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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Conferences (Maxwell Lord/Lorenzano x f!teacher!Reader)

Summary: Alistair Lorenzano is a third grader in your class, whom you absolutely adore. Upon meeting his father, Maxwell, you suddenly have much more interest in the Lorenzano family. Set after WW84.

W/C: 2.9k

Warnings: language, flirting, talk of divorce and trauma, lots of talk of children and such, especially Alistair. brief nondescript mentions of Maxwell’s shitty childhood. uh. Spoilers for The Great Gatsby lmao

A/N: well! I haven’t written for max in a long time but the ship request (which are CLOSED) i received here really made me inspired! hope u guys like it :)

Alistair Lorenzano was a joy to have in class. You mean it too, not like when you don’t have a comment for a child’s report card and you just stick that phrase on the bottom. No, Alistair is a genuinely good kid.

The little dark haired boy walked in proudly on the first day, even as none of the other children came over to say hello or pal around with him. He seemed lonely, but he marched up to your desk and placed a beautiful apple on the desk, giving you a gap-toothed grin and introducing himself with a handshake. Alistair didn’t talk to his other classmates much that day, or any other day really. He was usually preoccupied with a book of some sort.

He sits alone at lunch and recess, usually burying his nose in a book as the other children play. He’s progressed quite quickly, reading big wordy books the other fourth graders surely couldn’t handle. When a child has no one to play with, Alistair will sit with them and talk. He’ll always help a struggling classmate with their long division or come up with a good synonym for them. He rarely raises his hand, but he’s almost always correct.

He’ll come in early most mornings. He doesn’t talk much about his family, but he says his dad works early in the morning and that he has to drop him off earlier. That’s fine with you; the kid is a good conversationalist and will read quietly while you arrange lesson plans or grade spelling tests.

You wonder what his family is like. All you know about his father is that he works early in the morning. His mother has dropped him off late several times, but that always led to more early mornings; presumably his father’s doing.

As a teacher, you tend to shy away from family-based assignments. You’re fully aware that some of your students won’t want to share what their parents do for a living, or talk about them at all. That’s why you don’t know much about the Lorenzano family- you don’t ask and Alistair doesn’t share.

Conferences are approaching soon as you approach the midpoint of the first semester. Most parents don’t come if their children are doing well; typically, only the parents of struggling children make appearances. That’s why you’re surprised to read the note Alistair hands you when he walks in, thirty minutes before class begins, as always.

You frown reading the little note of paper, pushing your glasses up your nose. “You’re sure that your father needs a conference?” You ask the little boy. He looks confused. “I’d love to meet him,” you say hurriedly, sipping your morning coffee. “It’s just that… you’re a very smart kid, Alistair. Usually it’s the parents of kids who don’t do so well that sign up for conferences.”

Alistair shrugs, taking off his puffy fall jacket and hanging it on his hook near your desk. “I don’t know. Dad just said he wanted that time,” he says, pointing at your paper.

Dramatically uncapping a colored flare pen, you make a show out of writing down the name for your 7:30 time slot: Mr Lorenzano. “Well, I will see your dad then,” you tell the kid with a smile. He seems pleased that you’re excited. “What’s his name?”

“Maxwell,” Alistair informs you, sitting at his desk and cracking open his book.

You repeat the name, writing it down in the purple pen you chose. “Your family has very elegant names,” you tease Alistair.

Alistair shrugs. “Dad likes to sound fancy.”

Maxwell has never met you, but he feels that he knows you like an old friend. Alistair absolutely adores you, tells his father about you at any chance he gets.

You sound wonderful. He supposes that Alistair would adore any female figure in his life right now. Vanessa, the former Mrs. Lord, has all but rejected her son. When Alistair would spend time at her place, she’d practically ignore her own kid, prioritizing whatever she wanted to do. Several days, Alistair was late to or completely missed school thanks to Vanessa’s ignorance.

That’s why Maxwell has taken nearly full custody now. Vanessa didn’t argue it. She was glad to have Alistair out of her hair. Besides, she resented Maxwell for endless reasons, usually unfounded. She wanted to see him struggle.

But Maxwell thrived. Alistair and his father are as close as can be. Maxwell now works a menial job, after the whole Dreamstone fiasco, but he’s managing to make ends meet. When they have enough money left over, he’ll take Alistair to the movies or buy him a new lego kit.

Maxwell hasn’t found love since Vanessa, but he thinks you might be the one for him. One could call him a hopeless romantic; his heart builds and breaks as easily as a wave on the shore. You sound so nurturing and lovely, so wonderful to the one Maxwell loves most. That’s partially why he scheduled the conference with you.

The other part was that Alistair is a budding genius in Maxwell’s eyes. He flies through thick books day in and day out, and Max wants to accommodate the skills in his son. He constantly tells him how proud of him he is, but he wants to make sure he can keep helping him learn.

On the day of the conference, Maxwell is nervous. Why is he nervous? He combs his closet several times to find one of the nice suits from his glory days, but decides it to be ridiculous. He’s not sure how much Alistair tells you about his family, but he’s sure you know he is no longer the television personality Max Lord. Instead, he settles for a dress shirt and pants, tossing on a light jacket over it. The fall air is turning crisp, especially in the evenings.

Doña Gloria from next door knocks on the door at promptly 7:00, and Alistair pops up to answer it. He loves the old woman, and wraps her in a big hug. Gloria walks inside the apartment, grinning at the sight of Maxwell’s outfit. “Ah, making a good impression on the boy’s teacher,” she nods in approval.

“Hoping to,” he nods and adjusts the suede jacket over his lapels, fidgeting with the zipper. “Alistair, why don’t you go find that game you wanted to play with Doña Gloria?”

The child runs off obediently and the woman straightens his collar for him. “Little Maxie has a crush,” she sings.

“Gloria,” he frowns as he messes with the cuffs. “I’ve never even met the woman.”

She gives a knowing smile. “But you know her. You know her through Alistair, all his stories. I’m sure she will love you, mijo.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he sighs and pats his pockets, checking for his wallet. “She’s Alistair’s teacher. I can’t just-“

“You can do whatever the hell you want, Mr. Lorenzano,” the woman chuckles and reassures him. “Go get her.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a conference, not a date,” he says as he walks towards the door.

“It can be both!” Is the last thing he hears before he shuts the door, making him laugh.

Conferences, as always, are a pain in the ass. You sit and make small talk with parents, discussing their child’s skills with their times table versus their writing proficiency, their standardized test scores and how they stack up.

As the night passes, you grow more frazzled. Your hair, neatly tucked back, falls out in strands, and your glasses seem to slide down your nose more and more often. Some parents verbally abuse you for their children’s poor scores on their science test. Others try to get to know you a little too personally. All part of a day’s work.

A hopeful smile dares to peek out as you read your schedule and arrange your sampling of Alistair’s works. You’re eager to meet his father, to meet the man Alistair so rarely talks about but clearly adores.

There’s a knock on your classroom door at 7:30 on the dot. Shoving your glasses up your nose one time, you hurry to the door and allow the man in. “Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Lorenzano,” you tell him and shake his hand, leading him to your desk.

Something about him seems familiar. He’s very attractive, that’s something. He doesn’t have his son’s dark, nearly black hair, but rather a light brown with bits of blonde interjected throughout. He has his son’s deep brown eyes, and his very presence makes you smile. He looks put together, dressed similarly to other fathers you’ve seen tonight.

You tuck your skirt under you as you sit in your chair. The man’s voice is smooth and beautiful as he speaks. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Alistair talks endlessly about you at home.”

Smiling, you shuffle some of his papers. The man is distractingly handsome, you find as you scramble to grab Alistair’s math test. “Well, he’s a very special kid. I adore having him in my class, truly. Your son is going places, Mr. Lorenzano.”

“Please, Max,” he shakes his head, producing something from a pocket. “Oh, and… for you.”

The sight makes you nearly laugh, but instead you break into a grin. The man’s large hand holds a shiny red apple, perfectly shaped. “Thank you,” you laugh and set it on your desk. “You know, I have no idea where that silly custom comes from.”

“I should ask Alistair,” Maxwell chuckles, his face heating as he takes in the beauty of your smile. “He knows so much. It wouldn’t be a stretch for him to know that.”

Nodding, you hand over an assortment of Alistair’s schoolwork and artwork. “He really does. I appreciate having a fellow avid reader in my class. He’s so bright, it’s… wild, really. Do you or… Mrs. Lorenzano,” you say, treading lightly, “do anything supplementary that advances his learning?”

Max looks down at the papers. “Well, she isn’t Mrs. Lor- Lorenzano anymore,” he shakes his head, his eyes not meeting yours for a moment. He stumbles, nearly using his former business name of Lord. “But no. I have nearly full custody of Alistair, and he flies through books. It’s absurd,” the man laughs, his pride in his eyes as he looks at you. “I mean, neither of us were ever as smart as this. I don’t know where he got it from.”

You frown at that. “You seem very smart, Max. May I ask what you do for a living?”

His brow furrows. “Alistair hasn’t told you?”

You shake your head, adjusting your glasses. God, Maxwell wants to do that for you, push them up your nose or better yet, take them off and kiss you deeply. “I don’t push kids to talk about their home lives. Some don’t want to share,” you shrug.

“I wish I would’ve had a teacher like you in my day,” he chuckles sadly. “I... well, I work currently for a corporate office in Arlington. It’s nothing very exciting, or anything that requires skill.”

You shrug, smiling a little. “It must be an important job or they wouldn’t pay you to do it.”

His chuckle is a little more upbeat. “I suppose. I just… my family was very poor when I was a child. I don’t want Alistair to feel ashamed that I don’t make as much money as his other classmates. Tell me, he doesn’t seem very social. Is he…?”

You want to phrase it properly, so you stutter for a moment. “Well, to put it plainly, no. Alistair does not talk much with his classmates. He’s a very quiet boy, as I’m sure you know. It’s not that they ostracize him, but rather that he chooses to be alone. He’s always reading rather than playing soccer or whatever,” you shrug. “It’s most certainly not exclusion on the basis of… having less money.”

Maxwell’s shoulders relax a little. “Well, I’m glad. Honestly, I don’t mind that he’s quiet. I’m glad he’s learning.”

“I’d usually disagree, but I have to say the same,” you chuckle. “He’s a really good kid, Max. You should be proud to have him as a son. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s my favorite student.”

He’s absolutely beaming with pride. “That’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”

“Of course! How could I not love that kid?” you chuckle as you admire a drawing Alistair made of a scene from his favorite book. “Was that all you wanted to talk about?” You ask, unsure if he had more concerns.

Maxwell’s almost startled by the question. “Oh! Yes, I got sidetracked,” he chuckles, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He’s painfully beautiful, and his laugh makes you laugh in return. It’s safe to say you really like the Lorenzano family. “He just goes through book after book, it’s endless. Do you have any recommendations for continued reading? I want him to keep going like this, truly.”

Tapping a pen against your gradebook, you think on it for a moment. “I guess the best way would be positive reinforcement, but not reward. If you, say, incentivized it, he might see it as a chore to earn the money or toy or whatever.”

Maxwell nods as he listens, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice and intellect. Yes, his theory earlier was correct. He does have a crush on you. “Naturally.”

“So, my recommended course of action would really just be praise and support. Tell him you’re proud of him. Offer to take him to the library to pick out some more. Those little things mean more to a kid than we can know.”

Max does know, actually. He knows because he was deprived of them as a child, because he tries to use them as often as he can so Alistair never feels the way he felt. “I can most definitely do that.”

“Great,” you nod, fidgeting with the stem of the apple in front of you. “If he ever wants to do more math or puzzles or such, the library has lots of great resources for that as well. I also have lots of worksheets I could send home with him.”

“If I can tear him away from that book,” Maxwell chuckles. “Do you have any favorites? You mentioned you read a lot.”

“Oh, god,” you laugh, and Maxwell is enchanted by the sound. “There are too many options! My favorite book of all time would probably have to be the Great Gatsby. I love the classics.”

Maxwell’s smile turns bittersweet. Jay Gatsby’s life reminds him far too much of his own for comfort now. Before, he’d call himself a Gatsby in reference to lavish parties and living large. Now, he feels like Gatsby dead in the water. “Wonderful book,” he nods. “F. Scott Fitzgerald is a literary mastermind.”

“Do you read too?” You ask, intrigued. His personality shows more and more and you’re desperate for even more of it.

He shakes his head. “Not as much as Alistair, I’m afraid, but when I have the time.”

You grin. “My plans for tonight are to go home and read with some takeout. No one to disturb me or anything. I’m very much a homebody, so it’s usually just me and my gradebook and my houseplants. Takeout is the most excitement I get. I’m looking forward to working through this book though; I’m currently reading Wilde.”

“Ah, what book?”

“Picture of Dorian Gray,” you smile and look down at your tote bag with the book tucked into the side. “If I have any brainpower left. Most of these conferences are energy-suckers.”

“How many do you have left?” He asks, curious.

“You’re the last of the night, actually,” you chuckle and cross your arms on the desk, looking over at him and silently hoping he reads your interest.

“The night you have planned sounds lovely, I must say,” Maxwell chuckles. “I do love takeout, but I know of a wonderful place near here. I… we could go get dinner, if you’d like.”

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose to push your glasses back up. “That sounds wonderful, Max. It’s nice to converse with someone who isn’t 9 years old for a while. And someone so interesting,” you openly flirt now that you can tell he’s picking up on your messages.

“Me? Hardly,” he shakes his head and laughs. “I’m sure you have much more fascinating stories than me.”

“I am a third grade teacher, Max,” you laugh. “If you want stories that involve boogers, the ever-present cooties, and long division, I’m your gal, but it hardly extends past that.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out. Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it,” you grin. “Does that mean wine?”

“Always,” Maxwell says in a mockingly offended voice, as if you’d even dare to ask such a thing, with a look of disgust.

“Thank fucking god,” you laugh before clapping a hand over your mouth. “Oh shit. Oh-“ you wince as you try to cover your curse with another curse. “Sorry. When school hours are out, I can’t hold back any longer.”

“No need to,” he assures you. “A woman like you could do whatever she wants and I’d be happy to just be in her presence.”

“Mr. Lorenzano,” you tease. “This is a parent-teacher conference!”

“Then let’s head to dinner and continue this in a nonprofessional capacity, shall we?” He asks, standing and pushing back his rolling chair.

“That sounds great,” you smile. Alistair’s father sure is something. Yes, you certainly like the Lorenzano family.

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s R&S - Minor’s Memos

🍒This R&S (韩野的备忘录) is part of the Dream Heart Lake event which has not been released in EN🍒

More r&s from the event:

> minor’s memos ♡

> tilted time

> little bro’s self-cultivatiion

> ashes

[ Chapter 1 ]

The First Memo

I was beaten up.

This morning, I was especially courageous and pasted a "Evil Spirit Begone" challenge letter on the school bully’s lunchbox. But I didn’t stop myself and pasted too many. The other party brought five people and cornered me in a small alley. I straightened my back, but felt a chill. What happened in the end were the four words I started off with... I was beaten up. With a bloody nose and a swollen face, I suddenly felt that there truly weren’t any heroes in this era... Even an ardent youth like me had to face such tribulation...

Suddenly, a pair of white sneakers stood before my eyes. Lifting my red and swollen eyes with difficulty, all I saw was an icy outline. He reached out to grab the neck of one of the school bullies, and had a sharp look in his eyes!

Oh my... It was actually Se! Nior! Ga! Vin!

Today, I finally witnessed what was a true 1 v 5 looked like. Gavin blew the dust off his hands, lowering his eyes and giving me a glance before leaving. Quick-wittedly, I tugged on the bottom of his trouser leg.

Senior turned out to be just as cold and indifferent as the legends said. During the entire process, he only said one word - “Scram”.

He’s such a MAN!

Hence, there’s a small goal in my heart. I want to learn the supreme feat of Senior’s 1 v 5!

The Second Memo

I looked for Senior many times, but was mercilessly ignored by him... He was either wholly absorbed in drinking water, or wholly absorbed in sleeping... I decided that I had to take the initiative! So, I came up with a plan to perfectly understand Senior.

Cough cough.

With this, I started embarking on the dull and dry life of “tracking” Senior. At 7.30am, Senior would appear at the school gate punctually, carrying a flat schoolbag. I don’t know if there are any books in it... Forget it, is that the main point? Nope!

After Senior reaches school, the first thing he does is head to the small kiosk in the north to! Buy! Breakfast! Does he actually lead such an ordinary life too? I even thought an existence like Senior’s should be above worldly affairs, and that he wouldn’t eat the food of common mortals! Hey hey hey! It seems that Senior really likes to eat fishballs? He’s been eating them for three consecutive days!!! Isn’t it good to change it to something else?!!!

During class, I deliberately went around the upper levels where the Year 3 seniors were, pretentiously passing by Senior’s window. Of course, Senior typically wouldn’t appear in the classroom at all. But!!! He was here today!!!!

As expected, he was assigned to sit in the last row, and was sleeping without restraint...

Did nobody care?! Wait, why am I feeling envious?

After school, Senior walked around, and I had no idea where he was headed to. Finally, he walked into the library. I couldn’t help but think - Senior really lives life as he pleases...

Huh? Hang on! Why would the Underworld Senior go to the library?!

He not only went to the library, but the thing which startled me even more till my jaw dropped was - I saw Senior helping the prettiest girl in class retrieve a book from the shelf!

He even... s-smiled...

Had my vision gone blurry? This was the Underworld Senior who’s said to be cold, unruly, and scares girls away?!

[ Chapter 2 ]

The Third Memo

I was beaten up again... Writing these words is truly lamentable... Why did I have to rescue that stupid, unsophisticated and immoral four-eyed boy? But isn’t that what a hero does? What this era needs is a hero like me!

...this era might also not need such a weak hero like me...

That’s what I thought when I was pressed against the ground and punched by a school bully. My conviction was about to collapse. All of a sudden, I recalled the sharp look in Senior Gavin’s eyes. It’d have been nice if he were around...

Perhaps God happened to hear my wish, and Senior descended from the sky! With a dashing left uppercut, the other party lay on the ground, and I was moved to tears.

Senior asked, why do you keep causing trouble for yourself? I very righteously said that it’s because I wanted to be a hero, and couldn’t stand to see school bullies targeting the weak. Senior then said, don’t you know that they call me a school bully?

In my heart, I responded that I knew. But I shook my head very firmly. The look he was giving me suddenly had a hint of bewilderment added to it... like he was looking at a... hm? An idiot? ...

Senior is very difficult to understand. He even told me about what true heroism was, which went beyond the words I recognised from Senior. He actually said two sentences! I’ll note them down, I’ll note them down...

Who cares about him! From what I see, heroism is about rushing to the rescue when one sees injustice!

The Fourth Memo

Today, I! Was! A! Hero!

I was following Senior around secretly today, though I don’t know how many days it’s been, and encountered Senior being ambushed! Those guys were the school bullies who beat me up the last time! A total of ten people were there! Terrible! Tyranny of the majority! How could I, Minor, allow such a situation to happen!

Without much thought, I rushed forward to help Senior! Of course, I was beaten up yet again... but I discovered one of Senior’s nuclear abilities-

1 v 10! Too dashing, too dashing. I don’t think Superman, X-Men or Iron Man are as dashing! Senior is a god in my eyes!

But Senior was very cold. He said two words to me which left me utterly heartbroken: courting death.

Feeling wronged, I told him that I wasn’t courting death. This was what heroism meant to me.

Senior scoffed, then told me not to follow him around sneakily in the future, because it was annoying.

What what what? Was my perfect “Understanding Plan” exposed since a long time ago?!

For some reason, I spoke up at this moment. “Senior, I saw you handing a book to the prettiest girl in class... Are you...”

Senior coughed, then covered his mouth with a hand... W-was he actually blushing!!!!? Oh my goodness - did I discover something disgraceful? Senior actually blushed! If I say it out loud, would I get silenced?!!

[ Chapter 3 ]

The Fifth Memo

On the first day of becoming Senior’s, oh wait - Bro Gavin’s little brother, hehe, made me feel like I was suddenly floating. Today, I finally walked beside him in broad daylight, and felt as if a gust of wind was blowing past while walking hahahaha! I saw people looking me with that gaze! That~ Gaze~

But I never expected Bro Gavin to be so strict... All I did was mention casually that someone gave the prettiest girl in class a love letter again, and Bro Gavin suddenly got angry, and asked me to grab those people over.

Catching people is really tiring. I had to run to several classrooms, and it was really annoying to move personnel. In the future, I definitely wouldn’t do such work.

Bro Gavin glanced at them and didn’t say anything. Was I supposed to save the show?? After recalling how teachers typically lecture me, I copied them wholesale and gave them a lecture: At this young age, they should concentrate on their studies instead of fooling around.

[Note] I translated “copied them wholesale” from “原封不动”, which literally translated to “not touching the original envelope”. This is a beautiful choice of idiom because that’s exactly what Minor did later on LOL T^T

Seeing the fear and trepidation in their eyes, I became even more excited.

While I was lecturing them happily, Bro Gavin walked over and only said one thing: Get the love letters back. If you scare her, don’t blame me for being difficult.

Wow, Bro Gavin is so cool! Come to think of it, did I discover a little secret that I shouldn’t be aware of? For example, that Bro Gavin’s feelings towards the prettiest girl in class are actually..

The Sixth Memo

I think Bro Gavin is most likely, indeed, and definitely in love. Recently, I became Bro Gavin’s private detective, specialising in focusing on the prettiest girl in class. Maybe next time, I should change the way I address the prettiest girl in class to “Sis-in-law”... Well, since the ancient times, heroes have always loved beauties!

As of now, Bro Gavin isn’t really Bro Gavin anymore -

He hangs out in the library every day. If you want to know where Bro Gavin is, all you have to do is ask where the prettiest girl in class is... He no longer fights, no longer goes to the sports field, and no longer plays ball games anymore. He’s like a salted fish which has lost its dreams. And he actually started reading “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions”... I just want to cry.

[Note] “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions” (”5年高考3年模拟”) is a supplementary book for college entrance examinations used in China!

At noon, we had a PE class together, and I excitedly told Bro Gavin that Sis-in-law had chosen basketball! I initially thought Bro Gavin would snatch up a territory to play basketball. In the end, Bro Gavin hauled me over to the nearby volleyball court...

He said that it was a good place.

Good? What’s good about it? My basketball... I still wanted to display my coolness!

Afterwards, I found out that, tsk tsk, Bro Gavin was truly very sly...

The volleyball court was actually even closer to Sis-in-law’s location as compared to other basketball courts!

When I almost accidentally smashed the ball on Sis-in-law’s head, it was blocked by Bro Gavin, who was far away... How did Bro Gavin do it?!

He actually ran diagonally across the volleyball court so quickly?!!! Does he have some special ability? Will it appear!

But Bro Gavin isn’t attuned to flirtatious expressions at all...

[Note] I translated “flirtatious expressions” from the term “风情”, which literally translates to “information about the wind”

When Sis-in-law thanked him, his face was even colder than when he’s facing me... And when I “accidentally” pushed Sis-in-law onto Bro Gavin! He actually gave me a merciless killer glare. Just thinking about it makes my heart feel pained...

He didn’t recognise my good intentions, sob sob sob sob.

[ Chapter 4 ]

The Seventh Memo

Today, I saw another side of Bro Gavin! That is - the Bro Gavin at the sports meet! He’s such a MAN!!!

In the ten-lap long-distance race in the sports field, Bro Gavin won the first place, leaving the second place runner far behind him by three laps. He didn’t even pant!

What kind of supreme feat is this? Before, I used to think that he was only super capable in fighting. Looks like there are many other things I have to learn from Bro Gavin!

It was only today when I realised that although Bro Gavin is so fierce and is always called an Underworld Senior, he seems to be really popular, based on how the female students looked as if they were about to glue their eyes onto Bro Gavin’s body -

Ah, I just want to “tsk tsk”.

Bro Gavin seemed to be in a good mood, but when I asked him to teach me 1 v 10, he assigned me to work as a private detective again...

He was very concerned about Sis-in-law’s sprint. Perhaps he’s a tsundere or something, so he didn’t go himself, and insisted that I went instead. He even tossed his phone to me.

What’s that supposed to mean? His phone? Did he mean that I should sneak pictures? Am I, Minor, such a person?

I called out to Sis-in-law. She turned her head, and I managed to secretly photograph an utterly beautiful side profile. It looked really good. This time, Bro Gavin would definitely teach me 1 v 10, right?

In the end, he! Did! Not!

Bro Gavin is someone who values a lover more than his little bro!

What can I say? I had no choice but to squat at the side and watch Bro Gavin staring at the picture on his phone, occasionally revealing an unusual smile...

Oh my, Bro Gavin smiled again!!!! It makes me feel frightened!!!!

Love makes people lose their minds!!!

[ Chapter 5 ]

The Eighth Memo

Bro Gavin looks very low-spirited recently. If he was a salted fish with no dreams before, then I reckon that right now, he’s not even a salted fish... He seems to have fallen in love with being in a daze lately.

After being in a daze in the piano room, he’d be in a daze in the library, continuously staring at the empty seat where Sis-in-law used to sit, and I have no idea what he’s thinking about.

But I really didn't expect a person who sleeps in class to be in a daze in the library for an entire afternoon... Did Bro Gavin and Sis-in-law have a fight recently?

Very curious, I asked around, and found out that for some reason, Sis-in-law has been hurrying off after school, and no longer goes to the library nor the piano room. I also heard that she’s been doing her revision for exams at home... Could it be that she’s hiding from Bro Gavin?

Oh my god, why don’t I write an eight o'clock soap opera with such an imagination? It might even become popular!

Returning to the original topic... should I tell Bro Gavin about this? If Bro Gavin also thinks that Sis-in-law is hiding from him, he might be heartbroken.

I’m worried...

The Ninth Memo

Bro Gavin disappeared for quite a long time, and finally returned today! But he brought with him a body full of injuries, and it’s very worrying because I didn’t know what happened! He also stuffed a letter to me, saying that it was for Sis-in-law. Even though the envelope was flat and smooth, it had a lot of blood stains.

Did Bro Gavin do something dangerous? He bled so much! I asked him to go to the hospital but he refused... Bro Gavin is truly too wilful!

But he is really different today. Why do I feel like I’m handling funeral arrangements? Touch wood!

He also said that he’d teach me 1 v 10 when he we meet again... Wow! If Bro Gavin wasn’t hurt, I’d have wanted to pounce on him and give him a peck! Bro Gavin is the most dashing! Bro Gavin is the coolest!

Come to think of it, Bro Gavin is about to take the college entrance examinations, and the seniors from the graduating classes have been pretty sad recently. The next meeting Bro Gavin mentioned was probably summer vacation? Hehe, I’m looking forward to it a little!

In that case, while Bro Gavin isn’t around, I’ll be the one to help Sis-in-law block off all the rotten apples!

Other men, don’t even think of approaching my Sis-in-law!

She! Is! Bro! Gavin’s!

The Final Memo

During the entire summer vacation... I didn't see Bro Gavin...

More from the Dream Heart Lake event: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc minor #mlqc gavin #I mistakenly thought the other translator who did this deactivated their account so I did my own version of this #BUT TURNS OUT THEY DIDN'T LOL #(ಥ﹏ಥ)

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terramythos · 3 years

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TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 16 of 26

Title: Tales From Earthsea (Earthsea Cycle #5) (2001)

Author: Ursula K. Le Guin

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Short Story Collection, Novella, Third-Person, Female Protagonist

Rating: 8/10 (note: this is an average)

Date Began: 7/2/2021

Date Finished: 7/6/2021

Tales From Earthsea is a collection of five short stories and novellas which take place in the Earthsea universe. In addition, there’s a supplementary timeline of Earthsea’s history, tradition, and cultural details of note. The last story in the collection, Dragonfly, serves as a bridge between Tehanu (#4) and The Other Wind (#6), the final book in the series.

Of the five stories, my favorites (both 10/10s) were The Finder and On The High Marsh.

The way one does research into nonexistent history is to tell the story and find out what happened. I believe this isn’t very different from what historians of the so-called real world do. Even if we are present at some historic event, do we comprehend it— can we even remember it— until we can tell it in a story?

Content warnings, individual ratings/commentary, and spoilers below the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Death and violence, child abuse (including implied sexual abuse), police brutality, slavery, reference to torture and execution, brief reference to inc*st, misogyny, animal cruelty, mild body horror, very brief implied mind control via a "love charm" (it doesn't work).

#1 - The Finder (10/10)

In The Dark Time, magic is widely mistrusted. Petty tyrants use the once noble art in pursuit of power and glory. Medra, the son of a shipwright in Havnor, has magical talents honed in secret. One day, he curses a ship built for a warlord’s fleet. Unfortunately, he gets caught and sent to a prison camp. There he is forced to use finding magic to locate veins of cinnabar.

The prison exists to refine quicksilver, a substance the most powerful mage on the island believes will turn him into a god. While in the refinery, Medra feels a spiritual connection to a dying slave, a young woman named Anieb. The two of them devise a plan to kill the mage and escape. Medra’s journey eventually takes him to the island of Roke and the founding of its prestigious wizard school.

‘The dead are dead. The great and mighty go their way unchecked. All the hope left in the world is in the people of no account.’

I really enjoyed this novella. The Dark Time is largely unexplored in the stories of Earthsea, so it was interesting to read about it here. I get the feeling that we’re approaching or in the middle of one such time in the real world, so seeing a version of it on the page is depressing yet hopeful. The story is dark; mass feudal warfare, a literal concentration camp in the opening half, widespread enslavement, and abuse of power. But it also offers hope and the promise of change. The story also explores the integral role of women in not only the preservation of magic in a bleak age of humanity, but the very foundation of Roke.

Medra’s story spoke to me; how he resists the despotic powers-that-be, his connection with Anieb even after her tragic death, and how despite his disillusionment with humanity, he ultimately fights to create a better world. I also thought Gelluk was a horrifying villain. He’s characterized as a soft-spoken, almost kindly man who loves children and animals— yet his narrative thoughts involve burning hundreds of slaves alive in order to better fuel the quicksilver refinery. “Nice doesn’t mean good” taken to an extreme, and a mirror of many villains in the real world.

Le Guin was anti-capitalist, but that way of thinking seems peripheral in the Earthsea series. The Finder, however, definitely has a Marxist reading in it. A recurring theme is the disenfranchised rising up against the powerful. Indeed both antagonists, who are despotic wizards of great power, are soundly defeated by groups of people they consider powerless. Magic is only considered relevant for the value and power it produces, an idea antithetical to the rest of the series. The quicksilver refinery also embraces anti-capitalist rhetoric; this section focuses on how mass enslavement and death is used to manufacture a meaningless commodity only one person “benefits” from. That’s not even getting into the prison-industrial complex.

I dunno. This story slaps. It’s not at all what I expected from a Roke origin story.

#2 - Diamond and Darkrose (5/10)

Diamond, the son of a prosperous lumber merchant, struggles to find his true calling in life. His father disapproves of almost everything he does, including his close friendship with the local witch’s daughter Rose. While he loves music, his father derides his talents and forces him to abandon the pursuit. When Diamond shows some promise in magic, he travels to a neighboring town to serve as the local wizard’s apprentice. But when this path estranges him from Rose, he grows disillusioned.

Rose had looked after herself from an early age; and this was one of the reasons Diamond loved her. With her, he knew what freedom was. Without her, he could attain it only when he was hearing and singing and playing music.

I did not like this story very much. I gave Diamond and Darkrose a 5/10 because it’s competently written (duh), and the protagonist has a character arc not entirely dependent on the central romance. But that’s about all I can say for it.

None of the characters are especially appealing. Diamond’s mentor figures are all extremely narrow-minded. Rose, supposedly his true love since childhood, drops him the moment things become difficult. And Diamond himself is a pushover who only grows a spine and pursues his dreams at the end of the story. I understand that’s his character flaw and his arc is about overcoming that. But due to all these factors, I was annoyed by every major character. The only person I didn’t dislike was Diamond’s mother, who only shows up for a couple of scenes.

Someone please tell me there are love stories out there where the romantic tension is NOT based on a fucking MISUNDERSTANDING. That shit drives me up a wall! It’s so overdone and painful to read.

#3 - The Bones of the Earth (8/10)

Dulse is an aging wizard on the island of Gont, reflecting on his life and relationship with his former apprentice, a young man he calls Silence. But he senses something amiss on the island; a massive earthquake poised to destroy a nearby port town and its inhabitants. To avert disaster, Dulse realizes he must turn to an ancient form of magic taught to him long ago— and he needs Silence’s help to save the town.

In there he knew he should hurry, that the bones of the earth ached to move, and that he must become them to guide them, but he could not hurry. There was on him the bewilderment of any transformation. He had in his day been fox, and bull, and dragonfly, and knew what it was to change being. But this was different, this slow enlargement. I am vastening, he thought.

So I’ve always liked Ogion in the main series; I love the idea of an immensely powerful wizard who lives an unassuming life of silence, contemplation, and appreciation of the natural world. In The Bones of the Earth, we get a glimpse of Ogion through his mentor’s eyes. Ogion’s heroism and how he stopped the earthquake is mentioned several times in the main series, but this is our first look at what actually happened.

Dulse is an unexpected and fascinating perspective character. It would be so easy to tell this story wholly from Ogion’s perspective, but I think making Dulse the protagonist was the right call. In particular, Dulse’s mind is starting to go. Le Guin presents this by utilizing flashbacks and connecting them to the present. This technique conveys Dulse’s disorientation and confusion so the reader experiences it alongside him... it’s hard to describe without actually reading the story. I also loved the little twist at the end regarding where Dulse learned the ancient magic that saves the island. There’s also a strong thematic connection to The Farthest Shore; death and becoming one with the rest of the world.

#4 - On The High Marsh (10/10)

A half-mad wanderer named Irioth comes upon a small settlement on the volcanic, marshy island of Semel. A murrain has been devastating the local cattle population, and Irioth offers his powers as a curer to heal the animals. He settles into a calm rural life with Gift, a widow working a small dairy. Though Gift likes Irioth, and the animals instinctively trust him, she senses something amiss with the man. Soon, Irioth’s dark past threatens to return and disturb the peace.

“Oh, yes,” Irioth said. “It was my fault.” But she forgave, and the grey cat was pressed up against his thigh, dreaming. The cat’s dreams came into his mind, in the low fields where he spoke with the animals, the dusky places. The cat leapt there, and then there was milk, and the deep soft thrilling. There was no fault, only the great innocence. No need for words. They would not find him here. He was not here to find. There was no need to speak any name. There was nobody but her, and the cat dreaming, and the fire flickering. He had come over the dead mountain on black roads, but here the streams ran slow among the pastures.

This story is a banger. It has a Western vibe— a stranger coming into a cattle town haunted by a mysterious past. Also cowboys. It’s an atmospheric story, and I think hits on the “small rural town” vibe better than Tehanu did. But there were several writing choices I especially liked.

We don’t learn Irioth’s name until a little while into the story; his physical description, temperament, and ability to immediately identify Gift’s true name just by looking at her makes one assume he’s Ged. He’s also got an interesting redemption arc, because it’s presented in a reverse order. We see Irioth’s genuine desire to do good, and his gentle and patient manner with animals and other people. He doesn’t even consider asking for payment for curing the murrain until Gift tells him he should. But there’s a sense that something is off; he’s paranoid, clearly running from something. The use-name he picks is Otak, a fictional ferret-like creature— which Gift asserts looks nice, but has sharp teeth.

Near the end, Ged actually does show up and explain what happened to Irioth. They have pretty similar backstories; both were powerful, arrogant young mages who messed with forces they shouldn’t have, then went through great personal sacrifice to right the wrong (oh god the initial deception was intentional they’re narrative foils oh god). Ged embraced the darkest aspects of himself to avert calamity. Irioth came to Semel to escape Roke and atone by helping others. One detail I especially liked was that Irioth once considered healing beneath him, but now he takes a deep joy in using it to help.

#5 - Dragonfly (8/10)

Irian lives a solitary life-- her father is a drunkard living in the ruins of their family’s once prosperous estate. Her closest relationship is with the local village witch, who named her in secret in the dead of night. When a disgraced young wizard named Ivory comes to town, he sees Irian as a potential conquest. To gain power over her, he hatches a scheme; disguise Irian as a man, travel to Roke, and sneak her into the male-only wizard school— humiliating the great Masters.

But Irian is restless. She knows she has power, but her true nature is a mystery even to her. Irian sees Ivory’s plan as an opportunity to find answers from the most powerful wizards in the world. When the Doorkeeper actually lets her into the school, she finds herself in a magical and political conflict over the future of Roke— and discovers what exactly she is.

“Dark is bad,” said the Patterner. “Eh?”

Irian drew a deep breath and looked at him eye to eye as they sat there. “Only in dark the light,” she said.

This is one of those stories that has a rocky start, but a great second half. The first part of the novella felt dry to me; I’ve read plenty of tales about social outcasts with weird, unexplainable powers. On top of this, a chunk of the early narration is from Ivory’s POV, and he’s a complete tool. That can be a fun perspective to take, and I like the fact that he thinks he’s manipulating Irian when she’s the one pulling the strings. But since he’s an irrelevant character who disappears from the story halfway through, it feels like a waste to devote a huge chunk of the story to him.

However, once Irian arrives at Roke, the story gets much more interesting. Her presence at Roke causes a huge scandal that divides the Masters. Women being forbidden from Roke is a Series Thing at this point, but Earthsea is in an era of change (although I DO question that she’s the first woman to try it). The Finder demonstrated that women were pivotal in the foundation of Roke, something largely erased from history. Barring women stems from a power hungry bigot codifying it into tradition.

Irian finds some unexpected allies--minor characters in the previous books. The Doorkeeper continues to be the coolest motherfucker there. The Patterner is a major character in this story; he was in just one scene in The Farthest Shore, so I liked learning more about him. The Namer is the kind of guy you’d expect to be a stodgy traditionalist, so him siding with Irian is surprising. The Summoner, a heroic figure in previous books and stories, is a sinister villain here. As for the ending, well… if you didn’t see it coming, I’d wonder if you even read Tehanu. The same hints are there.

There were little particulars I liked, such as Irian moving into a decrepit hut that’s definitely Medra’s old home. My favorite detail is that this story has a parallel scene with The Finder. In The Finder, there’s a scene where an antagonist, Early, invades Roke in the form of a dragon. He lands on Roke Knoll, a site of power that reveals one’s true form. It turns him back into a human, leaving him defenseless when the residents of Roke attack him and repel his invasion. The reversal happens in Dragonfly. Irian gets attacked by one of the Masters while at Roke Knoll — and its magic turns her into her true form, a dragon. Props to whoever picked the cover design, since it references both scenes.

#6 - A Description of Earthsea

I’m not rating this since it’s basically a lore dump. It’s a deep dive into Earthsea’s history, languages, cultures, and other relevant world details. It’s the kind of bonus info a lot of fantasy series tack on as reference material. According to Le Guin, she wrote this to get some idea of the timeline on each of these stories.

As a series, Earthsea has relatively little worldbuilding exposition. Sometimes characters reference legends or historical events, but usually the reader lacks the context to fully understand them. The focus is more on the lives of the characters and their personal experience of the world. I think something like A Description of Earthsea has benefits and drawbacks for the reader. On one hand it's nice to have some definitive information to tie things together. On the other, this does represent a loss of some of the mystery in the story.

I think this is the first thing in the series that even mentions homosexuality, so props for that I guess?

Closing Thoughts

A short story collection is always going to have high and low points. I tend to look at each story individually and score that way, but an average is always misleading. Diamond and Darkrose dragged the score down since there were only five stories total. But I enjoyed the majority of them. I am interested to see where the human/dragon subplot goes in the final installment; I assume Irian will show up at some point? We’ll see.

#taylor reads #8/10 #2021 reading challenge #almost done with this series!

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daesungindistress · 5 years

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Sorry for bothering you. I have some questions. I'm new in this fandom. At fist I supported Seungri but now I doubt him. Some vips say that he is victim of media, he run only Aori ramen and Kmedia is lying. I see posts claiming that OT4 won't go on without him. There are so much conflicting information. What exactly did he do? If OT4 had problems with Seungri why were they so nice to him during Last dance tour? Again sorry for bothering I just want to know the whole story.

I’m sorry, I’ve gone over this at length so many times over the last six plus months… do I have the energy to hash it out again in detail? It’s true that there is still confusion over his case, let’s face it, there always will be. It’s also true that there has been misinformation spread on both sides, both for and against him. Accusations that came and went, some that stuck, some that didn’t. All you need to know is that right now, based on the results of the police investigation he underwent this spring, he is currently facing 7 charges (from this article):

Solicitation of prostitution (for himself)

Prostitution mediation (for his foreign investors)

Occupational embezzlement of Burning Sun funds

Occupational embezzlement of attorney’s fees

Instigating destruction of evidence

Violation of the Act on Special Cases Concerning the Punishment, etc. of Sexual Crimes (sharing a photo believed to be molka)

Violation of the Food Sanitation Act (this is related to Monkey Museum)

He is also currently under investigation for suspicions of gambling while abroad (which, though few fans seem to have a problem with it, is illegal for Koreans) and violating the Foreign Exchange Transactions Act (raising gambling funds through “hwanchigi,” a term that refers to illegal practices surrounding foreign exchange transactions). So if you see people saying he’s facing up to 9 charges, that’s where that number comes from. The first 7 charges are currently in the hands of the prosecution. Police have recommended indictment on all 7, however, it’s up to the prosecution to conduct their own supplementary investigation and decide whether or not to formally press charges against him (i.e., indict him), after which, if indicted, his case will go to court. This is just a thought, but they may be waiting for police to finish up their investigation on the gambling suspicions so that they can make a decision on all charges at once. In the meantime, it seems his enlistment has been postponed indefinitely.

For the record, most VIPs defended Seungri against the Burning Sun allegations (not gonna get into that here, but it’s pretty horrific stuff). The Burning Sun situation is still murky, and probably always will be, but it’s worth noting that Seungri was never booked or earnestly investigated on anything related to the club besides embezzlement of club funds. Then, in late February the prostitution chats were released – chats which appear to show him and his business partners arranging for prostitutes for their foreign investors visiting Korea back in late 2015 – and he was officially booked as a suspect for that. Then, as if things weren’t bad enough for him already, there came the molka/spycam chats, in which women were filmed in sex acts without their permission and their photos and videos secretly shared among friends. We later learned that some of these women had been drugged and raped. Besides that, the text content of the chats themselves and they way these men spoke about the women they’d slept with was just vile.

Based on the very limited evidence we have available to us, Seungri’s involvement in those molka chats was admittedly minimal (at least when compared to the other chat members, many of whom are currently standing trial on rape charges). However, some of these men were close friends of his, and for many people, his knowledge of their despicable acts toward these women and his complacency (in neglecting to report, or at the very least condemn them for it) was enough. We know he viewed at least one molka video and seemed unbothered by it, even laughing at it. That was the point at which many (I would argue most) people dropped his ass like a hot potato, horrified that he’d had any part in it at all.

Everyone has to draw the line somewhere. For many, that was the line. As for me? I remember the first time I saw that headline, and how my heart sank. I was still on his side back then, perhaps not yet realizing just how serious the situation had become, but even so, I knew in my heart that it was the end for him. And sure enough, it was later that same day when he announced his retirement from the entertainment industry.

His supporters will swear up and down that he had nothing to do with it, but from his own mouth, in his Chosun Ilbo interview, he knew. And not only that, he apparently helped them dispose of evidence when the news broke by alerting them that they were in trouble and instructing them to change their phones (hence the “instigating destruction of evidence” charge). And this is to say nothing of the ridiculous explanation he came up with for the prostitution chats: that he was just providing girls for his female friend to party and go shopping with, an explanation that was shot down by that very friend who he tried to use as an alibi. So when you said “now I doubt him”? Yeah. Us too.

There’s so much more to this saga. So much more. And it’s ongoing. But I’m so tired of going over it again and again and again. The fact is, Seungri asked to have his contract with YG terminated and announced his withdrawal from the industry. So whether you like him or not, continuing to pledge your support to him is just a massive waste of time. Seungri has been a retired singer for six months now, and the cold hard reality is that since March 2019 Big Bang has been four members. G-Dragon, TOP, Taeyang, Daesung. They are still with us. They are who will stand on the stage before us again. They are who will bring us new music and feature in new videos. They are our future as a fandom. If we want more of Big Bang, if we want to see the band continue on at all, we have to express a willingness to support them as they are, now and for the foreseeable future. Otherwise, it’s like Youngbae said during Last Dance: it will be goodbye for real. And who wants that?

Seungri has been locked in an intense media and legal battle for almost all of 2019 – nearly nine months now. And I don’t see things getting better for him anytime soon. This could easily drag on for another three months, until the end of this year. It could go on for six. It could even stretch on for twelve, if he’s indicted on all charges and his case goes to trial. When you factor in enlistment, the absolute soonest Seungri can even think about being active again as an entertainer is in 2-3 years’ time. It has already been almost 3 years since BB’s last comeback. Does anyone really think they’re going to make themselves and us endure another 2-3 year wait (at best!) for a retired member to return to them before they'll release new music again as a group? When they wanted him to enlist alongside them, but he chose not to? And then became the center of the biggest controversy in kpop history? After they begged him not to get in trouble while they were away?

“If OT4 had problems with Seungri why were they so nice to him during Last dance tour?”

I don’t want you guys to think I’m spreading the message that BB ever hated Seungri. It’s more complex than that. I think they cared for him, but I think they were also frustrated with him. I think they wanted what was best for him and were concerned for him. I think they wanted to put their trust in him, knowing that he alone would be carrying the name Big Bang in their absence, but given how distant he’d become and the questionable connections he’d made, couldn’t help being wary of him.

And more than anything? I think they felt they’d lost him. For several years now. And it’s so damn sad.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, to someone (those friends of his) or to something (money and fame, greed and pride, power and envy, you name it), he slipped through their fingers. It wasn’t always this way between them, I’m sure of it. But sometimes people change, often as a result of their changing circumstances. Seungri, unhappy with his present situation (circa 2015, maybe even earlier), found a new passion and a new social circle (a problematic one)… and the closer he grew to them, the farther he drifted from BB. They said they only ever saw him onstage. Said they made plans together but he’d often cancel at the last minute. Said he was always overseas with his other friends and business associates. Said he was “totally a businessman” and that he “didn’t want to work [as a singer] anymore.” They said it seemed that Big Bang had become “business” to him and that all he ever talked about with them was money. I think they felt that though he stayed with them, he did so for all the wrong reasons, reasons that no longer included a passion for music. He didn’t even invite them to his last birthday party before they all enlisted, his big island resort birthday bash in the Philippines (and we’ve all seen that Last Dance tour behind-the-scenes clip in which GD scolded him harshly for it. In hindsight, they dodged a bullet by not being there, seeing as that party was under scrutiny this year for suspicions of prostitution mediation).

Sorry. At this point I’m just rambling. You say you want to know the whole story? Yeah, well, so do the rest of us. But for now, the best we can hope for is that it’s not over for Big Bang. So please, let’s give all our love to the four who remain.

#I can't believe writing this moved me to tears wtf #11% abv beer will do that to ya I guess #don't call me a lightweight!#lol #it's called dragon's milk btw #good stuff #bigbang #seungri #ask #anon #burning sun #I just feel terrible for all of them... everyone #this whole year has been so damn tragic for so many people

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henrynichol78-blog · 5 years

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im-fairly-whitty · 6 years

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Fermata: A Ruy Chapter

“Fermata: A symbol that tells the performer to hold the note as long as s/he would like, but certainly longer than the written note value.”

A supplementary chapter to the Coco Villain!au. Two snapshots of Ruy and Iria’s relationship while alive, one near the beginning, one at the very end.

New York - June 1947 - Four years before Ruy’s death

Iria stared blearily at her bedroom wall, confused at why she had woken up in the middle of the night.

A breeze blew through the trees outside her window, the June night air rustling through the leaves. Her eyes were just drifting closed again when she heard something distinctly non-breeze-like outside her window, the quiet plucking of a ukulele.

She sat up, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, dimly lit by the constant New York city glow seeping through the window blinds.

Why was he outside her window at three in the morning?

She had important meetings tomorrow. If she was smart she would stay in bed, she could ask him what he wanted in the morning. But...even if she was half asleep, she’d rather see him.

Iria stifled a massive yawn as she got out of bed and pulled on her bedrobe, the Maldonian crest stitched on one side. It took a minute to undo the several sophisticated locks on her balcony door, this was an official embassy building after all, but soon she was pushing open the sliding glass door and walking out onto her balcony.

She leaned on the railing, looking down for the soft sound of ukulele. There was no way she would have been able to hear it if her street wasn’t a quiet one, away from the hustle and bustle of the heart of the city.

There, two stories down and leaning into a rhododendron bush, was Rodrigo Rivera. He seemed to be staring at nothing, plucking idly at his instrument, the dappled street lamp light filtering down through the oak trees around him.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Iria called softly.

There was a muffled twang as Ruy jumped, looking up in surprise, and then embarrassment.

“Lo siento, Estrella. I didn’t mean to wake you!” he stage-whispered, scrambling to his feet and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You’re playing music outside my window in the middle of the night, what did you think was going to happen?” Iria whispered back. “You’re lucky it was me that woke up.”

“I was playing quietly.” Ruy said, holding up his ukelele as if to show her. “I apologize, I needed to think and my place is too empty. Please, go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Well you’ve already gone and bothered me,” Iria said, resting her chin on her folded arms, looking down at him with a smile. “do you have any other bothering in mind?”

Ruy grinned up at her, blowing a kiss in her direction. “Well...if you want to come with me, there is a place I would love to take you.”

“I’ll meet you at the entrance in five minutes.”

***

“Ruy, when you said “a place” I thought you meant going to a park, not breaking into Carnegie Hall!” Iria hissed.

“Shhh, it is not breaking in, we are just, visiting after hours.” Ruy said, a truly mischievous grin on his face as he pushed open a back door and pulled her into the shadows inside, confidently leading her deeper into the darkness. “It’s fine, I am conducting here later this week, they love me.”

“Oh? And do the security guards love you too?” Iria whispered, keeping close to him out of fear of running into something as he led her along, her heart racing in excitement. The wiser part of her knew she should pull him back...but where was the fun in that?

“I am Rodrigo Rivera, they have to love me.” Ruy said, she could hear the grin in his voice.

They turned into a dimly lit hallway with the whitewashed walls and linoleum flooring of a backstage area.

“Welcome to Carnegie Hall.” Ruy said, pulling her close and gesturing grandly at the utilitarian space with the ukulele in his other hand. “This is what musical success looks like, this is what the greatest musicians in the world get to see when they have made it to the top.”

“I’m incredibly impressed.” Iria chuckled, she smoothed a hand up his chest, “But if you were looking for someplace romantic I could have made a few other suggestions.”

“Ah ah, but you do not sound impressed.” Ruy teased, running an arm around her waist. “You are too good for backstage.”

“Backstage is fine, I just- Ruy, stop it!” She laughed as he nuzzled her neck, only half-heartedly trying to push him away.

“You are right,” he said, kissing her cheek before taking her hand again and pulling her down the hallway, “you are too beautiful for backstage.”

“Where are we going now?” Iria asked as he led them through several doors and into a carpeted hallway with much nicer decor, “We have to be quiet Ruy, we don’t-”

She gasped as he pushed open a heavier door, leading her into the huge expanse that was Carnegie Hall proper, the massive and ornate auditorium.

She’d been there to attend performances before, a few of them with or for Ruy, but seeing the enormous room completely empty, instead of crammed with patrons, was completely different. The balcony lights were all switched off and only half of the stage lights were lit, casting the room in deep shadows, the stage an island of warm cream light.

“We aren’t supposed to be here.” Iria whispered, feeling like she didn't have the right to make noise in such a silent and grand room. It felt almost like a library, but...for sound, instead of books.

“This is exactly where we’re supposed to be.” Ruy said, not lowering his voice at all. Sounding exactly like he belonged, or maybe like the hall belonged to him.

No. Sounding like he belonged to the hall.

Ruy led her up and onto the stage, setting his ukelele on the polished wooden floor and pulling her to the very center, putting them both into the middle of the light.

“Here we are.” he said softly, putting his hands on her hips. “No backstage for you, front and center, for everyone to see you.”

“You’re the only one here.” Iria said, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair.

“I hope that is alright.”

“It’s perfect.”

She leaned in and kissed him slowly, savoring the feel of his lips against hers, letting him deepen the kiss as he pulled her closer, gently tracing her fingertips along the line of his jaw. Ruy gently ran his hand up her sides, his mouth smiling against hers.

Iria gently pulled back from the kiss, looking into his starry eyes as she brushed back his shaggy bangs.

“Happy Birthday Ruy.” she said.

His eyes widened, his smile faltering. “How...did you know?”

“You’re an international musical celebrity Ruy,” Iria said, taking his hands, “it’s on the public record, even if you try to cover it up.”

“I just...don’t like everyone making a big deal out of it.” Ruy said, looking away.

“It reminds you of your family, doesn’t it?” Iria said softly.

“A bit.” Ruy said with a sigh, leaning against her, putting one hand on her waist and taking her hand in the other as he began to sway them back and forth. A simple, intimate waltz.

“That’s why you couldn’t sleep.” Iria said, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“There are too many thoughts I have no place for,” Ruy said softly, “not when I can think about you instead.”

“Well I’m flattered you thought of me before alcohol.” Iria teased gently.

“Oh, Irititia,” Ruy said, pulling back to look at her face, “you are muy better than tequila. You cost less, there is no hangover, you make better conversation,” he leaned in with a smile, “your lips even have a better taste.”

Iria swatted his shoulder with a sound of mock indignation, but quickly dissolved into laughter, unable to stop laughing even as he kissed her again.

“Well, I’m glad I know where we stand.” Iria said, although she did feel genuinely pleased, she knew what a struggle he had with drink and even a joke like that didn’t come lightly from him, “I have a present for you.”

“You are the only present I need, you didn’t have to get me anything.” Ruy said, but he already looked curious.

“You know how you’re always begging me to sing?” Iria asked, smiling as his eyes already lit up. “I’m giving you a song for your birthday.”

“Rita, en serio?” he said, taking her hands, his voice ecstatic, “What song? What are you going to sing? And you have a stage too! I knew bringing you here was perfecto!”

“I’ll play too if I can borrow your ukulele.” Iria said.

Ruy nearly dove across the stage in his haste to retrieve the ukelele for her. He rushed back to her, handing it to her with a kiss on the forehead before excitedly jumping down off the stage, going to the front row of audience seating and perching himself on the back of one of the red velvet benches.

Iria smiled to herself as she kicked off her shoes and tested the strings on the instrument. She still didn’t know everything about Ruy, why he drank, why he didn’t sleep, why he held her like she was his last lifeline on earth, but it was alright.

She was patient and he was honest, and there would be plenty of time to talk things over when he walked her back home.

***

New York - October 1950 - Nine months before Ruy’s death

“Ruy, we can’t do this anymore.”

Ruy sat on the edge of the hospital bed, picking at the tape holding the IV in his arm instead of looking at Iria.

“You shouldn’t have to.” he said softly, trying to ignore the way his hands were still twitching involuntarily. “I’m sorry.”

“Ruy, look at me.”

He looked up. Iria would always be beautiful, but he couldn’t ignore the way her hair was haphazardly pulled back in a messy all-nighter ponytail, how she was still dressed in her now hopelessly wrinkled embassy clothes, her tired eyes, her permanently worried expression.

He wanted to take her in her arms, to kiss her worry away...but he had no right to even think about that when he was the cause of all of it.

“I was only gone for a week Ruy,” Iria said, “you were unconscious on the bathroom floor with so much junk everywhere that I didn’t know what to tell the paramedics you were high on.”

“Probably cocaine I think.” Ruy said, wanting to look away, but not daring to.

“Where did you even-” Iria’s hiss trailed off into a sigh as she rubbed her eyes in exhaustion.

“Someone kept bringing some to the parties this week.” Ruy said, trying to remember anything from the hazy last few days, but it was a struggle. “I must have gone too far last night.”

“Not last night Ruy, no one’s heard from you in two days.”

Two days.

He’d been nervous when Iria announced she would be traveling for a week, but had done his best to put on a brave face for her. After all, they were both adults, he should be able to handle himself alone for a whole week.

But after only a couple days without her to calm him, to distract him, to help him stay grounded, his own thoughts had gotten too loud. Too loud to sleep or eat or even hear the music in his head anymore. And so even though he’d promised not to, he’d thrown a party Wednesday night, and another on Thursday, the loud noise and sea of faces and waves of alcohol distracting him from the dark thoughts crowding in on him from every side with no one around to anchor him.

He’d thought he’d thrown a party on Friday too, but if no one had heard from him in two days...

He hadn’t slipped up so badly in so long, not since he and Iria had gotten together, he hadn’t done the really hard stuff in ages, she’d always been more than enough excitement for him.

“I think we need to take a break Ruy.” Iria said, snapping his attention back to her.

“You mean for the weekend?” Ruy asked.

“I mean for a long time.” Iria said, biting her lip, her arms tightly folded. “I think, I think you rely on me too much, I think maybe you need some space.”

No. No.

Ruy gripped the edges of the hospital bed, fighting the overwhelming sense of vertigo gripping him.

“I know you can be better, I’ve seen you be better,” Iria said, her voice turning to a plea, “but maybe I’m holding you back. I can’t see you tearing yourself apart like this Ruy, I need you to pull yourself together, for both of us. Until then I think maybe I need to take a step back.”

But you’re what keeps me together.

I only want to tear myself apart when you’re gone.

When I’m with you I feel sane, I feel important, I feel worth something.

Please don’t leave.

But he couldn’t say any of the panicked things we wanted to.

She had never asked for this, to deal with a grown man who couldn’t even hold himself together for a week. She didn’t deserve to be with someone who couldn’t even stand to look in the mirror. He had known all along that he didn’t deserve her, that every moment they had together was stolen time.

He’d known all along that he would mess everything up somehow. And he’d finally done it.

He had no right to try and keep Iria when he already knew he didn’t deserve her, he couldn’t say a single word that might make her feel like he was trapping her. Even though every bit of him was aching to get on his knees and plead with her to stay. Even if he already knew that her leaving would be the end of everything.

Even if he knew her leaving would be the end of him.

“I can’t keep you here.” Ruy said, closing his eyes tightly against the tears that rolled down his face, too physically exhausted to even try keeping them back any more. “If you need to leave, then go, I am sorry.”

He felt her sit down on the bed next to him, pulling him close, cradling his head against her as he held her tightly.

“I don’t want to go,” Iria said quietly, “but if that’s what needs to happen then I’ll do it. You need to be better Ruy, I know you can be. This break will...it’ll be good for both of us. You can get cleaned up, I can focus on my work. When things have gotten better we’ll see each other again.”

Ruy said nothing, biting back the words in his head as he tried to memorize what she felt like.

Because he knew this was the end and his heart was breaking. He wasn’t going to get better, not without her, she was the only thing that had ever made him feel like he was home and now he was losing her. She would go on with her own life and be successful and amazing and beautiful, and she would meet someone much better than him. Someone who actually deserved her, because she deserved it.

“Alright.” he said, forcing the most painful half-smile of his life as he broke their hug, feeling like he’d just snapped off a piece of his soul. “We will take a break.”

“Are you sure?” Iria said, gently taking his face in her hands.

That alone was nearly enough to break him, nearly enough to get him to tell the truth, that this was going to kill him, that he needed her more than anything else in his life, that he was weak, that he couldn’t imagine any kind of future for himself that didn’t have her in it.

But she deserved better.

“Si, you’re always right Rita.” he said, “If you say you need space then space is what we must have.”

“Alright.” Iria said, tears coming to her eyes. “If that’s what you need.”

It wasn’t.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” Ruy said, pulling his hands away, picking at the IV tape again. “I’ll call someone to take me home.”

“I can still take you home.” Iria said.

“No, I need to not rely on you, si? I will be alright.” Ruy said, his false smile stronger now. He had to put on a show for her, if she drove him home he would break.

“I...alright.” Iria said, standing, looking lost. “I guess...I’ll see you later then?”

“It will be a happy reunion, we will both be better for it.” Ruy lied, pulling himself up onto the bed. “I am sorry, but I am very tired. Thank you again Iria, travel safely.”

She looked like she wanted to say something more as she hovered in the doorway. He wanted her to say something, anything, so he could hear her voice one last time.

But instead she bit her lip, the way she always did when she was trying not to cry.

And then she was gone.

Ruy stared at the closed door as the IV dripped into him, as his damaged body ached, as his broken heart bled.

She deserved better than him.

He slowly laid on his side, staring at the blank hospital wall as everything fell apart for good.

She deserved better than him.

#ruy #iria #rodrigo #ruia #coco #i have too many feelings for these children #too many

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alexatrevino93 · 4 years

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therealvagabird · 6 years

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Omens of the Norse

Fantasy worldbuilding short by C. Christiansen. What horrific truths lie beyond the reaches of civilization? Magic and grim atmosphere await.

Scholar Cerise Raphaela—Supplementary Journal, Issue Minasburg University

Her Year 1251, 6th Age—under Calipha Shani Masuhun al-Iilha XXI

I finally have the opportunity to write once again, and I’m thankful to still be drawing breath! Less fortunate, though: my initial journal was taken from me. I was forward-thinking enough to bring a spare, but I’m not certain if I’ll get my first volume back.

If this ends up being the sole record, then I’ll recount my purpose and mission thus far. If this is the book that will return to the Empire, then it will have to suffice as a total summary in and of itself, even lacking the details. So regrettable.

My name is Cerise, scholar of the Minasburg College of Histories. On orders from the senior professors of the University, and with permissions and grants directly from the High Church in Deamid, I’ve undertaken a quest of study. I’ve been sent to the furthest northern lands reachable, so that I might observe and learn of the barbarian peoples who live there.

Missions like this have been undertaken before on behalf of the New Yahmian Caliphate (Census of Alexander Ildar, Lady Valcon’s Journals, etc.), but by my planning this was to be a study unprecedented in its execution, aimed at collecting the purest and most salient information yet gathered on the Norse tribes. With the support of the Church, I felt it reasonable to push limits in the name of knowledge. As such, my journeying party consists of a hand-selected group of my own peers whom I believe will both uphold the spirit of the study, and see it to its most satisfactory conclusion.

The research group consists of myself as chief scholar and communicator, Adept Lamya Al-Saab as cultural expert and secondary linguist, Adept Kara Demirci as recording artist, and Benton Schuler, a fellow of geographic studies and our secondary scribe. Our journey was uneventful in the brief period before we reached the northern peninsulae of the Empire’s territories, at which point we used our granted funds to hire three mercenary guards—landsknechts by the names of Adam, Viola, and Bruno. We then crossed the northern gap to the fjords of Skaeng, where we found and acquired our final member, a Kelgal (Norseman) trapper and guide by the name of Eadwulf “Red-Beard”.

As such, this leads into my explanation of the uniqueness of this journey. Former quests to study the barbarian civilizations beyond the borders of the Empire have been undertaken in secret and with a defensive disposition. I intended to break this hostility. My party was instructed to carry on them no articles of the Caliphate save for a single faithful token of their choosing (all chose their rosaries, as was expected), and my group contains no members of the clergy. As well, though we’d taken steps to move in as unassuming a manner as possible to avoid the predations of the most savage of the Northerners, I made it a policy to always tell the truth of our mission when asked. We come bearing no swords or icons of crusading faith—we are to be the outstretched hand of understanding and learning. I’m of the taqadam denominational school of thought—a believer in the most loving and embracing aspects of the Goddess. I feel it is through this approach that we’ll receive the most detailed information on Kelgal culture yet recorded.

That is my summary, in as brief a restatement as I can make it. And I maintain: my hopes and ideals were held true for most of our journey to the far North! There were times we came close to conflict, and one where we were attacked outright by bandits, but overall the Norse showed little hostility. Coldness, perhaps, as is their way, but in each village we stopped we were able to make fantastic recordings on Kelgal aesthetics, community practices, and both utilitarian and religious culture. It seems as though the mannerisms of the barbarian peoples vary much from tribe to tribe, despite what culture joins them together. They are a diverse people, in spirit if not in appearance (in that sense there are near all pale, robust, and hirsute).

It was when we reached the Far North, where the forests have grown the thickest and the settlements are few and so very far between, that we encountered our first major obstacle. We were waylaid by a roving band, and quickly overpowered for the sheer numbers and ferocity of these folk. We put up little resistance, and so were taken captive. Our possessions were taken, and we were bound and blinded after I explained our mission. Not even Eadwulf was spared. As I write this, I’m locked within a small room in what I expect is a large log hut. I don’t know what tribe this is, or how far they have taken us, but it seems we have stumbled onto lands we are not so free to roam on.

I don’t know where the others are being held. Nor am I sure where we are. We’d been relying on Eadwulf’s guidance more than our traditional maps, lacking as they were. The thought did occur to me that this might have been a plot by Red-Beard, but he was as surprised as the rest of us, and he didn’t seem the most sinister or duplicitous of barbarians. I’ve overheard fragments of speech from outside my room at several points, and it’s not any dialect of Kelgalish I’ve yet encountered. It seems to hold more Eastern tones, like the Steppe tribes. As such, I would guess we’ve moved eastward as well as northward, to the hybrid tribes of the Steppe-Skaeng hinterlands. What this means for us I can only guess at. The Easterlings—the Torb and such—have even more fearsome reputations than the Kelgal. I shall remain optimistic. Tracking the time as best I could, lacking a view of the sky, I believe I’ve been held captive here for not more than a night. The return of my possessions, or what parts the tribesmen saw fit to return, bodes well for me.

I’ll resume my writings at the next convenient opportunity—I hear talking and movement. Hope remains for the journey and our relations with this savage tribe. Protection and guidance of Liv be with me, and with those who have followed me—even Red-Beard.

—

First of all, I’m relieved to say I’ve been provided with better lodgings. I am, of course, in the same cell they had been keeping me in before, but the door is no longer barred and they have brought in furs to provide some homeliness. By their definition, that is.

It appears our charts were off more than we knew, and Eadwulf had taken us further in less time than anticipated. We are indeed on the borderlands of the Steppe, and according to the warrior I spoke with, in one of the last great woods before the wastelands to the north—north of the North, that is. We are guests, if such a word can be used, of the Dread Crows tribe. As pleasant a name as can be expected, and their village reflects such impressions.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The recap: fortune was with me, and I was taken aside by two hunters of the tribe, who demanded to know my purpose in these lands. My honesty held true, and I told them the full story of our mission here. They seemed pleased with that, as much as they could be given their stoic behavior, and informed me that my explanation matched those of my companions. I’m proud of them, I must say, for sticking to my plan!

I was then taken into the village main. This is a dismal country, it’s sad to admit. It’s only Jummadas, and yet you’d swear it was the depths of winter. Snow fell in light showers between the stark, black pines, and the sky was slate grey. The cold light and air cast the rest of the village into drab hues, from the blackwood logs of the various longhouses and huts, to the muddy trails left in the snow by the tribesmembers going about their business. I was given plenty of dark glances from men and women of all ages, all swaddled in so many furs you would think they were wild animals. Some curious details were that the entire village, containing some ten stout buildings, was encased in a sheer wall of logs. The tops of these logs were sharpened, and there were but two gates. These, I think, are to protect from other tribes that might maraud them, as resources must be scarce out here. The other odd detail was the construction of the houses—quite unlike other works of Kelgal carpentry I’ve seen. All of them were raised on squat stilts, keeping the houses a good three feet off the earth. Each house, despite its rough build, was also outfitted with a great many charms and carvings, some more elaborate than others, but abundant nonetheless. The result was a very occult appearance to the hamlet. For one of my theses at the end of my basic studies, I once catalogued an abandoned camp of one of the beast-tribes, and the appearance was similar, save for the presence of buildings. These are a wild people, but in their works you can see that they still have spiritualities and loyalties all their own.

I was reunited with my group after my brief escort through the hamlet. The locals had been rather generous in returning our belongings, but in an odd way. All of our writing and sketching materials were returned, save for my prior notebook and some of Kara’s sketches, and our mercenaries were even allowed to keep their greatswords and hammer! They were, however, deprived of their knives. Bruno balked at the oddity of this, before I posited that perhaps carrying around a large and visible weapon was less threatening to these people than having a hidden dagger somewhere on your person. I was quite proud of that assessment.

All of us, save for Eadwulf, were taken before a man known as the “Kir-Sköld”, which after some asking I took to amount to a leader of warriors. He was not a Jarl, however—that I was corrected on. I’d guess him to be akin to a knight, but as with many of these things it’s hard to find a direct link. This man was a hell of a thing to lay eyes on. The Norse are often compared to bears, but this man could have fooled an enemy with such a ruse if he’d wanted to. He was enormous, for one, both in weight and girth; and was swaddled in many layers of brown and black furs, alongside talismans of wood, bone, and even one I think might have been of actual gold. His brown hair matched his attire, and was braided and matted with further charms. He met us on the steps of the greatest longhouse (though it was about the size of three cottages in the most rural Yahmian lands), where by his side was laid an enormous round-shield, and he leaned against a poleaxe as tall as he was. Kara and Benton didn’t say a single word, save for quick affirmations when prompted, throughout the whole meeting. I don’t blame them. Were it not for my duties as a liaison, I might’ve fled!

The Kir-Sköld’s name was given as Buliwyf. Even I struggled to understand his dialect, as it was already thick due to the remoteness of this country, and he seemed an old soul whose voice had been weathered by ice and battle. Lamya was gracious in helping, though under our own furs we were both dealing with the biting cold on top of trying to make good impressions. Buliwyf did not ask us our business—I expect he was already told—but asked if we intended to continue north. I of course said yes, as I imagined there were more tribes beyond these woods, and I was interested in seeing the traditions of the furthest, most alien peoples from the Empire.

That didn’t satisfy him, and he asked—perhaps commanded—that I return South from hereon. He said that while there were tribes north of these lands, they would not hold any secrets the Dread Crows found noteworthy, and would be little more than wild bands. Hunters, trappers, but not true tribesmen.

I tried to explain the difference in opinion, saying that I wasn’t after secrets or glory, but trying to show the wisest in our Empire that the Norse were not as a whole the bloodthirsty savages they were viewed as. I came in search of truth, to maybe find that—while different—there was common ground to be had between our peoples.

The warriors escorting us found that amusing, but Buliwyf remained grim. He asked me of Liv, blessed be her name (I was shocked he knew it!), and my faith in the Goddess of the South. I didn’t hide the fact that I was a devoted of Liv, but I tried to stress that it wouldn’t affect my opinions of their own religion, for the sake of the study. He then asked me what I knew of spirits, gods, nature, and the like. I am, of course, a scholar of cultures and histories first and foremost. My knowledge of the natural philosophies and arcane studies exist only insofar as they further my knowledge of peoples. Final of all, the warrior asked me if there were any priests or mages among us. I said no to both. He said we would have done well to bring a cleric so far North—a response I wasn’t expecting. Lamya attempted to bridge the apparent gap that had formed by giving a traditional Norse blessing. The exact translation is not quite satisfactory—it relates to Kelgal funerary practices, and ancestor-worship: “May your ancestors be as ash in snow, and embers in your belly.” The meaning being a compliment to the valor of one’s family line. It wasn’t much, but Lamya hoped it would foster some goodwill between our groups.

We were dismissed soon after, and now I write this from my room again. We were provided with food; some manner of fish stew. A don’t have high hopes for the continuing fortune of this expedition. There’s something about these Far-Northerners that puts me off, I’m remiss to say. The Norse are grim, yes, but they’re also vibrant. Often to severe extremes, as a veteran of the last Skaengish Crusade some decades ago might tell you. But these Dread Crows… well, they live up to their name. I shall try my best to take in their culture, either way.

—

A quick addendum: I was informed that I alone will have an audience with the wise-woman of the tribe! I was given no further information, but was told that she will have great wisdom to impart on me. I don’t know if this meeting has a precedent in print! I look forward to it, even as I’m a might terrified.

—

I write this over breakfast, or at least what I’ve touched. We were given some manner of hearty stew which I can’t say I much enjoyed. The primary ingredients appearing to be fat, beer, and some unidentified brown sludge. I appreciated the gesture of us eating in the communal house, but I’ve not taken to the food so well. The others are on edge, which I sympathize with, but as the imminent threat of us dying or being enslaved has been allayed for now, we’re all in better spirits.

The warrior, Buliwyf, told me more of my impending meeting. Their wise woman is known as what can be translated as “Crow Matron”. I was advised to listen close to her council, as she’s meant to be a powerful magician, among other skills. This worries me, but is also the most notable meeting I may yet have on this journey. I’ve met perhaps two mages in my entire life, and both were trained under the edicts of the holy Academies. This Crow Matron would be a hedge-witch, a shaman. The energies she might tap into would be far beyond the sanctity of what is known to Southern practitioners. Of course, it’s an equal possibility the woman is just well-versed in medicine and histories. Many practices, such as mundane illusion and natural philosophies, are shared by true practitioners of magic as well as apothecaries and charlatans. Either way, it’ll be an excellent opportunity to gain insight into the morals of these Far-Northern tribes. Whatever wisdom an elder holds will be considered of the highest import, and she might give me history and lore more valuable than any I’ve gathered before!

I asked one of our escorts if they’d anything amounting to tea in this land. I didn’t rest well last night. The anxiety has gotten to me, and I had horrible, dark dreams. This climate I think may be poisonous (in a sense) to Southerners. The lack of color, smell, or warmth can have adverse effects on one’s mental state as much as physical. You can see it in the people who live here year-round! Last night, Lamya and I managed to slip away from our escorts for a few moments to witness an older man of the tribe tell stories to children around one of the fire-pits in the main longhouse. His dialect was heavy, but the tale we could discern was some kind of ghost-story. The children seemed unmoved, however, and even laughed at some parts. A healthy relationship with death is to be expected in lands where it could and often does come without warning. Far removed from Imperial sensibilities, but fascinating nonetheless!

I’ll write again in the evening, after I’ve met with the Crow Matron. The others don’t envy me, but I can’t wait! More to follow.

—

I have counselled with the Crow-Matron Sonja. I can confirm with my own eyes that she is a magician far beyond the average Academy mage, and perhaps the better to certain grand scholars on matters of natural magic and soothsaying. Her gaze is long, and her soul powerful. She has advised that we do not continue North, if we wish to bring what we’ve learned back to the peoples of the Empire. She brought my eyes with hers, to the edges of the distant northern ice-seas, and brought to life the oldest fairy tales of Yahmian lore.

We have been raised in an era of peace. For over a century now, we have beaten back the predation of the Norse and Austerlings. The tyrants of the East lay dormant and quelled by the power of the Calipha and her predecessor, but there are true evils that rest uninjured. My mission is now more than just simple research—it is my duty as a citizen to inform the scholarhoods of New Yahmi of what dangers await.

If we continue to raise minor crusades and missions against the barbarian peoples, we will be taken without warning by new horrors from the East. And I know, I know it would not be the first time the brave souls of the Empire have given their lives to stem the hordes of the Drained Lords, but we will not have any advantage this time. A shadow moves down from the North. Slow and menacing, and it will meld with the darkness cast by the East. If we hope to survive, we must ally with the barbarians we have detested for so long. Forget their blasphemies. There are gods more real than the pagan pantheons, and they will be the end of us if we don’t prepare!

We’ve been given tokens of protection by the gracious Sonja, and we are making haste to return south as soon as the sun dawns tomorrow. May the Goddess bless our virtue, and bring our warnings to the ear of the Calipha herself. I don’t know how much time I’ll have in the coming weeks to write, so this may be my last entry. I doubt any new information could surface more important than what I’ve learned already.

Salvation and fortune, to every citizen.

Record expunged on orders of the Caliphate. Declared Ain’Heretical

—

The moment Cerise entered the hut, she was awash in the smell of smoke. Regular smoke, from the fire that no doubt burned in some fireplace she couldn’t see—as just a few steps forward an impenetrable wall of bead-chains and hanging fetishes masked the rest of the room from view. There was also the incense, fragrant and astringent, like mint and pine, cutting through the wood-smoke’s earthy tones. The roof of the shack was obscured by swirling traces of the ubiquitous vapors, staining the rafters black as it leaked bit by bit through the covered hole in the center of the roof.

“Show your highest respects.” Buliwyf muttered to her, just before he closed the door to the bitter cold, “For your own sake. Liv does not dwell here.” He spoke the fatalistic words before leaving Cerise alone, with naught but the crackle of fire and faint rustling.

She took a step forward, daring to touch the hanging curtain that cut off the rest of the cabin, pulling some of the strands ever-so aside. The orange glow of firelight trickled through into the darkness.

“Come. Sit.” The words startled the Yahmian, but at the Matron’s bidding she pushed her way through, coming face to face—though not quite—with this mysterious mystic.

At first, Cerise didn’t recognize that the pile of black furs heaped across from her contained a human being. It was when one pale and elegant arm extended from the mass to beckon towards the small heap of pelts the guest was meant to sit on, did Cerise realize this was the Matron.

“Sit.” She spoke with a whispering tone, breathy and low. Hers was the same thick accent as Buliwyf’s, wavering and odd.

“Thank you.” The scholar stuttered, sitting down cross-legged, spine rigid and eyes peering into the furry cowl of the shaman, trying to catch sight of her face.

The room was drowning in charms and talismans, of bone, wood, stone, and more precious things. They hung like spiders in glittering, still strands from where they were tied to the rafters. The walls were covered in the furs of beasts, and tapestries crude-woven, depicting what must have been great sagas of the tribe. To Cerise’s left, there was a stone fireplace, low and simple, with a cauldron about the size of a large pumpkin stewing some unknown liquid. In the center of the room, between her and the Matron, was a wide dish of bronze, in which cones of incense smoldered amidst white ashes. With nothing but the fire beneath the cauldron to light the room, the shadows were stark and flickering, and the whole arrangement looked as sinister and bewitched as any Southerner could imagine of the heathen North.

“You are a scholar.” The mound of black fur spoke; single, pale hand pointing to Cerise. From the pelts of the shaman’s regalia hung yet more charms of bone, and her arm was laden with bracelets and rings, with the black swirls of tattoos obscured underneath. “You are here to capture our words?” she asked.

“Great Crow Matron…” Cerise bowed her head, “Mother of the Dread Crows, I come so that the people of my country might learn about the true nature of the Norse.” She tried her best at formality, with so little to go on as to their tribe’s etiquette.

Another arm, also bejeweled, emerged from the mound, to cross fingers with the first. The fur-pile seemed to nod, “Your respects are welcome. Though they stand on bones of ignorance.”

Cerise was tight-lipped, waiting for the wise-woman to continue. She wasn’t above admitting she was indeed “ignorant”, but then, that was the point of this expedition.

“My champion thinks you a spy, and my people dislike you on principle.” She continued, “But they too forget their true enemies. Just as the Southlings have forgotten.” The shadows of the fur hood turned, considering the flickering fire. Still, Cerise could see nothing. “What do you know of our ways?”

That seemed to be an invitation to speak. The scholar cleared her throat, “Well—I was fascinated to find how disparate the beliefs of the Norse people were. Many archetypes were present among the high gods, but local spirits, ancestor-heroes, and the like—those seemed to depend on tribe. There seemed to be—a general distrust of magic, but no different from how our Empire holds ire against mages who train outside the Academies.” She wracked her brain, “Individualistic, hardy—is there something specific you mean?”

The Matron’s hidden gaze turned back to her, “What do you know of death?”

Now that shook Cerise. She didn’t quite know how to answer—that could mean many things. “Uh, well. You seem to hold it as high as any people.”

“But not all deaths are the same.” She corrected, “And there are many in the North. Some worse than others.”

Cerise just nodded, “I imagine so.”

The figure beneath the mound straightened up, pale arms reaching with a clinking sound to the hood. Cerise’s breath caught in her throat as the veil was pulled back.

What first struck her—her age. She was so young. Perhaps not ten years older than Cerise herself. Her hair was dark and wild, her face ghost-pale, and thin lines of inked black ran along her chin, brow, cheeks. Her lips were pure black, and her eyes looked sapped of rest, with dots of icy blue peering out from the bruised grey.

“You are like many of your kind, though your mind strives to understand the greater truths.” The woman continued in her rasping voice, “But your faith—your faith is but a cage. It protects you, but it provides no path to understand the spirit of the world. Your learning—it comes without wisdom. Your leaders, they tell you what to write, and you read what they’ve written, without seeing for yourself.” She brought her fingers up to her chin, and looked up to the ceiling, eyes rolling back a bit more than was natural. Her voice was hoarse, “When my mother took her shield, she left to the far wilds and did not return. I stayed with my mor, the old Crow Matron, and she spoke the ancient words, and I learned them not by mind, but by soul. They became a part of me.” She looked down again, reaching over to one of many small satchels strewn about. From its depths she pulled some dry flakes, sprinkling them over the red-orange glow of the low-burning incense cone already in the bronze dish. At once a great plume of grey smoke sprung up, more than could be expected of such a small amount of fuel. It smelled of rich dirt, and sweetwood.

Cerise’s heart stopped as she tried to look past the fumes. The woman’s face was changed. The black on her face had grown starker, and she was like a specter of death. Shimmering forms appeared about her, as her hair flowed like water, and her eyes almost glowed. Though they disappeared when looked at, in the peripheries of her sight, Cerise could see the forms of great antlers about the Matron’s head.

“My mor, my Matron, she said to me ‘Sonja, the dark is sacred, do not fear it’, for I cried long in the night when my mother was not with me.” She continued, “‘There is Nothing to fear.’”

There was a long pause, as Sonja looked deep into the scholar’s eyes with hypnotic gaze, as if begging a response.

“What? Yes, there’s—nothing to fear. That’s comforting.” She nodded.

“So she told me the ancient words, so that I would not fear. She said to me then, ‘Nothing stares at us, so you must stare into Nothing’. And when my mother returned, I knew, and was prepared.” Her eyes were unwavering, like diamonds shining from grey ash.

“I- I don’t understand…” Cerise stammered. She couldn’t follow whatever story the Matron was telling. How she had become Matron, that much she understood, but her language was confusing. Was it an issue of translation?

“When were you born?” Sonja asked then. A simpler question.

“1230—”

“No, no, it does not matter.” She was cut off before she gave the full date, “I forget, I forget, my memories are not my own. You would have never seen the last Shadow. What do your people call it?”

“Call w-what?” she felt ashamed for her confusion, though the shaman seemed disoriented. There must have been weird vapors in the incense, if both their minds were slipping.

“The Shadows! When the whole world sickens! The sky becomes like winter, no matter the season. Crops, creatures—they fall ill, wither. The people follow. Death reigns.” She leaned forward, “And then—” she paused again.

“And then what?”

“What do you call it? The Shadow?”

Cerise pondered, “Are you referring to the Blights? The last epidemic was centuries ago. It’s the subject of legends to this day.” She was surprised the Norse had even been affected. Though the Blights had been recorded as very contagious, there would have been little chance for the illness to spread in the rural North.

The visions were throwing the Southerner off. Still she saw those wavering antlers, and the shaman’s eyes were like two distant sapphires in pits of black. “What legends?” Sonja asked. Cerise was too mesmerized and terrified to respond. She felt as though she was losing her mind. She hoped and prayed that whatever magics were at work would not stain her soul.

She shook her head, rubbing at her eyes, hoping to dispel the haze; but when she looked back, Sonja was clutching a small item in her hands she’d not had a moment before. It looked to be made of bone, or antler, and was covered with inscriptions. Both ends of its cylindrical form were sealed with caps of bronze.

“I was so young when my mother left, but I knew she too had stood against Nothing.” The witch muttered, “With steel and will, not like mor and myself. I know this because evil is a bitter thing, and does not forgive. Even after her bones were laid to rest in ashes, whatever evil she had slain would not forgive the hand that had laid it low.” Pale eyes looked down to the trinket, about the size of a fist.

“Wh-what?” Cerise leaned in, looking at the horn. The story the shaman was trying to tell was far beyond her, but she was nonetheless enthralled.

At that, Sonja the Crow Matron worked her magician’s art. She twirled the trinket in her hands, masking it with one palm, then the other, muttering to herself as more smoke plumed from the incense-bowl at her apparent bidding. With one more spidery movement of her hand, one of the bronze caps on the cylinder was at once there, and then gone, showing the hollow darkness of the horn. Where the seal had gone, Cerise didn’t know.

The imperial was about to ask a question, when a scurrying scuttle issued forth, and Sonja’s hand flashed with lightning speed to grab at something coming from the tube. A spider? A demon? The thing had tried to slip out of the container before the mystic had grabbed it in one bejeweled hand.

“You will not travel North any longer, for Nothing lies in the North.” The Matron’s whispering voice rose into a stern command. Cerise’s mouth dried up, and sweat pooled down her back, as she saw the thing writhing in the woman’s grip. A hand—a skeletal hand, with a veneer of mummified flesh hardened tight to its bones like paper. It clawed and thrashed as the mage held it by the wrist, trying in vain to free itself for some unknown end. Mindless, it seemed, as it flailed like an insect, trying to scratch at Sonja’s hand, unable to reach. “I cannot twist the paths of fate. I cannot call the spirits of the forest kinds. Nor can I bring fire from the sky. But the dead fall at my command, and my people are safe. My vision, my Raven’s Eye sees to the Far North, and it has met the gaze of the Elder One.”

“What in all that is holy—?” Cerise panted, as her eyes were fixed to the undead hand.

Sonja got up to a kneel, holding out the horrid thing towards Cerise’s face. Though she dared not look away from the aggressive little demon, the scholar noted that the witch was nude under her furs, and still covered in charms and tattoos.

“This creature is not the only thing to stir past the grip of death! This is what we must face in these lands! You forget! My own kin forget! The Elder One knows this!” more smoke plumed up from the dish, clouding Cerise’s sight in a panic. In an instant, and yet for an eternity, her mind left her. She felt weightless, and all she could see in the swirling monochrome were Sonja’s shining eyes. Trees, snow, lakes, rivers, wastes—all flitted past with arrow speed, until she was stood on a far fjord. The ground barren, and to the horizon stretched cracked sheets of blue ice, drifting in the black sea to the farthest pole. Storms howled high in the heavens above, but her sight was unfettered to the end of the world. There she saw strange mountains, and felt a cold terror grip her soul. For a moment she felt as though she might die, as the sky and the land parted on the horizon-line like an eye, and its empty gaze seemed fixed on her.

But then she was back in the hut, with Sonja kneeling forward in front of her, icy eyes shining, though the memento of horror still writhed in her hand. The magician sat back down, stuffing the monstrosity back into its tube as she whispered, and clapped her hand on the open end. Though she had held nothing before, the bronze cap now sealed the cage once again. Incense smoke subsided, and the witch’s face faded back into normality.

“You say you wish for knowledge?” she asked, head tilted.

Cerise could not even nod, terror not having unhanded her heart.

“Then tell your people the truth. Though it will be my kin that first face the darkness, I know of the ancient foes that lie to the East of Liv’s Empire. Dark magics feed each other before they feed upon each other, and you will be surrounded.”

“Why—what—” the scholar took a deep breath, “What will happen to you? How can—is any of this true?”

“My illusions do not show what isn’t true, though they show what isn’t there. Return South, tell your people. Death will come like the old legends, but if others learn like you have learned—” she reached across, pressing her pale hand to Cerise’s fur collar, “Then fewer souls might be lost, and new legends will be made.”

At that, the Matron retreated within her mound of furs, stooping and drawing her arms back.

There was a long silence, as Cerise wondered whether or not she could leave. Sonja said nothing, and may have fallen asleep for all she knew.

“Thank you.” The scholar whispered at last, getting up to leave.

“No.” she heard the witch rasp, “I bore ill fortune, but now you carry knowledge. Thank you.”

Cerise left the small hut. Such a little hovel, in such an unassuming village, where she had gained more knowledge than she ever had at her college. Perhaps more than she had ever wanted to. But just as it had been her duty to seek it out, now she still had to bring it back.

#fantasy #short story #horror #norse #viking #worldbuilding

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allenmendezsr · 4 years

Text

Royalties University - How You Can Earn Ongoing Royalties

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/royalties-university-how-you-can-earn-ongoing-royalties/

Royalties University - How You Can Earn Ongoing Royalties

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All You Need is One Virtual Property And In Seven Days You Can Be Earning Royalties… And That’s Just the Beginning

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Only one percent of the world’s population understand how royalties work. You can join that group by enrolling in Royalties University™ today.

From: Christopher Westra Re: Royalties University™ Nine Month Education Program

Dear Friend,

Learning how you can earn royalties is perhaps the BEST education you can receive. Just imagine the ultimate benefits you get –

You create or obtain a valuable resource ONCE and then you continue selling it over and over again, for years to come!

With Royalties, you get ongoing income.

Let’s say you create an education program you sell for $20 profit.

At 50 Sold Per Month, that’s $1000 Monthly Profit

And that’s just from one product! Then you can go on to create another “virtual” or intellectual property to get royalties from.

Example: I’ve created 13 virtual properties and sold thousands of copies over the last few years. I’ve made over $100,000 in sales each year from these books and education programs.

I live off of royalties completely, and provide a living for my wife and five boys off of ongoing royalties for the virtual products I create.

Royalties are the only way to go for me, but it’s not for everyone.

Five Benefits of Earning Virtual Royalties

1 Continue to receive income long after you do the work

Yes, you will continue to receive profits for years, for virtual properties you create now.

2 Achieve Unlimited Income

You have no limits to the number of times you can sell the same item, when selling virtual (digital) products.

With real estate, you can only rent a property to one person at a time. On the other hand, with virtual properties you can sell to as many buyers as you can reach. This means your income is unlimited!

3 Receive more leisure time for you and your family

When you receive royalties, you can take a vacation or time off whenever you wish. Your “Royalty Income System” has already been set up.

4 Enjoy established expertise in the field of your choice

Because you have created a virtual property of packaged information, you are considered an expert in the field. Being an Author and Creator is fun.

Don’t worry. We will show you how to compile and create your virtual property.

5 Experience the Freedom Lifestyle with your family

Beyond just vacations, the freedom lifestyle means you can work on the projects you want to. You can wear what you want and eat when you want.

You can design your own high-energy working environment!

Note – You don’t have to use your royalties to replace a 9 to 5 job. Some people just want a little ongoing supplementary income and you can have that too.

(These are just a few comments, there are many more stories)

“An amazing aspect of earning a passive residual income is that this opportunity is open to practically anyone.

If you decide to write a book about your area of expertise, no longer are you limited by the whims of publishers.

You are free to create what you’d like and offer it to your audience.”

Apryl Jensen Author of Creating Consciously CreatingConsciously.com

“Some days I spend a lot of time on my business and other days I do nothing at all. I love the freedom and flexibility this opportunity provides me!

I spent the past two weeks vacationing with my family and while we were gone I still earned royalties on my e-books through Clickbank.

When I returned from vacation, there were SIX Clickbank checks waiting for me!”

Wendy Jensen Author of Positive Parenting FirstRateFamily.com

“This was the smartest move I could have made. I am an internet marketing guy, not a warehouse manager.

So, basically, I continued doing the same thing, only I eliminated my responsibilities at running a warehouse and now spend approximately 1-2 hours/day on my business.

I make around $4-5K in profits every month.”

Richard Webb Owner MannaHarvest.net

“One of the greatest benefits of building a successful business is the person you’ll become… and life will never be the same again.

Two years ago I started following my dreams of a life of freedom. For nearly a year, I never earned a single cent but throughout this I never gave up.

Just a year later, and I now make more money on automatic pilot than I ever did in a regular job… and the freedom feels great.”

Iain Legg Author and Developer – Real Mind Power Secrets (Super Mind System) RealMindPowerSecrets.com

Add your story of royalties by Joining Royalties University™ today.

What are Royalties, Anyway?

Have you ever read the book Pride and Prejudice, or seen the movie? Jane Austen’s novels are filled with people who don’t have to work for a living. Why don’t they work?

The “upper class” in England, France and other countries owned all the land, and received a continuous passive income from the “rent” of the tenants.

Because the people who received these ongoing payments were the Princes, Dukes, and Earls, the payments came to be called “Royalties”.

The royalty knew how to “rent” their property yet still retain ownership!

Royalties are “rents” paid to you for the use of your property

You can generate royalties from any useful property. It doesn’t have to be real estate. You can get royalties from any form of intellectual property, such as books, audios, videos, movies, education programs, and even ideas.

These are called “Virtual” properties because they only exist in computer files and databases and on the internet.

Does this mean they aren’t real?

Of course not! People gladly pay for the information that enriches their life.

Virtual properties are actually so much easier to earn royalties with because there is no delivery cost on your end. The virtual products are delivered automatically and immediately through the internet!

Just Imagine the Following Happening to You….

Receiving a phone call from a pleased customer and fan, who says, “Thanks for writing your book, I just finished reading it. I can’t believe I actually got you on the phone…“

Breaking your record for daily profits, and excitedly telling a loved one about it.

Relaxing on vacation, confident that the royalties from your virtual products are bringing you hundreds of dollars per day.

Launching a new virtual product and feeling so eager to see how it is selling that you can hardly wait until after breakfast!

Waking up on an icy winter morning, and rejoicing that you don’t have to go outside because your home office is only 30 feet away.

If and when hard times come, enjoying the relief and security of having several streams of royalties that see you through.

Laughing inside at the interesting looks people give you when they ask you what you do for a job and you say, “I sell virtual properties for ongoing royalties.“

I’ve experienced all of the scenarios above, and you can too.

Royalties Can See You Through Hard Times

To show you what royalties can do, I’ll tell you about the mystery illness that struck me between 2006 and 2008.

For those three years I went to doctor after doctor, spending thousands on tests and doctor’s fees. We looked into sleep apnea, rheumatoid arthritis, multiple sclerosis, Chron’s disease, fibromyalgia, irritable bowel syndrome, chronic fatigue, and more.

Every day I was in pain – in my joints and in my intestines. My fatigue was so bad that I had to take four naps during each day just to get through. Many nights when I went to bed, I hoped I would die in the night.

Finally, after three years, I found out I had Lyme disease.

Now that I know what I have, I’m getting better. The reason I’m sharing this is because during this time I couldn’t have held a full time job. Yet the royalties from my virtual products kept coming in.

Oh, I still worked. I could work about an hour and a half before the fatigue put me down for another nap. Our family was able to come through financially due to the Lord’s blessings and the ongoing payments from the products I had created.

Earning Royalties During Vacations!

My next example was a lot more fun. I took my wife to Hawaii for eight days for our fourteenth anniversary. During that time I didn’t even touch a computer or do any work.

Yet during those eight days I made $2362 in profit from royalties!

It’s not magic… I had the “royalties architecture” in place before I went. When you enroll in Royalties University™, you will learn how to earn royalties yourself.

One of the great benefits to royalties is that you can do it from any location or country in the world. As long as you have access to the internet, you can create digital products, sell them to the world, and collect payments.

I have friends in Malaysia, Singapore, Costa Rica, New Zealand, and the Isle of Man who are receiving royalties from their virtual creations.

The world is your market, and there are a lot of people in the world!

A world class education about Royalties and how to earn them.

40 weekly lessons delivered to your email covering these topics.

How to start small right where you are.

The easiest automated payment systems to use.

How to promote and sell your virtual properties.

Simple ways to research and package useful information.

Basic principles of human persuasion (selling).

How to build your properties around your interests and likes.

The different types of virtual products that sell best on the web.

The best ways of getting traffic and customers for your products.

Weekly motivation and reminders via the weekly lessons.

Hundreds of ideas for virtual products that will sell.

How to enjoy your additional leisure time.

Ways to refurbish “Public Domain” properties for royalties.

You Will Receive One 3-5 Page Weekly Lesson for 40 Weeks in Downloadable .PDF Format

Web design instruction. (You can learn that elsewhere).

A ready made product to sell. (You create your own).

Extensive personal consultation. (But I can point you to resources).

Enlightenment. (Although you’ll have more leisure time to reach it).

Royalties University™ gives you the keys to financial prosperity. It won’t cure all your problems or improve your relationships.

But it sure won’t hurt, either!

We all have unique talents and interests. Those who enjoy gardening should spend time doing it. Base your royalty product on YOUR passions and interests.

Here are some ideas:

How to Build a better Engine.

Potty Training in a Day.

The Ultimate Tomato Growing Video Collection.

Homeschooling with the Four-Year Plan.

Guide to Trail Running Vacations in the U.S.

How to Build Your Own Solar Panels.

Low Cost Advertising Methods.

How to Become a Kickboxing Instructor.

114 Fun Date Ideas.

Lose Weight With the Harmony Earth 30 Day Energy Diet.

Enjoy the Night Sky (Astronomy Lessons).

Herbal Treatment for Common Illnesses.

How to Teach Your Children About Sex.

Overcome Procrastination.

The Easy Guide to Writing a Book.

Nine Principles of Expert Persuasion.

How to Cultivate Health from Within (Probiotics).

I don’t write a book about how to build a better engine. I know nothing about that kind of stuff!

I create virtual properties (products) around the topics and subjects I love. One of the first bonus items you will receive is a booklet containing 559 ideas for products.

Provide Short and Useful Content

Each weekly lesson is three to five pages long and contains clear and useful helps for earning royalties. You can easily put into practice the tips, principles, and techniques in each lesson.

Include a Specific Assignment to Complete

After each weekly lesson, you’ll get a specific assignment to complete. These assignments are strategically created to lead you to results. It’s up to you to follow through with action.

Build on the Previous Lessons

Each lesson you receive builds on the previous weekly royalty lessons. In this way you transition from beginning principles to advanced ideas over the months.

Give You Incremental Knowledge and Motivation

Your Royalties University™ lessons are given to you in portions you can digest and then act on. When you get weekly content, reminders, and assignments in this way, you can succeed in setting up your own royalty streams.

Open Your Mind to New Possibilities for Royalties

Week after week, you will receive new ideas, methods, principles, and keys to creating royalties. By consistent action, you will discover topics and niches where your personal talents and abilities shine!

The first lesson is coming your way immediately upon completing your enrollment. Included in the first lesson is…

Royalties University™ Lesson #1

The Four Essential Items You Need to Earn Royalties

A 10 Step Startup “Checklist” of your first action steps

The Benefits of selling Virtual Estate rather than Real Estate

How to Increase Your Money Magnetism for Royalties

Five Different types of Virtual Properties you can Build

Note – You will receive this lesson immediately. If you know how to buy a web domain and host it, you could be receiving your first royalties in as little as seven days.

If you lack some basic computer skills and web knowledge, then it may take you a few weeks longer.

You’ve probably seen the “Make Money” programs that cost thousands of dollars. I’ve talked to customers who joined those programs and they tell me it wasn’t worth it.

You work hard for your money, so spend it wisely.

I created Royalties University™ to be affordable to nearly everyone, even people in the “poorer” countries in the world. I’m not going to charge the thousands of dollars that I could for this education program.

If I did charge $1500 per person, then many of the people who most need this Royalties education wouldn’t be able to afford it!

I’ve been there. I didn’t start learning about earning royalties until I was 38 years old. Until then I traded time for money and lived paycheck to paycheck also. This is why I’m making this affordable for every budget.

In fact the enrollment cost for Royalties University™ is just $19 per month. The education program is nine months long, the same as a typical school year or two University Semesters.

I’ve got a years worth of lessons on earning royalties, but I’ll compress them into nine months to save you money.

You can cancel your enrollment at any time. If you aren’t getting results, then it doesn’t cost you anything.

“Christopher, that’s a real deal… wow!

… so what’s the catch?”

Yes, I know that’s a low enrollment price, and there is a catch…

Only 1000 (And Shrinking Fast) Members to Royalties University™!

I’ve placed a cap on enrollments at 1,000 members. Once these initial memberships are taken (and it won’t take long), no more will be available.

I’m doing this to keep things manageable for me, and to keep customer service high for you. This royalties education is available for 1,000 people at a time so enroll now.

If you wait, you may have to wait nine months until some members graduate and some spots are opened up.

Those who have worked with me over the years know that I stick with my deals. When I said we would take 100 Charter Members to I Create Profits, we only allowed 100, and then increased the price.

So take this cap seriously.

Many people miss out on a special deal, and then regret it later. Don’t let this happen to you.

What is the worst case scenario if you sign up now? You pay $19, find that the Royalties University isn’t for you, and then get your money refunded.

That’s not much risk. I’m taking all the risk for you.

I know the life changing nature of being able to earn royalties and want to give this knowledge to those who will make the most of it.

Yes, this is YOU.

You Can Cancel Enrollment or Get a Refund Easily

Royalties University enrollment is handled through a company called Clickbank. They are a fully secure site. I’ll teach you more about Clickbank in one of your lessons.

You can get a refund without even contacting me. Just contact Clickbank.

I offer a 60 Day 100% money back guarantee. I stand by the great content in all my Royalties University™ lessons. Just contact me (or Clickbank) anytime during the 60 Days for a full refund, or to cancel your enrollment.

Join Now While Spots Are Still Available

Yes, Christopher, I want my 3-5 page weekly lesson on how to earn royalties from virtual property.

I want to enroll in Royalties University™!

Your initial investment will be $19.00. You will then be charged $19.00 per month for 8 months after your initial enrollment. All major Credit Cards are accepted, as well as PayPal Payment.

Click Here to Enroll Now!

YOU WILL RECEIVE YOUR FIRST LESSON INSTANTLY (Even if it’s the Middle of the Night)

In just minutes you will be on your way to earning royalties.

You will receive an email every week with a download link for your weekly Royalties University™ lesson.

*Every effort has been made to accurately describe Royalties University and its potential for you. Please note that each member’s success depends upon his or her motivation, persistence, desire, and skills.

You’ve now heard the straight talk on royalties, and it’s up to you.

I just want to mention again that with virtual royalties, you can sell the same product multiple times, with no shipping or delivery costs. This means that once you set up your royalties architecture, the money keeps flowing in.

You can use your leisure time for travel, family, service, education, fishing, or whatever you like to do!

If this doesn’t excite you, then I don’t know what would. Get started right now.

All you need is ONE Virtual Product, ONE Sales Page, and a Payment System to get started earning Royalties!

Sincerely,

P.S. Let me tell you something about decisions. Powerful people make Meta-Decisions.

A “Meta” decision is a decision that impacts your life for years to come.

Here are three quick examples:

Going out on a date is a whim. Deciding on one girl to marry and live with for the rest of my life was a Meta-Decision.

Building a sandpile is a nice project. Deciding to build my own home was a Meta-Decision.

Choosing to work out once is a great choice. Deciding to become a Black Belt in the Martial Arts was a Meta-Decision.

You’ve made Meta-Decisions in your life before, and I encourage you to make one right now by enrolling in Royalties University™. If you don’t join, your next year will be much the same as the last year.

Join today and start building your Royalty Streams in Seven Days or Less!

Click Here to Enroll Now!

“ClickBank is a registered trademark of Keynetics Inc., a Delaware corporation. RoyaltiesUniversity.com is not affiliated with Keynetics Inc. in any way, nor does Keynetics Inc. sponsor or approve any RoyaltiesUniversity.com product. Keynetics Inc. expresses no opinion as to the correctness of any of the statements made by RoyaltiesUniversity.com in the materials on this Web page.”

PO Box 378, Gunnison, Utah 84634

Affiliates – Start Earning Now by clicking the “Affiliates” button below.

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0 notes

panharmonium · 7 years

Text

Glancing sideways at Obi-Wan, remembering his former Master’s restrained but heartfelt praise of that mission, he felt a twinge of guilt.

I wish I could tell him about Padme. The Jedi are wrong. Love doesn’t weaken us. It makes us stronger. I wish Padme and I could show him that. He’s very alone. (Karen Miller, Wild Space)

about the quote accompanying that last edit -

i haven’t read wild space for so long, i forgot a lot of the things i didn’t like about it. but like all the karen miller books i’ve read, it’s not my personal favorite. and it’s been a long time since i wrote any star wars meta, but i’ve had that edit in my likes for months and i don’t want to attach a bunch of irrelevant meta to someone else’s lovely work, so here i am.

to whoever the anon was who asked me if i would write jedi order meta (a million years ago, i realize) - at the time i said i wasn’t sure, but times have, apparently, changed.

disclaimer: personal opinions ahoy! if they are not your opinions, that’s great! cool beans! this is a fictional universe in which we all engage for fun; no need to get stressed - please feel free to hit the ‘ew, don’t like it’ tumblr button and go have fun with fandom in whatever way appeals to you! :)

(that disclaimer includes a request to please refrain from reblogging this for the sole purpose of arguing or starting a star wars debate™, even a good-natured one. i’m literally just trying to organize my own personal interpretation of something on my own personal blog, for my own personal enjoyment. i promise you there is no need to hit me up with ‘BUT HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THE FOLLOWING REBUTTAL - ’ i promise. it’s cool.)

(under a cut for absurd length and many scanned book excerpts)

so, that wild space quote.

my response to it hinges entirely on a question of author vs. character.

if this is solely a character’s point of view, then i find it eminently believable. this is a thing anakin might say. it demonstrates yet again anakin’s fundamental misunderstanding of everything he’s ever been taught, but it’s very much a believable misunderstanding for him to operate under.

if this character bit is supported and endorsed by the author - which i suspect is the case, given that this is the angle i see the majority of star wars authors and fans taking - then that’s a different thing.

i feel like i’ve written variations on this post several times before, but surprisingly enough i am still staunchly opposed to virtually every interpretation of the jedi i have ever read, including wild space (shocking, i know, what can i do). it’s frustrating to me that the Prevailing Opinions out there about the Jedi Order are virtually all assumptions, not facts, and that these assumptions have for some reason been accepted as the only possible truth, the only possible extrapolation from canon, when in fact it is just as reasonable, just as textually-supported, and, i would argue, more realistic for us to extrapolate and make inferences supporting a different conclusion.

anakin’s interpretation of the jedi order in the quote above represents the Prevailing Opinion: “the jedi are wrong. love doesn’t weaken us.” this interpretation, in turn, relies on an assumption: “the jedi think love weakens us.” however, contrary to popular belief, the statement "the jedi think love weakens us” IS in fact exactly what i said it is: an ASSUMPTION.

a presumption, i might even say, and one that i don’t personally feel is particularly well-supported by canon. even anakin himself, when teased by padme, shows that he’s been taught enough jedi philosophy to know that “love” is more complicated than “love/emotions = bad!” and that “love” and “attachment” are not the same thing.

Padme: Are you allowed to love? I thought that was forbidden for a Jedi.

Anakin: Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life. So, you might say that we are encouraged to love.

which is still something of a rudimentary explanation, less nuanced than what an older knight or master might give you, but it absolutely indicates a deeper philosophical understanding of jedi pillars than what people usually credit anakin for knowing or obi-wan for teaching.

obi-wan says in ANH that the jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy for “over a thousand generations.” now, even estimating ridiculously low and saying that humans in the star wars universe only ever live to be thirty years old (i don’t know! it’s a dangerous galaxy!), a thousand generations is still thirty thousand years. that’s…. significantly longer that our society’s entire written history, never mind the lifespan of any one modern-day religion.

when we have so little canon information about the jedi order, obviously everybody is free to extrapolate about it however they like, but - when you look at things and recognize how truly old the order is - it’s just baffling to me that there is so little attention paid to canon/legends textual evidence of the philosophical nuance of the jedi order, to the near-certain existence, as with any real-world religion, of varying yet equally accepted schools of thought within the jedi order (not schools of thought elevated above the jedi order by some lazy label like ‘grey jedi’), to the idea that the jedi order is OVER A THOUSAND GENERATIONS OLD, and can you honestly not envision the sheer volume of scholarly debate and theological treatises and movements and growth and accumulated history and depth and internal interpretations that this organization necessarily must encompass? think about any real-world religion today - think about how many different interpretations one religion might have for a single line of holy text, never mind an entire holy book - think of all the non-textual supplementary material that contributes to any philosophy or theology, i.e. the hadith; think about the exegesis that accompanies any religious text; think of the incredible volume of critical thought and literature and liturgy that falls under the umbrella of just one modern-day religion, and can you honestly imagine that the jedi order - which again is tens of THOUSANDS of years older than any of our religions - isn’t bursting at the seams with philosophy and history, with debate and interpretation, with myriad streams of literalist and revisionist schools of thought - ALL equally jedi, and ALL included in a jedi education?

do we honestly think that the jedi code is five precepts scribbled on a piece of flimsi, and that everybody interprets them the same way? we know that’s not true. mace windu tells qui-gon that taking a second padawan is impossible because “the code forbids it,” and i hear that - but nowhere in the familiar ‘there is no emotion’ mantra do we get guidelines for padawan-raising. that directive has to come from somewhere else. we KNOW there’s more text. we KNOW there’s more history. but somehow we just refuse to extrapolate this knowledge out to its fullest logical extent, which is that the jedi order has a thousand generations’ more history, more text, more commentaries, more scholarly debates on every subject, and that while one tradition for, say, padawan-raising is accepted currently, the one-padawan/one-master convention isn’t just some arbitrary rule. every structure and every tradition comes with a history, a conversation, and about 200 philosophical treatises, all of which are considered equally Jedi, and all of which are available to be checked out from the Archives.

this is how it would really work: padawans taking exams are tasked with answering questions like ‘explain, with textual evidence, so-and-so’s interpretation of the Fourth Precept, including references to such-and-such’s landmark rebuttal and the modern-day commentaries of X, Y, and Z.” when masters tell their students that levitating their clothes into the laundry chute is a frivolous application of the Force and thus to be discouraged, certain impudent young scholars *cough obi-wan kenobi cough* troop down to the Archives and return later that night with ten different texts in hand, all of them ruminating on virtue or vice: applications of the force in everyday life, relevant portions circled. padawans taking saber classes are instructed not only in the elements of combat but in philosophical paradigms, and ethical dilemmas - a “real discussion about competing conceptions of the good” (to quote the office, of all things!), as in this excerpt from cloak of deception:

or this, about emotions:

With both eyes open now, he studied his Padawan. Obi-Wan sat cross-legged in a chair with his eyes closed. But his shoulders were tensed, and beneath his eyelids Qui-Gon could see movement.

“Are you all right, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked softly.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and met his Master’s gaze. “Yes,” he said slowly. And then, “Well, I don’t know.”

“You are afraid,” Qui-Gon stated plainly.

A look of shame came over Obi-Wan’s face, but he did not deny it. “My heart is full of dread,” he admitted. “I wish we were on another mission - any other mission. I am not sure I have the courage to face the Holocron…”

Qui-Gon leaned toward his apprentice. “You have every right to be afraid,” he said quietly. “Allow yourself to feel the fear - really feel it - and then let the emotion go. If it comes back, feel it again and let it go again. There should be no shame in one’s emotions.”

“I am not at fault if it comes back?” Obi-Wan asked, looking up.

“No, Padawan,” Qui-Gon replied. “We cannot control how we feel. Only how we choose to handle our feelings.”

A look of true relief crossed Obi-Wan’s face, and he smiled slightly. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes. (JA, Jude Watson)

about love:

No attachments. He did not see this as a conflict. He saw it as a great truth - that he could love, but have no wish to possess. That he could trust, but not resent those who let him down. (JA, Jude Watson)

about discipline, from Rogue Planet - discipline tempered by understanding, discipline that instructs rather than punishes, discipline that is as willing to point out the teacher’s error as it is the student’s:

and

THAT is the kind of education obi-wan kenobi received, and that is the education he provided for his own student. that is the jedi order. qui-gon jinn’s interpretation of jedi precepts and philosophy doesn’t make him something un-jedi. it doesn’t make him a radical, and it doesn’t make him a “grey” jedi. “grey” jedi isn’t a thing. differing interpretations and meaning-making, in this thousand generation-long tradition of scholarship and spiritual development, IS jedi - certain universal principles that the entire order accepts, but with nuances, readings, and applications that vary across individuals/traditions/historical periods.

THAT is the jedi order. or at least, it’s a more realistic conception of the jedi order than the oversimplified, unlikely, and unimaginative version that authors are typically referring to when they write sentences like “the jedi are wrong about love.”

#boop be doop i fell down a star wars shaped hole today #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#that quote though -_-#'i wish padme and i could show him that' honestly the most condescending foolishness #like obi-wan doesn't actively choose the life he lives every single day #also uhhhhh good lord it's late #this is why i don't write meta anymore; i don't have tIME #but anyway the jedi deserved a few hours of my day #star wars #meta #order appreciation

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sarahaltmanposts · 5 years

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A dry spell...

September 3, 2019

It has been a long dry spell. Very, very long.

I’m not talking about sex, although that has suffered a bit since the cancer thing. But I’ll save that for another blog.

I’m talking about money.

Why is money not flowing?

It seems my husband and I have been stuck in a rut of financial lack and I am doing everything in my power to understand why so that we can move through this and on to the financial prosperity that I KNOW awaits us.

But there’s definitely a block present. Must be. Why else would we be so challenged for so long?

I’ve been digging deep on this for a while; trying to get to the source of what the opportunities are for us. Because Mike and I are a team, this could be a lesson for us as a couple. Or maybe it’s our own individual limiting or irrational beliefs we hold around money. Either way, I am deeply committed to understanding this issue in service to accepting and receiving financial prosperity.

I get a visual. It’s a picture of me on one side and money on the other and we’re divided by a wall. And the wall is made of fear.

I think back to three years ago, when we were enjoying a time of financial prosperity for the first time since having kids. I had a wonderful time indulging myself. I was able to go grocery shopping without keeping a mental tab on our budget. When the boys needed socks or underwear, I didn’t have to hesitate before jumping on to Amazon. And when I wanted to grab them a sandwich from Subway, or a Starbucks for no special occasion, I did it! So no extravagant vacations or luxurious extras; this is how I indulged. Such a feeling of freedom. It was fantastic!

And then I got cancer.

So I wonder… Have I paired financial prosperity with getting cancer? Is there a belief present that I can’t have everything? That I’m unworthy of living a life of happiness? That I should never get too comfortable because just when I think everything is going well, the other shoe will drop and something horrible will happen? I feel the energy rising and tears begin to flow- a sure sign I’m on to something.

I let that sit with me for a couple of days as I contemplate these misunderstandings and misinterpretations. And then another thought comes forward. Maybe there’s something else at play here as well. I have a sense of what it is and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

Let me back up. Over the last several months, I’ve been experiencing our financial situation in many ways.

First there’s panic. An immediate, guttural fear that my family’s safety and security are in jeopardy. My history has shown that making choices from a place of fear never works out. That didn’t stop me though. I went into crisis mode, looking for any kind of work I could get.

Let me back up even further.

Many years ago, my husband and I agreed that I would stay home with the boys, making him the primary bread winner. We didn’t come to this decision easily. But ultimately, it was right for our family, fulfilling my lifelong dream to be a mom. And while I do generate some money from home, it’s meant to supplement my husband’s income. Yes, I know this is a privilege that many women don’t have. I understand the gift…and the consequences.

So when I found myself in panic mode, my first reaction was to jump in and take care of things by myself. The thinking in my head goes something like this, “Well, if he can’t do it, somebody has to.” And if you’re wondering…yes, there was some resentment.

So then I spent several weeks looking for work. Any kind of work. Nothing came. During this time I was really, really unhappy. I was getting several signs that this wasn’t the direction that was going to lead to the financial prosperity I longed for. In addition to no movement on the job front, my body was filled with anxiety that kept me awake at night, I was unable to eat, and I was grumpy. But I was doing what I thought had to be done.

Then I began learning about quantum physics and how we can create our reality by raising our energy etc. and it really helped shift me into a much more positive space. I felt empowered, energized and hopeful. Instead of hunting for jobs, I placed my energy into things that brought me joy: my family. And while our financial situation didn’t change, I was much, much happier. I began to trust and have faith that things would work out.

I stayed in that space until a few weeks ago, when, once again, I was faced with the cold, hard facts of our finances. Sent me right back into that panic place. And the pattern continued. I jumped into looking for full time work outside the home. I was scared and miserable. And nothing was working out. None of the positions I was applying for responded. None.

Again, it was clear that this path wasn’t leading me anywhere, but I just didn’t know what else to do. My prayer shifted a bit. “Please just point me in the direction that best serves our family. And if I’m meant to be home with the boys, please provide the financial means to allow that to happen.” I even got really specific, asking for the amount of money that would help us out.

And then a friend gently pointed out the possibility that perhaps the opportunity available to me is to shift out of my old (grrrrrrrr) pattern of over responsibility.

Ding, ding, ding!

Yes, I’m guilty. I come from a long line of women who have learned the pattern of over-responsibility, sometimes known as martyrdom. I’ve been aware of this pattern for a while. Even explored the connection with my breast cancer, but again, that’s for another blog. But I have been mindful of my choices with regard to this pattern, especially around my boys. It just hadn’t occurred to me that the behavior was showing up in relation to my husband.

And I realized that perhaps the reason we’ve been stuck in this pattern of financial lack is that I have been enabling it. UGH. OUCH. Really? All along, I thought by jumping in and overstepping my husband’s role, I was saving us; when in reality, I was enabling him to stay small and not giving him the space to step more fully into the role that he chose.

My rational mind is quick to step in and question this insight. Doesn’t this give my power away? I am a strong, independent woman and I wonder if this is my way of playing small. But wasn’t the point of the whole feminist movement to give women the power to make their own choices? I am choosing this path. But the thinking part of me still wonders if these are rationalizations to serve my position.

I check in with myself and a few things come forward right away. First of all, this FEELS right. The anxiousness and tightness in me dissipates as I come to this realization. Secondly, what we’ve been doing up to this point is NOT working, so why not try this out?

So I took a huge leap of faith. I sat down with my husband and shared my insights. If the past several months has offered us anything, it’s the ability to speak the microscopic truth with each other. Many times in the past we’d discussed changing up our agreement and switching roles. But we know that wouldn’t serve either one of us; in fact, it would bring us further away from our own heart’s desires. So I took a deep breath and spoke my truth. I told him I was going to stop looking for full time work and that he would have to find a way to step up and make the money to keep us going.

It was scary, but also so liberating. It felt as though a weight was lifted and, once again, I could breathe.

And guess what happened? My husband had an amazing week of meetings. There’s nothing solid on the table YET, but there’s lots of possibility and potential. And I think I can make our remaining resources last until he lands that next gig. Because that’s what I’M good at. I’m great at making the money we DO have last for a long time. I’m also really good at believing in my husband and kids and holding that space so they can be the amazing people they are! I’m good at finding ways to save money and generating supplementary income. I’m great at keeping our financial books, cooking (well, sometimes), cleaning and keeping our house in order. And I’m especially good at keeping my family healthy and happy.

I ran into a man while walking our dog recently. He has been a banker all his life and he was sharing how excited he was to be reaching retirement so he could finally do what he has wanted to do his entire life, write a book. I stop to think about choices. Sure, we could’ve chosen that path, but we decided a long time ago to try things differently: to do what we love NOW and have faith that our passions would provide us with what we need. OK, so it has presented some challenges, but honestly, I wouldn’t want to do it any other way.

So here’s to financial prosperity. After all, I’m already living a tremendously abundant life, where I get to experience radiant health, joy, laughter and LOVE every day. I understand the incredible gift that I am blessed with daily. Now it’s time for me to surrender and complete the picture by accepting and receiving financial abundance.

And so it is.

In loving,

Sarah

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qindaskurdi · 4 years

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liaflowerwall · 4 years

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jelantiahilma · 4 years

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dxdlxx-blog · 7 years

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