Basic Info
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Gender
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Male
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Aeksir
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Saelin
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Nicknames
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Joob, Joobear, Judy, Jub
Profile
the og
i cannot even think of words to describe him wtf here go a history. i will try to divide these up by subject.
SUPER WIP RN DON'T LOOK
WARNING: (NOT YET but when I get around to writing it OTL) non-explicit mentions of minor abuse, violence, rape)
NAVIGATION
ii. Daddy Issues and Learning How to Be a Person
A Brief of the Toddler Age
When he was really small, say 3 years to 5, he was a pretty sweet kid. A bit timid, very respectful of his elders, and awkward when it came to talking. Like blurting out awkward, socially impolite things that he observed (such as, "that guy has no hair! his head is so shiny" while pointing blatantly at the person) in such an earnest voice that it was obvious there was no ill intent in them. He was an easy one to make cry, but I guess a lot of kids are at that age. He never broke a rule of his own volition, unless his older siblings persuaded or bribed him into it (I'm looking at you Maria, and Peter), and when he was to be punished for these things, he'd weep like a baby the moment either of his parents came to confront him and profess all his childish sins. The company of animals was often preferred to that of other people. His best friend was his twin sister Amelia, and he would never go out of his way to interact with his other siblings or the other kids living at their house without her by his side. He used her almost as a crutch. He did not speak unless spoken to, and would not approach others. It had to be the other way around.
Visitors
His father had many old friends who would come and go, passing by to recount older times. Some of them stayed. One of these passer-bys was named William, and Judia for some reason had a fixation on him. He was very tall, which was intimidating, but very kind. He would sometimes play with him and the other kids when he wasn't working with or talking to his parents. The first time William visited after Judia had been born, which would be the only time for a good many years, he had encountered the boy on his way to the house. Judia was obliviously playing with their newest litter of pups, when this tall man crouches next to him and greets him. Judia was flustered by this, and feeling very alone without Amelia to fall back on - instead of returning the hello, he asked abruptly who the man was. Will introduced himself, and then asked if Judia was David's son, and when this was affirmed, he told Judia that he resembled his father very much. He told him his father was a good man, and had helped a lot of people. People like himself. Judia didn't know what to say, so he just pointed to him and said "I like your coat." William asked if he wanted to try it on, and probably had a good laugh watching him trounce about excitedly in the oversized coat, tripping over and getting tangled in the tails of it. William told him he could keep it, and so he did. In its pockets were a cluster of cloves, a paring knife, and a few other odds and ends. He'd always associate Will with the smell of cloves. He wore it sometimes even though it was much too large. When he finally grew tall enough to where it didn't drag across the ground as he walked, it was everpresent.
Daddy Issues and Learning How to Be a Person
Now we have a turning point. Of course, it was a gradual transition, but around ages 5 to 13, he warps into a little shit. It was around this time that he was forced to integrate with the "common rabble," forced to socialize and grow some independence. He was put to work, and put to learning. Amelia was not always there. It got lonely. Now exposed to the various personalities of other children and adults and teenagers that he'd never dared approach before, pieces of them all worked themselves into him. He forged a few friendships, shallow as many childhood friendships tend to be, and the benefactors of these friendships for the most part happened to be little shits. Total tricksters, always getting into a hell of a mess but always getting a laugh out of it as well. It was also when self-awareness began developing. Awareness that he was a person, and that his parents, and adults, were not always correct, just, and fair. A resentment began to build for his parents, specifically his father, David, for what he was only now realizing was mental, and more occassionally, physical abuse. Their relationship was such: a cold void of time punctuated by flashes of heat and anger. Because rarely did he see his father at all but to receive an earful of degradation slyly disguised as a lecture. Often his father was away from the house, traveling on business, to visit old friends, anything really. When he wasn't away, he was working the fields, or doing repairs around the house, or calculating how much food they would need for the winter, or cooped up working on some pet project, or presiding over his eldest children, namely Deidre and Cedric, as they learned the reigns of the trade - that is to say, he was always occupied. There was no time to forge a bond with the man, except a bond of subservience and obedience. His mother, Eleanor, would sometimes travel with David, but would more often stay behind to watch over things. She was busy in those times, taking David's matters into her own hands. When David wasn't away, she was less preoccupied, but did not spare much attention for the middle children, which Judia was at this time. There were babies to coddle, Dawse just having been born, and Folio on the way. There were the older children to be ushered into adulthood. Judia, along with his sister Amelia, were not a priority, per se. But that isn't to say that she never spent time with them. When she did, it felt stilted - at least to Judia, though Amelia seemed to get along more easily with their mother. Eleanor was a very private person, and didn't often talk about herself. Judia never knew much about her, her interests, what she liked. She would ask them how their learning was going, about their friends, et cetera, and occassionally try to weedle out any secrets they might know about their siblings. Judia was not the only troublesome child in the family. He always thought it was gross how she did that and never answered anything sincerely (though he suspected Amelia told her things when he was out of ear's reach), but he slowly realized their mother actually cared about their situations (I'm looking at Maria and Peter again) and wanted to know as much as she could about what they were going through - and that if she'd have asked them directly they'd have blown her off. But he also thought that she would probably fail fantastically at helping them in any way, and only make things worse. Parents didn't always know what was right. They were human, and thus flawed. He was realizing this.
Awful Children: Starring Judia and Maria
The times when both his parents were away were the best times. It meant his older siblings would be in charge. Deidre didn't much care what he did; she would scorn him in a distant way but turn a blind eye. Faye was too obsessed with her own drama to pay heed to anyone else's life. Setoka was a very quiet person, a lot like their mother in some ways, and did not scold anyone. Cedric was too lenient on Judia, because they had in common the resentment for their father's controlling hand. Judia looked up to Cedric, who was good at everything, the model child. Cedric felt it was a shame that he did, because he was nothing worth looking up to, but nevertheless it ushered along their friendship. So, along with the oldest generation not caring what shenanigans Judia was up to, we have Maria, the next in line, who did care very much about the shenanigans, in that he was an ever so willing partner in crime. Maria would do his best to put stupid ideas in the boy's head, and also cover for him whenever necessary. These were times that Amelia grew to dislike, because if she was not the victim of their stupidity, then she was expected to protect Judia from accusation if anyone came looking for the little shit that stitched a horribly construed penis onto their vest. She only came through for him half the time; she hated lying, and at times, she wanted him to get fucked. Judia learned to let lies fly out of his mouth like it was as natural as breathing. In the beginning, he didn't like it much, and thus sucked at it, but he learned to like it when people saw through his falsehoods and started screaming at him. They did not always harrass innocents. There was a justice to some of their crimes, and some of their crimes were against each other. It was a friendly war between the two. Maria had a mean streak sometimes and liked to torment both Amelia and Judia, but Judia was always the prime target, because he could feel less guilty about it. Judia hated it but would console himself by dreaming up a vengeful scheme against his brother that would soon be put into action.
Vincent and Brius
When he was 6, his father brought home a pregnant woman. This was following one of his month long "travels". She had another child with her, a boy named Brius. At the time, Judia didn't know what to make of it. He was innocent and very preoccupied with the strange animalistic features that the two had. He definitely pulled Brius's tail a few times. Brius was about the same age as him and could be a viscious little thing, so Judia quickly surrendered his tail pulling efforts as not being worth it. The boy was somewhat adopted into their family, but in an estranged way, half-in and half-out. Judia thought he was alright, and wondered why some of his older siblings would treat him coldly. Half a year later, Brius's mother, Fiti, gave birth to a baby girl. She was entirely too human, Judia thought. She was named Vincent. Only later would he be informed of the suspicions that Vincent was his father's own - as he'd grown up never considering that possibility, and hadn't found the situation entirely strange when he was younger, the thought had never entered his mind of his own accord. His parents were tight-lipped on the matter and never confirmed nor denied it. He was too ashamed to ask Fiti if it was true, but in some ways he felt the truth didn't matter; he would treat Vincent well, he vowed. Even though he never got the truth, he held it against his father. His father who was quick to damn Judia for his flaws and shortcomings, minor things, minor things that weren't betraying his wife and bringing home the cause and result of his betrayal. He was human, Judia affirmed. And at the worst of times, a small voice in his head would whisper "he is not human, he is worse." He did not feel much sympathy for his mother. She was good at disguising any emotions she may have been feeling, and by the time he even pieced things together, any grief she had felt had scarred over with time. It was hard to feel genuine sympathy for someone who was so distant. Most of what he felt was shock, and anger.
Insomnia Equals a New Hobby
Around his early teens, he developed crippling insomnia. It came on one day with no warning, and it stayed. It would peak for a few days, sometimes a week, and wane for a day or, in the best of times, a few days, in between these periods. It was especially prominent in the sweltering heat of summer. Judia, though a much more social person by this point, enjoyed private moments of living in his own head, thinking about anything and everything. All through his daily chores and work he would think, whether it be fantasizing about being someone worthwhile, or analyzing people he knew, or dreaming up his next big scheme - his mind was always in the clouds; it's what got him through the day. And then, it seemed that his brain would no longer shut off. He would lie in his bed, dog-tired, but with thoughts racing through his head, full of energy. They would not let him sleep. Sometimes he didn't; sometimes he got a few hours of unrefreshing nightmares and dreams. Waves of exhaustion would wash over him during the day, and he would have to lie down in the midst of his work, and was thankful if he managed to coax on a nap. However, this was, in his father's eyes, slacking off. His father did not like that, and did not believe that he "couldn't sleep." He would say it was his own damn fault for staying up late every night doing god knows what, which, sometimes he had been. With Maria. Getting wasted off the wine stash in the cellar. But that was another matter. It made Judia feel hopeless. Amelia, though she was skeptical too of his inability to sleep, would let him have his naps when she was around, and wake him up if she knew their father was coming. When Judia finally conceded that sleep at night was a far away notion, he found himself itching to do something that wasn't just laying in bed, staring into the dark, plagued by his annoying thoughts. One of those solutions was getting drunk, which did actually help him sleep, though the quality left much to be desired. The other solution was writing. He got his hands on a journal, through begging and asking around, and poured his wretched thoughts into it every night he wasn't drunk, some nights even if he was drunk. He hoped that somehow if he emptied his head onto paper, there would be nothing left there to bother him. It didn't work that way, but it did give him something to do that served as a pleasant distraction from his plight, even if his eyes hurt as he struggled to write in the dim candlelight. He feared his father would start to question where all the candlesticks were going at such a fast rate. Judia would go through at least one a night, and there was no way to justify the reason to his "couldn't sleep, my ass" father. If David did question it, Judia never heard about it, probably since it was difficult to pinpoint the reason with so many people living under their roof. Through the years, the insomnia waned, striking less and less often. The writing habit, however, stayed. It was now the writing that kept him awake at times, and though his sleep schedule throughout the years went through periods of very fucked-up-ness because of it, it was not in the same class as the insomnia. And Judia liked it. He liked writing, and playing with words, trying to express all his emotions with clarity in those words; not just his emotions, but emotions of characters in short stories he would create. Yet he also hated it, cringed while reading older passages, and concluded that he would keep his drivel to himself.
Insomnia Equals a Dead Body
The insomnia drove Judia's body downhill. He was nauseous almost always, to the point where eating was never appealing. He grew thin during this time, had eyebags to his knees, muscle twinges, unwarranted soreness, fevers, stiff joints - and of course, he was really damn tired, and yet so wired he could not concentrate easily, his thoughts leaping around sporadically. He fell into depression - unmotivated, cynical. He lost his childlike spunk and hyperactive demeanor. He had trouble with his studies and fell behind. He suspected one of the designated teachers had told his father about it, because David came to give him one of his lectures. Judia didn't try to defend himself, because he knew his father didn't believe in his insomnia, and that it would just spur on another rant about his son's idiotic life choices and how they were affecting his ability. Judia looked like shit, though. David noticed. Judia played on this, and told him he thought he was sick, told him about what he was feeling throughout the day. David, hardly having firsthand experience in sleep deprivation, didn't connect the symptoms to it, but did believe Judia was sick. He was concerned about him, actually. Though they had no real person of medical prowess among them, there were some with their home remedies, and Judia went through all kinds of foul treatments while being designated to bed rest for a few days. Some things made it worse, induced vomiting, stomach pains. His father and mother would watch over him in his room sometimes. His father would ramble about his life and the people in it, very rarely would he go into lecture-mode, and if he did, it was more like gentle chiding. It was a side of his father he rarely saw, and he savoured it. A few days spanned to a week, because nothing worked. Judia couldn't stand it. He started to convince his parents he was feeling better, just so he could get out of his prison. Eventually he did, and went back to his normal routine. He tried to keep up the act, tried very hard to let on that nothing was wrong; even if he still looked bedraggled, if he smiled it helped shed the tired look from his eyes. The people closest to him knew otherwise.
A Temporary Respite
Amelia was an avid reader. In their small library, filled with books contributed by all the people who'd been taken into their home, and some donated by passer-bys and friends, she'd found a book on the subject of herbal remedies. There were ways to induce sleep, she told Judia. Though some of the herbs did not grow in their area and were foreign to them, they tried what they could, in the form of tea, but the decoction was never strong enough to make a meaningful difference. They thought that the market might have something stronger. So, Judia begged his father to take him the next time he went. David had taken him there often when he was very young, but he hadn't been in years; he remembered it had been exciting. Time dragged on until the day came to set off. Cedric went with them. Now, while currency was slowly being eased into the rural economy, most exchanges were still trade-and-barter. Judia's family had no money to their name. He wasn't sure what to bring to trade, as he didn't own much, much of what he owned he needed, and he didn't know what was desirable in any case. He came ill-prepared. The journey was tiring. Though Judia was not much of a rider, he quickly learned the art of sleeping in the saddle. Sleep during the day, lay awake at night. It was just the usual. Someone had to keep watch, anyway, bandits and thieves being not unheard of even on rarely traversed roads as these, and if Judia volunteered to take an extra turn on watch, no one questioned it. Sometimes he considered stealing from the caravan something he could trade for what he wanted, but he didn't like the idea. His father would know something was missing, and even though he'd likely pin the crime to a thief, of which the market had enough, Judia didn't want to deal with it. When they arrived, Judia felt that sensation of something being much smaller and less full of awe than it had been when you were a child. It was still impressive. There were hundreds of people, and few and far between were scattered people like Fiti and Brius, with animalistic features, some much more prominent to the point that they looked more animal than human. All sorts of things were being sold, some things totally foreign to him. What scared him were the people being held in cages or tethered by rope. He remembered that now. As a child, he hadn't really been able to understand what was going on, but now he understood that they were being sold. That didn't make it easy to wrap his head around it, and he avoided those stalls. Cedric stayed behind to watch their supply and manage their business, while Judia and his father roamed about. His father knew where he was going, and he knew many of the people here. Judia gave him the slip while he was talking to someone, and set off in search of his antidote. He'd brought the book with him just in case he forgot the names of all the things he was hoping to find. He found a stall that was filled with herbs, various concoctions, antiseptics such as liquor and honey, gauze - anything you could want. It smelled amazing, the herbs themselves, and the sweet smoke of incense burning warmly in a small urn. A friendly looking middle-aged woman greeted him from where she was sitting beside the urn as he gawked awkwardly, unsure of what to do. She had catlike ears and a tail that were almost the same colour as Brius's. She introduced herself as Clover. Judia liked her; she seemed much less shrewd and devious than the other people here - maybe it helped that he was young and had a lost look about him. He ended up telling her all about his predicament. It was an incredible relief, a ray of hope, when she seemed to know exactly what should be done about it. But then there was the issue of paying. He offered the book. She seemed to like that. He offered the boots off his feet. They were worn and frayed, the soles coming loose. She seemed amused. She told him she had a daughter at home around his age, maybe she would like them. At the time, he'd thought he was offering a great deal, but as he grew older he realized she had pitied him. He left with his coat pockets bulging full of vials and bottles, and a note containing instructions on dosage and preparation. For fear that his father might question that, he took off his jacket and held it so that the contents were less obvious. When he finally found his way back, David was more concerned with where the hell he had been, and why he was missing his shoes. Judia gave him a bullshit story, which still resulted in him being scolded for his carelessness; nevertheless, in the course of the next few days, his father managed to get him a new pair, and Judia slept. It was such an elating experience that he went to find Clover and spill out his thankfulness. He never did find her. She had left that morning.
13-17
SIR DICK, sidon, amelia leaves, eleanor's death, sex drugs and rock n roll, drowning, the cat kill, wubwub letter, the speech, clarence joy and the awkward bow kid,
