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@kindheartedhealer

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happy 7th anniversary tales of xillia! (8th september 2011)
Anyway, having a big heart is both a blessing and a curse but the pros will always out weight the cons imo. Iβm going to care deeply for the rest of my life and thatβs my gift
//is this a return? maybe.Β
//Iβm feeling a bit better now, and Iβve got doctorβs appointments to maybe try to figure out why Iβm still tired so much, but Iβve still got a lot of things that need to be done before the end of the summer.
//I forgot how much I love my sweet son.

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Damsel in Distress
driftingjazzbard:
It was a godsend, more than a godsend, that there were Rieze Maxians who werenβt as good at artes and thus didnβt really use them.Β Especially healing artes, they were tricky given the intricacies of the human body, and she had a deep cut.Β Not unusual that she wouldnβt know how to use the artes necessary to heal it.
βIt was just bad luck, you really donβt need to go to any trouble, Iβm just out of painkilling medicationβ¦β
Help out anyone who needs it?Β Then he was in the wrong line of work in the army.Β The army didnβt help much of anyone.Β Sheβd heard some rumors about the lengths Rashugal was preparing to go to finally get one up on its old enemy, and the soldiers were generally not the most pleasant of people.
Even so, she saw him close his eyes and felt her injury beginning to knit together and fade.
Could the spirits tell what she was?Β Would they bring the news to whatever had destroyed her family, her friends, her people?Β Β Had this boy just killed her?
βThank you.β
Releasing the arte, he looked up at her and smiled as it dissipated, shaking his head slightly.Β βItβs really fine. Iβm glad to help. Did you hit your head, or is there anywhere else that hurts I should check?β
Heβd looked her over and used a localized arte to heal her wound--he wouldnβt be able to tell anything else about her or her condition internally without using a more generalized arte. Jude didnβt like doing that without permission however; after all his schooling, it simply didnβt seem right to him to pry inside someone else unless something seemed wrong externally or they told him that it was fine.
With an ease that came from practice, he didnβt flinch as he felt the spirits hum slightly, cheerfully to him, as they returned to... wherever it was they stayed when humans didnβt want them. The spirit realm for most of them, he assumed, but sometimes... it did seem like they went elsewhere. He wondered about that sometimes, if some liked it better here.
Standing, Jude reached down to pick up his bag and throw it back over his shoulders, then offered her his hand.
βIf youβre fine, then can I help you up, miss...?β
Damsel in Distress
driftingjazzbard:
It was a mental conflict.Β She really did need help, it wasnβt likely she was going to be getting up that incline on her own, and it wasnβt smart to stay somewhere like this late with a bum leg.Β She could handle monsters by being faster than most of them, and that was neatly handled.
But she didnβt trust the Rashugal armyβ¦hell she couldnβt really trust most Rieze Maxiansβ¦not really.Β Not completely.
βThatβsβ¦very kind of you.β
She wasnβt sure if he wasnβt buying it or just saw her bandages. Sheβd done a pretty good job with them, but they were already bloody.Β It was too wide a wound, probably needed stitching, but she couldnβt take a swig of whiskey for numbing and trust herself to sew a wound properly.
ββ¦Iβ¦probably do need help.βΒ If anyone out there still helped Elympions.
"It's my job, miss." Jude softened his words with a smile as he knelt next to her and slung his bag off his shoulder. "I help anyone who needs it."
And she definitely looked like she needed it. The incline wasn't that bad and she seemed resourceful--look how she'd already wrapped the injury--but here she was, sitting with a still bloody leg. He could figure it out.
"I'm Jude. Jude Mathis." Pulling some antiseptic from his own bag, he looked up at her--"May I?"--then carefully began unwrapping her bandages, and then cleaning the wound.
Once he was done, he raised his hands, palms out and index and thumb tips touching in a triangle, and closed his eyes, carefully opening his mind. He could feel the answer to his offering of mana, then felt it flow through him and surround her leg, letting him 'see' the torn skin and muscle. Taking a deep breath, then letting it out, he pictured how the injury would have to heal, cell by cell, and he felt the power take his instructions, peer at them curiously for a moment, then rush down his arms and begin 'stitching' the wound back together.
As he concentrated, his brows came together and he pursed his lips, eyes still closed. "Mnnn..."
//you know, reading about combat medics is pretty interesting...
//anyway, as an aside, yes, this is an X1 Jude only. However, he does have a canon-divergent X2 verse (v. a fractured reality). I'll type up more details later, but basically...
He's from a Fractured Milla's dimension so the schism didn't fall and Exodus doesn't exist. Following graduation, he ended up getting drafted as a combat medic with the Rashugal army, who are involved in a war with Auj Oule. He's never met Milla, and doesn't know that his father moved to Leronde to hide from her.
Damsel in Distress
driftingjazzbard:
Shit.Β The armyβ¦staying low profile was the only reason she was still alive.Β No reason for anyone to look into her life, and no putting herself in suicidal positions.Β No permanent home, no close friends, and no contact with either Rashugal or Auj Oule or their stupid endless war.
The only one who would remember her friends, her familyβ¦was her.Β So she had to live for that.Β So someone would remember the beautiful children who never truly got to liveβ¦
She pressed herself backward, wincing as she moved her leg.Β Β βNo!Β Iβm alright sir!Β I wouldnβt want to bother a soldier doing such important work, protecting us all!βΒ She made her voice slightly ditzier than normal, more shrill and silly sounding.
Well, she definitely didnβt look dangerous... and she also didnβt lookΒ βalrightβ. Frowning slightly, Jude looked up and down from where they were. He couldnβt just leave her here...
Ah, there -- a little further down the bank, there was a section of a lesser incline. He moved to it and carefully swung his feet over--his booted feet still slid on the loose dirt as he put weight on them, but the small tumble that ended with him on his rear didnβt hurt him through his uniform.
Standing, he shook himself off before slowly walking towards her, hands raised in the universal gesture ofΒ βIβm not dangerousβ.
βIβm a medic from the medical corps, miss. If it helps, Iβm off-duty right now, on my way home to visit my family, but I wouldnβt feel right just leaving you here.β
Damsel in Distress
driftingjazzbard:
βWellβ¦this isnβt good.β
For once her large bag wasnβt an asset.Β Sheβd tripped, falling down a small embankment which unfortunately was home to at least one very sharp rock.Β A bright red gash marked all the way up her shin.Β Sheβd wrapped it, the bag of course held some medical supplies along with the rest of her necessities, but her stock of painkillers was unfortunately short and she was having trouble standing.
βExcuse me... miss? Do you need help?βΒ
The raven-haired young man in a simplified Rashugal army uniform was crouching at the top of the embankment, peering down at her while he surveyed the slope. It definitely looked unstable, straggly tree roots only barely holding onto loose dirt and rocks... was there a way to get down without sending sliding more dirt on her and slipping himself?
βI was on the high road, and I heard a noise.β His training, minimal though it had been, had made him aware of how important it was to remain wary. Even a small noise could save one from an enemy arte.

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Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Do not scornΒ Β PITYΒ Β that is the gift of a gentle heart.
combat medicΒ
dont underestimate the power of kindness. strength is not being cold hearted and aloof, itβs being amicable in the face of bitterness or gentle with those who need to be loved. so please, if nothing else, be kind.
"The Picture of Dorian Gray" sentence starters
β There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. β
β The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. β
β We shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly. β
β I have grown to love secrecy. β
β Your cynicism is simply a pose. β
β You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages. β
β Conscience and cowardice are really the same things. β
β I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects. β
β A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. β
β Is that very vain of me? I think it is rather vain. β
β None of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves. β
β I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world. β
β There is nothing that art cannot express. β
β The harmony of soul and bodyο»Ώβhow much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. β
β My heart shall never be put under their microscope. β
β It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue. β
β I feel that I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summerβs day.β β
β In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. β
β Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know loveβs tragedies. β
β People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. β
β Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. β
β Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. β
β The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.Β β
β Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul. β
β You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know. β
β Wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so? β
β Time is jealous of you, and wars against your lilies and your roses. β
β Our limbs fail, our senses rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to. β
β You like your art better than your friends. β
β I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. β
β Young people, nowadays, imagine that money is everything. β
β Credit is the capital of a younger son, and one lives charmingly upon it. β
β Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic. β
β The way of paradoxes is the way of truth. β
β I can sympathize with everything except suffering. β
β Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the worldβs original sin. If the caveman had known how to laugh, history would have been different. β
β Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are oneβs mistakes. β
β You are quite delightful and dreadfully demoralizing. β
β I am always late on principle, the principle being that punctuality is the thief of time. β
β I adore it, but I am afraid of it. It makes me too romantic. β
β Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing. β
β Passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do. β
β If I ever did a crime, I would come and confess it to you. You would understand me. β
β When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving oneβs self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance. β
β There is always something infinitely mean about other peopleβs tragedies. β
β I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain. β
β People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves. It is what I call the depth of generosity. β
β The only artists I have ever known who are personally delightful are bad artists. β
β It often happens that when we think we were experimenting on others we are really experimenting on ourselves. β
β Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them. β
β To be in love is to surpass oneβs self. β
β Poor? What does that matter? When poverty creeps in at the door, love flies in through the window. β
β Our proverbs want rewriting. They were made in winter, and it is summer now; springtime for me, I think, a very dance of blossoms in blue skies. β
β I shudder at the thought of being free. β
β I know you would never harm anyone I love, would you? β
β Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives. β
β Of course, it is suddenο»Ώβall really delightful things are. β
β The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror. β
β Unselfish people are colourless. They lack individuality. β
β You are much better than you pretend to be. β
β I cannot understand how anyone can wish to shame the thing he loves. β
β When we are happy, we are always good, but when we are good, we are not always happy. β
β The real tragedy of the poor is that they can afford nothing but self-denial. Beautiful sins, like beautiful things, are the privilege of the rich. β
β Being adored is a nuisance. β
β You are dreadful! I donβt know why I like you so much. β
β You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit. β
β Love is a more wonderful thing than art. β
β There are only two kinds of people who are really fascinatingο»Ώβpeople who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing. β
β The secret of remaining young is never to have an emotion that is unbecoming. β
β I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. β
β You taught me what reality really is. β
β You used to stir my imagination. Now you donβt even stir my curiosity. β
β I have grown sick of shadows. β
β You donβt know what you were to me, once.Β β
β You have spoiled the romance of my life. β
β Without your art, you are nothing. β
β There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love. β
β There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. β
β I canβt bear the idea of my soul being hideous. β
β You cut life to pieces with your epigrams. β
β Things like that make a man fashionable in Paris. But in London people are so prejudiced. β
β One should never make oneβs dΓ©but with a scandal. One should reserve that to give an interest to oneβs old age. β
β How extraordinarily dramatic life is! β
β I donβt think I am heartless. Do you? β
β The moment she touched actual life, she marred it, and it marred her. β
β Life has everything in store for you, β
β We live in an age that reads too much to be wise, and that thinks too much to be beautiful. β
β If one doesnβt talk about a thing, it has never happened. It is simply expression that gives reality to things. β
β You must not tell me about things. What is done is done. What is past is past. β
β I donβt want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them. β
β You talk as if you had no heart, no pity in you. β
β if I told you, you might like me less than you do, and you would certainly laugh at me. I could not bear your doing either of those two things. β
β Your friendship is dearer to me than any fame or reputation. β
β You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. β
β Whatever I have done that is good, I owe to you. β
β There is something fatal about a portrait. It has a life of its own. β
β Perhaps one should never put oneβs worship into words. β
β There seems to be something tragic in a friendship so colored by romance. β
β It has a corruption of its own, worse than the corruption of death itselfο»Ώβsomething that would breed horrors and yet would never die. β
β The past can always be annihilated. β
β How exquisite life had once been! How gorgeous in its pomp and decoration! Even to read of the luxury of the dead was wonderful. β
β Is insincerity such a terrible thing? I think not. It is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities. β
β I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else. β
β I love scandals about other people, but scandals about myself donβt interest me. They have not got the charm of novelty. β
β You donβt want people to talk of you as something vile and degraded. β
β You must not say things like that. They are horrible, and they donβt mean anything. β
β You have had more to do with my life than you think. β
β Each of us has heaven and hell in him. β
β Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms. β
β Keep your horrible secrets to yourself. They donβt interest me any more. β
β What is it to me what devilβs work you are up to? β
β I wish you had a thousandth part of the pity for me that I have for you. β
β The husbands of very beautiful women belong to the criminal classes. β
β I am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked. β
β It is perfectly monstrous, the way people go about nowadays saying things against one behind oneβs back that are absolutely and entirely true. β
β Nowadays all the married men live like bachelors, and all the bachelors like married men. β
β Everybody I know says you are very wicked. β
β I like men who have a future and women who have a past. β
β Moderation is a fatal thing. Enough is as bad as a meal. More than enough is as good as a feast. β
β He atones for being occasionally somewhat overdressed by being always absolutely overeducated. He is a very modern type. β
β What do you want? Money? Here it is. Donβt ever talk to me again. β
β Each man lives his own life and pays his own price for living it. β
β The man who could call a spade a spade should be compelled to use one. It is the only thing he is fit for. β
β I think that it is better to be beautiful than to be good. But on the other hand, no one is more ready than I am to acknowledge that it is better to be good than to be ugly. β
β To be popular one must be a mediocrity. β
β We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible. β
β I wish I could love, but I seem to have lost the passion and forgotten the desire. β
β My own personality has become a burden to me. β
β Death is the only thing that ever terrifies me.Β β
β The world has always worshipped you. It always will worship you. β
β Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets. β
β The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame. That is all. β
β The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history. β
jude mathis | tales of asteria

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Uncommon Words Drabble Prompts Meme
Send me one of the following words in my ask and Iβll write a drabble concerning our muses.Β
apricity: (n.) the warmth of the sun in the winter aspectabund: (adj.) letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes aurora: (n.) dawn basorexia ( n ) the overwhelming desire to kiss balter: (v.) to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment cafune: (n.) the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love catharsis: (n.) release of emotional tension ethereal: (adj.) extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world frission: ( n ) a shiver of pleasure Β Β fernweh (n ) the ache for distant places: the craving for travelΒ halcyon: (adj.) a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful kismet: fate, destinyΒ pyrrhic: (adj.) won at too great a cost marcid :incredibly exhaustedΒ Β noceur (n.) one who stays up late pulchritudinous: (adj.) breathtaking, heartbreaking beauty scintilla: (n.) a tiny trace or spark of a feeling sweven: (n.) a dream tacenda ( n) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silenceΒ temerate: (v.) to break a bond or promise toska: a dull ache of the soul, a sick pinning, a spiritualΒ anguishΒ viridity: (n.) innocence whelve (v) to bury something deep, to hide
A quick and easy plotting guide
Send me β and I will bold my preferences for your muse!
My muse(s):
Do I know your muse(s):Β yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse
Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other
Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship
Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | otherΒ
Iβm in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other
Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - letβs find common interests!