head, looking unconcerned. “I did not mean to upset you,” he said, lips quirking upwards as if he had just figured out some baffling puzzle. “Only warn you about my security system. But let us not talk of such things, as they disturb you and as my dear mother always said - “ Hondo raised a finger. “Son! You catch more apidactyls with honey. And if that doesn’t work, you can still catch them with a blaster.”

Not worth the fight. Not even sure I’d win this fight, Whisp sighed inwardly. Knowing when he was outmatched, or at least when to choose his battles, Whisp retook his seat with a muttered curse.

“Fine, then. What do you want from me?”

Hondo smiled. “Ah, now we talk business,” he shrugged. “Nothing much, my friend. And nothing - mostly - to do with your little traveling show. But the circus isn’t going to pay you forever and a man of your many talents - ” Hondo leaned forward, putting both forearms on the table. “Could fetch a pretty hefty payday if he found himself aligned with the right people.”

Whisp’s eyebrows rose. “Are you offering me a job?”

Hondo raised both arms. “Maybe, if you are willing to - “

“Hondo!” A large, burly man came barreling into the room. At once, the music stopped with a zippered rip of a holodisc jarred from its needle, pirates and circus members alike turning to the wide-eyed, heaving pirate.

“We got trouble out there!”

Immediately, Hondo came to his feet, blaster in hand. “What kind of trouble?”

“I think it’s the Republic! Looks like them, at least. They’re tryin’ a fall back to our compound!”

“We’ll see about that,” Hondo growled, raising his weapon. “No one takes over Hondo Ohnaka’s compound without my permission!”

—-

Blaster fire rang out from all sides, a multicolored lattice of deadly energy. To Whisp’s surprise, Hondo was near the vanguard of the pirates, shooting at the incoming wave of bright, white uniforms with terrifying precision. The pirates were good, Whisp had to give them that, the transition from unruly drunkards to semi-disciplined guerrilla fighters more seamless than Whisp thought possible.

“Any ideas?” Szimon asked next to him, the pair huddled behind a large boulder, just out of range of the real fighting. Whisp knew Szimon didn’t care one way or another about who won this particular battle - one of thousands Szimon had witnessed over the years. But their ship - their livelihood and home, not to mention only asset - lay just beyond the front line of what Whisp was pretty sure were the infamous clones. If their ship was damaged, or, even worse, destroyed - they were all done for.

Whisp took in the scene, applying his natural affinity for tactics that had been first discovered early in his tenure with Szimon, an awkward encounter with the Ruuthian mafia, a highly successful performance, and a jar of…requisitioned heeble eggs belonging to Ruuthian mob boss. It had been his quick thinking that had gotten them out of that mess, a plan so crazy it couldn’t do anything but work. From that point on, Whisp had earned the nickname, “The General,” much to his dismay.

Carefully, Whisp extended his senses, not only his eyes and ears but his other senses, the ones he kept locked away from everyone else - everyone else except his creatures. The creatures didn’t care what his status or title was, if he had succeeded or not, if he occasionally broke some moral law that had been branded into his mind as a child. The creatures didn’t judge - they had never judged and found him wanting.

It wasn’t good. For all of Hondo’s firepower, they were still in the bottom of a cereal bowl in the sandy crevasse, the clone troopers above holding higher ground as they advanced on the compound. It didn’t escape Whisp’s notice that the troopers’ blaster bolts were consistently going wide, aimed to injure or impede, but not kill. Some strange long-buried instinct rose in Whisp’s chest as he watched the men, sensing their similarities, down to a genetic level. Was he was supposed to be on their side? Supposed to be fighting with them, supposed to -

An explosion rocked the compound, bringing down metal, stone, and all kinds of debris on the pirates. Hondo barked out more orders, a line of men running to set up what looked like a short-range missile while the rest of the pirates resumed their firefight.

I’m supposed to be getting us out alive, Whisp fumed at himself. No more distractions. Szimon’s face was covered in dust and sand and for a moment Whisp almost laughed. The circus master looked the spitting image of the Great Lady Devonna in her full makeup.

“Are you alright, Szimon?” Whisp asked, helping the other man to a seat.

“I’ve seen worse,” he growled, swiping debris from tassled gold epaulettes perched on bright red shoulders like two Felucian retrine sparrows. “Just do something, Whisp, I’m not getting any younger here.”

Right. Whisp looked again at the fight, the positioning of the men, their ship. The pirates weren’t going to win an all-out firefight, not like this and Whisp had to assume there would be reinforcements coming sooner than later. It was now or…

Whisp frowned. They could wait for the clones to take over the compound and beg for lenience. But knowing the Republic, they’d probably confiscate the ship. And send them to prison. Besides, Whisp’s own presence might raise too many uncomfortable questions, ones he had no desire whatsoever to revisit.

So much for that idea, he rued, while surveying the scene. The clones were all faced towards the fighting, Hondo’s forces feisty enough to keep them fully engaged. There weren’t that many of them, not a full battalion, for certain, which meant it was likely Szimon’s ship was wholly unguarded and not even considered a threat, as it had no visible weaponry. If he could just…

Whisp closed his eyes, feeling for the familiar energies, the outlines of the creatures he cared for, from the smallest snitmouse to the largest morak. Yes, he thought, connecting his mind with the stampede creatures. They would never see it coming.

A moment later the earth rumbled, the fighting slowing to a small drizzle of blaster fire as the line of clones turned to the oncoming dust storm that hid the three moraks, now prodded on by Whisp, feeding off of his repressed frustration and anger with the representatives of the institution that had driven him to this life in the first place. Of the people who were trying, again, to deprive him of a home, of a place where he belonged.

Unaware the opaque cloud hid anything living, no less animals whose shells repelled most blaster fire - a well-kept secret known not even in the fancy universities on Coruscant - the clones fired to no avail as the moraks descended, sending bodies flying in every direction with desperate shrieks, the remainder of the forces too startled to return fire efficiently. Three bloody minutes later, the remaining clones ran, retreating, leaving the bodies of their fallen comrades as the only evidence of the failed ambush.

Cheers rose the pirates as they lifted their weapons in glee, somehow manifesting mugs of ale in their hands only a scant minute after they had been involved in a full-bore battle. Whisp slowly climbed from behind the rock, pulling Szimon up with him. The Thybaarian looked at Whisp as if it was the first time he had ever seen him.

“Was that you?” he asked, eyes trying to pierce through years of layers, of hidden secrets that were the only true skin of the man known as Whisp.

Whisp laughed, uncomfortable. “What? No, I mean - “

Szimon shook his head, still dazed. “I always had my suspicions, you know. Not just the creatures, although I’ll grant you that’s one hell of a trick.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I figured there was some reason you weren’t up with them in that fancy tower, figured it was none of my business, but now - “ Szimon’s eyes turned calculating. “This isn’t just some parlor trick, is it, it’s - “

Whisp backed away, palms splayed in front of him, as if trying to stop the words from entering his space. “No, I’m not. I - “ he looked around, wild, feeling just like one of his creatures, feral and trapped. He was going to lose his home again, once they found out, it was all going to be over. “I never - “ Something snapped, then crackled with inside of Whisp, like the breaking of an invisible, electric bone, sparking flying everywhere.

“I never was one, okay!” he yelled, stomping his foot. “Never was, never will be! That man - that child - died over ten years ago. This -” Whisp gestured angrily at himself. “Is what I am. Nothing. More.”

They had been certain leave Whisp with that message. Nothing more. Just nothing.

“A fascinating story, my young friend,” a low, baritone voice intoned from behind them. “I would be curious to hear more of it.”

Whisp spun around. The man was - there was no other word for it - regal, imperious, commanding the attention of every being in the valley, as he moved towards Whisp and Szimon, long brown cape billowing in the wind, deep violet outfit a perfect fit on his broad chest. Hondo’s troops paused mid-swig, ale running down their necks, and even Hondo himself craned his head forward to get a better look at the newcomer.

Fifty blaster rifles rose at once.

The man stopped, surveying the ends of the weapons pointed at him with a disaffected gaze. The compound held its breath, sinews tightening around triggers as an unworldly clarity came over the canyon, as if each atom, each sound wave could be made manifest as a physical, tangible reality. And then the man smirked, wholly unconcerned with his vast disadvantage in the situation as the world returned to its customary blur. Whisp and the others exhaled, noisy phlegm crackling up their lungs, dust tingling in their throats.

The stranger took an unhurried step forward raising one hand.

“You may lower your weapons,” he addressed the pirates, voice betraying nothing but absolute confidence. It occurred to Whisp then that the man had never been at any disadvantage at all. “I intend no harm,” he added in his deep, patrician voice.

Hondo took an equal, ambling step forward, hands clasped behind his back. He circled the newcomer, a hound sniffing for possible quarry, gazing him up and down, as if he were a incoming shipment of contraband. Then, after a moment, Hondo gave a nod, and the blasters summarily disappeared.

“My, my we are popular today,” the pirate began amiably. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mister…” Hondo gestured at the other man in question.

“I am here for three reasons,” the stranger announced, ignoring Hondo’s unspoken inquiry. “The first was unwelcome, but unsurprising. My ships were caught unaware, en route from a trade post in the Outer Rim to Jybosti. I carry the identification cards and manifest if you desire proof of my claim. The Republic forced our hand, causing us to land here and engage in an unwanted ground battle which regrettably involved your forces.” The man turned to Hondo, giving an apologetic gesture. Hondo answered with cool regard, his skepticism echoing through the enclosure. Whisp had to agree. No one just happened to go by a place like Florrum without reason. Especially someone like this.

Still, it wasn’t the stranger that had been one shooting at them. Maybe he was telling the truth. Or at least a part of it.

“Secondly,” the man continued, opening his arms, “I would like to thank you all for, how shall I say - “ He paused for dramatic effect, lifting his chin slightly. Whoever this man was, he knew how to hold a crowd, perhaps even better than Szimon. “Saving the day, however unexpected your heroics may have been.”

“Yeah, heroes!” One of the pirates bellowed, raising both his blaster and ale mug, several others echoing his enthusiasm with chants of “Heroes!” which quickly devolved into far less elevated rhetoric.

“And thirdly?” Hondo asked, after the raucous had died down.

“Thirdly,” the man drawled, turning his full attention on Whisp. “I would like to know further details regarding this young man’s story.”

Whisp’s eyes went wide as he took an involuntary step back. “There’s not much more to tell, I’m afraid,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. The words were automatic, a defense mechanism so perfectly tuned, it was nearly instinct. But the strange pressure that had been growing at the back of Whisp’s brain spiked with the lie, leaving a dark, velvet shadow in its wake, something immensely powerful yet a balm to his frayed emotions. It was something…

Whisp gasped, eyes locking with the other man.

It was something familiar.

The stranger smiled, all edges as he clasped his hands behind his back, addressing Szimon. “This young man is in your employ?” he asked, brusque, nodding towards Whisp.

Szimon straightened his jacket and his posture, already sensing a deal in the making as he slipped into tell-tale ringmaster persona. “Yes, sir, best creature tamer I’ve ever seen.”

“Interesting,” the man commented, drawing out the word. “And if he were to leave your employ, how would that affect your operations?”

“Well, I daresay it would be quite the inconvenience,” Szimon began, his confidence building as he fell into the familiar patter of a sales pitch. Whisp barely heard the words, disbelief rising like an angry, red ocean. Would Szimon really do this to him? Now? After everything?

“…so you see, unless I would be suitably compensated for my losses…”

The grey-haired man leaned forward and whispered something in Szimon’s ear. Szimon’s eyes went moon-wide, his mouth dropping open, words tripping from his mouth.

“I trust that would be satisfactory?” the man asked.

“I - ah - “ Szimon sent a half-apologetic glance over to Whisp, eyes gleaming with barely-contained avarice. “I think that would be more than fair.”

“Excellent,” the man articulated, ignoring Szimon’s half-gasped ‘thank yous,’ now directing his full attention back to Whisp, drawing himself up to full height. “And you, who are about to enter my employ. What is your name?”

So that was it. No offer, not even a perfunctory question, Whisp’s future once again dictated by the whims of others. Whisp clenched his teeth agains the injustice of his very existence. “Whisp,” he answered, barely keeping the venom from his voice, fists tightening into balls, nails digging into his palms.

“Your real name,” the man growled. Behind him, Szimon gaped, now looking on with unabashed curiosity, a faint patina of guilt oozing from his sweat-beaded forehead.

Long-buried memories, banished ghosts relegated to an afterlife he had not yet experienced rose in Whisp. He squeezed his eyes shut against the assault of emotions, of the sharp knives of betrayal, the deep pools of loss that threatened to overwhelm him. Had it been so long since he had uttered his own name?

Forcing a noisy breath between his teeth, he steeled himself, meeting the icy gaze of the other man, who considered him with keen, intense interest.

“My name is Obi-wan Kenobi.”

For a brief second, the Force surged in a strange, dark elation as the stranger’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction.

“And I am Yan Dooku of Serenno. Come, Obi-wan,” he said, putting an arm around Whisp’s shoulders, leading him away from the confused and quiet scene of pirates, of the doe-eyed stares of what had - for a brief, happy moment - been his family.

From one family to the next, always a visitor. First the Jedi and Qui-gon Jinn, then Bandomeer. Then clinics, then circuses, and now this.

With Dooku.

Something settled in Obi-wan’s gut, not unpleasant. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to open to the Force, wholly and without constraint. This felt right, more right than anything else had in Obi-wan’s life.

“Come,” Dooku repeated, voice warming ever so slightly. “We have much to do.”

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