ooc; when will I able able to stay on this blog for more than 2 hours? find out next time on dragon ball z

if i look back, i am lost

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ooc; when will I able able to stay on this blog for more than 2 hours? find out next time on dragon ball z
( cries in irish ) i love ur blog so much
ooc; guess what nonnienu?? I love ur FACE so much this is so sweet come here let me hug u
ooc; dusts off this blog and blows the dust off it// um wow what happened
✠ . * THE HIGH PRIESTESS.
A breathless laugh escapes painted lips as the other makes it EVIDENTLY clear his displeasure of such a venue; as a LADY, she agrees, but having TRESSPASSED all across the underbelly of her beloved city, Marletta has found a sort of peace in such nests. ❝ If it will make you feel better, then I’ll move to more PLEASANT topics of conversation, ❞ for appearance she draws herself more together as she overhears the VILE things which occur around her, leaning more into the booth as her hands weave together in her lap. Better to FOCUS on the importance of their business here rather than on WHERE they were conducting it, her laugh slowly dying out.
—— ❝ More like they’ve AMASSED a following there, ❞ she begins coolly, straightening her posture ever SLIGHTLY as she recalls the growing number of green coats which had FREQUENTED the streets just outside her shop, ❝ they’ve CONSUMED what little there was of the Clinkers and are giving the Blighter’s a GOOD show. I fear what Mister Roth shall do if this continues; he does LOVE a good show. ❞
The last of his WHISKEY goes down his throat, and though the ALCOHOLIC in him craves more, the disgusting state of the bar behind him puts him off and makes him suddenly sober. It’s not like these sorts of places are foreign to him ; after all, he’s been in worse bars back in the ATLANTIC and in the cracks and crevices of the RIVER VALLEY. But the smoky city of LONDON is still something he’s getting accustomed to. Slowly, but not now.
❝ Ah... well, shit. ❞ It’s become evident that he’s spending more time with the TEMPLARS rather than the ASSASSINS, which explains why he isn’t much aware of their activity. What was the damn use of his being a DOUBLE-AGENT then if he can’t do the double part right? ❝ While the man may love a good show, he won’t like in when things go out of his control. That’s where we come in. ❞ A pause as he spins his cup with his gloved fingers. ❝ Damn those gangs. Makin’ it harder for me to get through ASSASSIN doors. ❞
@retributor / unbreakable and immovable
❝ You don’t have to worry ‘bout anythin’, COUNT. That much I know. ❞ It’s not his first time hunting down ASSASSINS who want an important man of MONTE CRISTO’S rank dead, nor is it his first time to protect a name whose life was being fought over by both the BROTHERHOOD and the ORDER. But MONTE CRISTO is wise, and knows which to take, and which to break. ❝ It isn’t as if I haven’t done any of this before. ❞
"What a vivid imagination."
INDIANA JONES STARTERS | ACCEPTING
Of course it’s supposed to be sarcasm— when talking to him, what else would it be? It’s perhaps the only language ( other than some PORTUGUESE and a few old GAELIC words at this point ) that he’s fluent in. And he likes the jib of it like it’s OLD ALE, while a wide smirk graces his lips.❝ I aim to please. Got any more, or you done with your olagonin’? ❞
DO YOU LIKE STORIES SUCH AS BATMAN OR THE PRINCESS BRIDE? Do you want to see what these stories were based off of ( you didn’t think those guys were the FIRST to come up with this story, did you )? Do you want to see the original richer-and-smarter-than-you-vigilante-who-would-have-been-fine-if-that-one-thing-never-happened? One of first Gary Stu / Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way characters to become canon? Do you like adventures about REVENGE where the good guy doesn’t stop doing what he’s doing because he’s ‘above getting even’? Do you like people who are extra simply for aesthetic purposes? Do you like ANGST combined with a SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY that leaves you thinking, “how did we go from talking about cough drops to discussing whether or not murder is really wrong”? What about characters that Smoke Weed To Escape Their Crippling Depression?
“But Mina,” You say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“That’s okay,” I reply, “I don’t care! I find a way to write with everybody!”
THIS IS A BLOG FOR EDMOND DANTÈS THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO FROM THE CLASSIC ADVENTURE BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, “ORIENTALISM: THE NOVEL” “THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO”.
we are tied to the ocean. and when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch —– we are going back from whence we came / james kidd & anne bonny of ac: black flag. by reese & rafi.
✠ . * RETRIBUTOR.
Satisfied. Yes, Master Kenway had been satisfied greatly by the Count’s involvement with the rite, as of late, and the question of his news pleasing him had hardly been a question at all, for Monte Cristo. Surely Haytham would not have sent an agent to simply ask about monetary affairs – no, he must have intended for some other message to be exchanged, and the Count was patient in assuring it was the correct one. He was sent not any envoy, but Shay Cormac, his ‘ protégé ’, the one the Count believed to be a much more suitable successor than a certain CHARLES LEE ( who he could not say he liked, but would politely refrain from saying he disliked ). It was nothing personal – Lee was simply so very British, and the Count detested the English and their peculiar manner.
❛ I have reasons to believe that relations between the French Brotherhood and the French Rite will grow…chaotic, soon, so much so that either or both organizations risk collapse. ❜ It was best not to ask him how he knew, as such an explanation would be reserved for the Grand Master’s ears, only, but his knowledge was valued, nevertheless. ❛ – Since the death of the Grand Master, a sort of chain of events has taken place. I see, already, Mademoiselle de la Serre thirsting for vengeance – and rightly so, as her father was murdered without dignity – but I also see an assassin… Arno Dorian, who has served in the Bastille for this murder, found his way into the Brotherhood, and in all probability will help Mlle. de la Serre, as her father was his benefactor after the murder of his own father. ❜ Neither of them needed to be reminded, of course, who killed Charles Dorian.
❛ My name is not within the ranks of the French Rite, but they have seen me speak with both you and Master Kenway; I have not met with anyone in secret. I can only assume that it is simply a matter of time before both Templars and Assassins find their way to me, the first seeking favor and the second either my secrets or my life. ❜ The Count spoke so curtly, so casually of such heavy matters that he sounded as though he were listing his errands for that morning. ❛ I ask that you inform Master Kenway of this at once, and assure him that I will be in correspondence. ❜
It’s not that HAYTHAM KENWAY is a terrible man — he’s a leader, through and through ; someone who tried to make the best of his circumstances, no matter how hopeless they may have seemed. It made him one of the more difficult forces that the ASSASSINS had to oppose, and one of the most effective GRAND MASTERS that the history of the TEMPLARS had seen. He’s cunning, ruthless, and resourceful, and if he had any motives hidden behind his agenda, it would be something that he would spot at the very last minute. His intricate planning had gotten to a point that he would often question if MASTER KENWAY had any secret missions he had sent him to do every time he would make him a courier or a fetcher of a message. Perhaps there are other reasons for his going to the residence of the COUNT? He’s too smart to know that he’s terrible at DIPLOMACY, and couldn’t have instructed him here for a simple report update... right?
But whatever MASTER KENWAY’S reasons, he’s known for a long time that the FRENCH BROTHERHOOD and the PARISIAN ORDER are more than volatile and extremely unstable. The recent events of the REVOLUTION and corruption in the GOVERNMENT have both crumbled their foundations — so much so that a fight between them is almost pathetic, yet filled with so much tension. He knew just how grave the consequences could be if one of them was to disappear ; after all, he had dismantled the entire COLONIAL BROTHERHOOD by hunting them down to the last man ( not that he took pride in that feat either ) . Not to mention he’s very much aware of those two targets of interest. ❝ Yeah, I know about the DE LA SERRE girl, and the boy too. But I wasn't able to get as much descriptions of them as I'd hoped in the past. ❞ It still gnaws at his mind and leaves him in a shock — the fact that the son of CHARLES DORIAN is still alive. He had made a young boy live without his FATHER for the rest of his life ; because it’s for the good of the world, right? ❝ I’ve been hearin’ things, but nothin’ concrete yet. It’s good to know at least some info regardin’ their current problem. Thanks for all of that. ❞
❝ Though I’m sure MASTER KENWAY’S already well-informed ‘bout your situation, COUNT. He wouldn’t have sent me if there wasn’t any issue, but I’ll be sure to forward another letter updatin’ him, if that thought comforts you. ❞ He understood the COUNT’S apprehension, however. Though he’s sure that his name isn’t listed in the ranks of the RITE officially ( as he hadn’t even been initiated at all, to add ) , the fact that he’s been talking to the TEMPLARS posed a bit of a problem to his security. The ORDER was trying to gain his support, and maybe this is one step closer to that goal. ❝ And if ever your safety's an issue, I’ll be stayin’ here in PARIS for a few months, and I’m more than capable of protectin’ a figure such as yourself. ❞
✠ . * SAVAILLANCE.
A feeling of adventure seems to fill Arno’s heart as the stranger makes the suggestion. He knows he shouldn’t disobey his father; that he should continue to wait ( maybe he doesn’t have to wait much longer anymore ) . But exploring does sound awfully fun.
He’s silent, however, trying to make his decision. The boy looks down the hall, past the man, as if trying to see where exactly he could go adventuring here in the palace. Then he looks back. His eyes fall upon the chair he’d sat in only minutes before. Where his father had handed him this watch and trusted his son enough to not only stay put but be patient.
He almost feels overwhelmed with the dilemma and begins to think harder on it. His face changes its expression lightly, a more serious and thoughtful look falling over him as his brow furrows. Arno looks back to the stranger in front of him. He’s holding the pocket watch tightly again; he can practically feel the gears moving as the second hand ticks around the face still.
If he wants to explore so badly, there isn’t much time left.
So he swallows and puts on a determined face as he asks, “ Do you promise we won’t get in trouble? ” Arno pauses, waiting for an answer, but he quickly adds, “ You have to promise. ”
It’s either his ability to recall things is faulty ( meaning he’s growing old a lot faster than he thought, and the gaps in his MEMORIES are growing wider with each passing day ) or he can’t really remember when he was this energetic and adventurous as a CHILD. True, at the age of eight he was already brawling his way through his SMALL TOWN, bloody-knuckled and bruised, but he was never this inquisitive, nor was he this intrepid either. It’s that or the kids these days were really getting sheltered ; he knows well enough about CHILDREN that they long for the open air and the taste of excitement, and that to cage them is to hinder any sense of growth in them.
He could almost tell that the boy’s FATHER was one of those stingy controlling men that he had come to hate during the days of his youth. Men like ACHILLES, who did nothing but follow the rules all the time and end up causing unpredictable consequences in the process. It’s almost sad, really — how a bold boy such as the likes of him ends up with a parent that’s just as restricting as the GUARDS of the BASTILLE PRISON.
He raises an eyebrow as he watches the kid squirm as he tries to reach a decision. It’s almost adorable, and really tempts him to settle down and raise a FAMILY of his own, if it means that he gets to raise a young one like this as his own. ( Ah, the temptation to do so is incredibly real. But work never stops, like MASTER KENWAY always says. )
❝ What’re you goin’ on about? ❞ he releases a scoff as his grin widens. ❝ Of course you won’t get into any trouble, LAD. Besides, I’m an ADULT here, and if we get into any trouble, I’m here to bail you out. ❞
❛ Well, Mister Cormac, at least you haven’t forgotten how to show a lady a good time. ❜ ( i hope this is alright )
INDIANA JONES STARTERS | ACCEPTING
A scoff leaves him, as it always does whenever he doesn’t know what to say. ❝ Yeah, there have been much better nights, that much I can tell you. ❞ At least he isn’t telling a lie. Most of the time, nights out with a WOMAN are usually spent having a good time at the local BAR and enjoying a drink or two, not fending themselves from the ASSASSINS that came and ambushed their rendezvous point. There are visible flecks of blood on her face from the POOR MAN that ran to her foolishly, and there’s already a cut in his arm. Pressing against the cold corner wall of an alleyway, he’s busy reloading his PISTOL as he hears the click of her reloading her CROSSBOW. They probably aren’t far behind now.
❝ But hey— ❞ and he fires a shot at a HOOD that he sees peeking from behind the rooftop across them,❝ there’s a first for everythin’ though, right? ❞
❛ There are two dead people in here! ❜
INDIANA JONES STARTERS | ACCEPTING
❝ Ah, shit. ❞ Right, no wonder he felt like he was forgetting something— it always had to be FAGIN’S lot, now didn’t it? Standing there, with a SWORD in one hand and a DAGGER in the other, two deceased GANG MEN with their necks bleeding at his feet, he spins around and sighs once he sees the kid in the doorway. He can’t do explanations right now.
❝ Listen here, LAD — I don’t have a lot of time on my hands now, yeah? ❞ And he sheathes his blades and begins to panic ; the ASSASSINS could be on his tail any second, and takes a body by the foot and drags it across the room, shoving him in a nearby locker. ❝ Just keep your yap shut and don’t ask any questions. ❞
Sydney Mortimer Laurence (1865–1940) - Northern lights.
❝ ░ INDIANA JONES; STARTER SENTENCES.
❛ You’re not the man I knew ten years ago. ❜
❛ It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage. ❜
❛ What a fitting end to your life’s pursuits. ❜
❛ I don’t know, I’m making this up as I go! ❜
❛ You want to talk to God? Let’s go see him together, I’ve got nothing better to do. ❜
❛ Come on! Show a little backbone, will ya! ❜
❛ Snakes. Why’d it have to be snakes? ❜
❛ You can’t do this to me, I’m an American. ❜
❛ I can only say ‘I’m sorry’ so many times. ❜
❛ I oughta kill you right now. ❜
❛ Not a very private place for a murder. ❜
❛ Didn’t any of you guys ever go to Sunday school? ❜
❛ Let us hurry. There is nothing to fear here. ❜
❛ Well, _____, at least you haven’t forgotten how to show a lady a good time. ❜
❛ I’ve learned to hate you in the last ten years! ❜
❛ We never seem to get a break, do we? ❜
❛ Oh, my friends! I’m so pleased you’re not dead! ❜
❛ Please, sit down before you fall down. ❜
❛ Now… what shall we talk about? ❜
❛ It’s a transmitter, a radio for speaking to God. ❜
❛ Your persistence surprises even me. You’re going to give mercenaries a bad name. ❜
❛ Look at this. It’s worthless - ten dollars from a vendor in the street. But I take it, I bury it in the sand for a thousand years, it becomes priceless. ❜
❛ Hey, what happened? You don’t look very happy. ❜
❛ Shoot them. Shoot them both. ❜
❛ If they knew we were here, they would have killed us already. ❜
❛ Wow! Holy Smoke! Crash landing! ❜
❛ Hold on to your potatoes! ❜
❛ What kind of a name is that? Is it short for something? ❜
❛ Nothing shocks me. I’m a scientist. ❜
❛ Are you trying to develop a sense of humor or am I going deaf? ❜
❛ You’re gonna get killed chasing after your damn fortune and glory! ❜
❛ I keep telling you, you listen to me more, you live longer! ❜
❛ I hate the water… and I hate being wet… and I hate you! ❜
❛ What a vivid imagination. ❜
❛ You know how to fly, don’t you? ❜
❛ Ah, dessert! Chilled monkey brains. ❜
❛ There are two dead people in here! ❜
❛ It’s okay, kid. It’s me. ❜
❛ I had bugs for lunch. ❜
❛ I burned by fingers and I cracked a nail! ❜
❛ So what are you supposed to be, a lion tamer? ❜
❛ I’m allowing you to tag along. So why don’t you give your mouth a rest. Okay doll? ❜
❛ Ooh, what big birds! ❜
❛ You lost today, kid. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it. ❜
❛ He chose… poorly. ❜
❛ I’m like a bad penny, I always turn up. ❜
❛ Our situation has not improved. ❜
❛ Is there anyone here who speaks English? Or maybe even ancient Greek? ❜
❛ And in this sort of race, there’s no silver medal for finishing second. ❜
❛ How dare you kiss me. ❜
❛ Dance on your own time, will you? ❜
❛ Unshackle me. I’ll give you a big hug. ❜
❛ You know, for an old man you ain’t bad in a fight. ❜
❛ One of the scorpions just stung me! Am I gonna die? ❜
❛ Good thing we’re not grave robbers. ❜
❛ I took Spanish. I didn’t understand a word of that. What was it? ❜
❛ How much of human life is lost in waiting? ❜
✠ . * OFLCNDON.
—— ❝ You could have even met me at my SHOP, ❞ she addslightly, adjusting her posture within the booth she’d hidden away in, ❝ but as you pointed out ‘WE ‘ chose this place. So let’s make the most of it, hm ? ❞ She’s more light with her words,METICULOUS in their construction as she threaded them together; she’s not particularly happy with the choice of venue, but with the discussion of such SENSITIVE information, Marletta believed such a pub would be quite safe.
A brow rises as she watches him down his drink in one go, a smile growing on her lips as she waited for him to continue. Honestly she hadn’t been ENTIRELY sure such a meeting was well advised, her OUTWARD facade being that of a simple researcher, but with her EYES in Whitechapel and the growth of the opposing Brotherhood centralized to the area, it did give her a BIT of an advantage; plus whatever she’d collected when her investigations took her across the city slums. ❝ AGREED. So where would you like to begin ? The GANGS or the ASSASSINS ? ❞
A groan leaves him, and he makes no attempt to hide his displeasure. ❝ The more you keep remindin’ me, the worse it’s gonna be for the both of us here. Let’s stop talkin’ about how comfortable we could be, alright? It's makin' me sick. ❞ In the corner, a man spits phlegm into his ALE CUP and pours more WHISKEY into it, putting him off his dinner. It’s not like uncomfortable situations were not demanded of him ; he’s chased ASSASSINS through the slummiest areas of WHITECHAPEL and dug his hands around mud looking for ARTEFACTS they may have left behind in the sludge, but this is inhumane. There are better PIGSTIES than this place.
He brings up a gloved hand to stroke his chin as he faced his INFORMANT ; he’s done this many times, and it shouldn’t be different now ( apart from the terrible venue in which they were in ) , so just do like an ASSASSINATION — do the job then get out. ❝ We can start with the ASSASSINS, since there’s a lot of them vermin in WHITECHAPEL, lately. Or so I’ve noticed. ❞
Haytham: Sometimes Shay, I’m very proud of you.
Shay: *starts wheezing*
✠ . * SAVAILLANCE.
He braces himself, both body and mind, for what is inevitably to come. He can already hear their swords clashing together, the sound of metal against metal ringing out; sharp tongues spitting curses at one another and arguing. And hearts hardening, for this was one battle they had both undoubtedly hoped would never come to fruition.
Arno was, perhaps, too hopeful then. He’d envisioned an age when Templars and Assassins were no longer at war with each other; that they may find a place of peace in the middle of the battle. But hope is often misleading. Hope shows one what he wants to see and not the truth.
Even still, he’s almost waiting for that moment; that split second when they know they can set their weapons down and walk away. But he knows that moment will never come. It was nothing more than a foolish desire. The steps forward Shay takes cause Arno to draw his weapon finally. His grip is tight and his stance strong. As he brandishes his weapon, any thought of such a moment of peace is purged from his mind.
Then the anger blooms in his heart as he hears those words: ‘ I have to. ’ Arno doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t want to. But while the Assassins live by free will, the Templars live by order. So maybe this was always meant to be; maybe there was never to be peace between Arno and Shay or, much less, the Assassins and Templars.
His lips press into a thin line momentarily before they part, showing a glimpse of teeth being gritted together. His brow furrows and his eyes remain unmoving from Shay’s face. He prepares himself. And then he speaks a simple response, yet still a sort of taunt to poke at prod at Shay himself.
“ – If you must. ”
He can barely recall — he remembers those tales leaving the lips of the ASSASSINS that he had purged the PARISIAN BROTHERHOOD of — stories of a young boy who wanted the ASSASSINS and TEMPLARS to be one in the same, their goals united finally, bringing an end to the war that had spanned centuries and cause thousands of lives. He’s sure that there were more than his fair share of pacifists from the side that demanded ORDER, and there must have been plenty of them. He was like that, once — a representative of someone who switched, someone who’s been on both ends of the war — and thus must be in the position to say something, anything about the two forming an alliance.
But he didn’t. He knew from the hunting of his former FELLOWMEN that there would always be a conflict, there always had to be a war. And it was always inevitable and couldn’t be stopped ; no matter how many would cheer on for peace, conflict would always come anyway. HAYTHAM KENWAY himself paid the price of that lesson and learned the hard way : in blood, by his own blood.
He stops once he’s standing in front of ARNO, raising his long sword to come close to his throat, his invitation more than enough, his blades thirsting for the taste of blood they’ve become so accustomed to drinking . But that’s when he first realises that it aches inside. It aches just as it did for KESAGOWAASE, for HOPE and CHEVALIER and LIAM. He has told countless times his purging of the COLONIAL BROTHERHOOD and how it was a victory on the TEMPLARS’ part, but for him, it was never a victory. It could never be when the friends that he once fought for now lay dead at his feet. And he doesn’t want it to end like this again. But there’s still that voice telling him he has to, he needs to, for the sake of the WORLD —
He can’t. Not this time, not to him.
With a shout, he yanks the SWORD from nearly slaying another and drops to the floor, cradling his head in his hands and yelling, his PSYCHE shattering into pieces, his choices disintegrating before him.