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Things haven't been the same since Father died a year ago. Mum says it's for the best -- that God works in mysterious ways, that all things happen for a reason. I want to believe her, but everything's just been so hard. Not only did Father's death leave me -- us -- alone, but it's also left us struggling financially. He was a good man, Mum repeats (and I know,) but he'd apparently been hiding unpaid debts, fallen-through investments, and a horror show of monetary problems. I'd already had trouble fitting in at school ('twiggy little homo' was the insult du jour), but now I had to dodge sympathy as well as scorn. Pity feels hollow and cheap, and few who offer it actually care. Even at church, it's not like anyone offered to take up a collection for us. The only thing we've been given are words. Not that I'm mad! I mean, I forgive everyone. Times are tough. But they don't have to lay it on so thick, is all. At least this part-time job has been good for me, I think. People tell me I've been 'coming out of my shell' and other played-out metaphors, and while I'm not sure I agree -- pulling espresso shots at Starbucks isn't going to get me on the debate team -- I guess I've made a few ... not friends, but something close, I guess. It's nice, but it doesn't fill that void any more than a year's worth of praying and begging has. Still, maybe it's a start. It's kind of nice to feel wanted, for once. And if nothing else, I'm getting pretty good at latte art... quote:The Mortal ( Never done this before, so I hope I didn't screw anything up! ) someone awful. fucked around with this message at 20:28 on May 13, 2015 |
# ¿ Feb 28, 2015 02:38 |
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# ¿ Apr 28, 2024 07:43 |
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Ferrosol posted:
I've always been told this is how it's supposed to work. That you suffer, and you endure, and you may even curse God's name some days, asking night after night why He took this or why you felt that -- but you don't just give up on Him. He... tests us. Because He loves us. That's just life. I've been going through my study bible, from Sunday school when I was a kid, and, you know, highlighting things. "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him." That kind of thing. And yes, I know reeling off Bible verses like that is why people think I'm weird. So I trust Him. I've heard all the arguments, like, God's arbitrary and cruel, why would He create suffering if He loves us, and what the Hell was up with that whole binding of Isaac thing, but I... I firmly believe that He makes us hurt because pain makes us stronger. He loves us. And ... it means a lot, being loved. You don't just give up on someone who loves you because they hurt you sometimes, right? Honestly, the thing that's been harder than keeping my faith in God has been keeping my faith in humanity. I've always held that people are inherently good, and we're supposed to practice forgiveness in life, so I do that. The economy is terrible, people put themselves first. That -- I get it. We can't all be the good Samaritan. But why's my family the one who gets shunned? My father had friends; he was a good man. Well-liked. But then he dies and it seems like nobody cares. That's what seems arbitrary and cruel to me, not God.
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# ¿ Feb 28, 2015 18:12 |
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Ferrosol posted:Thomas "Thom" Brody All through primary school I was a Tommy. And Mum calls me Tommy. It's... babying, except when it's her. She says it differently. So I thought ... I thought if I changed what I was called, it might make a difference how I was thought of. Names have power -- at least, I think so. So Thom it was. I nicked it from Thom Yorke. Listening to Radiohead was life-changing. This is probably stupid. I feel like it's made a difference, like maybe I'm less of a target or something. I might just be imagining it, but that's all right. It's always been Mum's way to hide things from me. She's -- not very good at it. I could tell when she'd been fighting with Father, like -- and they did fight, but that was only normal, right? All couples fight sometimes -- 'cause she'd look a little too cheerful, and she always hums to herself in this sort of tuneless way. She gets like that when I ask what's happened. I -- I want to respect her, really I do, but this... I needed to know. So I looked in her office one night. Went through her browser history, logged into her bank account. Without context, a lot of it's just depressingly large numbers. Stuff like credit cards used to pay off other credit cards -- I'd always figured he was smarter than that. What did he need that kind of money for, anyway? He was a pharmacologist, and as far as I knew it paid well enough. He'd have to go on business trips a lot -- to seminars and stuff -- and I s'pose it's okay if he wants to enjoy himself when he's traveling, but this can't just be from that. Then I started poking through the paperwork laying around, and I honestly wish I hadn't. Child support payments? To some woman I'd never heard of, for two children? At first, I was -- well, not hurt, but confused. But the more I think on it the more it sort of makes things come together. I've never known much of his side of the family. We always went to mum's side for holidays. She has a huge family -- they really took the whole 'be fruitful and multiply' thing to heart, I guess -- so I'd be surrounded by aunts and cousins and whatever else... Point is, I'd never really given my father's family much thought. If he had something like this to hide from us -- from me -- it makes sense. There was more -- I'm sure there was -- but I kind of stopped looking at that point. I felt like an rear end. I still feel like an rear end. People are allowed to have secrets, even in death, and there I was, digging up my father's for no good reason. He should have told me, though! I'd never have been mad; I'm not even mad now. It's kind of noble, actually, that he'd try to keep giving me the sort of life I was used to, even if he was, um, complete poo poo with finances. He tried, and I reckon that's worth respect. I don't feel betrayed at all. I feel like I betrayed him, by finding out something he'd wanted kept from me. So now, when I pray at night, I make sure he knows he's forgiven, and I ask him to forgive me, too. Mum doesn't know that I know, either. So that's ... awkward. We don't have much time to talk anymore, with Mum picking up whatever extra hours she can (she works at the post office) and me trying not to fail every single class ever while keeping up with my job, and I've never been anything like as close to her as I was with my father. I have no idea how I'd begin to talk about it if I tried, so I just... don't. I did make a whiny tumblr post about it, though...
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# ¿ Mar 1, 2015 19:14 |
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Ferrosol posted:Questions Round 5 aaa shut uuuuup Do you mean, er, career-wise? I was never one of those kids with big dreams. Or, er. Any dreams, really. 'The future' was always this big, nebulous -- thing, that I'd figure out when I got there, but now I'm staring down the barrel of it things aren't much clearer. I thought if I just waited, I'd stumble into my passion eventually. But it's getting to the point where I'm going to have to just choose something, and cross my fingers that I don't end up hating it. Father Pruett -- he's the priest who usually leads mass -- has been "gently" nudging me towards seminary since I was an altar server. He thinks it's my vocation, and he's probably right? I s'pose? If it isn't, I can't imagine what else would be. I've always just done what I'm told, looking back on it. I think getting this job was the first time I did something because I wanted to. Mum told me not to, even. Said she'd need me around the house now she's working all these double shifts. It felt good, standing up for myself. I love her, but she's very... smothering. Like she forgets I'm not five years old anymore. And father -- he'd encourage me, but he'd get cross if I didn't follow his suggestions. It makes this borderline impossible to answer. I don't know. But, er, there's more to life than what I get paid for. And you said anything, right? I guess -- let me think about it. I remember... one summer at bible camp (I know), when I was maybe eight or nine? Well, it was late one night and I needed the loo, so I nipped out to take care of that. And on the way back -- this is going to sound stupid, but -- I saw something out in the forest. Like a tiny flickering light, only it was the wrong direction to be a lantern or somebody's torch. I was young and a bit daft, so I said to myself something silly like "Oh! Maybe it's an angel!" and of course I tromped through the trees after it, nevermind that it was three in the morning and nobody knew where I was. I got hopelessly lost, and when the counselors found me in the morning everyone thought I was either barmy or a sleepwalker. Laugh if you want, but even now I still think it wasn't something normal -- I think it was a will-o'-the-wisp. A faerie. A spirit. Something weird and out-of-place. I'd have let go of it if I didn't remember it with absolute clarity, and if it weren't for the way seeing it made me feel -- like it was calling to me, or desperately needed me, or something ... A-anyroad, my point is I think... I'd like to spend some time traveling. Not like on holiday, doing boring tourist stuff, but ... Out there. In the unexplored places. I know it's ridiculous, but I'm curious. If I saw one spirit-ghost-wisp-thing, there has to be another out there somewhere, right? And besides, it's nice to be out-of-doors. It's easy to forget how beautiful the world really is if you spend too much time surrounded by urban sprawl and modern technology. More people should. It'd be awful lonesome, though...
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# ¿ Mar 3, 2015 04:20 |
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Pththya-lyi posted:You have two friends who you can rely on for monsterslaying support. Take a String on each. I'm down with this. quote:Thomas ("Thom") Brody: Merely Currency. He's a pretty boy, I guess? What did I say to you? I'd just tried to compliment her! It was bizarre -- we'd had to work on some assignment together, and I tried to break the tension by saying something nice about a necklace she was wearing. She got weird about it, like -- in her eyes, and gave me some backhanded compliment in return. I wouldn't even remember it except she was so intense about the whole thing, right? I've tried to avoid her since then; scary girls aren't really my cuppa. quote:The Mortal always declares their backstory last. Declare one person to be your lover. Give them three Strings on you. Take one String on them.
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# ¿ Mar 8, 2015 01:52 |
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Thom hops into D3. Window seats are good for daydreaming, which Thom does plenty of. He'd like to have sat closer to the front, but Donna gives him all sorts of bad vibes, so he gets stuck back here. Good excuse to make idle gossip with Megan, if nothing else.code:
And Blake is feeling a bit volatile, I think.
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# ¿ Mar 8, 2015 13:24 |
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Rauri posted:Since The Mortal always carries 1 forward to earning their lover’s heart or fancy, can't Thom bump that six up to a seven / partial success? Ah! So I can. I'll do that, then. Still new at this, sorry!
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# ¿ Mar 11, 2015 15:42 |
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Jessica, highlight Hot.
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# ¿ Apr 8, 2015 02:08 |
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More people! Maybe I can actually get some strings on someone for once. Glad to have you all aboard, feel free to
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# ¿ May 6, 2015 19:27 |
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Thom's like... 5'10 or so? Tall enough to stand out, but not like, absurdly tall or anything. Awkward gangly boy-tall. e: maybe 5'8, i dunno. heights someone awful. fucked around with this message at 02:50 on May 7, 2015 |
# ¿ May 7, 2015 02:10 |
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# ¿ Apr 28, 2024 07:43 |
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Megan, once you realize you've been jerked around I imagine you'll feel pretty volatile, y'know?
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# ¿ May 7, 2015 19:30 |