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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years

Note

(This is based off the lovely prompt you gave me a while ago, and I decided to incorporate it into the kid!verse. Khaleel is five years old now.)

Part 14 of Jimercury Kid series

Freddie’s hands were shaking as he held the wrapped package in his hand and he cursed himself internally, wishing his nerves would settle long enough for him to just open the door and give Jim his damn present. He had never been this apprehensive about giving someone a gift before; he usually couldn’t wait to surprise his loved ones, to see the absolute delight on their faces when they unwrapped the paper and saw what he had bought them. It was usually something expensive, something unobtainable to them, something grandiose that only someone with his paycheque could afford.

That’s what everyone wanted, right? Big, expensive presents?

Not Jim, apparently.

Jim was a simple man. That’s part of the reason why Freddie had fallen so hard for him, aside from his unmeasurable kindness and rugged good looks, of course. And being a simple man, he preferred the simpler things in life; he appreciated the lavish gifts and parties that Freddie treated him to, of course, but Freddie knew fully well that he could have been a road sweeper and Jim would still be in love with him. That’s the kind of person his husband was.

Which was precisely why Freddie was in the predicament he was in now.

He had been trying to figure out what to get Jim for his birthday for weeks, enlisting the help of Phoebe and Mary to scout out all the local department stores in search of the perfect gift. Phoebe found a nice pair of garden shears, which would come in useful, given that Jim’s current ones were old and rusting and Jim was always talking about replacing them. Practical, thought Freddie, but not exactly the most personal of gifts. Mary found a lovely ceramic cat ornament, its features hand painted by the artist; Jim would love it, Freddie knew, but he had already bought him a similar gift years before. In the end, Phoebe and Mary purchased the presents to give Jim themselves and the search continued.

It was their son who ended up inspiring Freddie, though that was hardly surprising because Khaleel was always inspiring him. Freddie had come home from a long day at the studio and found the little boy painting at the kitchen table with Phoebe, old newspapers spread out to make sure he didn’t make a mess. They had been at it for a while, judging by how many paintings there were scattered around; paintings of flowers, and dinosaurs and, of course, every one of the cats with their names scribbled underneath in felt tip.

‘These are lovely, Bijou.’ Freddie beamed, after Phoebe had excused himself to wash the paint off his hands. ‘You’re so talented. We should hang them up in your room.’

Khaleel nodded enthusiastically, adding one final dab of paint to his wonky picture of Garden Lodge before setting it beside the others. ‘Daddy said you paint too, Baba.’

‘Did he now?’

‘Yeah. He showed me a painting of Delilah you did. It was pretty.’

Freddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly. He had thought he’d thrown out the unfinished portrait of his favourite cat, but he should have known Jim had held onto it. ‘Baba doesn’t really have time to paint anymore, darling. I’m too busy with my music.’

Khaleel looked disappointed. He glanced down at his messy fingers and began to fiddle with them. ‘Your painting made Daddy smile so much, Baba. You should do it again. It’s pretty.’

Freddie was at a loss for words. He had always loved art and still found himself doing the odd sketches and doodles now and then; but painting was something he had given up long ago in favour of singing. He simply didn’t have the time or the patience to commit to it. But Khaleel’s words were now engrained in his mind.

‘I’ll think about it, Bijou.’ He said softly, before leaning down to pick the child up. ‘Come on, you’re going to need a nice, warm bubble bath to get all this paint off you.’

He smiled as Khaleel squealed with excitement. (1/2)

It had taken Freddie a while to figure out what exactly he was going to paint. He still had the old brushes and materials Phoebe and Joe had bought him years ago, when he was ill and had temporarily been inspired to try his hand at art again; but as he sat there, staring at the blank canvas in front of him, he realised he had no idea what he intended to make for his husband.

He considered finishing the painting of Delilah but couldn’t summon up the motivation to continue it. He tried doing a landscape of the garden, but after a few attempts on some scrap paper, he gave up and decided to stick to what he knew best – portraits.

It was only when he leaned back in his seat and surveyed the room a moment that his eye fell upon the large photo frame he kept beside his bed; the one of himself, Jim and Khaleel, professionally taken a year before. There was a copy of it hanging up in the lounge, over the fireplace, but Freddie always kept the original right by his bed, so it was the first thing he woke up to every morning. Safe to say, of all the hundreds of photographs that lived in Garden Lodge, this one was by far his favourite. He and his two favourite boys. His perfect family.

Without giving it a second thought, he picked up his brush and began to paint.

------

It had been two long weeks of staying up late and sneaking around to make sure Jim didn’t catch him, but on the eve of his husband’s birthday, Freddie’s portrait was finally complete, and he carefully wrapped it in brown paper in preparation for the party the next day. He was satisfied with the finished product, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel his gut twist with uncertainty as he stored the painting away in a drawer to keep it from prying eyes. He knew there wasn’t a materialistic bone in Jim’s body but… what if he didn’t like the gift? Phoebe and Mary had bought him such lovely things, what if Jim was disappointed when he got to Freddie’s?

Thoughts like that were why Freddie was now standing outside the door to the lounge, trying to gather the courage to go back in. He had excused himself under the guise of getting another bottle of wine and had quickly darted up to the bedroom to collect the package and bring it down. Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed open the door and re-joined the others, who were already sitting down to start opening Jim’s presents.

‘Mary, I love it!’ Jim smiled widely as he examined the ceramic cat, turning it over in his hands before carefully placing it on the coffee table beside the garden shears Phoebe had gifted him. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.’

Mary smiled back, ‘you’re welcome, Jim.’ And they leaned forward to give each other a kiss on the cheek.

Freddie’s heart fluttered in his chest. Mary hadn’t been very supportive of his relationship with Jim at the start, most likely out of overprotectiveness and jealousy. But once they adopted Khaleel, she finally had to accept that Freddie had found the love of his life and it was time for her to move on. She seemed a much happier person for it. It touched Freddie to see her and Jim gradually becoming good friends.

Finally, it was Freddie’s turn to present his gift. Despite his best efforts, he still couldn’t help shaking slightly as he watched Jim slowly tear off the paper. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should have gotten Jim a new suit. Or a pair of cufflinks. Or-

‘Freddie…’ Jim sounded breathless and when Freddie looked up, he could see the Irishman’s eyes were sparkling with tears. ‘Freddie, did you paint this?’

The singer nodded, his mouth dry. ‘Do… do you like it?’

His answer was Jim leaning over and pressing their mouths together in a passionate kiss. When they pulled away, the tears in Jim’s eyes had spilled down his cheeks. ‘Sweetheart, it’s beautiful. It’s amazing, it’s perfect.’

Jim wasn’t usually one for PDA, but he was so overwhelmed in that moment, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing every inch of Freddie’s face, while their guests admired the gift that had enthralled him. It was a painting of Freddie, Jim and Khaleel, almost an exact copy of the family portrait hanging up above the fireplace except they were surrounded by flowers; yellow freesias, azaleas, and Khaleel’s favourite, Eden roses, all painted in watercolour.

When Khaleel saw it, he almost fell off Phoebe’s lap in excitement. ‘Baba painted me! Baba painted me!’

After the party was over and their friends had gone home, Jim snuck up behind his husband as the singer was placing the canvas on the mantlepiece and wound his arms around his waist. ‘So, this is why you wouldn’t come to bed all those nights? You were working on this?’

Freddie nodded, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. ‘I was going to buy you something, but I know how you always feel guilty when I spoil you. I wanted to give you something personal, that I made with my own two hands. Even if it isn’t perfect…’

He felt Jim kiss his ear, his thick Irish accent murmuring softly, ‘it’s the greatest gift anyone’s ever given me, sweetheart. And the best thing about it is that it came straight from your heart. I love it and I’m going to keep it with me. Always.’ (2/2)

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OMG THIS IS PERFECT😭😭😭 This is the best interpretation of the prompt, MY HEART😭😭

Call me dumb, but whenever I'd think of Freddie doing something for Jim, it'd always be related to music. Until now, I had never considered art as one of the possible ways in which Freddie could've expressed his love for his husband. But this... this is so beautiful, oof.

I genuinely marvel at your ability to convey so many emotions in these short drabbles. You managed to portray Freddie's insecurities, his want to please his husband and do something special, his nervousness and fear so brilliantly. And Jim's reaction was so sweet🥺 This was truly such a special gift for him, and for their family, I am crying😭

Thank you so much for this, anon💙💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #freddie and jim and their baby #anon writing

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hypmicreload · 5 years

Text

chapter one (part two)

written by: Beenz, Dan

edited by: Dan, Miki

word count: 4626

previous part - next part

For Hikari Izanami, each day started off with her set routine, get up at seven-o'clock sharp, study, greet her two fathers warmly, then quickly head to her university—barely even cramming in breakfast. Breakfast was the least of her worries though, it wasn’t nearly as important as keeping awake; between insomnia from nerves, studying, and working a part-time job, she had no time for little meals like toast or eggs. No, caffeine and the small, incredibly convenient supplements she took were enough to keep her living and functioning through each and every repetitive day.

“Morning, honey!” Her blond father, who in fact acted like the mother she never had, sparkled and radiated through the room with his beaming, wide smile. One that he shared with both her and her other, much less dazzling father who did nothing more than go to work, go home, and spend time with his cheery and terribly needy husband. She admired her red-haired and seemingly depressed dad’s dedication to his family, despite his habit of complaining that things were a bother. She knew he loved her and the man dressed up in an apron across the room.

“...You’re still wearing that damn apron…” He grumbled as he sat down at their table.

“Don’t tell me I don’t look good in it, darling!” The other winked.

Hikari laughed at her parents’ exchange before greeting them warmly.

“Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dad!” She chuckled to herself at the nickname she had given them before rushing over to make herself a coffee, swiftly tipping an unmeasured amount in before adding the water and milk. Most would call her jittery, restless, and anxious due to it, but she thought it was closer to excitement. She wasn’t that bad.

“Breakfast’s ready!” Her father sung, announcing the bacon and eggs like it was a trophy.

“U-Um, er, sorry..! I can’t eat today either, nursing!” Hikari raised her cup and drank the bitter contents, taking each and every supplement as she did. Instantly feeling less exhausted than when she woke up.

“I’m sure there’s time to eat, do you not like your father’s cooking?” The tone of her father’s voice was that to be pitied, a sad, pouty tone.

“Dad! Come on, it’s not that! I’m just really busy, really, really, busy...all the time...A-Ahaha! It’s all good! Everything’s A-Ok!” She brushed away her negative thoughts that loomed and put out a thumbs up. She didn’t want to make anyone worry about her.

That also meant she kept things like her night-job a secret from her overprotective parents and everyone she knew.

It was the only thing that wasn’t plain and boring in her life, yet it was embarrassing and paid quite little.

After saying goodbye to her parents, it was studying until six in the evening. What she’d tell her parents was that university ended much later, however that wasn’t exactly the truth.

Everyday after her course ended, she entered a cafe beside an alleyway in the heart of Shinjuku and opened the back door to the staffroom, where she took off her nurse uniform in exchange for her maid uniform, and decorated herself with dainty white gloves and lacy stockings.

That wasn’t all, the manager went all out by giving them bells on their chokers, cat tails with cute bows, and on their frilly headpieces, there of course poked cat ears and more bells.

It was strange, but her frilly headpiece would give her a boost of confidence each time she adorned it. It helped her serve customers with confidence and even sneak some flirting in to get tips—she seemed to be better at being a maid than being a nurse unfortunately.

Hikari sighed as she entered the cafe, despite it being plastered with anime “neko girls” and menus with cat puns, it was somehow professional-looking with its amazingly clean tables and expensive chairs. Even though the walls were striped white and pink, you could somehow take it seriously. She glanced over to the “Most Favourited Catgirl” to see her beaming face in a frame. Wow, if only she was actually that happy.

She turned to walk to the front, as always it was her responsibility to greet the customers first.

“Good Evening, Master!” Hikari cheered.

“Come this way, where would you like to sit, nya~?” She continued with all the enthusiasm she could muster, leading the two middle-aged men to a marble white table.

“You’re so cute! Sit on my lap for me, will you?”

She laughed. “Oh no, that’d be naughty of me! What would you like to order?”

“Uh, I’ll get a vodka on the rocks and…” Hikari began to quickly tune out as one of the other maids was introducing another worker clearly younger than her to the cafe. A girl of small stature and short chestnut-coloured hair whose fuschia eyes scattered across every inch of the room as if she had never seen a cafe before.

So cute... Hikari thought to herself.

“Uh...Excuse me, are you going to take our order?” The second man from before questioned from his seat, snapping her out of her daydream.

Hikari turned sharply and continued her act.

“Oh, goodness me! My bad, Master! What was it?”

“He wants a vodka on the rocks and a prawn salad, and I’d like just the Bloody Mary.” He explained.

“Of course, I won’t make you wait too long.” Hikari gave them a wink and a twirl of her short dress and headed towards the bar, only to be stopped by Mei, a red-haired maid who was now showing the same newbie from before around still.

“Hikari, could you do me a favour? I need you to explain what we do here and maybe teach her a few tricks about how we do things. I know you’re like the best. Thanks to those genes, right?” She laughed, Hikari scoffed but held back her annoyance at her statement and instead, smiled.

“Of course, anything for my fellow maids! What’s your name, pretty lady?” She tilted her head, turning her attention to the short girl who had a strange expression on her face. Maybe something of interest as they locked eyes? Hikari wasn’t sure but something told her that just maybe, this girl wasn’t exactly here to be taught—but maybe she was being paranoid.

“Oh, uh!” The new girl seemed spaced out and as if she had only just woken up. “Yumeno Nao. Nice to meet you, miss.”

“Yumeno Nao..? That’s a cute name! Follow me, I’m actually taking an order to the bar and kitchen this moment.” Hikari began walking, expecting the new maid to follow. “So, what brought you here to become a maid? You look far too young to be out here so late!”

“It's just my baby face.” She lied quickly, plastering a soft smile on.

“Really? Wow, I’m so jealous.” Hikari laughed, pinching at her eye bags momentarily.

“You’re suuupeer adorable. Anyway, here’s the bar if no one’s shown you already.” She gestured towards the counter. “Here at NekoNeko Cafe, you always, always have to act in character, act as cute as possible and never break it, kay?”

There was a momentary silence before Nao spoke up “Just like you do everyday, right, Izanami?”

“U-Um, did I introduce myself already? Funny, I don’t remember that!”

“No, you didn't.” Nao looked down, trying their best to remember the intimidation tactics their brother had taught them “You're not as focused as your fathers I see…”

“...My fathers?”

“Izanami Hifumi and… formerly Kannonzaka Doppo, correct?”

Hikari froze wondering what was this girl was up to. Maybe a family relative? She laughed carefreely despite her worries and paranoia that maybe this girl was out to get her.

“...Have we met before? You seem to know a lot about my family!”

“How to phrase it… Our fathers are old friends.” Nao tried their best not to show their own fear, swallowing hard to conceal the stress being so harsh but them under.

“Friends? I’ve never heard of anyone by the surname Yumeno!”

“...N-Not even Gentaro?”

“Hmm, that does sound familiar, but nope!”

“...” his intimidation game crumbled, annoyed cries spilling out like a flood gate had opened. “Ah! Y-you're making this so hard! Koro-Nii is going to think I'm so lame!”

“Huh? Oh, no, don’t cry! Do you need to go home? I can take you home if you need!”

“Home? N-no, not until I have you!” They choked out, not aware of how creepy such a statement seemed.

Hikari laughed nervously, fiddling with the frills on the bottom of her apron

“Oh, I’m really sorry, are you an admirer? You’re a very cute lady but I don’t swing that way...”

“...Huh? AH! No no no no! It's nothing like that, I swear! I-I'm not here to date you or anything I just…!”

“You just..?” Hikari tilted her head and the bells jingled subtly, looking curiously at what she thought was a girl.

With a defeated sigh, Nao dropped the act, reaching into his dress and pulling out two pairs of socks used to fill in a bra. With his voice a pitch lower he said, “My stupid big brother wants you to join our team! Please, can we talk in private?”

Together in the staff room, along with a warm cup of coffee each, the two were left to talk.

Nao had managed to calm himself down and began to speak clearly again, being more himself.

“It’s, it’s called Re:Load, we are trying to form a team—a rapping team of only the best so...so we’re able to take down Chuuoku and...this false peace they’ve made.”

The idea of being able to take down Chuuoku sounded far-fetched and that was clear by the confusion written across Hikari’s face, yet it sounded like a dream. If they could successfully take them down, she couldn’t imagine how proud her parents and her uncle would be.

“...I appreciate the invitation, but I’ve never rapped in my life.”

Nao perked up a little “Um, well… I’m the same, actually! But our parents used too, they were naturals at using hypnosis mics...They participated in rap battles together and…”

“Battles?! I...I had no idea. I guess they would never tell me, they’re always so protective - and those mics, they hurt people…” She paused. “Why exactly does your...brother want to take down Chuuoku?”

“...I’m sure most of us aren’t happy about the new laws being held in place..”

“That’s true…” Hikari was still unsure, but… to not have those dirty glances casted at her by the guards that watched people’s every single movement, and to not be treated like a criminal for simply existing—everyone would be so much more happier.

“...You’ll...you’ll be fine. We can learn together, okay? We know someone who will teach us.”

Silence, followed by an extended hand and a warm grin

“In that case, it’s a deal!”

When you live in a small apartment alongside two younger brothers and two parents who, as lovely as they are, do not understand the concept of mornings, you don’t need an alarm clock to get you up.

Much like every other morning, Ikumi is woken up at 6 am underneath the weight of two boys shaking her arms, tickling her sides, or whatever she needs.

“Onee-san!” Both the younger boys chirped in perfect unison, only greeted by a loud groan of annoyance and a misguided slap that only managed to hit Mitsuki’s arm.

“Piss off…” She yawned, trying to pull the blanket over her head, such an act leading to her punishment of the loss of her blanket altogether. Through the power of determination, both mischievous twins pulled the corners of the duvet and tossed it onto the floor in a pile of discarded clothes and plushies she threw the night before.

“You’re the worst!” She whined, sitting up and scowling at the unwelcome cold weather that awaited her outside the comfort of her bedroom.

“Mum said breakfast is ready and you need to go to school because you have exams.” Hazuki piped up, Mitsuki nodding along happily.

Yet there was no happy nodding for her, she felt her heart stop…

“Exams…” She looked towards the calendar that hung on her wall, a month-by-month book decorated with anime characters from a show she wasn’t too fond of but her father got it for her thinking she would love it.

“Nuh-uh! My exams ain’t for another week! On the 28th!”

“Today is the 28th!” They both spoke up again—God, she wished they wouldn’t speak at the same time… those creepy kids.

“...No way!” She stood up with haste, collecting a shirt to throw over herself and sprinting towards the kitchen beyond any human speed where both her parents were waiting. Her mother making breakfast and her father preparing to head off for work.

“Good morning de-”

“What year is it?!”

The frantic look in her eyes sent the message clearly towards the parents that, once again, her brothers managed to convince her (convince used lightly, she’s too gullible) that she had missed a deadline.

“It’s October twelfth.” Nemu sat her down at the table, setting a plate in front of her. Today they had pancakes.

Ichiro handed her his mug to offer her some coffee—she wasn’t allowed to drink coffee as deemed unhealthy by her mother. but it didn't stop her sneaking sips when she wasn’t looking.

“...” She sat on the statement for a minute, sipping at the bitter beverage absentmindedly.

“So no exams?”

“Mitsuki! Hazuki! Be nice to your sister!” Ichiro called out, smiling at the laughs he received in response.

“No Iku, no exams.”

Now calm, she began to eat up the pancakes that were adorned with various fruits. Her mother stood behind her and began to neatly style her daughters soft, long hair as she ate, humming a sweet song as she did so.

“Your uniform is pressed and ready for you on the couch.” She added, finishing off the side ponytail with a neat red ribbon she knew her child wore every day.

“Thanks, Mum.”

Walking to school was an unwelcoming experience ever since the law came into action. On every street was some form of camera, surveillance or official watching over them. Train stations and rail lines had been obstructed with fences; all borders of the cities were blocked off and guarded. It was like a prison.

Coming to what was once Ikebukuro station, she got out a permit and met yet another government worker in a far too familiar uniform at a window, along with a long line of school students and workers who needed to get through the boarders.

“Yamada Ikumi, traveling to ○○ highschool.” She recited as if it was simply muscle memory doing the work, she held out her arm and offered the permit, then her wrist to allow the bracelet to be locked on once approved.

“Please be back before curfew.” The worked down woman recited back at her, as if saying the same five words each minute all day and every day wasn’t completely mind-numbing.

“For those who need to leave their own division between these hours, you will need a permit. Upon showing this permit, you will be given a band that marks your division, any member of the public caught outside of curfew or outside of their respective institute will be punished accordingly.” She remembers hearing that over the radio whilst in the car with her dad on their errand together. (Manga, they were buying manga).

She nodded slowly and left through a gate—again, greeted by guards. Nowhere felt safe, huh?

Nowhere other than the underground at least. An area hidden from the government's eye, it’s used for rap battles and other illegal activities she chose to turn a blind eye towards, it wasn't her place to snitch.

After a long day at school it felt like all she could do to unwind, most days she would turn up still in her uniform, her mic tucked away secretly in the bottom of her bag.

“Afternoon, Double.” One of the frequent visitors to the dingy, poorly lit hideout greeted her with a cigarette sitting in his hand. The room was large and industrial, concrete floors and walls enclosed several people, a few dirty couches strewn about, and a segregated area for battles to take place and others to watch.

She nodded to acknowledge him, choosing to set herself on the armrest next to him. At this point she was able to filter out the stench of cigarette smoke and tolerate it enough to be around it. (All it really took was a weekend at her uncle’s house.)

“How’s it going?” Ikumi hummed, not expecting an answer and paying no mind to the newcomer sitting only a few meters away. At least not until he approached her himself with an overconfident expression on his face.

“Hey lady! You’re the total legend around here, right?” The chirp in his voice and the bounce in his step was odd, as if a child had come in and had no real clue where he was.

“Lady? Don’t call me that.” She exhaled out a half-hearted laugh. Folding her arms across her chest she asked, “What do you want?”

He didn't miss a beat to respond. Pulling a mic out of his back pocket and waving it around carelessly, as if it weren't any more than a toy to him, “I wanna get your number and I wanna battle you!”

Ikumi laughed again, this time with much more energy. Her laugh had lasted for a while and left her wiping a fake tear from the corner of her one red eye. She then shook her head and waved her hand back and forth to dismiss him and the prospect of any kind of fight between them.

“I don’t deal with new kids.” She stated, shooing him away.

“Aww, don’t be so mean!” He giggled, holding out a hand. “I’m not a new kid at all~ In fact—” His smile shifted in a smirk, something flickering in his expression. He moved in closer, with a low voice only she could hear.

“I’m like you, Yamada Ikumi.”

“Oi!” Her hand smacked over his mouth in a slight panic. “Don’t go spouting my name so carelessly! Who the hell are you?”

“Hopefully a new friend. My names Saikoro—”

“Like the steak?”

His playful expression faded, a look of dread and sorrow plastered on his face, as if a whole life of being named “diced steak” wasn’t bearable.

“...Yes, like the steak. My father is an idiot.” Saikoro’s eyes rolled but in a snap his face was back to being childish. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him~ Arisugawa Dice?”

“...” Ikumi stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder and nodding her head to the side. “Come with me.”

Underneath the streetlight with his hands in his pockets, Saikoro rocked back and forth on his heels, chewing on some gum. “So then what do you say?” He held his hand out to her.

“You’re risking a lot, you know that, right?” Ikumi sighed, fiddling with the uncomfortable band on her arm. “Forming a team? Sure… But going to such an extreme?”

“We can do it!” He nodded. “It’s like you always say, being made up of two legendary rappers makes it natural, right?”

“...It’s creepy that you know that, Stalker-Koro, but—”

Her mind ran through the outcomes, the punishments they would receive if caught, the reaction she’d get from her parents, any possible risk she would be pressing to anyone she cared about… then again, this was a cause her parents and uncles had all fought for in the past, it was almost a prophecy—at least to someone who believed in that kind of thing like herself.

That, and she missed her own freedom. She missed being able to stay out past 9 pm without having to break the law and dismantle the damned GPS attached to her. She missed spending nights in Yokohama with her idiot uncle, she missed her friends.

She missed everything, just as much as every other citizen did.

Ikumi came to her conclusion, taking hold of Saikoro’s extended hand and shaking it with enthusiasm.

“A team made up only of the best? How could we possibly lose?”

“Then it's settled! Welcome to RE:load, Ikumin~”

A 4 am start was standard for Takeshi Busujima.

Usually a light sleeper, it took only a few irritating ‘“beeps” from the alarm on his phone to wake him up.

He sat up with perfect posture and reached for the pair of glasses set off to the side the previous night then grabbed his phone, turning off the chime for another day.

Two more days to go. He noted from the time, swinging his legs off his bed and standing up right.

The floor was cold as usual, but Takeshi didn’t wince. Rather, he shuffled quickly towards his bedroom door in search for his slippers as salvage from the winter.

Once his feet were safe, he flicked on the light to illuminate his unusually clean bedroom.

On each wall were perfectly leveled posters, vintage ones he had collected over time and cherished dearly. On another wall were books ordered by height and kept tidy, one space missing in the collection from a book he had taken out the night before.

Everything about Takeshi's life was ordered and pristine, everything had its place and he liked it that way.

The only thing in his bedroom that stuck out from the colour palette and organisation was a single, obnoxiously pink Purikura that was stuck to his mirror—but that wasn’t anything worth noting.

Taking his uniform that hung neatly on a hook, he made his way towards the bathroom to shower.

“You have time to eat, dear, just sit down for a moment.” The ever concerned voice of Iruma Jyuto spoke up, looking behind his shoulder from his place at the stove as Takeshi sat in the genkan, sliding his shoes on already

“It’s fine.” He insisted, already fixated mentally on how far behind schedule he was after he let himself sleep for an extra half hour today.

His father knew fighting it was futile, so he made his way over with a neatly wrapped bento box instead, handing it to his beloved son and kissing the top of his head.

“Have a good day then, dear, and make sure you eat something at school.”

The endearment of having such a loving father filled the stoic younger boy with a sense of happiness, even if he wasn’t entirely capable of expressing it.

“You too, dad.”

After a gentle jog down the early morning streets of Yokohama on a route that took him by the bayside, he arrived to his ever quiet high school. Although it was a popular and well established school, it was rare to see anyone other than staff walking the halls when he arrived.

Takeshi, being the student council president, took it upon himself to ensure all the club rooms were left in an acceptable state. Making his rounds he occasionally cleaned up a few crooked chairs or wiped the dust left on a chalkboard.

Making his way around the corner, the tall boy opened the door to the photography club, stopping when he remembered the room was now empty. Student numbers declined with the new law and a few clubs were forced to close. It was unfortunate, he thought.

One final check and he came to the library on the top floor, a room full of a few other third years beginning their studies… it was all he really did anymore, he found himself sighing.

Taking his usual seat, Takeshi opened up a book and set to work.

Another long day.

Takeshi could feel his eyes getting heavier as he walked down the street towards a public library after the school closed. Luckily for him, the nearest library was only down the street and stayed opened during exam periods.

Once more he took his seat, as if he hadn't sat down enough today.

The final class he had to study for today was history, the one he looked forward to the most.

Setting his notebook out carefully and laying his pens parallel to the spine.

He then went to grab his text book, but to no avail.

Digging through his bag carefully to be sure he really didn't miss it, Takeshi frowned in annoyance.

He had left his history book on his desk at home.

“Damn it.” He whispered to himself, setting his bag down and standing up… at least the library would have a copy.

“Yukkun, the library is boring, you said we could go to the pier!” A loud protest rang through the library, receiving a hurried hush from another voice.

“Shh, Yacchan, don't yell in the library.” Nao hurriedly covered his friend’s mouth, retracting it just as fast when she licked his palm.

“Gross. I just need to find a book and then we can go.” He instructed, pointing down an aisle of books. “Go look at the manga or something.” He shooed her away and she quickly obliged, skipping off in the direction he pointed. With her gone, he glanced around quickly

“Koro-Nii said he had orange hair and glasses… it shouldn't be too hard…” He began the walk through the aisles, pretending to look for a book—that's when he spotted the taller boy.

Geez, he was a tower…

“History.” He whispered to himself walking back to the clueless girl he sent off. Once finding her, he grabbed her hand.

“Aww! Yukkun is grabbing my hand, so romantic.” She beamed, letting him drag her away from the books she was barely looking at.

“I just need to grab one last thing, then we can go.”

“Kay~” Ikumi nodded and he turned down the history section.

Almost instantly she froze and dropped Naos hand, her eyes fixing on the tired boy who was still scanning through the books.

“Mushi-Nii?” She spoke up, dragging his attention away from his task and towards the girl staring at him wide-eyed.

It took a second… he blinked once, then twice, but he didn't have any doubt in his mind, nor did she. As a result, she didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around him “Takemushi! It’s really you!”

“Ikun...” A smile tugged on his infamously stoic expression, he put his hands on her back and suddenly he didn’t feel so drained.

Nao spoke up with a sly grin, as if he didn’t plan any of this at all

“Oh? Is he a friend, Yacchan?”

“A team…” Takeshi thought out loud, sitting out the front of the library with the two younger teens, studying the piece of melon bread the white haired girl gifted him upon finding out he hadn’t eaten for the last few hours.

Reservation sat in his voice, the plan Nao had described seemed odd… complex…

“You should do it!” Ikumi spoke up, a mouth full of the other half of the melon bread. She swallowed quickly. “If we do it right, you’ll totally be a part of history!”

Nao nodded at the statement. “If we are successful, then yeah.... But we can’t be successful with just the four of us.”

Takeshi looked up, it was dark now, but the lights in Yokohama hid away all the stars.

He thought about the school, his clubs, the students he lost from the dumb new law… it was risky, but no great war was ever won without danger or… casualties.

“If it can fit around my school work...” He nodded slowly, pushing his glasses up. “I will fight for your cause.”

#hypmic #hypmic reload

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years

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Daily Meditations and Reflection On The Saint of The Day - Tuesday - February 12, 2019

God's Love Knows No Obstacles

Touching the rock face, contemplating the grotto of more than 150 years ago and offering a prayer — these actions help visitors connect to that point in time when Bernadette hurried to this obscure cave. More importantly, they connect pilgrims to the spoken and unspoken messages that Our Lady conveyed to the young girl. As Mary bore the Son of God in her womb, she carries with her his message of love, which knows no obstacles and overcomes all shortcomings. Our lives, much like the grotto in Bernadette’s time, may be disordered, but God nonetheless comes calling. Reaching into the shadows of the caves of our own making, God seeks us through his mother. __________

Another Meditation:

"Now man need not hide from God as Adam did; for He can be seen through Christ's human nature. Christ did not gain one perfection more by becoming man, nor did He lose anything of what He possessed as God. There was the Almightiness of God in the movement of His arm, the infinite love of God in the beatings of His human heart and the Unmeasured Compassion of God to sinners in His eyes. God was now manifest in the flesh; this is what is called the Incarnation. The whole range of the Divine attributes of power and goodness, justice, love, beauty, were in Him. And when Our Divine Lord acted and spoke, God in His perfect nature became manifest to those who saw Him and heard Him and touched Him. As He told Philip later on: Anyone who has seen Me has seen the Father [John 14:9]." — Fulton J. Sheen __________

Saint of The Day:

ST. JULIAN THE HOSPITALLER

St. Julian the Hospitaller (4th c.) came from a wealthy noble family in Europe. Little of his life is known with certainty. According to legend he married a noble widow, and was put under a curse at some point in his life. The curse was that he would one day kill his parents. To prevent this from happening, Julian and his wife moved far away from them. Julian’s parents later found their whereabouts and made an unexpected visit while Julian was away. Julian's wife offered them her bed to sleep for the night. When Julian arrived home and found his bed occupied with a couple, he slew them both assuming it was his wife with another man. When Julian learned the truth, he was horrified by his actions and spent the rest of his life in penance. He and his wife went on a pilgrimage to Rome, and on their return established a hospital to continue their penance, dedicating their lives to caring for the poor and sick. One day a leper came to stay in the hospital; after Julian cared for his wounds, the leper revealed himself to be an angel and told Julian that God granted him absolution for his sins. The hospital was built near a river that was often crossed by pilgrims on their way to the Crusades. St. Julian the Hospitaller is the patron saint of hospitality, travelers, innkeepers, boatmen, pilgrims, and knights. His feast day is celebrated on February 12th. __________

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

#daily meditation

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jeffdee90 · 2 years

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On St John Baptist de La Salle’s Life

I am beyond excited to return to De La Salle University – Manila for my graduate studies. One of the first tasks that we were assigned was to be reminded on the life of our patron saint, St. John Baptist de la Salle. To achieve this, we watched a film about his life entitled “El señor de La Salle” starring Mel Ferrer.

While watching the film, there is this quote at the end of the film that truly resonated with me - “Real wealth is the ability to think and to feel, and not to be possessed by possessions.”

"Not to be possessed by possessions."

I have read a similar quote from a book that I've read a long time ago (that I've already forgot the title), that says "Money is not the root of all evil, but the love of money is the root of all evil." Real wealth is not owning material things but is rather owning more “intangibles”, such as experiences with family, friends and even strangers.

There was a time a few years ago when the concept of minimalism became a hit, partly because of the Netflix series of Marie Kondo. I also did ride the hype and tried to practice. I donated or threw out the material things that no longer “sparks joy”. In fact, I did feel that having less material possessions did make me happier, more content and more grateful. I no longer buy things that I no longer need when I only be happy temporarily and want more material things.

The pandemic gave me a chance to give back. With the few years’ extra savings from not buying unnecessary material things, I was able to share these to our Company's guards and messengers who were more severely affected by the pandemic as they were daily wage earners (i.e., “no work, no pay”). To my surprise, I was told that the small amount that I contributed did help a lot for them to purchase gadgets for their children to continue attending online classes. That moment, I felt this sense of happiness by sharing the blessings that I have received. This is the happiness that money can never buy and lasts a lifetime.

"To think and to feel"

We are often asked what our definition of Happiness is. For me, Happiness is living a life with purpose, and service is one way to achieve that purpose. One of the most common ideas that pops up to most of our minds when it comes to “Service” are charitable activities, such as tree planting, feeding programs, or the like. I am personally not someone who usually participates in these types of activities. To be honest, I only attended these only if "required" or "highly encouraged" back during undergraduate studies or at work.

But reflecting on this further, we have our own ways to render service to others in our own way. We can always start small. Following the laws and regulations is one. Putting trash in the appropriate bin and being mindful of the environment could also be another example.

While watching the film, I suddenly realized that it has been a decade since my initial intention to teach in Academe and be an Accountancy professor. I have always enjoyed teaching. It gives me this unmeasurable sense of fulfillment when I see my students’ heads and the “Eureka” moment on their faces. Teaching is not only one way to share the theoretical knowledge to the younger generation, but also other life learnings and experiences. That is the power of education. It affects how they view life in a wider perspective.

For the first time in more than a decade, it hit me that I am closer at achieving one of my life goals by being in the MBA program. I am finally where I need to be and that I am on my first step in the right direction.

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stopsubstanceabuse1-blog · 5 years

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the-record-columns · 6 years

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Jan 10, 2018: Columns

A story of unmeasured kindness

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

Elsewhere in this edition of The Record is some information on a trip Mike Staley and me took to Durham last weekend on behalf of the Rotary Club by attending the annual convention of the NC Association of Agricultural Fairs.

It truly is an interesting event which I look forward to each year, and the trade show aspect of the convention is one of my favorite parts. Every kind of entertainment imaginable is available, up to and including a three-ring circus.

Well, as most of you know by now from the column my wife, Laura, wrote in early December, our beautiful Pit Bull/Boxer dog was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer and is a very sick puppy. Mercifully, Powder has made an amazing comeback thanks to the treatments he has received and good ole' Jenkins Livermush.

Yes, livermush.

In late November and early December, we were worried sick about Powder. He hadn't eaten anything he could keep down for what seemed like forever, when one night, I cut up a few slices of livermush and fed him little pieces by hand. Not only did he eat it and keep it down, it somehow revived his appetite and he has eaten uncounted blocks of what I am now calling a new miracle food, Jenkins Country Livermush. I even sent word by my friend Allen Langley in Shelby to pass on to the Mauney family, who produce the Jenkins food line, that they needed to add "Can Raise the Dead," to the labels on their livermush. During Christmas, at least 5 people sent a package of gift wrapped Jenkins Livermush to Powder, which he duly ate, and for which he was clearly thankful.

While our dog is still deep in the woods, as the saying goes, we have been truly thankful for the past 7 weeks with Powder, whether the time is borrowed or not.

How in the world does this tie in with the Fair Convention? "Well, I'll just tell ya," as my old buddy Leonard Cooke used to say. Among my favorite regulars at the trade show is a young woman named Michelle Harrell who operates Skybound Canine Entertainment, featuring The Magical Poodles who always put on an amazing show that is truly magical.

When I stopped by the "WOOF" booth to speak to Michelle, she introduced me to a young lady who now works with her, and told her that, a few years ago, I had shared with her one of her all time favorite dog stories and wanted me to tell it again.

Of course, she did not have to twist my arm, so I told her co-worker the story of helping move my daughter Jordan when she left Wilkes for Lunchburg, Virginia. Suffice it to say it was a blue day, and, while her boy friend Jason Hammer seemed like a good guy, I really didn't know him. I tried to fall back on the fact that Jordan has more common sense than most, but it still was a long, sad day.

Then, when we pulled into the driveway to Jason's house, Jordan said something didn't seem right. I was ready to back out of the driveway and go back to WIlkes, but she laughed at me and asked for a moment to check things out. Jordan has a dog, Jason has two dogs, and there was a fourth dog barking--that is what she noticed.

It turns out that during the time Jordan was in Wilkes finishing her move, one of Jason's tenants had moved out of a rental house in the dark of night and left a 10 year old Pit Bull female tied to a tree, Jason knew that if he took that dog to the pound it would be a dead dog in 14 days. Instead, he took the dog to the vet, had her checked out and her shots all updated, and brought her home.

Jade the Pit Bull became a part of their family and I never worried about Jordan again. He could have taken that dog to the pound and no one would have ever known the difference--but he didn't--he simply had too kind a heart to do so.

Fast forward to two years later when Laura and I were visiting Jordan and Jason in Lynchburg. I noticed a cut-out place on their deck with a narrow w ramp attached. Upon inquiry, I found that Jade had arthritis and it hurt her to climb the steps up to the deck, so Jason built her a "handicap ramp," so she could come back inside without crying.

Jade lived with Jason and Jordan the rest of her life.

I love to tell this story of unmeasured kindness, and I thank Michelle Harrell for remembering it.

Epiphany

By Laura Welborn

Epiphany service at the Lutheran Church - An Appalachian Christmas was a wonderful end to the Christmas season.

the Christmas season.

The music by local musicians was so inspiring and true to the spirit of our Appalachian heritage with bagpipes by Eric Sparklin and harp by Benjamin Barker and many more.

The Wilkes Acoustic Society were perfect hosts to this event. When you think of Epiphany I think of the saying, “It's about the journey, not the destination,” but in this case it did seem about the destination.

Then when the angels sent a message to the magi to go a different way home I thought, "I wish I had warnings when something bad was going to happen and how to circumvent it."

So often it seems I make a mess of something that started out with the greatest of intentions and I think just what I could do if I had warnings of upcoming disasters. I sometimes wonder if I don't listen closely enough to hear the warnings or if I am just not paying attention to the signs.

"A tiny part of your life is decided by completely uncontrollable circumstances, while the vast majority of your life is decided by how you respond to them. Sometimes changing your situation isn’t possible—or simply not possible soon enough. But you can always choose a mindset that moves you forward. And doing so will help you change things from the inside out, and ultimately allow you to grow beyond the struggles you can’t control at any given moment.

Here’s a powerful question that will support you with an attitude adjustment when you need it most: “Who would you be, and what else would you see, if you removed the thought that’s worrying you?”

The disappointments and failure are two of the surest stepping-stones to the places you want to go. When things go wrong, learn what you can and then push the heartbreak aside by refocusing your energy on the present step. Remember that life’s best lessons are often learned at the worst times and from the worst mistakes. We must fail in order to know, and hurt in order to grow. Good things often fall apart so better things can fall together in their place. And what’s better already is the more informed step you’re able to take right now."

The Magi was the perfect example of learning to trust the journey, even when you do not understand it. It also strikes me that they paid attention to the signs and warnings.

As we enter into this year of 2018, I know I am starting with the joy and blessing of the Appalachian Christmas service and I feel blessed to see the kind of young talent in Wilkes with Elizabeth Carter, Benjamin Barker and Eric Sparklin.

As we all start our journeys, let us trust the path and be open to the warning signs but mostly to keep moving forward.

Let’s Set the Record Straight

By EARL COX

In his Christmas message, PA President Mahmoud Abbas blasted U.S. President Donald Trump’s recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital as “an insult” to Bethlehem.

Like Arafat before him, Abbas exploits Christmas as a stumping opportunity to draw Christian support—in this case, for his dump-Trump rants; to blame Israel for the exodus of Palestinian Christians following the PA’s takeover of Bethlehem; and to compete with Israel’s superior reputation for religious liberty.

Having angrily pulled the plug on Bethlehem’s Christmas tree lights, his speech now emphasized Bethlehem’s significance to Christians: “Over 2,000 years ago, the message of Jesus was delivered from a humble manger in Bethlehem.” Abbas called on world Christians to “listen to the true voices of the indigenous Christians from the Holy Land” as he named Jesus "a Palestinian messenger who would become a guiding light for millions around the world."

Abbas, a Jordanian, and Arafat, an Egyptian, not only ignored the fact that “Palestinians” did not exist in Jesus’s day—they were invented after 1948—they also demonstrated ignorance of Christianity. If Abbas had any inkling of “the message of Jesus” and the “true voices” of Christians in the Middle East and “millions around the world,” he might have chosen his words more carefully.

Let’s set the record straight. While Abbas correctly referred to the Bethlehem manger as Jesus’s “humble” birthplace, he may not know that Joseph and his very pregnant wife were in Bethlehem because of a mandatory census requiring everyone to register in his own town. Joseph had to travel to the crowded city of David where every inn was booked, because he descended from the royal house and line of David.

As the paymaster of virulent anti-Israel terror attacks, Abbas is doubtless unaware that 700 years before Jesus’s birth, the Hebrew prophet Micah declared: Though Bethlehem was “little” in Judah, yet out of that city “shall come forth to Me the One to be ruler in Israel, whose goings forth are from old, from everlasting.”

Christians believe this passage foretells Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. Abbas may not realize the political and governmental significance of Jesus being born in the city of David. Nor does he seem to know that when Roman governor Pilate asked Jesus, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus replied, “It is as you say.”

The prophet Micah added that when “the one to be ruler in Israel” delivers Israel from her enemies, “the remnant of Jacob shall be … like a lion among the beasts of the forests …who treads down and tears in pieces, and none can deliver.”

Evangelicals understand these scriptures as fulfilling G-d’s promise to King David that one of his descendants would sit on Israel’s throne “forever.” Some Bible scholars note two separate gospel accounts that trace Jesus’s lineage from King David to Joseph, Jesus’s legal father, and to his mother Mary.

Assuming that Jesus is who he says he is, Abbas is throwing rocks in the wrong neighborhood. Considering his Islamist upbringing, that’s understandable.

Palestinian and EU leaders make strange bedfellows—a terror-sponsoring Islamist regime and a confederation of Western democracies severely threatened by radical Islam due to their own lax immigration policies. But sadly, there’s a glue that binds them—anti-Semitism and a visceral hatred of Israel.

For the EU, skating in the same rink as the Palestinians is on precipitously thinner ice—because Europe should know better. They’ve witnessed the horrors of the Holocaust. They’ve opened their doors to Muslim refugees and are beginning to confront terrorism within their borders.

As countries where Christianity flourished for centuries, Europeans should realize that their anti-Israel views are contrary to their own Bible and spiritual legacy.

In Europe (and elsewhere), Christian denominations that don’t teach biblical truth are more likely to embrace false replacement theology, and to practice BDS and other hostile initiatives. In contrast, evangelicals—who tend to read and study the Scriptures—are Israel’s greatest Christian supporters.

G-d’s election of and love for Israel and Jerusalem are foundational themes in both the Jewish and Christian Scriptures.

Israel has been a faithful guardian of these truths, defending religious liberty, and making Jerusalem and its holy places accessible to all peoples and faiths—despite Abbas’s Christmas propaganda to the contrary

oving forwa��=~u

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