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piermanwalter · 3 years

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Thief’s Apprentice: Popular Fiction in Surenia

As many revenants no longer have the mental faculty to keep track of stories and reality at the same time, these stories are mostly for the living to rationalise their plague-ridden surroundings. Common themes of the oldest and most well-known stories are escaping the plague and love that lasts after death. These stories usually follow someone as they travel across Surenia, and serve as escapist fantasy for bedridden plaguebearers as they look forward to all the travelling they can do as revenants and wait to die.

CURE QUEST

Hearing of the revenant plague spreading to their kingdom, instead of hoarding food and barricading themselves in fortresses like neighboring kingdoms, Prince Orto and his mother Queen Mavia set out to investigate the cause of the plague and find a cure with their court mage Ovid. The story is allegedly the writings of Ovid himself as he recorded their adventures, but Cure Quest is so fantastic and implausible that most people now believe it’s complete fiction.

The basic story structure of Cure Quest is Ovid receiving cryptic messages from the Gods to guide the Prince and the Queen, then they encounter a weird guy in the wilderness that Prince Orto fights and/or befriends, then they rescue a town from some disaster and are allowed to rest there in thanks, and then Ovid finds some town specialty herb or potion that alleviates the plague a bit, but doesn’t totally cure it, so they have to keep going, and then they get captured by another kingdom or mage or giant gryphon that is too strong for them to beat, then Queen Mavia sings their captors to sleep or distracts them while Ovid comes up with an escape plan. By doing this many times, they eventually build up a huge procession.

There are many versions of Cure Quest, but they all feature Prince Orto making friends with wandering knights with extremely specific superpowers, such as a knight who can eat mountains of food, a knight who can steal anything that can fit in the palm of his hand, a knight who draws blood every time his sword is unsheathed, a knight who can turn into a flock of sparrows, etc. Most versions of Cure Quest are also known for huge epic battles between the royal knights and hordes of insane revenants, knights of rival kingdoms, monsters, and evil mages.

However, there are also Cure Quest versions that address how a plague-ridden land can’t realistically support full-scale wars all the time, so the problems are instead solved with cunning tricks, political leverage, and magic.

In all versions of Cure Quest, the royal procession follows Ovid to The Fountain of Life, which can cure any disease or injury, but the Gods have led them to the end of The World. It turns out The Fountain of Life is on a separate land mass floating off the edge of The World, and while everyone is deciding how to get there, Prince Orto becomes impatient and jumps off the edge, but he misses and falls through space for all eternity. The rest of the procession builds a bridge to The Fountain, but as soon as they all cross, The World flies away.

It’s widely believed that Cure Quest originated from Beringians in Surenia, since knights and dedicated soldier classes in general don’t exist in local cultures, and the effects of plague described in the story are hilariously wrong. Some people believe Cure Quest must have been first spun in the early years of the plague when people didn’t know exactly how it worked and genuinely had no idea revenants could be sane and articulate. Since different locations in Surenia are mentioned in many versions of Cure Quest, there is much literary debate over which city produced the earliest version of Cure Quest.

This story is the most popular among the living and not very well liked among revenants because all of the named characters are alive and all revenants are mindless shambling wrecks. However, the continued popularity of Cure Quest comes from there being a version anyone can enjoy. Children are told the version where Prince Orto is their age and Mavia is a beautiful young queen, and everyone aside from Orto, who was too impatient, got to live on an amazing new World. Once they outgrow that story, they can find another version where Prince Orto is a callous Machiavellian adult and Queen Mavia is wise and elderly, and they finally accept the plague has no cure, so they kill themselves to become the revenants they once so reviled. And if there’s no version to you liking, you can always make your own.

Most Surenians see leaving The World as a metaphor for death, and Prince Orto missing The Fountain as a metaphor for those who die before their time and go mad.

Muireland has coopted Cure Quest as an embellished retelling of their own kingdom’s founding and claims jumping off the edge of The World is a metaphor for establishing a new homeland on the edge of sea cliffs, and their own royal family is descended from Queen Mavia.

Despite getting blown up and occupied by Gehennans, many Veilheimers are still struck by, “Wow! Real Prince! Real knights! This is just like Cure Quest!”

WANDERING GONOT

He wakes his shirt covered in dirt and thinks, “How rude to pitch dirt upon a sleeping man! Dare they do this to I, the... I... know not mine own name.” A wooden signpost reads GO NOT. PLAGUE LAINS HERE. “Lo! My name. Gonot... Plague... Lainshere. I do not like the middle part! Bolfred Miller be called Bolfred Cheating Miller, but his name be not Cheating though he be cheating. A fool’s title on us both. My name is Gonot Lainshere.”

Gonot stands and leaves and sees a milkmaid. “Holla maid! There be dirt on my shirt, but not on my heart. Knows you the-” The maid cries like a hawk and runs. Dirt on a shirt be so vile? Gonot bends to clean and Horror! Skin is flaying off his legs! Nails torn from his fingers, but not a drop of blood! Bowels spilling from his belly! Gonot is dead! He is walking and speaking but he is dead!

Gonot is chased out of town with torches and pitchforks and wanders aimlessly around Surenia, getting into shenanigans and witnessing all sorts of interesting things. Wandering Gonot is a very relatable story about one of the first sane revenants figuring out basic things that every modern revenant knows, like seeing through solid objects, eating, or kitbashing your own metal prosthetics.

Unlike Cure Quest, there is only one version of Wandering Gonot written over 600 years ago. Some attempts were made by other writers to add to the story, but the syntax and style of the original writer are so distinct that imitations are easy to detect. Wandering Gonot is historically important because it’s set when Surenians were most afraid of the plague, now that symptoms and epidemiology were better understood, but revenants were not. Earlier stories in Cure Quest had knights charging fearlessly into combat with supernaturally strong revenants that caused crushing bruises with the slightest touch, but by the time this story was written, it was known that massive inexplicable bruises were the first sign of plague infection, so Gonot empties towns and ends battles just by showing up. This time period is also significant because there was once so many people that Gonot could find a new town after one day of walking, but now revenants could wander for months and not encounter anything but thousands of miles of wasteland.

After wandering Surenia, barely holding himself together, trying to make friends, and killing thousands by accident, Gonot gets hit by a mudslide and sinks to the bottom of a lake, which dries up and traps him underground, so Gonot decides to Lainshere until the lake floods again. The story ends with a plea for the listeners to make their communities kinder and more peaceful so when Gonot wanders again, he won’t have to suffer.

Gonot probably never existed, since he is written as too preoccupied and destitute to record his own travels or tell them all to someone else. It’s believed that another early sane revenant wrote Wandering Gonot as a compilation of real events that happened to many different sane revenants in attempt to prove their sanity and humanise them to the hostile and suspicious living. It worked, because the story has been preserved for all this time, and the living like the story because it makes revenants funny and understandable, and revenants like it because many of Gonot’s struggles match their own. Most city dwellers, living and dead, are grateful because they don’t suffer from lack of basic understanding like the characters in Wandering Gonot do.

Although Wandering Gonot is meant to be funny, many stories have an undercurrent of inescapable loneliness, such as “Priest of Harus” where Gonot meets another sane revenant but he’s a High Priest of a different God than he prayed to, so they could never be friends, and “Bone Mare” where Gonot finds a horse revenant and tries to catch it, but no matter what it always runs faster than he can so it slowly gets smaller and smaller in the distance until it disappears, except for one extremely divisive story that has since spun off into its own separate thing.

MERCIFUL DEATH

Gonot is hanging out in an orchard after harvest, because it’s a nostalgic place close to civilization, but nobody is there because all the remaining fruit is rotten. He sees a living maiden in a tree and tries to leave before she sees him and raises the alarm, but she isn’t afraid, introducing herself like he was any normal person. Gonot climbs the tree and has the first conversation with a living person he can remember. Goblinder asks how he was able to stay sane, then asks Gonot to strangle her. It is her town custom for plague bearers to do penance by starvation, and once they know she has the plague, they will wall her into a room. Goblinder would rather die quickly at the hands of a stranger than slowly by the hands of her friends.

Gonot doesn’t want to strangle her, so he pulls an arrow out of his back and stabs her in the heart with it. After Goblinder dies, Gonot climbs down and thinks about how plaguebearers are like rotten fruit because nobody wants them, and sane revenants are like good wine because it is a rare state that not all rotten fruit can reach.

20 stories later, Gonot encounters a sane revenant with an arrow sticking out of her chest. It’s Goblinder.

Although the original story wasn’t explicitly romantic, a lot of motifs from it, such as a heart pierced by arrows, fruit wine, and being in a tree with someone, became symbols of romance. There have been several rewrites and expansions of Merciful Death, usually with Goblinder deciding to travel with Gonot after either their first or second meeting. The archetype of a revenant killing someone begging for death and later falling in love with them was used for countless other stories. One Merciful Death subgenre exploded in popularity 300-400 years ago, because this was the time Veilheim was finally prosperous enough to support fine art and literature, and also relationships between the dead and the living weren’t taboo yet.

One Merciful Death rewrite in this subgenre became so popular that it superseded the original and when people talk about Merciful Death, it’s usually in reference to this one. In this version, Gonot is a Gore Mage royal doctor and Goblinder is a Princess, and instead of everything being over and done in a single conversation, Gonot agonises over whether or not to kill Goblinder and what it means for her kingdom to lose their last heir while trying not to think about what she means to him, and Goblinder tries to live what remains of her life by taking scented baths, suffering elegantly from plague, hunting, and throwing huge parties while screaming inside because she truly doesn’t want to die. Whenever they meet, Gonot tries to stay professional while Goblinder tries to act resolute. After several emotional breakdowns and dramatic confessions, Goblinder finally loves Gonot enough to trust him to kill her. What tragic heartbreak! If Goblinder didn’t love him, she could yet live! Gonot uses Gore Magic to pull all of Goblinder’s blood out of a few small cuts so she can die painlessly.

Gonot is depressed and wandering aimlessly outside for medicinal herbs to avoid the royal palace as much as possible and suddenly gets shot in the chest with an arrow. A hunter runs up and apologises for mistaking him for a wild animal. It’s Goblinder.

Detractors hate this version of Merciful Death because the original was about two ordinary people calmly choosing to kill and die because this was the only way to survive in a world that feared them, and Merciful Death is basically set in Veilheim. Gonot and Goblinder are rich assholes wasting everyone’s time and money on interpersonal drama and killing and dying out of laziness and cowardice. This story is also hated for public health reasons now that romance between the dead and living is taboo, and also how it’s creepy to kill someone right as they are most in love, forcing them to stay in love forever.

Enthusiasts love this version of Merciful Death because it portrays the wild and opulent zeitgeist of Veilheim 400 years ago, and regardless of how it’s seen now, there really were romantic scandals between revenants and the living at that time, and Gonot would surely rather be a rich educated Gore Mage doctor in a kingdom where revenants are accepted than a terrified and confused peasant where almost everyone is trying to kill him. The whole point is that society has finally become kind and peaceful enough that outrageous luxury and interpersonal drama are the driving forces of people’s lives instead of survival.

Merciful Death Enthusiasts and Detractors are basically political parties. The Mayor of Veilheim stays neutral because he is a foreigner and wouldn’t have as much knowledge and attachment of Merciful Death as a born and raised Veilheimer.

Master Courtesan is a huge public Merciful Death stan because it’s expected of her, but her dark secret is that she doesn’t think it’s very good. Also she killed the author centuries ago for entirely different reasons.

Tax Collector has the political leanings of a Merciful Death stan but is a Merciful Death hater, because his job involves stabbing and being stabbed and he’s sick of people seeing it in a romantic context.

THAES

Unlike the huge rambling epics above, Thaes doesn’t exist in a specific story and instead serves as a mouthpiece for social commentary. Thaes is witty enough to make interesting observations, but is also oblivious enough to say them out loud. Thaes blunders her way to success via blind luck and coincidence, or she could just be resourceful. Depending on the story, she may be living or dead, anywhere on The World, set in any time. In a more contemporary setting, if Thaes is dead, she is instead called Careless Weaver. If you don’t want to reveal where you got information, you can say, “I heard it from Thaes.” Naming your children Gonot and Goblinder is universally seen as cringe, but Thaes is always a popular name for girls.

Thaes got the plague and had to leave the living district. She sees a stubborn donkey, refusing to take a single step and braying so loudly no one else can speak. “Good morning, The Mayor! How brightly Veilheim shines under your rule!” Thaes sees a towering lumbering ox, pulling ten times its own weight but moving as slowly as a snail. “Good morning, Noble Porter! Any important deliveries today?” Thaes sees a wild ass, kicking high and menacing its handlers with its horns. “Good morning, Tax Collector! Surely not everyone owes you money!”

Thaes is deciding which prosthetics to save for before she dies. She visits Noble Engineer and he says, “Your carpometacarpal and distal phalanges are gone! Do you want 32-2 cobalt steel? Do you want 56-1 lead steel? Do you-” Thaes interrupts, “You speak too quickly and I don’t understand what you are asking! I will ask someone else.” Thaes visits a Principian and he says, “I won’t let the Veilheimers make a carcass out of you. Why don’t you become a bronze statue like me?” Thaes says, “I may not look like a carcass in a statue, but it’s so heavy! I will feel like a carcass.” Thaes visits a Cyrenean and he says, “Don’t get prosthetics. Let yourself fall to pieces.”

Careless Weaver stands in the market with her wares, yelling, “Tubes! Get your metal tubes! Use them for anything you want! Water pipes! Prosthetics! Augers! Opium cooling!”. A guard asks, “Say, Careless Weaver. You are not an Industrial Mage. Where did you get these metal tubes?” Thaes says, “We got new spring-powered looms put into the textile factory. We revenants had a go, and now look at them. Post-hole diggers! Pastry stamps! Rolling pins!”

Although Thaes stories are mostly told in person, and their format ensures a ton of them are extremely horrible, there are some written compilations of them, and Thaes will probably become a character in the distant future the same way Gonot is a character now.

ROSANGELA AND BENDANIEL

In a world where the plague is a fact of life, it’s fitting that the most popular horror story portrays being plague-free as alienating and unnatural. As the plague reaches the western shore of Surenia, the royal family escaped by sea to Sidra, but burned all the ships they left behind. Rosangela and her husband Bendaniel are imploring a powerful mage to save them and their children, and before he leaves to Sidra, he gives them a book of instructions for a magic ritual that allows them to be plague-free while they are conducting it and live forever, free from revenants once it’s finished.

By the end of the month, the plague has hit the coastline, and both of them have been bitten by plaguebearing animals with no ill effects. But the steps of the ritual are steadily getting more difficult, rubbing human ashes on themselves and eating nothing. Fortunately, the ritual also protects their children, who are growing up and looking more and more like their parents. The ritual worsens, and by the time it’s finished, their whole town is empty except for them and insane revenants. Rosangela and Bendaniel starve to death in a pit of human ashes.

Their children are now identical to them, take their parents’ names, and have children of their own. Rosangela and Bendaniel and Rosangela and Bendaniel live like ghosts, unable to be touched by anything aside from their own family. When Rosangela and Bendaniel die, Rosangela and Bendaniel take their place as the heads of the family, and Rosangela and Bendaniel have to take on new responsibilities.

Rosangela and Bendaniel and Rosangela and Bendaniel live in a little house together, with a pit of corpses on one side for Rosangela and Rosangela and another pit on the other side for Bendaniel and Bendaniel.

Unlike the other stories, the city of Alhambra claims these people actually exist and are still alive. They are studied by the mages there, although it might be a lie to maintain Alhambra’s elite magic reputation. Rosangela and Bendaniel reportedly regret performing the ritual and refuse to share it, but it is known that it involves huge amounts of mugwort.

Most people believe Rosangela and Bendaniel don’t exist, and the story is a cautionary tale about extreme measures taken to avoid the plague being worse than getting the plague, which makes a lot of sense given that the most plague-free regions are filled with inbreeding, cannibalism, and/or violent xenophobia.

Some people believe that this story is about how life itself is bad, plague or no plague, since Rosangela and Bendaniel suffer every way the living can suffer before dying and compelling their children to replace them, and becoming a revenant is the only escape from going extinct or having someone take your place and continue to suffer.

#thief's apprentice #cure quest #wandering gonot #merciful death #thaes #rosangela and bendaniel #graphic injuries

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ceekbee · 4 years

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What to Remember When Waking Up

By Paul C Pritchard on Wednesday June 17th, 2020

Remember, Remember ...

I am sensitive and I can be hard on myself. It’s a paradoxical feeling of wanting everything to be better (I am an idealist) and then getting deeply affected by the pain of this life and those things that I want to help change. Consequently, I feel like I play a game of peekaboo with life. And that’s okay too. I come out when I can be at my most effective. And I retreat to restore and gain more resilience when needed. However, I make a promise to never give up. I hear the Dalai Lama telling me this over and over again as he’s smiling and laughing in earnest:

Never give up — No matter what is going on. Never give up. Develop the heart … Be compassionate. Not just to your friends but to everyone. Be compassionate. Work for peace in your heart and in the world. Work for peace. And I say again, Never give up. No matter what is going on around you. Never give up — Dalai Lama

At the moment, there’s a lot to be idealistic about. I don’t want to ever lose that fire in my belly for justice and graceful right action. I want to be vigilant and participate in the collaboration of change that is happening in the world right now. It excites me when: the global energy is emphatically chanting for justice and for a collective means to make amends; when there’s a conscious alignment for rebalance and a shift in global consciousness; when the sporadic and independent voices start to harmonise with synchronised purpose and when consciousness shakes the apathy, the mediocrity and the resignation out of us — making way for our souls to sing.

What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?” – George Eliot (AKA Mary Ann Evans)

I feel great comfort in my heart as I read these words, a respite from the relentless search for meaning in my life. Back in the 19th Century women were frowned upon as writers and simply were not as popular as ‘male’ writers. Subsequently, Mary Ann Evans wrote under the pseudonym George Eliot. In my commitment to truth and integrity, this fact feels important to share. No matter how big or small these gestures of restoration are, only by continuing to correct the order and equality, can we make an honest impact. And we can all make an honest impact in our very unique ways.

Alt text hereWork for peace in your heart and in the world. Never give up. Image: Christopher Campbell

Focussing on the Solution

I personally don’t like to focus too much on the past and the whys (although I feel it’s vital for our understanding). I have learned I am more useful in solution-focused energies. When there is a natural surge to make amends, the invitation arrives for me to enter the slipstream and make my voice and actions count. Some people are activists and generators. I wasn’t built like that. I’m a collaborator and support person. We are experiencing a spectacular wave of transformation energy right now and the invitation is for us all to get on board with our own personalised way of creating lasting change.

Sometimes it’s not possible to do everything. So, I like to give to causes where my contribution will have a greater impact and also an ongoing ripple effect. I believe in giving to education initiatives and also projects that support basic survival needs; clothing, food and safe-shelter. If I can make a difference in a child’s life and their education, I know I am helping pave the way for a kinder world by empowering them with skills to take care of themselves and also one another.

Other causes also grab my attention; especially when I see broken children walking around in adult bodies feeling lost and at odds with the world. All their pain and wrong choices like a snowball gathering momentum in a cold and unforgiving world. I am a great believer in reform and rehabilitation. Yet, I learned a long time ago I cannot be an idealist and a perfectionist in the area of reform and rehabilitation. I cannot click my fingers and make all the world’s pain and suffering disappear. These things take time, a lot of time. It takes generations of healing. But I am committed to at least make a start in helping broken adults now.

Planting the Seeds of a Better Future

I imagine I am planting an acorn for that big old oak to come forth. Perhaps I will never get to sit in the shade of that magnificent tree. But it does not stop me planting and protecting this acorn, this sapling, this young tree. Right now, I can find solace when I think about all the shelter this tree will provide in the many years to come.

I believe the energetic blueprint of kindness can never be destroyed — it ripples into Existence eternally. It feels humbling to know that my invisible hands and invisible work will continue to have a kind influence in the world. I plant to make the world a better place for even when I am no longer here. This is what I try and hold on to when waking up.

Alt text hereI may never reap the rewards of my actions but maybe someday, someone else will. Image: Ksenia Makagonova

David Whyte, in his simple, yet deeply profound poem, What to Remember When Waking, reminds us of what is important. Not the destination but the journey. And more importantly what qualities we hold dear as we travel as a seemingly individual being. It is to hold steadfast that small opening of remembrance and to cultivate hope and trust. To foster a purer knowing and acceptance that we are not individual beings but a spark of the one Light. He states so eloquently, “To remember the other world in this world, is to live in your true inheritance.”

When I am too hard on myself and when my idealist cannot reconcile or make sense of the world, all I have to do is remember who I truly am, remember back to where it all began, that spark of light from the one true Light. And as I beacon myself out into the world, out into the universe, I must stay present enough to be amazed at the myriad of attributes of the exquisite light refractions I experience all around me. I must wait with curiosity, in childlike wonder at what shapes the seed of me is yet to reveal. My prayer is to keep shining and reflecting back into the whole — that one particular, unique and distinctive light that I call ‘Me’.

In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,

coming back to this life from the other

more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world

where everything began,

there is a small opening into the new day

which closes the moment you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.

What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough

for the vitality hidden in your sleep.

To be human is to become visible

while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.

To remember the other world in this world

is to live in your true inheritance.

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,

you are not an accident amidst other accidents

you were invited from another and greater night

than the one from which you have just emerged.

Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window

toward the mountain presence of everything that can be

what urgency calls you to your one love?

What shape waits in the seed of you

to grow and spread its branches

against a future sky?

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?

In the trees beyond the house?

In the life you can imagine for yourself?

In the open and lovely white page on the writing desk?

What does this poem evoke in you? Can you take a breath now and recognise that spark of light that you call ‘you’? What are some of the qualities that you hold dear on this journey? What shape waits in the seed of you to grow and spread its branches against a future sky?

As always, we look forward to you sharing in the comments below and as always we are with you and sharing our love with you.

Paul and Team UPLIFT

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bloodline-rpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, Bigby! We have accepted your application for your OC, Tyler Orville (FC Dane Dehaan) Please create a new blog (not a sideblog) for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Along with your link, please let us know what lyric you’d like for us to use for Tyler in his bio if you do not wish to use the one on the skeleton. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Bigby

Age: Twenty-Six (twenty-seven as of jan 26, 2020!).

Preferred pronouns: they/them

Timezone: est

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): I work full-time midnight shifts from 11:30pm - 7:30 am. I am gone from the house from 10:30 pm until 8:30 am. I do not get online in my “mornings” but after work I’m usually on for a couple hours before bed. This is/would be my only rp group so I can devote my free time and attention to it outside of regular adult responsibilities. That being said, I do have regular access to tumblr IM and discord while away for plotting and keeping in touch/up to date.

CHARACTER DETAILS

(The Resurrected skeleton).

Character’s Name: Tyler Orville

Desired FC: Dane Dehaan

Character’s Age: Twenty-Seven

Character’s Species: Immortal Witch

Character’s Sexuality: Bisexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Tyler lived a fractured childhood. Fragmented moments glimpsed of a possibility, at something forever out of reach. He was born sick. Sick in an ever changing way, as if the unnamed disease that ravaged his body was more than such, as if the very illness were alive. He was their first child born following two miscarriages, two elder siblings he’d never know and he couldn’t help but think bitterly that whatever awful thing nested within his being had been the root cause of their deaths.

Francine Calhoun, his mother came from a long, long line of original witches; the kind of old blood that prided themselves on their lineage so much so that inbreeding had been commonplace in generation’s past. Her courtship and subsequent marriage the kind of witch that barely qualified as a witch. The kind of witch, that if it were a mere man and nothing more; would only go to church on Easter and Christmas and call themselves a devout Christian. In fact, Teddy Orville hadn’t been much of a witch for the last several years; a decade even, outside of the odd potion infused tea to help during the university crunch before exams anyway.

Much of Tyler’s life was spent in hospitals. Moved from one doctor’s appointment to the next; a seemingly endless stream of doctors approaching his case with first fresh faced enthusiasm and big dreams of curing the incurable before frustration, disappointment, shame…no tests they ran produced conclusive results. Were they absolutely certain it was not environmental? Were they certain it wasn’t all just in his head? What a wicked thing to ask a boy of barely nine years, far too small and too many sharp edges, sunken eyes and blood stained lips.

His parents refused to give up.

Isolated from their magical foundations (your child’s illness, your child’s pain and suffering, your damned spawn’s death is what you deserve for allowing your body, your womb, to be tainted with such a lesser man’s seed) Francine struggled to cope, struggled to combat the evil plaguing her son’s body with her magical abilities coupled with modern medicine. For the time being, Tyler was alive even if that was touch and go; would it not be kinder to let him pass? To let him go?

He drifted from palliative care back to intensive, back to long term; his education was sporadic at best. Not once did he set foot in an actual school and he longed for a life outside these walls; to be like the children he watched on television or read about in his books. He longed for some greater being to come and purge him of this wicked illness in his breast and though his parents struggled to provide him with a life; he wasn’t living, was barely surviving the day: rinse and repeat.

His life changed when he received a clunky laptop at thirteen, it allowed him an unheard of outlet to the world in forums, in chat rooms, through games. He could be anybody. Anyone but himself. And maybe in the beginning he fell in love with that anonymity. He was no longer the sad little sick boy, he could be a regular boy doing regular boy things like going to school, playing sports, and hanging out with his friends. Friends. He began to make those too. That was new. He’d never had friends that weren’t the nursing staff in the unit he stayed at or the PSWs that came to his home when he was enjoying one of his rare “good” streaks (they never lasted).

There were other children in the pediatric wards of course, but they were never the long term kind of patients. Not like him. There were the odd handful that stayed for a couple months, and some even a couple years but…their endings were not happy ones.

Technology improved with time, not just with his laptop but with medicine. With such improvements came new hope. And new disappointment. Funny that, he thought he’d long been accustomed to the bitter taste. As he got older, his good streaks became less and time spent within the gently titled comfort of his own home became sparse until it became nonexistent. By this point in time, the knowledge of witches had become common; and some younger, braver, perhaps even brasher doctors went against the norm to seek help out in these communities but came up empty handed.

His parents were drowning in debt, in sorrow and their exhaustion showed. Tyler almost wished they hated him. Wished they’d move on. Try again with another baby, a healthy baby. Do it right this time, since he was nothing but wrong.

He’s so young. The staff whispered, pity, sorrow heavy; had been whispering since he was in the single digits. Tyler would be forever young despite being closer to thirty than twenty. His activity in his group chat dropped to an all time low, his oldest friends feared the worst.

And he discovered something unheard of.

It was the kind of discovery one could only stumble upon in the places on the internet that no one should go. Where only those with wicked intent did linger. Immortality. It seemed too good to be true, some old wives tale; some fantasy story straight out of the games he played with his friends (less and less so these days).

Only it was real.

And it was obtainable.

A cure.

I’m a real boy.

Talking about being forever young had never rung so true, the doctor’s were baffled. His family was torn between horror and gratitude. He stood in the hospital garden, barefoot with dirt between his toes (and the odd cigarette butt or two but that’s less romantic) and simply basked in the sun. It was as close to a religious experience as he’d ever experienced, and he’d spent a lot of time praying to an uncaring God over the years. Begging. Pleading. Cursing.

He sent a letter written in a terribly untidy scrawl to Carden Manor requesting the chance to relocate. To discover the culture he’d never had the chance to experience, of witches and wolves and perhaps others like him. After all, it was the only community of their people he could name and maybe he was still on the tail-end of euphoria that had him wanting to throw himself into the deep end so to speak.

Maybe there was something darker there, something darker that festered close to pain towards his parents. Resentment. Anger. They claimed to have exhausted all means but what of this? “It’s something born of the darkest of magic Tyler please…” had it been a line they were unwilling to cross? Had they known about it all along but their morals had them unable to act? This was an old magic, this wonderful beautiful thing that had been a boon to his ravaged body. This thing that had given him a new lease on life, was to him far more a blessing than any kind of curse. Already accustomed to the taste of (his own) blood on his tongue, the need to consume such a thing to survive was such that he didn’t even bat an eye.

Anger. It simmered, boiled toward all consuming and dark. Terribly, terribly dark. A want for violence, to let his hands hook into claws and act out such emotions; revenge? He wasn’t sure. Though, Tyler was absolutely sure of one thing: he wanted away from them.

Moving to the manor was the second best thing to ever happen to him and he’s all too eager to dive into a life he never thought he’d get the chance to have.

To live.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

It’s almost painfully obvious that Tyler’s social skills are lacking. Limited socialization during his formative years has left its mark. The bulk of his ability to interact with his peers is stilted and awkward, he can come off as blunt, flat, and even cruel. Withdrawn as though secretive (and he is hiding something, hiding who and what he used to be before his immortality) he comes off as standoffish and every bit some kind of “edgy loner kid” persona. Though he is most comfortable when alone or in front of a keyboard, residing at the manor demands that he evolve past this. As does his new lease on life. He’s trying.

Incredibly self-motivated, Tyler is almost too eager to learn more of the supernatural world to which he’s been removed from for so long. His own magical talent, lacking largely in part due to a lack of proper training. His parents, understandably, had been much too focused on his ailing health. He has a truly impressive repertoire for potions and enchantments; the kinds of witch’s work one can learn from a tome but has very little hands on experience. His frustration for his…otherness that still remains is palpable. As though he hasn’t really changed. And due to such a state, he tends to lash out at his peers which does little to earn him any friends.

He’s used to not having friends, even if he finds himself frustrated with his inability to adapt in this regard. It’s a lot more difficult than he anticipated to reshape himself into somebody, a new and improved version of Tyler Orville.

Some parts of his original self remains, a quiet thoughtfulness, an impossible patience at odds with his frustration, and an optimism he tries to keep buried deep down for fear of coming off over eager and annoying.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Presently, Tyler stands fairly neutral on the in game political spectrum due largely in part to his inexperience. His outsider status borders on some sort of isolation; which in a way, speaks the truth. He was woefully isolated from his people and hardly had it in him to follow the news much outside of the big events. Like the world discovery their kind in 2016, he saw that; read about it. His friends in the group chat talked about it. A lot. He and his best friend, Alex, fretted in a private chat about the repercussions of such a thing.

He’s not too overly keen on the servitude aspect of other species, finds it rather barbaric if he’s being honest but is well aware of the delicate line he walks here. Outsider. He’s the son of a marrying of a strong bloodline into a weak one, he never once met his Mother’s family and knows nothing of their history. Of their possible feuds. His Father’s family could never hope to hold a torch to such greatness. Tyler straddles the line between a somebody and a nobody.

In this, he could potentially be shaped into a supported of any party with the right guidance. He has power given his immortal status and his bloodline is strong, if watered down some with his Father’s genetics. He could prove to be a promising ally to any party should they wish to court him so.

As far as plots go, I want to explore him well, exploring life in person instead of looking on from the outside in. I want him to interact with his peers from wildly different walks of life and learn more about the world. The world, his world that had been so very small has suddenly exploded into something so grand.

I also have a potential wanted connection for him to offer, in the form of his best friend Alex (who can be played male, female, or non-binary) who is also a supernatural (species up to the potential other mun) and they met playing an unnamed fantasy mmorpg. Alex brought Tyler into their group of friends and they’ve been Tyler’s main friend group ever since. Tyler has gone radio silent before, but this is something new altogether. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the Earth and Alex fears the worst. What exactly brings Alex to the manor would be 100% up to the other mun but a reunion would absolutely be required and their future interactions and relationship is anyone’s guess!

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cienie-isengardu · 7 years

Note

Hi. I read your great post about Yoda using Ahsoka to control Anakin. You mentioned the Agri Corps. This is something I have already heard here or there but I'm not familiar with this. I mean, I don't really know how they work. I've read on Wookieepedia that adhesion was voluntary. But was it voluntary also for discarded younglings/padawans who failed the Trials, or were they obliged instead? Just, may you explain what you know about these corps generally? My Jedi-critical feels are pawing. lol

Thank you, I’m glad you like it! :)

I will try my best to explain the matter, though to tell you truth, most of my knowledge is based on informations from Legends / old canon. What means, I’m not sure how up to date it is compared to the new canon. With this in mind, here comes my not-so-short answer:

In theory, Agricultural Corps - along with other Corps, like the Educational one - were part of Jedi Order, and thus its purpose was to using Force for the betterment of galactic society. The biggest difference was that, Jedi Knight 1) finished their studies at Temple and with that, they were full-fledged member of the Order and 2) were sent on diplomatic missions, to fight against Republic’s foes, to provide protection for designated - very often important - people or to investigate the crucial matters, while those sent to Argi Corps either were considered to have a poor (too weak) connection to Force or failed their Trials or didn’t get their own masters before reaching a certain age (for human & human-like species it was the age of 13th birthday). Though both Jedi Knight and those in Agri Corps were working for the benefit of galactic society, there is visible difference how their talents were used by Council and/or Republic.

Of course, it makes sense that various people will have specific talents which should be used according to the ability of a person. Like Docent Vant explained in Jedi Apprentice: The Rising Force:

“Not every one is meant to be a warrior. The Republic needs healers and farmers, too. With your Force skills, you will be able to treat sick crops. Your talent will help feed whole worlds.”

So, in general work of Agri Corps is useful and important because it helps to feed people on many worlds. But at the same time, most younglings were afraid to be assigned there. And that brings us to the more complicated matter: how Agri Corps was seen by young initiates of the Jedi Order.

Mace Windu once said there was no dishonor for a youngling to be part of Agri Corps. In a sense, this was “a kinder fate” for childrens to work at their “own level” than being “humiliated” when they can’t keep up with much younger and talented kids. Also, helping to feed hungry & people in need was very honorable and good thing to do. And the selfless service to others is basic principle of being Jedi.

But for most younglings, it didn’t matter if the work of Agri Corps was important or not. A person assigned there was seen as, well, washout and failure. Some kids were sent there, because their connection to Force turned out to be too weak to make of them a good Jedi. Some were skilled yet still could not pass the Trials for various reasons. Some who already were strong in the Force and passed Trials still didn’t catch attention of any Jedi Knight, and thus no one offered them an apprenticeship.

Many - if not most of younglings were thinking about Agri Corps as demotion, a prove they weren’t good enough to be a Jedi. Those kids who grew up at Jedi Temple didn’t know any other life than that and thus had a real reason to be afraid of. They were not only “kicked out” for being a “failure” but also by sending to a foreign planet, they were cut off from security provided by Order - from friends, familiar teachers & Temple staff who until now took care of their needs, so they never had to worry about food, clothes and so on. Of course, the Agri Corps were supplied by Order/Republic, yet I believe the living conditions were dependent on the climate and technical advancement of the planet. To be fair, I personally don’t know that many sources focused at inner working of said Corps - there was one comics called Graduation Day that actually makes an impression the kids were on their own, without any teacher or adult guardian(s)… then again, the action of comics took place during Clone Wars, so maybe all Jedi / appointed superior(s) from there were pulled into war? I dunno.

Backing to Legends sources, there are examples how the oldest (almost 13 years old) younglings were desperate to show off their skills, in hope to catch attention of Jedi Knight, so they will not be assigned to Agri Corps, what was seen with both Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy (a.k.a. Scout) & young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Not to mention examples of bullying between kids (and yes, this is sadly thing, but bullying was quite common in Jedi Order) where Agri Corps were seen as a “job for rejects, initiates too weak to be Knights”. Some younglings taunted other kids by making fun of their lack of skill, that no Knight will take them as padawans and thus they will be kicked out and sent on some remote planet to be *just* farmers.

Did younglings had any choice in that matter? Their voluntariness is… debatable.

Sources like A Jedi Path: Manuals to students of the Force and The Complete Encyclopedia noted that younglings may volunteer to Agri Corps - and some probably did so. But for those that were assigned to Corps by Council, the choice was limited. For example, in Jedi Apprentice, when Obi-Wan Kenobi was informed about Council’s decision, no one asked him if he agreed with that nor in what part of the galaxy he would like to serve. He only get his orders through Docent Vant:

Obi-Wan Kenobi was bandaging his burns in his room when he got the bad news. He was trying to imagine ways to impress Qui-Gon in the morning. He considered ways to improve his fighting skills – anything he might say or do to convince the Knight that he was worthy to become a Jedi’s Padawan Learner. But then Docent Vant brought a data pad and showed him his orders.

Suddenly all his plans and dreams were shattered.

[…]

Obi-Wan stared at the orders in shock. The data pad told him that he would ship out of the Temple in the morning. He needed to pack his bags.

He was to report to the world of Bandomeer – some planet he’d never even heard of , out on the Galactic Rim. There he would join the Agricultural Corps.

Like you can see, younglings didn’t have much to say on this issue. Kenobi was lucky, because Yoda liked him / saw him as valuable student, so old master made sure the boy get his chance to meet Qui-Gon Jinn who at that time were looking for a new padawan. But how many other kids didn’t get the same chance, we may only wonder.

Of course, the kids may decide to leave Jedi Order permanently and thus not joining any Corps. There are examples of padawans who chose that path - some, like Ahsoka left due to unpleasant experiences, some simple decided they didn’t really want to be a Jedi. But in both cases, padawans were given little to no support at all. I mean, Ahsoka practically marched out of Temple with only clothes on her back - no money were given to her to help her survive on her own. Which I think is one of reasons why younglings followed Council’s orders even when they didn’t want to become part of Agri Corps. They didn’t know any other life outside of Order, didn’t know their parents or families, and thus have nowhere to go, no money or support to survive in dangerous galaxy on their own.

And then Empire happened.

Agri Corps were part of Jedi Order - the force sensitive kids working there were considered Jedi (albeit no fully trained ones) and thus were either killed or captured during Jedi Purge. Those who proved themselves to emperor and / or Vader, became Dark Jedi and as so, became servants of the Sith Lords. Some, I believe, simply didn’t want die, so it was better to serve Empire than being dead. Some, on other hand, were quite angry at Jedi - and thus prone to Dark Side. What Palpatine happily exploited for his own benefit.

This is less or more what I can tell you about Agricultural Corps at this moment. I hope my answer has satisfied your curiosity :)

#star wars #my replies #agri corps #jedi order #star wars legends

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demoniclovedbz · 7 years

Text

Namekian Fanfic: Past Is Past

Author’s Note:- This is a Katas and Nameless Namekian fic I’ve been thinking about for a few months now; I keep thinking of little scenes and ideas for it… I was always in two minds about writing it, because I wasn’t sure if I’d have the time and I didn’t know how well it would be received. So… I guess you could say this chapter is like a pilot. If it gets good feedback I may continue the story, but that will depend on how much free time I have and how popular this chapter is. Anyway, I hope this is a good pilot either way :) Also, please excuse the bad names, I struggled to think of anything good. I may change them at a later date if the fic becomes official. Enjoy!

The soft patting of light shoes upon slim feet echoed down the corridor. They were practically skipping, their owner almost dancing with excitement as they opened the door to Katas’s lab. “Hello!” They greeted him brightly, their eyes immediately locking on the dragon clan Namekian that sat at his desk, hunched over a computer screen, with a mountain of paperwork in front of him. “Hey…” Katas half-heartedly greeted him, typing into his computer with one hand while the other tugged at his own antennae in frustration. “… Fuck!” He barked, infuriated as the computer offered him a loud beep, rejecting the formula he was convinced would work. Shit… “Sounds like you need a break.” His companion greeted him, coming up behind Katas. He set his bags down, and placed his hands on Katas’s shoulders. “Don’t…” Katas groaned. “Sneil… I have to get this done.” “I’m not stopping you.” The other Namekian replied, massaging Katas’s stiff shoulders with a smirk upon his lips. “Carry on.” “I can’t.” Katas sulked. “I’m distracted now.” “Oh…” Sneil sighed, moving his hands down to wrap them around Katas’s front. He leaned his cheek against his lover’s head, and planted a kiss at the base of Katas’s antennae. “Sorry… should I go?” “… No.” Katas smirked back. “Just help me solve this.” “Pff! I’d better go.” Sneil scoffed, causing Katas to laugh. “I can’t do rocket science.” “Right…” Katas sighed. “Why are primary school teachers so dumb?” “Shut up!” Sneil barked, smacking him. “Do you want your son to stay in detention for the rest of the term? Because if it wasn’t for me, he would!” “Wha – you said you’d stop covering for him!” Katas protested, his face turning serious as he looked up at Sneil. “Sneil – if he does something wrong, punish him! Don’t turn a blind eye just because you’re screwing his father!” “Well I would punish him…” Sneil began. “But if I did that every time he did something wrong, I’d never get any of my own work done – and I do have a lot of work!” He shot Katas a stern glare, before Katas could make some snippy remark. Katas sniggered a little, his cheeks darkening as he realised how predictable he was. “Does he really misbehave that much?” Katas asked.

Sneil sighed, and moved to sit on Katas’s lap. “Kind of…” He mumbled. “He’s been acting out recently – I think the water crisis is scaring him. I try to talk to him, but… you know what he’s like. He’s got that brave side to him.” He looked at Katas, his face softening. “But he’s worried. I can tell – and it’s affecting his behaviour. Sometimes it’s like he’s two different kids, he’ll be the perfect student one minute, and the next he’s arguing with everything the teachers say. You need to talk to him.” “I tried…” Katas mumbled, trailing his hand down Sneil’s back as he helplessly thought about what to do. His child had always been strong-willed, and had even been known to throw the odd tantrum here and there when he was younger, but now… even Katas had noticed a difference. His bad side was beginning to surface more and more. Katas didn’t know how to stop it. “But he won’t speak to me.” “Well you need to try harder.” Sneil said, and then his eyes lit up as a wicked smirk travelled across his face. “Speaking of hard…” He placed his hands on Katas’s belt, and started to loosen it. “You know I didn’t actually come here to help you with math. Or talk about your bratty kid.” “Sneil…” Katas uttered weakly, smiling slightly as Sneil began kissing his neck. “Come on…” Sneil purred, his hand crawling under Katas’s belt. “You can go back to boring stuff afterwards, I promise.” “I don’t have time!” Katas protested. “I have to pick him up in –” He was suddenly cut off by Sneil’s lips on his, and he made little effort to end the kiss. Katas had to admit, he had a weakness for doing it at work… or anywhere that was forbidden. Misbehaving had always been a favourite hobby of his… he’d tried to tone it down since having his child, and ninety-nine per cent of the time he was well-behaved and a perfect role model, but sometimes… sometimes he remembered how much fun he used to have when he didn’t give a crap about responsibility.

Buzz. In perfect timing, Katas’s phone started ringing. “Don’t answer it.” Sneil said. Katas thought about not answering. He glanced at the phone, just to make sure it was nothing important… Fuck. “It’s my kid.” Katas spoke in disappointment, and Sneil let out a sigh. “Don’t say anything.” Katas ordered sternly. Sneil simply pulled his fingers across his lips, as if fastening them. He looked annoyed, though. As much as Katas liked sneaking around like this, Sneil hated it. Nobody knew about their unofficial relationship, and sometimes Sneil made it painfully obvious that he wanted this to be more than just a fling. Katas… didn’t like to go there. “Hello, Little One…” Katas greeted his child, ignoring the sulky look on Sneil’s face. “Do you need me to come now?” “Actually… can I stay here?” His child replied. “Me and Escar are in the middle of something important.” “Stay over?” Katas frowned. “Did his parents say it was okay?” “Yes.” The child replied. “So put them on.” Katas ordered, not trusting him. “They said it was fine!” “They didn’t say anything to me.” Katas argued. “Put them on.”

He smirked slightly at the sound of his child sighing, and a distant young voice saying ‘he wants to talk to you’. “Hi Katas.” The parent of his child’s school friend came on the phone. “Hi… listen – is it really okay for him to stay over?” Katas asked. “That’s three times this week.” “No, it’s fine – I’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t. They’re playing some video game… if they don’t get to the next level today the whole world will end.” “Oh, right.” Katas sniggered slightly. “I’ll drop them both off at school tomorrow morning – is that okay?” “Yes. If you’re alright with it…” Katas replied. “Thanks.” “No problem. See you tomorrow.” “See you.”

Katas hung up the phone, and looked at the excited, brightly lit face of his companion. So he’d heard that, then? “Looks like I’m not in such a rush anymore.” Katas purred, putting his arms around Sneil. “Want to stay at mine tonight?” “Yes!” Sneil squealed, and went back to seducing his lover.

XXXXX

Meanwhile, over at the home of the child Escar, one of Escar’s parents came off the phone and looked down at the two children who were staring up at him with wide eyes, keenly awaiting his permission to finish their game. “Okay. He can stay over.” He said. “Yes!” The children exclaimed, and they immediately bolted into Escar’s room. “But don’t be on that thing all night!” The adult called after them. “Just another hour, then do your homework!” “Okay!” The children called back, not really listening.

They ran into Escar’s room, and threw themselves in front of a paused video game. Katas’s child picked up the controller, and started playing. “Yeah!” Escar grinned, staring at the screen in excitement. “You’re doing it.” “Of course I’m doing it.” Katas’s child replied arrogantly. “This part’s easy, I can’t believe you haven’t got past it.” He spoke the words casually, putting little thought into them, but he immediately began to feel regret when he sensed that Escar’s feelings were hurt. Dammit… “Why do you have to be so mean?” The kinder part of his being spoke up, glaring sternly at its not-so-good counterpart. Katas’s child was generally a good-natured one, but every so often… a darkness in him came out. It caused him to misbehave, or say cruel things… all of which were regretted as soon as the goodness in him came to surface. It never took long for that to happen. The goodness, ‘Lighter’ was the more dominant of the two sides, after all… The ‘bad’ side of him, Darker, only came out when it was needed. Although… recently, that had been happening more and more. Lighter couldn’t deny it… he was the coward side. Darker was brave; he had the strength to fight away all their worries and fears, and the water crisis on Namek was making Lighter afraid. Earlier in the year a meteor had hit the planet, wiping out over half its inhabitants. Then there had been a dramatic change in climate, rapidly turning what had once been a beautiful meadow of a planet into a barren wasteland. There was no water. There were dust clouds in the air; a lot of the older people were getting sick. The adults were rationing out the planet’s water… they tried to pretend like everything was okay, but the children weren’t idiots. They knew something was seriously wrong. “Well… it’s true.” Darker answered stubbornly. He looked at Escar, and sighed at the hurt expression on his face. “… You’d better talk to him.” He mumbled. “I suck at that stuff.” He closed his eyes, and retreated back into his host’s subconscious.

Katas’s child, Lighter and Darker’s host, looked at Escar, and an apologetic expression steadily appeared on his softened face. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “This part is pretty hard… I think I just practice more than you.” “You never do your homework.” Escar sniped. “That’s why.” “Gonna tell on me?” Host smirked, a flicker of appearing Darker in his eyes as he teased Escar. “… No.” Escar smirked back. “I guess if you do it before class, you still do it.” He laughed. “I don’t know how you do that, you know… it takes me so long.” He looked at Host, and sheepishly smiled. “You’re smarter than me.” “Well…” Host mumbled shyly, his cheeks turning violet. “… you’re prettier than me.” “… You wanna try it again?” Escar asked. “Okay.”

Host hesitated, his heart beating rapidly. He was nervous… “Jeez! Just do it, already!” Darker cried. “He wants you to!” “What if I screw it up…?” Lighter timidly answered. “I screwed up last time.” “And he didn’t dump us.” Darker frowned. “Just do it. Or step aside and let me do it.” “Okay.” Lighter nodded eagerly, keen for his braver side to take over.

In just a moment the nerves vanished from Host’s face, and he moved closer to Escar. “Okay…” He mumbled, as Escar patiently awaited his move. Host took a breath, and placed his lips against Escar’s, wrapping their antennae together. The antennae was the part he screwed up last time… He was kind of clumsy… They children held that position for a few seconds, and then they broke away.

Host looked away, a small blush forming on his hardened face. “Uh… was that okay?” He asked. “Better.” Escar smiled. “It was fun.” He kissed Host’s cheek, and moved his eyes back to the video game. “Just do this level for me, then let me take over.” “Okay…” Host mumbled, and went back to playing the video game, as if nothing had happened. “Hey…” Escar uttered. “After this, can you help me with my homework?” “Sure.” Host shrugged. “You have to write it though, they’ll know if it’s my writing.” “Yeah – I know that!” Escar snapped, seemingly insulted. “I’m not an idiot!” “Sorry…”

XXXXX

Beep beep beep beep. “Nn…” Sneil groaned, burying his face into the depths of Katas’s bed. It was the following morning, and he found himself waking to the whiny sound of Katas’s alarm clock. “Turn it off…” “Hm…?” Katas replied sleepily, waking up himself. He opened his eyes, and frowned slightly at the image of Sneil lying beside him. “… What are you doing here?” “Fuck you!” Sneil growled, suddenly wake awake. He sat up in anger, and glared down at Katas. “I’m not an object! If you’re going to treat me like that then –” “I mean…” Katas sighed, yawning. “This is my alarm.” “So?” Sneil growled. “… I start work an hour after you.” Katas mumbled. “… Fuck!”

Sneil leapt out of bed, his eyes widening in panic as he noticed the time. “I’m gonna be late – shit!” He bolted into the bathroom, as Katas casually closed his eyes and stretched. “Katas – where do you keep your dry soap?” “In the –” “It’s okay, I found it!” Sneil’s voice cut Katas off before he could reply. He’d been here before; he knew where Katas kept everything. He was just too flustered to think. “Ugh. I hate this – I’m fucking disgusting! When are you guys going to fix the water crisis? I want a shower!” “Fixing it isn’t my department…” Katas answered half-heartedly, and yawned again. “I build rockets.” “Is it really going to come to that?” “Do you want to have that conversation now…?” Katas replied. “No!” Sneil screamed. “I’m late!” He came flying out of the bathroom, furiously scrubbing himself with dry soap. The shortage of water on Namek had made using water for anything other than drinking illegal; these days everyone had to clean themselves with a dry, waterless compound. Sneil didn’t like it much… nor did Katas. You could have so much more fun in a shower… “Why didn’t you wake me?” “You told me not to set an alarm for you!” Katas protested, sitting up. “Remember? You always wake up early.” He looked at Sneil, painfully reminding him of what he’d said last night. Not setting an alarm was Sneil’s idea. “Yeah well – I do always wake up early!” Sneil cried, and pointed at Katas accusingly. “This is your fault!” “How is it my fault?” Katas demanded. “I overslept because I was exhausted!” Sneil hissed, shooting him a glare. Katas started sniggering, blushing a little. “Well… you said you wanted to be the pusher.” He lay down on his side, half covered by the bed sheets, and he smirked at Sneil. “It’s not my fault if I’m hard to please.” “Shut up…” Sneil growled. He stood in front of Katas’s mirror, and watched himself as he used his powers to make fresh clothes appear on his body. Yesterday’s clothes were… stained. A little torn, as well… “What do you think?” “Cute.” Katas remarked, admiring Sneil’s new clothing. He’d put himself in a long-sleeved blue robe with a white belt. It was okay for school, but… hm. kind of boring.

Zap. Sneil’s eyes widened slightly, and he turned to look at Katas. “Did you just put me in a thong?” He growled. “You want me to take it off for you?” Katas smirked. The corners of Sneil’s mouth twitched slightly, and he thought about it for a moment. Katas did look good naked… … No! “I’m late!” Sneil huffed. “I have to go!” “Okay. Wait.” Katas said, climbing out of bed. Sneil waited, and frowned when Katas started routing through his drawers. “Katas!” He hissed. “I don’t have time! What –” He stopped when Katas approached him, carrying a bottle of water. “You look exhausted.” Katas commented, and held the bottle to Sneil. “Drink.” “… No!” Sneil frowned, pushing the bottle away. “It’s your rations –” “I get extra.” Katas said. “Yeah – for your child!” Sneil barked. “Don’t be ridiculous –” “It’s not his!” Katas growled. “I wouldn’t give his water to anyone! This is mine. I get extra, from work.” “Work?” Sneil frowned. “Yeah… I’m in one of those necessary jobs. The elders think my work is important, so I get extra rations.” Katas explained. “Wha – what about me!” Sneil protested. “I’m a school teacher!” “Exactly.” Katas smirked. “Primary. Anybody can do your job, you aren’t a necessity.” “Shut up!” Sneil snarled, hitting him. “Jackass!” “Haha.” Katas sniggered, and caught Sneil’s hand. “I’m kidding. Here.” He tucked the water bottle into Sneil’s belt, and smiled at him. “Just take it. It’s my fault you’re exhausted anyway, right?” “… Yes.” Sneil replied, forcing back a smirk as he shyly looked away.

Katas leaned forward, and kissed Sneil’s cheek, tickling his antennae with his own. “Make sure my child behaves.” He said. “… Katas.” Sneil looked at him, his face turning serious. “… When are we going to tell him?” “About…?” Katas mumbled, dreading what was coming next. He knew where Sneil was going… He didn’t want to talk about this. He never wanted to talk about this. “Us.” Sneil huffed. “We can’t sneak around forever – and he’s not an idiot! If he doesn’t already know he’ll find out.” “He doesn’t already know.” Katas said sternly. “And he won’t find out.” He looked at Sneil, almost glaring at him. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want a relationship. He doesn’t need two parents.” “I’m not saying –” “And I don’t need anything serious.” Katas growled. “I don’t do commitment. Or official. I just do fun. Do you seriously want more?” “… Wouldn’t matter if I did, would it?” Sneil sniped. “I’m late.” “Sneil –” “I’ll see you later!” Sneil growled. “Go and do math, you big nerd!” He stormed out of the house, leaving Katas with plenty to think about. Or, so he’d hoped… Katas simply sighed, and flopped back onto his bed. He was already thinking about work instead.

XXXXX

“Okay, class! Sorry I’m late – I had so much marking to do, I was very impressed with yesterday’s essays…” Sneil announced, bursting into his classroom with as much false enthusiasm as he could manage. He looked apologetically at the teacher that had been covering for him, and received a glare back. They knew he was lying. One or two of the teachers had strong suspicions about Sneil and Katas, even if the children didn’t, and this one seemed pretty convinced that Sneil wasn’t late because he’d been busy marking. “Thank you Slugg, for getting everything started…” He looked sheepish as the other teacher, Slugg approached him, and as Slugg walked past he whispered into Sneil’s ear. “Your antennae’s bent.” “… Thanks.” Sneil mumbled, his cheeks turning violet. Fuck! He hadn’t even noticed. He grabbed hold of his antennae, and desperately tried to sweep it back into position as he smiled at the class, as if nothing was wrong. Ow! Dammit, that hurt… last night had gotten a little rough. It always got a little rough… But from what Sneil had heard, Katas had a lot of experience with dating… and it showed! “Anyway! Guys, we’re going to continue on from yesterday. Please turn to page five of your textbooks…” “Hey.”

At the back of the class, Host whispered to Escar as the children sat next to each other. “Don’t say anything, but I think Teacher is dating my father…” “What!” Escar gasped. “No way!” “Ssh!” Host whispered fiercely, the stern side of him coming out. “Not so loud!” “Sorry!” Escar clasped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. “Hey!” Sneil snapped, glaring at the children. “You two – no talking!” “Sorry.” The children replied.

Lighter frowned at Darker. “I knew it was a bad idea.” He scolded. “Sneil hears everything! Now you’ll get Escar into trouble!” “I didn’t mean to!” Darker agued. “How do you know?” Escar whispered to Host, when Sneil resumed the class. “Just little things… Katas thinks I don’t notice.” Host replied. “But he always leaves the room to make phone calls, or he doesn’t answer…” “That could just be to do with work. Like a secret project or something.” Escar shrugged. “He never used to get work calls.” Host replied. “And whenever I stay at yours, he always looks tired the next day. Like he stayed up late.” “Oh – hey, that makes sense actually!” Escar gasped. “Because – when we’re together, we stay up later than usual.” He smirked slightly, thinking about how his parents didn’t know that he and his secret boyfriend stayed up playing video games after they were told to go to sleep. “Exactly.” Host smirked. “It’s so obvious.” “… Hey.” Escar looked at him. “You don’t think he knows… about us, do you?” “He hasn’t said anything…” Host mumbled. “… But he likes you. It’s your parents that would have something to say.” He looked at Escar, somewhat sadly. “They think I’m bad news, don’t they?” “No!” Escar insisted, as convincingly as he could. It was still painfully obvious that he was lying. “They… they wouldn’t mind if we dated.” “Tch. Yeah, right.” Host snorted. “Guys!” Sneil barked, glaring at them. “Silence! This is your final warning!” “Sorry…”

The children remained quiet for a moment, paying attention to class, until Host became distracted. He looked at Escar, and smiled slightly. “Don’t do it.” Lighter said. “You heard Teacher. We’ll get detention! Father will flip!” “Not if we don’t get caught.” Darker replied. “We’ll just be quiet.” “No!” Lighter insisted. “It’s a bad idea!” “If you think so, then don’t listen to me.” Darker shrugged.

Host looked at Escar, a darkly confident grin upon his face. “After school, do you want to try kissing again?” He asked. “Sure.” Escar nodded, blushing slightly. “You know, I was thinking… when we’re older, do you want to do it?” “Uh…” Host’s cheeks darkened. “S-Sure, but… I don’t know how. Do you?” “No…” Escar mumbled. “Don’t you just automatically learn when you’re older?” “I’m not sure.” Host admitted. “I’ll look it up.” “K.” Escar replied, semi-listening as he drew a picture of last night’s video game in his workbook. He liked this character… he always drew it. Host looked over at the picture, and grinned. “You’re really good at drawing, you know.” “Thanks…” Escar smiled. “Can you draw one for me –” “That’s it!” Sneil screamed, finally losing his temper. He pointed at Host, and gave him a stern glare. “You! Detention!” “See!” Lighter hissed, glaring at Darker. “I told you we should stay quiet!” “Yeah…” Darker mumbled. “But… it was fun to talk to him. Totally worth it.” “Hm.” Lighter sighed, reluctant to admit that Darker was right.

#kami #king piccolo #nameless namekian #katas #namek #fanfic #dbz #dragonball z #reblog

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amyddaniels · 4 years

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How to Be Happy at Every Age

Yogis and scholars explain how to stay present and embrace what each decade brings your way.

I turned 40 last May, and I’m apparently about to tumble into years of despair. Because, according to friends and colleagues who hit that milestone a few years before I did (not to mention researchers), my “midlife crisis” is right around the corner. But I don’t buy it. Sure, I need at least an hour of meditation with one sock on, one sock off (no joke) and 1.5 (no more, no less) cups of Sleepytime tea to fall asleep, but that’s hardly what I’d call a crisis.

Jonathan Rauch, award-winning journalist and author of The Happiness Curve: Why Life Gets Better After 50 also rejects the idea of a midlife crisis, a term coined back in 1965 by psychologist Elliott Jaques. He prefers to call it a slump or, on perhaps less optimistic days, a “constant drizzle of disappointment.” Still pretty bleak sounding if you ask me.

Multiple studies of adults in countries around the world show a U shape on the happiness scale as we age. In fact, according to Rauch, “it turns up so frequently and in so many places that many happiness researchers take it for granted.” The U shape suggests that people feel good in their 20s, then get a bit more miserable in their 30s—until everything bottoms out in the fifth decade. In fact, according to a new study by Dartmouth professor David Blanchflower that examined trends in 132 countries, life’s “peak time for misery” happens around age 47. Ouch. Maybe that’s why my friends would rather say they’re celebrating the 20th anniversary of their 20th birthday than proudly own the Big 4-0.