The right to Bear Arms

Jae; Larper and occasional cosplayer. All about that #gymlife because I have #nolife. Autistic, and I write stories sometimes.

[needscaffeine]

[mojojaejae]

Took two attempts because I am "high functioning". Got there in the end!

[googly-pkm]

[spaceshipsandpurpledrank]

@drukhari

[j-sillabub]

@mojojaejae

[mojojaejae]

I should have never told you my weakness.

[macrolit]

Frost’s “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” published on this date

On this day (7 March) in 1923, The New Republic published Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.”  Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

[mojojaejae]

Aesin Ken De Luna - The Siege of Ravenburg 1119

“It’s almost time. Brace yourself Aethra.” The Captain looked to the elf, she didn’t look scared on the outside. Both were stood ready for the Hunter to reclaim what he had gifted, on a cold moonless night, on a land that reeked of the void. Neither wished to be committed to the soil here and after a torment of a campaign, albeit victorious, this would not be where they fell.

The Captain chose a location near the docks, they’d be sailing out at daybreak. The gentle rumble of the waters pulled at his desire to leave as soon as possible. He didn’t like the sea much, but it sang sweet comfort and a few moments of oblivion away from heresy.

“Did I ever tell you why I don’t like the moonless night?” He asked Aethra, her wide eyes open in reflective curiosity beckoning for an answer. He didn’t give a response, instead turning to Riina. “Get your kit ready now, use your magic on Aethra then just stitch me back together. We need to act fast, understood?”. She nodded twice in little bobs and fumbled with her bag. In such a short time he’d seen them both surpass their limits, soon they’d both surpass him too. He’d trust them both with his life, as now it lay in Riina’s hands.

A memory from his youth replayed in his head like a half forgotten dream, the first time he’d fumbled with his spear carrying it, a lesson taught in pain by carrying a steel pole in lieu of a spear to strengthen his grip. Perhaps Crow wouldn’t understand why Aesin carried his spear the way he did, but after carrying the steel pole it couldn’t be helped; some people were forged and hammered into shape. Others, Aesin was beginning to understand, needed to be nurtured and allowed to bloom. Riina looked a little unsteady, this was no time to instill the same method of teaching he had been subjected to. A healer isn’t a fighter, Riina didn’t even own a dagger until the Captain “gently suggested” she keep his in her belt. He’d been meaning to tell her the story behind that dagger, as a roundabout way to say it now belongs to her. 

“You’ll do fine, deep breath, get to work. Tell me what I said to you earlier.” Aesin said, putting his hand on hers. “Magic on Aethra, stitch you back together.” Riina responded. She smiled a little at his nod. “I’ll stop bleeding out once you get to work.” Aesin reassured her. Aethra took a minute to speak to her, convincing her it won’t hurt. The thought amusing to him, he’d taken many wounds in his time and each one hurt, but the thought of pain was just part of the life now. A life both of these elves were now on.  But a spear to the heart from the Hunter himself was bound to hurt in unimaginable ways. This at least, would be interesting, he thought.

In the battle earlier that day he’d told Aethra that they were given the gift of going straight to the deep end, but it wasn’t entirely to do with the battle itself. The house and it’s ways were hard, unforgiving and merciless. Conviction and aggression are necessities they would have to learn as vassals, and then embody if they were accepted into the House.

Sister Urraca wasn’t in sight but had an eye on Riina, most likely using this test of her abilities as a test of her faith. There was a lot of darkness that resided in the world that Aesin could teach the young elves about, but also a blinding light of devotion that could act in the same way within the House that they had to see for themselves.

The sweet taste of copper between his teeth instinctively triggered a burst of adrenaline. Aesin woke up on the ground eyes slammed open, covered in blood and a freshly sewn wound upon his chest. Riina, bloodied to the elbows, was holding Aethra’s hand looking at the Captain. Aesin didn’t even feel it, a perfect strike to his heart. It was a beautiful execution by the Hunter, simply sublime in how it seeded further reverence within for the Hunter.

He tilted his head a fraction, Riina looked scared and Aethra was shouting at him, inaudible at first but her voice grew in steady cacophony and then clarity. He looked back up the sky and coughed out a little blood. She stopped shouting when he tried to speak. “There’s only one moon but countless stars.  You ever look up at the moon and wonder if the one you’re thinking about is looking up at it too?” Wistfully, he asked.

The Captain didn’t feel so alone when the moon was out. He thought about Crow and Willow, she had probably patched him up by now. But maybe Aesin didn’t need to feel alone, or expendable anymore. House Luna was now strong within the warhost, he had a pack to run with, and now two new recruits to train. If Aesin felt alone now, he was blind.

‘Such irony,’ he thought, ‘That a man destined to fight and die, is now burdened to nurture and live’. A small chuckle turned into more blood spilling from his lips, he hoped that hid his little laugh. Captain Aesin took much joy in the fact this was something his father hadn’t counted on. “Help me up before Urraca accuses me of taking a nap and the sin of sloth, and get the good wine. You can watch me drink it whilst I tell you all the reasons why you never spend a few weeks aboard a Norscan boat. Seems I’ve got a lot of blood to replace.”

[mojojaejae]

Aesin Ken De Luna - Spring 1119

"He's been at it for hours, could've asked a tailor but he was insistent. You know how he is." The cadet spoke in hushed tones to his comrade. Both stood in the hall ever wary of keen ears. "They say he's ruined the cape his father gave him."

"By riveting a handful of burned scraps on it? He sure has! I'd love to be given a cape from the Admiral." The other was more brazen and didn't care much for keeping the silence. "Did he say why he was doing it?"

"No, just muttered about remembering someone who had fallen. Ask him, he's there. I dare you." He smirked, knowing what would follow.

"You know what. Fuck you, I'll do it. He's the kind of man to respect something ballsy" He grinned. "Captain, Captain Aesin!" Aesin stopped without turning round, upon his back was a tangled heap of burned fabric in unnatural patterns. It seemed to be a Luna robe that had been in some kind of fire or struck by lightning. The Cadet ran up to him with a salute, meeting a gaze that wasn't the Captain's usual intense stare, but rather a forlorn expression; almost somber. This was an open invitation for the cadet to speak his mind, perhaps Captain Aesin wasn't having an aggressive day. "Captain, the others and I wanted to know why you ruined your cloak with these scraps."

A silence followed, enough to make the cadets heart sink a little but he steadied himself.

"How old are you, boy" The captain asked in an exhausted manner. "19 sir." The cadet said sharply.

Aesin sighed, and took a deep breath in with a look of peace upon his face. 'Perhaps this would be a rare moment of mentorship', words racing through the young Luna's mind.

He didn't however expect to be headbutted in the nose by The Captain, and finding himself on the floor as blood flowed him his face, looking up at a now familiar intense expression.

"Remember those who fell before you." Aesin barked, before storming off.

"Good men never die, as long as we remember." He muttered. "Isn't that right, Iago?"

[mossbian]

ok i’ve decided to become abstract. next time you see me, you’ll see a series of colors and have the vague sense you’ve just met somebody

[strictly-indian-fashion]

As the last figure disappeared into the darkest depth Brandishing his turban’s trail. A war cry resounded against the garden’s weathered walls. A most valiant brand of men, lay resurrected in spirit of a nation that readied itself to wreck its shackles; Readied itself for the glory, the upheaval for

“The Mutiny 1919”

Shantanu and Nikhil | Men’s Couture FW 2016

[equius]

sometimes i forget that there’s a lot of people who legitimately never grew up poor and have no idea what poverty is like, and that just.. blows my fucking mind. i wish i was like that. the :/ look i get from ppl when i tell them that i don’t like spaghetti or pbj is just.. annoying, because they don’t seem to comprehend the statement “eating these things makes me feel ill because this used to be all i could eat multiple times a week because we were poor”

[mojojaejae]

This, but with indian dishes like dhal and lentils in general.

I have a deep seated hatred for lentils because of having only lentils for such a long time.

[mojojaejae]

I really don’t want to look clingy, or desperate. But the thought of being alone on my birthday is crippling. I really don’t want to be alone right now, but I worry that I’m coming across needy and annoying. 

[mojojaejae]

Aesin Ken De Luna - Summer 1103

"The kingdom of men.. look f- hhsssss..." The cadet knew better than to wince or cry out in pain. The rattan cane struck his back drawing slick crimson upon the bite.

"The.. Kingdom of.." He stuttered. Again he was struck, harder. No allowance for hesitation. "Say the teachings, cadet!" The voice bellowed. How could he? He wasn't told or taught this lesson. What could he say that was nothing he knew?

"The.. kingdom of men.. search fo-URKK!" A grown man socked him in the stomach, hard. The cadet threw his entire being into his composure, focusing to hold back the sickness and brace til the pain passed. The dry heaving kept shallow and almost silent; there would be hell to pay if he made a sound.

"Tell us, cadet" The voice boomed. "In warfare, what betrays the kingdom of men?"

Water now welled up at the edges of his eyes. So much pain, 'please be over he wished'. He felt dizzy, perhaps the pain or loss of blood from his back. There seemed to be no end, 'keep those teeth clenched, deep breaths, move off that centre line..' was the mantra. Words of basic training running through his head, meaningless for the most part as pain and sickness stole his focus like flames inches from his eyes.

"The m-men.. Kingdom of m-men, humans.. They e-e-e-ARAAGHHHH" .... This time he was sure a rib or two was broken. Buckled double on the ground, tasting copper between his teeth. Fuck it, he let a cry out, no going back now.

No. No More.

"The next.. " He spat out blood "One to strike me. I will deliver you to the Goddess."

Silence. Was this a threat? Were they laughing at him?

"The Kingdom of men. Those of Humans and Elf. They search.. They search!.. For reason. For pattern." The cadet forced the words out with bloodied teeth and spat it out, one side of the face pounding with pain.

Nothing. Just more silence.

"If attacked, they brace for three. They look to their own standards.." He braced hard for what seemed like eternity. "Three, ten or other rounded numbers. Reliance on reason, they do not lean in to despair, they.. have hope. The stronger the waves of attack, the fewer the expected attacks."

He could hear feet moving, perhaps the trainers were taking a stance to deliver a blow to end up. Perhaps they were to deliver a blow that would disfigure him. He begged it would be over soon within his thoughts. When he relaxed, the hall he was in was emptied. Everyone had simply left, the lesson was over.

He survived, therefore passed.

Fists clenched hard, his breathing became rapid until he yelled as loud as he could; "Cadet! .." He choked a little on the tears. "Cadet Aspiranté Aesin.. AESIN GOLPE DE ASESINATO!"

"DE ASESINATO!" As loud as his voice could, throwing out blood, pain and hard volume against the back of his throat. A stupid name, one he hated, given due to the teachings of the school.

A strong sturdy voice resonated throughout the hall. One the cadet didn't want to hear.

"Relax. It's over now, boy. Get your gear and report to the western marches." The voice of Raoul Ken was more than most men, like a tough, hard to cut oak. 'I bet that bastard has a shit eating grin on his face seeing me like this' Thought the cadet, perhaps the pain and anger was too much. Because the cadet didn't hear the last few word of Admiral Raoul Ken; "You're in the Fourth Wave now, son."

[mojojaejae]

Aesin Ken De Luna - Winter 1119

Half a league left to go.

Half a fucking league and he hadn't taken the oath yet, the intoxication running hard through his veins steadied only by sheer force of will. If muscle and bone would be the bricks, his will was the mortar that fused his being together. On and on he marched towards home, alone, a sky muddied with clouds with moonlight here and there, from a half decent tavern in the middle of nowhere. An old alehouse steeped with history, yet where no-one would recognise or care that Aesin Ken De Luna had kicked open the door, strode to the bar, leaned hard enough over the bar that the wood cried under his weight to take a bottle of wine. 

The barkeep knew better than to make eye contact, Aesin always paid. Moons ago when the barkeeps young son fell ill, a healer was sent to see to him and wouldn't say who sent him as if the mention of a name was a death sentence. It wasn't till a week later when a certain man of House Luna threw a sack of oranges behind the counter and glared at the keeper, that a sense of truth has seeped in.

Not a soul, it was close to sunlight with a frailty of rain. His personal keep was in sight. Wine was one of his vices that could quell the rage, an anger that drew from sadness. Anger was more useful than despair; the teachings of the Sect of Saten, to take in and transform an energy, weakness to strength. Almost everything had to be about strength and the eradication of weakness, to be greater than in Aesin's own words; "That goddamn bastard.. ", To succeed the title of Ken from his adoptive father Raoul Ken. All The Captain seemed to do was drink, train, and eat with a single minded focus on exceeding himself. Home straight and all downhill from here. The guards at the gate readied themselves at the figure staggering towards them, bracing harder knowing it was Captain Aesin. At this point he wasn't as combat capable but he'd give them hell if they didn't scrutinise any visitor with extreme caution. Both guards pointed their spears at his throat and demanded he state his name, albeit a moment or three too late. The Captain had already drawn his back dagger and swiped both spearheads away, leaping forwards lazily to shunt both men to the ground. He didn't say a word, only to sheath the dagger with a look of disgust and stagger his way in. It wasn't til he stopped in the middle of the courtyard he spoke out loud. "Soldiers.. give me soldiers. Fourth Wave, Fourth.. FUCKING WAVE. You. You think you know? You think you know what a soldier is?" The two looked at him with innocent eyes. They were young and earning their place in the world, perhaps squires or cadets. Eyes that had not seen horrors of war or loss. 'She wouldn't look kindly on this, would she?' He thought. 'They're just boys'.

Nothing else but a stagger towards his chambers. There were few who knew what he spoke or shouted about. Many either didn't care or found Aesin too hard and serious without much reason or explanation.

He was for the most part an unnecessary and unreasonable man. Though in trying times, a man who could provide results.

[dangerousvikings]

[danzai]

my last two brain cells

[j-sillabub]

@mojojaejae

[moved-to-saltcircuit]

dealing with people who are spacing out

DON’T: -hit them -yell at them -wave in their face in excess

DO: -say their name once or twice -tap them gently and if they don’t respond, -wait patiently for them to snap back into reality

[moved-to-saltcircuit]

this still applies yo

[realisenothing]

why are you obsessed with lifting weights. there's literally no point to it.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: when you get better at lifting weights you also get better at lifting everything else. The muscles can’t tell the difference! They’re fucking idiots!!!

[glumshoe]

What I say: “I’m touch-starved.”

What you think I mean: “I need a hug.”

What I truly mean: “I need someone to platonically lie across me with their full weight, crushing my body and providing deep pressure until my errant soul is reabsorbed into my flesh. Also, a hug would be nice.”

[glumshoe]

I’ve had to explain this to people who think it’s weird, but when I add, “You know… like cats…” they seem to understand.

[mojojaejae]

Fool people into thinking you won’t be alone this christmas season by buying enough snacks and drinks for 8 people, then going home and consuming it all by yourself.

[mojojaejae]

Annoyingly, when you go back for more snacks you face an internal battle when the cashier asks if it’s a party. Lie or tell the truth?  I went with the 3rd option, smile and walk away after the transaction. 

[mojojaejae]

Fool people into thinking you won’t be alone this christmas season by buying enough snacks and drinks for 8 people, then going home and consuming it all by yourself.