#** would you be my guiding light | threads; rachel

[s-nfcl]

tag dump: threads

.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XIV

Jason is a CEO: Part XIV

masterlist for other parts, more jercy, bad headcanons, and an abundance of crackships

SURPRISE!!! i finally got my laptop back and thankfully they didn’t have to wipe anything so i still had all my work! Between you and me i was more worried about all my fanfics than my uni work...... But I’ve learned my lesson. Do everything on google docs now!! Anyway this is a Percy POV and i hope you enjoy because i’ve missed this little universe more than you could possibly know and we’re finally (only fourteen chapters later) getting to the jercy part of this fic?! LOL it’s been wild.

i know i’m releasing a ton of fanfics at the moment so i hope you guys don’t feel overwhelmed. You know i adore your comments and thoughts but please don’t feel pressured to read all the fics i’m posting. I’ve just had a lot of time in the last weeks so it’s been easier to create. Please take care  of yourself, i love you very much and i hope you have a magical holiday season!

Percy Jackson stretched his legs out in front of him and draped a blanket over them. There were few things he indulged in, but a good plane seat was one of them. He was spoilt for it but having the space to lay his unreasonably tall body down for eight hours seemed like a worthy investment. The announcements that continuously filtered through the crackly speakers were background noise as the bustle of people getting to their seats flowed throughout the cabins. He stared out his little window at the neon-jacketed guides and airport officials directing people to wherever they needed to be. He loved watching people just do things. There was something calming about knowing others weren’t interested in him in any way. That people got on with their lives despite the turmoil nobody knew about.

A flight attendant stopped next to him with a polite smile, “Champagne sir?”

“No thank you, a water please. Too early for alcohol.” He grimaced.

Mirth danced in her eyes as she glanced up at the rest of the passengers, some dangling flutes between their fingers. “Absolutely sir, anything else?”

He shook his head, before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. His pre-flight ritual, which consisted of him snuggling as comfortably as possible it his seat and trying to fall asleep, was already behind. The presence of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed CEO taking up the scattered pieces of his mind. It was crazy to think they had met almost a year ago, crazier still to think that about how much they had changed in that time. Percy at least felt like a completely different person to the one who had stepped off a plane from Hawaii all those months ago and attended his alma mater’s dinner. Although the university had surprised them with plaques honouring their contributions, it was seeing Jason Grace, learning about him that felt like the real reward. Hell, he was only half joking when he said he’d marry the guy the next Tuesday.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be taking off shortly. In the meantime please turn your attention to the screens in front of you for a video detailing the safety measures you will need to know while aboard this flight.”

He blinked back into the world and turned half his attention to the screen and the other half to locating the blonde he couldn’t seem to keep away from. He knew the safety briefings by heart, but he always felt bad for not paying attention. Someone worked hard to make those. He didn’t spot Jason in the two minutes the video played and then it was too late because the plane gave a low rumble and suddenly, they were lurching into motion. His heart climbed to his throat and he gripped his fingers underneath the blanket.

“Okay Percy,” He mouthed to himself, “You can do this. It’s at most fifteen minutes of instability and then you’ll be up in the air and you won’t even feel it.”

“Just fifteen minutes.” He kept repeating, taking deep shaky breaths. “Fifteen minutes.”

The plane jaggered down the runway, slow enough that he could still read the road signs indicating altitudes and compass directions and all sorts of fun information he didn’t care about. He felt the huge machine turn into the long stretch of tar that led them to the sky and his stomach clenched painfully. This was always the worst part. Take off. It felt like his entire body flew off with the plane while he stuck to the ground, superglue cementing him to the floor with no escape. He didn’t feel free. He felt torn.

The plane gave a horrible lurch and then it was screaming down the runway, grass and yellow lines blurring past them. They were going so fast he’s sure they’d break the sound barrier. He squeezed his eyes shut. Knuckles white as he twisted his hands together. The plan flew down the road and into the sky. His whole body felt suspended in space. He wanted to come down. He didn’t want to be here. Even with his eyes closed he could feel how high they were. He hated it.

Slowly, the plane started to level out until he felt his body realign: feet under him, hands beside him, head above him. He opened his eyes, spots dancing in his vision as they got used to the light once more. The seatbelt sign dinged above him, and a series of clicks followed. People got up to use the bathroom and grab things from the overhead compartments. He wasn’t going to get up until he was out of this plane. So he shoved his headphones over his ears and pressed play.

I will always love you how I do

Let go of a prayer for you

Just a sweet word

He gazed out the window, clouds close enough to whisper to, and his lips pulled up in a soft smile. The sky was beautiful. It just sucked that they had to get into a death trap to get to it. With his ocean eyes pinned to the balls of cotton hanging in the blue expanse his mind drifted. Reyna. He blinked. It was almost shameful how little he had thought of her since their breakup considering their year together. She had taught him tai quan do and baked him blueberry tarts. They had escaped to a little bubble in the forest and watched the leaves turn brown as they tumbled in bed. He knew she tapped her right foot when she was annoyed but her left fingers danced when she was excited. He knew she liked her eggs fried hard because she didn’t have time for sloppy yolk, but she liked them scrambled soft because it meant a richer croissant. But despite this she did not light his soul on fire. And he did not light hers either. They were merely striking matches without wood to burn. He heaved a sigh as he watched the threads of his relationship flutter before his eyes and fell asleep to them disappearing in gold strands leaking into the clouds. He succumbed to the bright sun and the soft warmth of memories and he didn’t wake until a loud announcement gave the signal that they were landing.

It was over so fast he didn’t have time to panic and he was grateful. Finally he was collecting his bags and walking out. A driver with his surname scribbled on a plaque stood front and center and with a quick flash of his ID and a hello they were piling into the car. He didn’t get a chance to see the blonde beauty, but the island was small and time was a plenty. They would find each other again.

“To the hotel sir?”

“Yes Luca, and then please stick around for half an hour. It’s just a quick freshen before I go to work. We have a lab meeting.”

The man nodded and then focused on the busy Italian streets they were navigating. He took in the colours and sounds as they whizzed by. It felt like a different universe. People were loud and excited and full of life and the little markets seemed to pull energy from the sun and direct it into joy. He wanted to tell Luca, to pull over, screw work, and take in the beauty of this little section of the world. But his phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew with a disappointed sinking in his chest that adventure would have to wait.

“Hello Percy,” Rachel Elizabeth Dare bubbled, ‘I assume you’ve arrived?”

“Yes Rach,” He sighed but amusement caught between his lips, “Have you got news for me?”

“No,” She sounded suspicious, “Why would I have news for you?”

“Because you only track my exact times when you want something but you’re too scared to ask me so you wait till I’m halfway across the country before asking.” He wanted to laugh as she made an indignant sound.

“Okay fine,’ She grumbled, “I wanted to know if I could close up the scuba for the weekend. I met a girl and i wanted to go out on Friday night with her.”

He couldn’t hold in his laugh any longer, “Of course you can Rachel. But I’m curious to know…” He trailed off.

“Ugh you are impossible.” He could imagine her eye roll so vividly. “It’s Clarisse. The principal from your old school.”

“Well, well, well,” He grinned, “I better be getting premium seats to the wedding.”

“Why does everything always end in weddings for you?” She groaned.

“Scuse me for wanting a happily ever after.” He scrunched his face, “Oh and guess who’s here?”

“Is this a good guess or a bad one?”

“Good.” He smiled, “Very good.”

She gasped, speaker crackling at his ear, “Tell me!”

“Jason Grace.”

“What?” She squealed, “Are you guys going to have hot rebound sex and then realise you like each other more than just casual fuck-buddies and end up getting married and adopting like six children?”

He burst with amusement, “Slow down there Rach. I know I throw around the marriage idea, but kids seem like a big commitment.”

“You right,” She said decidedly, “Kids are a lot of effort. Just get married then. But no eloping!” He pictured the crease in her freckled brows. “I want to be a bridesmaid.”

“Can’t promise anything,” He giggled.

“Perseus Jackson!” She scolded.

“Oof the full name.”

“I will tell your mother and she will kick your ass.”

“Okay, okay,” He laughed, “No eloping. I have to go. But remember to take the keys for the scuba with you. We do not need the fire department breaking the door again.”

She grumbled about hating him and then blew him a kiss and ended the call. With a smile still playing on his lips he thanked Luca and rushed into the hotel. Thankfully the check in was painless and fast and he was stumbling into his room in no time. He barely had time to appreciate the gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows and the ocean view it laid out before him. He promised himself he would take the time when he got back.

Quickly he hopped into the shower cursing when he realised he’d forgotten to take his socks off. With a horrified shudder he peeled them off and chucked them into the laundry basket, thankful it gets emptied every day. The water beat against his back, fogging up the glass and calming the racing in his veins. He gave himself the luxury of one extra minute to just take a deep breath and screw his head back onto his shoulders and then he jumped out and shoved on a pair of black slacks and a white button down. He didn’t bother to do the top few buttons, figuring he’d have time in the car. Instead he fastened a watch to his wrists, rolled up the sleeves till they sat at his forearms– any attempt to bear the Italian heat– and then he slid his feet into a pair of sleek ankle boots and mussed his damp curls. With half a moments glance at the mirror to make sure his face didn’t have patches of sun-cream and his collar was straight he grabbed his briefcase and walked out.

Glancing at his watch distractedly he rounded the corner, only to bump right into a hard chest.

“Oh,” He frowned, stepping back into a door. “Jason.”

“Hey,” The blonde smiled, “What a coincidence?” He laughed.

“You’re staying here?” It was really starting to feel like the universe was trying to tell him something.

‘Yep,” He gave a shy smile, blue gaze bright. “Guess you’re going to see a lot more of me then you expected huh?”

“I think you may be at more of a disadvantage than me.”

Jason looked at him, eyes dragging from his face down his body and eventually dropping to his shoes. Percy gave an involuntary shiver as the blonde tracked the same slow pace back up. “I think this could be very advantageous.”

“If you don’t stop staring at me like that I’m going to be very late for my meeting.”

He laughed, the previous sultriness giving away to a sparkle and flashing white teeth, “See you around Jackson.” He started walking away.

“Wait!” Percy called, “Date? Tonight? We can explore the city together?”

Jason smiled as bright as diamonds, “Sounds fun. Meet you in the bar at?”

He realised their time depended on when his meeting finished and suddenly, he wanted to cancel the whole thing and start now. ‘Seven thirty?”

“See you there. And have a good meeting.”

The blonde walked away, and Percy felt this time like he was floating away while his body remained superglued to the floor. He wanted to live in this feeling. Because this did not feel like being torn apart. This felt like coming home.

The elevator dinged down the passage and he crashed back to reality. With a string of curse words he raced for it and jumped in just as the doors began to close.

The meeting and subsequent lab tour felt endless and he concentrated on little less than half of what was being said, his mind more interested on the things waiting for him at the hotel, the person. But eventually it was over and him and Luca were cruising towards the Casa de Vita.

“Anything else you need sir?” His driver looked at him from the rear-view mirror as they turned into the hotel road.

“Recommend any good places for a first date?”

“Already met a lady sir?” Luca’s dark eyebrows almost touched his hairline in surprise.

“A man actually.”

The Italian chuckled, nodding his head as if in on some invisible joke, “The Tesora. It is just down the path and near the ocean.”

“Thank you Luca, have a goodnight.”

“And you sir.” Luca winked before peeling out of the entrance and fading into the setting sun.

Percy strolled to his room with a smile on his face, lost in a world full of possibilities. It was unsurprising then that he didn’t see the extra bag against the wall, or the shoes neatly placed by the door that weren’t his.

He took off his watch and undid the few buttons on his shirt, head lost to the glimmer of the ocean. He let his shirt fall open as he slipped off his shoes and walked towards the windows. The view really was spectacular. No matter how much he travelled it always blew his mind the places that existed, that he had yet to learn of. It was irresistible. It was perfect. It didn’t fail to cross his mind that the ocean was the exact same colour as a certain pair of gorgeous blue eyes. He blinked the image away, turning around, and his gaze landed on that exact aquamarine gaze.

“Jason?” He gasped, clutching his chest in surprise. “What are you doing in my room?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Bloodshed AU

Chapter 6

Warnings: Nudity, Gore, Language, Violence Summary: Steve Rogers works in a research and tech company in New York. He’s been digging into myths and footage on a creature known as the werewolf. Vicious as they are, he hunts them. With a lot of failures, his team thinks he’s crazy. He may prove them wrong.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

A Year Ago

“Jane!” The old man chases after the woman who runs towards her stuff in crates. “What are you doing! This is my research!” She shouts at the men in suits. Wide eyes, she watched each of her telescopes, computers, maps and photos of people and spottings of strange figures. 

The man behind the shades held his hand out, “Ma’am, please stand back.” The old man gently blocks her, she tried to escape his block. “Erik, please!” Erik leans in, pulling her close, “Let it go. This is a lot more serious than you realize.”

Jane’s mouth gapes at him, “Let it go?” She pushes passed him, “This is my life’s work!” She followed the man.

“We’re investigating a security threat, countless of complaints of your team investigating folktale creatures in Oregon, I think you’ve terrorized enough civilians about these sightings. We need to appropriate your records and atmospheric data.”

“Are you guys some kind of Men in Black? Cause I don’t want to get flashed by a weird pen,” The brown-haired girl says. Jane follows the man outside to the van, “And by ‘appropriate’ you mean steal?” Jane runs over to her equipment till the other man stops her from reaching over.

“Here,” The man says, holding out a paper to her, “This will compensate you for your trouble.” Jane snatches the paper and stares at it. “You think I can buy replacements of information I had created! This took years of work! It’s a job! And it feels like you’re firing me cause I can’t just buy replacements out of Radio Shack!”

“Well, you won’t be needing to search anymore information. Your theories about these trolls, goblins and unicorns. But your biggest one yet is gonna cause a problem.”

“What? Bigfoot?” Jane asks.

The man grins, “No. Werewolves. Though, I would like to see unicorns if they’re real.” Jane scoffs, “I made all this equipment myself!”

“Then I’m sure you can do it again, Ms. Foster.”

“And I’m sure I can sue you for violating my constitutional rights!” She shouts. The man never removes his grin, “I’m sorry, Ms. Foster. But we’re the good guys. Crushing dreams isn’t not what we do. We keep our world safe.”

“So are we! You know how many cases there are of missing people in Washington? California? Oregon? All you did was shut down the forests, parks and trails and you think they’ll stop there? Some psycho who rips people piece by piece? I’m on the urge to something far more dangerous that no one believes in! Everything was in this lab and in this book!” The man glances at her journal.

“And you can’t take this away!” A man walks by and takes her journal away causing her to gasp, “Hey!” She jumps on the man’s back and Erik comes over. “Jane! Enough!”

“I’m a scientist and an astronomer! This was my lifetime job!” Jane says, trying to jump out of Erik’s arms. The man grins up at her, “I’m sure the News would like to have someone like you. Much nosey and a good heart.”

Jane growls as she jumps out of Erik’s arms but he held her back. 

“Who are you anyway!” Jane asks. The man slips off his glasses and folds them onto his black suit. 

“I’m Agent Coulson. And we’re S.H.I.E.L.D.”

It had been two days since Steve went to that forest. He’d have to go back but he knew it would be difficult. Something was out there with him. He thought the owner of the motel he stayed in knew some things about these werewolves. 

Entering the lobby, he walked up to the front desk. “Mr. Selvig?” Steve calls, he leans over to see if he was in the back of the room.

There was shuffling in the back and the old man comes out. “Ah, it’s the wolfman,” He says. Steve furrows his brows at him. Erik points to his neck, “That necklace hiding behind your shirt. I can see the outline of the wolf’s tooth. Is that an actual werewolf tooth?”

Steve looks down at the black thread around his neck, pulling the necklace out it hangs over his chest. One single pearly white tooth that was too old to confirm how long it had been on this single string for.

“It was a gift...” Steve says, “... from my father.”

Erik nods, “Was your father a hunter?” Steve lightly taps on the counter, he lowers his head. “Uh, no... I mean, kind of, but he believed in those folktale stories.”

Erik turns to the man and grins, “Those werewolves, eh?” Steve nods and quickly flashes a grin. Erik nods, he grunts when he bents over to grab a box. “I used to work in a lab, a woman who you might know she, uh, lost everything we had about werewolves, goblins anything. We had a huge lead on the wolves but we lost them.”

“How much do you know about werewolves? Is there ways to-”

“Sorry, son. I’m not a scientist nor a professor anymore. I’m just an old man who is the owner of a motel. I can’t help you-”

“Joseph Rogers,” Steve blurts out, the old man turns around in confusion. “I’m sorry?” Erik asked. The name was familiar to everyone in Oregon. His father was an unsolved murder. Erik’s eyes go flew blown in surprise, his finger lifts up towards the man.

“You’re his son? Steven Rogers?” Steve narrowed his eyes toward the man, nodding once, Erik lets out a huff. “I can’t believe it. You,” He points, he comes out from behind the counter and pokes Steve’s chest. 

“Follow me.”

.

Y/N jumped down the stairs with a small thud, seeing Tatum and Randall rough housing at the dining table. Randall had Tatum in a headlock. “Cut it out, Randy!” Tatum growled, trying to escape, Randall held him in place. “Just give up already! I’m taking the last poptart box!”

Tatum grunts. Ignoring them as she passed by, she met with Ada in the kitchen, the smell of broccoli stung her nostrils and she cringed. “What the hell are you making?”

Ada placed the broccoli in a bowl, “Broccoli Quinoa. The boys need to lay off the meat, you know how they get.” Y/N looks over to Randall and Tatum who still fought. Passing by Ada, she caught another smell.

The smell of wood and waterfalls, usually Ada smelled like berries. Something was rubbed on her. And the past arousal. Y/N’s face scrunched up in disgust. She takes Ada’s shoulder and turns towards her.

“What the hell did you and Roman do?” Y/N grits hers teeth. Long before they laid down rules, you and Bucky had hooked up twice. Roman had considered us brothers and sisters, never to mate with each other. Simply something to say, not claim one another. This was after his past Omega Rachel was killed in a war.

Y/N was furious, “I thought we had rules-”

“Y/N, not now,” Ada whispers, before Y/N could push any further, Roman had came in with no shirt. Y/N had no chance to fight towards Roman. He was the leader of the pack. You disagree with him, it ends with a challenge.

Roman looks over to Y/N and noticed the sudden look of knowing what he planned. He looks away and over to Ada, he grins. The white wolf growled inside her. The flash of her blue eyes shimmered in her eyes and Y/N darts out of the kitchen.

If Roman break the rules, she breaks them, too.

Steve followed Erik into a lab, a woman with glasses and a warm outfit that hugged her nicely. Her red beanie over her brown hair as she looks up, “Who brought the lumberjack guy?”

“Darcy, this is Steve Rogers. He’s-” The woman smirks and holds her hand out, “Darcy Lewis, may have heard of me. You single? I am, who’s your girlfriend?”

“Darcy, please,” Erik says, “Give the man some space, will you? Where’s Jane?” Darcy blows out a sigh and points with her thumb. “Over there, she’s gone crazy, I swear to God. She was blabbering about these yee naaldooshii’s.” Erik guides Steve over to another room.

Boards with red string and pictures all over the place. Pictures of people, photos of things that cannot be explained. One stood out to Steve and it was the drawn picture of a man wearing a wolf skin, eyes pale white and his body was down to the bone.

Steve looked over to the light brown hair woman who was pacing around. “Jane,” Erik says, the woman turns around, “Who is this?” She asked, looking at Steve.

“This is the man’s kid, Steve Rogers.”

Jane tilts her head, she comes up to him and takes something into her hands. Steve hears a snap and he sees her take his necklace, “Hey!” He shouts, “That’s the only thing I have of my father,” He says, towering over her as she was inspecting it.

“It’s clean,” She says, Steve furrows his brows, “What?” Jane whips around. “I’ve been grabbing data from regular wolves, taking teeth I find from deer or wolf carcasses. This one is different compared to the others.”

She digs through a drawer and pulls out a bag. Steve grimaces at the bag filled with a few wolf teeth. Jane placed the tooth of his necklace. “Canines fangs grow to be about 2.5 inches, this one... it’s larger than the others. Around 3.5 inches.”

Steve furrows his brows. “I’m sure that tooth is fake, my father said it had been his great-grandfathers.”

“Your father didn’t get murdered. Not by a human, no,” She mutters. Pulling away, she handed him back the necklace. He stared at his palm, seeing the torn off necklace in his hand. His eyes shot up. No wonder people think horrible about us. These people are crazy.

Steve tilts his head up, “I need to know how much you guys know about these werewolves. I’m more desperate than you guys are,” He says.

“I know I’m desperate for something,” Darcy says, the three look over to her. Darcy shuts up after that. Steve turns back to Jane and Erik, “You two know about the Bloodshed Seven?”

“A pack of werewolves that been here longer than we have. We’re the ones who created websites for them. A lot of them have been closed down by some security forum.”

“What’s the story?” Steve asked, Erik looks over to the board filled with old pictures and drawings.

“Back when Natives were accepted in American lands, they did the unexpected. A chief was in a tribe called the Navajo. His people were so infested in the folktales of the yee naaldooshii.”

Steve furrows his brows, Erik points to a photo, “It’s Navajo, a word for Skinwalker. Translates to ‘he who walks on all fours’. They’re spiritual. A culture to the Navajo tribe. The Americans had started a war in Oregon. These Navajos were different from the ones in the Southern west. These ones came from Canada and Alaska. Once they got to the northern area, that’s when they started a war. Their Navajo chief summoned something the night after dawn had rose. He summoned the Bloodshed.”

Steve stared at the photos of what looked like to be the tribe, dancing with fur on their backs. Steve leaned against the desk, arm over his stomach with a hand up to his face. He peered up at the three scientists.

“Legends say he summoned skinwalkers, you say their pre-skinwalker name, they’ll visit you. Skinwalkers wear fur from deer, bears, moose, cougars. But the most popular fur was wolves. They were able to shift into the animal they once claim. But these werewolves, they don’t look like Skinwalkers. We researched everything in this town. No one seem to be out of the ordinary,” Erik says.

Jane walks over to the desk, “We find one of these werewolves, we can stop their population. Maybe even run tests. We stop them, no one gets hurt.”

“What about the victims? Are they werewolves? Are some reported missing?” Steve asked. Erik lifts up his fingers towards Steve, “There are many ways to become a werewolf. But these people are reported dead, police found every single body. These beasts are balancing their pack, they don’t want more. We’re sure there’s no solution to become one. It’s in a book.”

“Some say if you have sex with one, eat wolf’s meat, or get murdered under the a full moon, you’ll become one. Under the Cold Blue Moon,” Erik grins, “If you find the tracks of a werewolf, you’re able to drink from it’s paw print.”

Steve furrows his brows, “The Cold Blue Moon?”

Jane nods, “That’s when we’ll be searching for them. It’s an active day they’re out. They’re more likely to go into town and not fear humans. These werewolves are human as well, that means they’re in this town. We need to get them before S.H.I.E.L.D. does.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Steve asks.

“Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. They’re a  worldwide law-enforcement organization. The government know them and they’ll do anything to keep us from revealing the truth about these werewolves, these folktales. They know they’re real and they’ll stalk us until we capture one.”

“They have spies around the world and they’ll do anything to keep the truth in their hands and not the public,” Darcy says. Erik nods, “We need your help.”

Steve looks over, seeing the determination in everyone’s faces. He knew he came here for these beasts. And he’ll do anything to stop them. His eyes narrow at them.

“Well, let’s go get those sons of bitches.”

.

Steve was in his truck, driving through the dark road up town with Erik in the passenger seat. “There’s a place the Mental Health Hospital just up this road. A teenager, maybe in her twenties by now had been here after she encountered the Bloodshed werewolves.”

Steve glances, “Do you know her name?”

“Wanda Maximoff. I got dragged out after she started to freak out about the Red Wolf, Radolf. I read that her twin brother, Pietro was murdered in their home country, Sokovia. Radolf is a Russian Folktale wolf. There are no photos or websites about it.”

“So you want me to go in, see this schizophrenic and bipolar freak to talk about these shifters?”

“This is the way if you want to catch them, Rogers. We only have a week till the full blue moon comes, it’s a one chance scenario.” Steve sighs and sees something move in the brush. A huge white form that scattered off. His breaks squeal loudly as he stops. Erik jerks forward at the sudden action and glared at Steve.

Erik curses, “Rogers! What are you doing?” Steve jumps out of his truck and looks out in the forest. The form of white fur had disappeared in the dark forest. He lowered his head, blinking a couple times if he had been on something. 

His mind was going insane.

“Rogers!” Erik called, Steve turns his head. “What’s going on?” He asked. Steve looks back out to the forest and looked for any movements in the forest before he turned. “Nothing.” And he retrieved back to the car and continued up the one road.

Steve couldn’t process what it was in the forest. But whatever is was, it was fast. Bigger than one white little rabbit. He cursed to himself if that was something huge.

“Stop here,” Erik says, Steve looks over and finds a spot to park. The two stepped out of the truck and walked up the trail. “Why is this in the middle of the forest?” Steve asked.

Erik shoved his hands in his coat pockets and looks up the trail, “Well... they didn’t have anywhere else to put the building so they used the top abandoned places in the state.”

“Abandoned?” Steve asked.

“In the 15th century, this was a mansion at first. Afton Chilvers was Romanian and French. He was one of the first werewolf hunters who was proven to cut off heads of over 100 people who were known to be werewolves.” Steve turned his head toward the old professor.

“He’d cut off heads?”

“That’s how you officially kill werewolves. Silver isn’t gonna do much for them, their skin can have allergic reaction to it but it doesn’t do much of an effect on them,”

“And people believed him?” The man asked, Erik nods. “Everyone had been hanging witches and hunting down werewolves. And they didn’t know they couldn’t stop them. Once Afton died, everyone seemed to distance from the event and called them tales. Saying he was just a crazy person”

Steve looks up to see the tall building that gave him an eerie feeling. Crows flying off the roof, cawing as they did. He felt like he was in a horror movie. Erik didn’t seem to be bothered.

“They’ll only give you a few minutes with her, but make it worth your while. You freak her out, they’ll take you out sooner.” Erik sounded like it was Steve going in. The man turns to the old man, “What?”

Erik looks over, “They know me. If they see me, they’ll kick both of us out. Here,” Erik slaps the journal in his hand, “Take that and write things down that sound important.” Steve glares at the old man if he were serious about going in alone.

Erik never agreed to go still. So Steve went in alone. 

He walked up the old wooden stairs that creaked, the sign saying psychic ward. Steve took in a deep breath and walked in. It was barely bright in there. The place was huge. Bar doors in different directions to go in. A desk out in front of him, he didn’t see anyone at the desk. “Hello?” He called.

Walking up towards the desk, he spots the bell on the table and he rings it. But it made a ‘clink’ sound. He lifts it and sees that it’s broken and covered in a few webs. He puts it down and walks down to the first bar door. It didn’t look like it was locked.

No wonder they kicked Erik out. They don’t lock these doors. Steve looks around and pushes the door open. There were patient names above the doors. Steve immediately went through the numbers and names.

He was looking for a Wanda Maximoff.

The halls were different from when it looked like from the outside. Not wooden and old. Pale walls with looked like scratch marks or rusty spots. Surely this psych ward was not a good five star.

He stopped at one and looked through the small window, seeing a bed and a toilet. The window had bars and someone was sitting in the corner. He squinted at them.

“Excuse me?” Steve turns to see a small woman in a white coat. Brown eyes and dark hair, his shoulders drop once he felt relaxed. “Sorry, I didn’t see anyone at the desk so I--”

“Who are you?” She asks, looking down at his attire. Blue buttoned up and jeans. “I’m looking for a patient. Wanda Maximoff.” The woman looks up to him and completely stood there. Steve swallowed. This woman could throw him out at any moment.

She turns her heel, “Follow me.” Steve pauses for a second at her direct answer, he followed the small woman. Going deeper into the halls, taking turns and stairs down. Steve could feel his heart beat against his chest again. He wanted to ask why this woman is allowing him to see this girl.

He then realized basements were never his thing either. 

The woman reaches for her keys and fiddled with the multiple keys. “I’ll give you 10 minutes with her. She’s not taking her medicine so... don’t make me come back with any problems.” Steve nods at her as she pulls the right key out, unlocking the door.

She held the door open for him and he walks in slowly. It was dark. The only light source was the window but the forest was so gloomy and grey, it only shined the center part of the room. 

“Who are you?” A soft but rough voice asks. Steve turned to the voice and looked in the dark corner. The woman slowly crawled out, his feet immediately step back as she slowly crawled out of the corner like a cave woman. Her brown hair was all disheveled. Her skin was almost pale, red marks on her cheeks from the amount of her tearing her skin.

Steve lets out an exhale, “I’m Steve Rogers.”

Y/N stood on the edge of the peak. Whales Peak, Bucky says. The wind gusting her hair and the ocean’s waves hitting the rocks like thunder. Her wolf’s ear twitches at the slightest sound of a snap. “Thought I smelled you,” Bucky says, Y/N chuckles softly and turns.

“Sounds weird when you say that,” She says, Bucky grins and walks up to her, looking out. “What happened back there? I heard Ada and Roman talk once you left.” Y/N turns to him as he peered down at her in concern but curiosity. 

“It’s stupid, really.”

Bucky crosses his arms, “The only thing stupid in the pack is Tatum and Ran, so what’s so stupid about this?” She shook her head again, “You remember the rules Roman put down after he talked about us?” She asks. Bucky nods, but then his face lights up.

“Oh... Him and Ada?” Bucky shakes his head, “Yeah. That is stupid, Y/N.” Y/N shoved him and he catches himself, “Hey!” He comes from behind and placed his chin on your head.

“I saw him...” Y/N mutters, Bucky furrows his brows. “Who?” Y/N remembered running through the forest. The scent of him caught her attention and her wolf went feral. Y/N tried to shake off the man’s scent. “Him,” Was all she could say, lowering her head.

“That Steve guy? Where?”

“He was driving up that Millton road,” She replies. Bucky lifts his chin up, “The one that leads up to that psych ward? Who’s he visiting? Is that why he’s here for? You know that one twin Roman told us to let go is in there.”

“He’s not our problem-”

“He is. If he’s roaming this forest still he could be here for those hunters,” Bucky sees her turn around to face him, “Bucky, you don’t know that-”

“We need to get rid of him-”

“No, you’re not. I’m not.” Y/N had her hands on his chest, stopping him from rambling about one person who they happened to run into. Y/N reaches up to his cheek and sighs, “Let’s go for a run, you’ll need it.” Once she pulled away, Bucky turns back to the ocean and stood there. Fists clenched till Y/N called out to him. The grey wolf growled.

.

“When’s the last time you called him?” Tony asks, Natasha stands up from the couch and heads into the kitchen, followed by the caramel dog. “I called him maybe three, four days ago.”

“You gotta get him back home because this Thor guy really needs extra strong worthy arms and I think Steve is the only one who can. Didn’t you say he was visiting his mother?”

Natasha sighs and holds the phone with her shoulder, pouring herself a cup of coffee, “He did. He said he met some family and a woman, he’s staying at a motel probably.” Tony chuckles on the other end, “What’s the wolfman doing with a woman? Don’t you think that’s a little strange? Maybe he’s hooking up, I mean, I would’ve taken the girl back if I were him-”

“Tony, this is serious.”

“Right, sorry. But honestly, you know he’s lying. I have his mother’s phone number, I could call... That’s weird, she’s one of his emergency phone numbers,” Natasha heard the shuffling of papers.

She turns to the TV and sighs, “Just find a way to contact him. I’ll maybe try his cell again.”

“Alright, Romanoff. I’ll see you on the flip-side.” She pulled the phone down and placed it on the counter. Seconds later after taking a few sips of her coffee someone knocks on the door.

Dodger began to bark and Natasha gently quiets him. Peaking through the hole in the door, she opens it to his neighbor. Kate.

“You must be Steve’s neighbor,” Nat softly grins, the blonde woman nods, “I am. And you must be his...?”

Natasha shrugs, gesturing to the dog, “Babysitter, he’s on a trip.” Kate lifts up her head in curiosity. “Ah. Where?” She asked. Natasha inhales softly, “Oregon. His mother Sarah is sick so he came to visit her.”

Kate pouts, “Oh, well. Sadly, since he’s not here, I knew he liked these but if you do I’ll be willing to offer you a batch of chocolate chip cookies?” She says, holding up the tray with a lid on top. Natasha beams up in delight, “Oh, good, cause I would’ve closed the door,” She joked, Kate laughs and Natasha gestures.

“Would you like some coffee?” Natasha offered, Kate tilts her head, “Oh. Sure.” Natasha opens the door fully and Kate walks in, “I heard about the thing you and your team did in Ethiopia. Must’ve been hard, huh?” She asked.

Natasha walks over towards the kitchen, “It wasn’t that bad. We had a lot of injured people, Steve even managed to save that little guy.” Kate puts the cookies down and greets Dodger with a few coos. 

“How long did you have the team?”  She asks.

Natasha pours in the coffee, “About... almost 11 years. In 1995, a friend of mine who died 4 years ago, he created the team. Called it the Avengers Initiative. But to make it sound less powerful we just called it the Protectors, or... The Stark Team. We really didn’t have a name for us.”

Kate hums and looks over to Natasha who was distracted by the coffee, “Would you like cream?” Natasha asked, Kate looks over to the board above Steve’s desk. “Sure.” Her eyes look over the photos of werewolves and folktales. Even the murder of his father.

Her stare got intense. “You said Steve was visiting his mother? How long do you think he’ll be there?” Kate asked. Natasha pulls out the cream, “We thought he’d be back after two days. It’s been a little over three,” Natasha says, “I figured to call him soon.”

Kate looks down and sees the red tack on the map. Clare View Point. A small town in Oregon and the added photo of the news footage of a white mist in the road. Jumping out of the road from an incoming truck. The blonde woman rips the photo down and slips it into her pocket.

“The cookies were more of a goodbye. I got a job in Berlin. Big police work.” Natasha chuckles, “I’m sure they’ll pay big. You’ll be richer than Tony.” Kate grins at Nat as she hands her the cup of coffee.

“Well, all I can say it good luck in Berlin.”

Kate nods once at her and turns to Steve’s desk once more. Seeing the newspaper on the death of Joseph Rogers. And beside was a werewolf sketch. Agent 13 couldn’t help but grin.

Oh gosh, what’s Steve’s neighbor got to do with this?

Want to thank @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for helping me with some of my writers block, she gave me a twist

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[ohheyalex]

Not Going Anywhere//

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Sleight of Hand | Short Story Update

Hey People of Earth!

I was initially going to group this into a FOSTERED update when I realized it would probably make more sense to give this story its own update! 

What’s it about? 

Sleight of Hand is about two sisters who get caught up in a murder, and the decline of their relationship as it gets Very Bad. 

You might be wondering... doesn’t this sound kinda similar to Water Babies (the last story I wrote an update about)? Well...

Conception:

SLEIGHT OF HAND was a story I wrote out of sheer panic. Like I mentioned in my last writing update, I was taking a writing class (took the exam a few weeks ago so it’s done now thank HEAVENSSS). This class’ final project included culminating a writing portfolio consisting of two of your best pieces from classwork, and one brand new piece ‘ready for publication’. 

Seeming as though I spent almost all of December writing a *horrible* stage play for the final unit of this class, I hadn’t had very much time to work on the story (in between the rest of the requirements for the portfolio). I’d wanted to start at least two weeks in advance, however, ended up starting a week early (PANICKED). 

I tried really hard to come up with an idea for this story, however, was suffering a major burnout. I hadn’t written anything since November (it was literally January), so needless to say, I was panicking *slightly*. I toyed with the idea of finishing Candle Wax/Music For Poltergeists/whatever that story is called at this point lol, however, it was just so structurally wrong, it felt like more impossible of a task to write that than to write something brand new. At this point in the semester, I’d written three ‘short stories’, so I felt a lot more comfortable with the form than I did when I initially wrote the above. 

I wasn’t really panicking about this story to begin with. I honestly thought I’d come up with an idea, and be on my merry way writing. At the beginning of the week, I’d started brainstorming a list of potential ideas (thinking I’d use an idea about a witch doctor, sort of like the original concept for The Light When You Close Your Eyes). But nothing was clicking. Nothing was working. 

I word vomited two openings to two very different stories (one in second person that was Not Good, the second about a boy who accidentally kills a nest of birds). I didn't like either. Nothing was clicking with me, and at this point, I’d only have a few days left before the end of Christmas vacation (my deadline was to finish it beforehand in order to hand the portfolio in by the tenth, vacation finished on the fifth). 

In my previous short story writing update, I spoke about how I was working on a short story called WATER BABIES. In that update, I mention how I’m expanding that short story into a full-length story, since the submission for class was flash fiction. I had an epiphany

Yes, I’d already handed WATER BABIES into this same class with this same teacher, BUT

I COULD change the names of the characters?? and it could work??

The rewrite of WATER BABIES started in a completely different place than the original I handed in, with a completely new plot thread to guide it, so it wouldn’t have been strange to my teacher/come off as too similar (the murder plot thread wasn’t at all in the original). So I sat down. Picked names for the characters, made Pluto a girl to have a sister x sister relationship for a slightly different dynamic. 

(***Also I wouldn’t exactly go about doing this again for another class because it was a little *stealth* on my part, however, I was tres tres paniqued, and bein a lil resourceful loool)

The writing bit: 

I’d renamed Bea (the MC) to Edith, and Pluto to Joan (tho she doesn't have a name in this third alternate version of the story and Joan ends up being Pluto-Joan’s mother?)

Initially, I’d just changed the pronouns of Pluto to she and changed his name. However, it really wasn’t feeling right. It literally felt like WATER BABIES, and I didn't want it to. So, I changed the point of view, which definitely helped. 

However, I was still not clear of struggle with this story. After making about 100 words of progress (the story had to be 3-5 pages in length), everything sort of halted. I tried to continue on, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t understand why this story wasn’t working. I’d changed the characters, I’d changed the POV, what more did I really have to do? 

After making an attempt for hours one evening, I made the panicked decision to scrap writing a short story for the portfolio, and instead, write a poetry collection (which you could also do: 3-5 free verse poems). 1) I’m not a poet 2) I’m a bad poet 3) I had no idea what to write a poem about 4) I’m very very not good at poetry. This for some reason, also seemed way more feasible. (The desperation was real.)

After climbing under my comforter and sobbing for 30 minutes (lol) @sarahkelsiwrites came to my rescue. Bless her heart.

She gave me some incredible advice that really made the story click.

A) She suggested thinking more about WHEN Edith was telling this story of her and her sister. I hadn’t actually taken this into consideration, as the original POV of WATER BABIES was a very close first person to add a sense of immaturity to the narrative. I had changed the POV, but hadn’t budged the tense. By changing the story to past tense, everything made sense. This was excellent advice.

B) She also helped me write a beginning and solidify the story’s idea. I dunno where I’d be without Sarah! Probably failing this class oops.

So after some maneuvering, I sat down and pumped out the story in one sitting. Granted, it isn’t very long (2k words), but this was an incredible accomplishment (seeming as though I hadn’t written in months)!

Sarah also named the story based off a line about a magician in the story! I’m not sold on the name but it’s growing on me and I definitely think it fits. It seems a lil too familiar but for now I don’t mind it! 

It was so painful to write, but after just sitting down and really putting my mind to it, it eventually happened (thank goodness). 

The aftermath:

I actually don’t have any comments from my teacher for this story because it was a part of the portfolio, so I’m not sure what she thought! However, she gave me a 100 on the portfolio which was supaaaa nice and generous! I like the story for the most part! (Maybe I’m just scarred at how it came to be LOL.) In other news, I used a solid chunk of the poem I panic wrote in replacement of this story in my latest chapter for REWIRED! In this house we reuse reduce and recycle folks. (So you’ll see it soon!)

But yes! This is how Sleight of Hand came to be. Would I do it again? I don’t think I have the willpower, but did it teach me a lot? Heck yeaaahhh. If I can give some advice to those of you also struggling: push through. Change something (like the POV, or the characters, or the setting, if you can). You can do it!

Thanks for reading this update, I’ll be back with another very soon! :)

--Rachel

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/strawberry-fields-forever-horoscopes-february-25th-march-3rd-2019/

Strawberry Fields Forever ~ Horoscopes February 25th-March 3rd, 2019

Strawberry Fields Forever ~ Horoscopes February 25th-March 3rd, 2019

Via Aeolianheart

It is the second week of Pisces season, a perfect time to go within and make peace with the past. This is a time of deep reflection, for the Sun’s annual journey through the zodiac ends here.

As the Sun in Pisces submerges its light deeper and deeper into the waters of the abyss, memories bubble and emotions begin to flood.

Amidst the blissful enchantments of remembrance, the pain and sorrow of the past can emerge vividly.

Just breathe in. And let it go. 

Remember that in the oceans of Pisces, even your bitterest tears will find their way home: dissolving back into the waters from whence they were born.

In Pisces, the Sun’s light no longer illuminates your individual story, fueled by the drama of your personal pain. Instead, the Sun illuminates the vastness of the whole human story, the collective unconscious that merges all time and memory together. It is here where your sacrifice of pain becomes resurrected as much deeper compassion for the world.

There is deep wisdom to be gained during Pisces season, but it is not taught through words or elaborate theories. The wisdom of Pisces is transmitted through the most primal level of consciousness, the limitless realm of imagination.

In language, only songs and poetry can begin to capture the essence of this realm. Untainted by the cognitive and rational mind, songwriters and poets are cherished for bringing treasures of wisdom back from the most primal level of consciousness: the swirl of eternal images.

Songs and poetry are the golden threads of enchantment that weave waking and dream life together.

There are innumerable examples to draw inspiration from, such a vast ocean of beauty to behold. But for this week’s meditation on Pisces, feel into the ambiance created by listening to the Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever which was released in February of 1967.  

It is an exquisite song. If you knew nothing about its place in the history of psychedelic pop music, you would still fall under its spell as the lyrics begin with…

Let me take you down…

‘Cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields

Nothing is real

And nothing to get hung about

Strawberry Fields forever

…it begins like a song of innocence, an idyll from the ancestors of English poetry reaching across the centuries to uplift your heart and soul with the shared imagination of strawberry fields stretching on forever.

But the wisdom of the Sun in Pisces does not only express itself through eternal images of beauty. The Sun in Pisces is also felt when you are drawn to experience the dissolution of self…

Living is easy with eyes closed

Misunderstanding all you see

It’s getting hard to be someone

But it all works out

It doesn’t matter much to me

The Sun in Pisces asks you to remember that even the most heroic of heroes’ journeys must eventually dissolve back into the infinite, its torchlight merging into the glistening sparkle of the whole human story.

No one I think is in my tree

I mean it must be high or low

When interviewed about his songwriting process, John Lennon described Strawberry Fields Forever as being “psycho-analysis set to music”, a meditation upon his visionary sense of the world, that emerged in childhood.

“I always was so psychic or intuitive or poetic or whatever you want to call it, that I was always seeing things in a hallucinatory way.”

Reflecting further upon his journey of becoming a poet, John Lennon also shared:

“ Surrealism had a great effect on me, because then I realized that the imagery in my mind wasn’t insanity…Surrealism to me is reality….Even as a child. When I looked at myself in the mirror…I would find myself seeing hallucinatory images of my face changing and becoming cosmic and complete…”

  ..Strawberry Fields forever…

Monday/Tuesday: It’s Getting Hard

The week begins with a melancholy mood, as the Moon wanes through the last degrees of Scorpio. The last notes of Venus’ recent conjunction with Pluto still linger, giving you a sense of what will arise when she makes a conjunction with the South Node on Monday.

This alignment between Venus and the South Node in Capricorn will offer lessons about what aspects of the past can now be sacrificed. Whatever outworn beliefs that foster any lack of self-esteem can now be discarded.

Let dead leaves fall where they may to nourish the soil for the future.

Wednesday/Thursday: To Be Someone

On Wednesday, the Sun in Pisces sextiles Mars in Taurus giving you the spirit and the motivated energy to get a lot of important work done.

Mars brings extra sensuality to the Sun’s mystical daydream. The world is full of great art, great food, and great sex! With your senses fully awake and alive, you will be reminded of how to appreciate the beauty in your life.

Friday/Saturday/Sunday: But it All Works Out

On Friday, the first day of March, Venus in Capricorn will square Uranus in Aries. This will create a sharp instinct to define what your true values and integrity are built upon. You may suddenly choke on the lies you’ve been believing, turning sharply away from things that are luring you into the traps of conformity. This square will renew your sense of integrity, derived from your own common sense and intuition.

Just as this square perfects, Venus moves into the sign of Aquarius. The many practical worldly concerns that weighed down so heavy during her transit through Capricorn will be lightened up.

In Aquarius, Venus seeks to appease her appetites for beauty upon the edge, sifting through the outpourings of discarded madness in search of the light of genius. It is Venus in Aquarius that recognizes the spark of the divine in what has become outcast, unorthodox and strange.

  Much Love,

Rachel

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My Home Away from Home

(M3SY Production Teambuilding 2018)

The last time I did something like this was two years ago, when I was the production manager for our film class.

Me being me, I always run away from responsibilities—always choosing to stay at the background, following the leaders and silently doing whatever meager task I was assigned with.

Being a facilitator of this event was unplanned, I really just wanted to join the ocular because I wanted to do something fruitful on that particular Saturday.

And, really, who could and who would tell me that what we did on that fateful Saturday was something not fruitful when a whole two days of activities were formed because of it?

Admittedly, in most of our meetings, I was just going with the flow—only choosing to butt in when 1) my cofacilitators were losing track of the discussion and 2) when I am particularly sure of something and want to put my foot down.

And honestly? Up to this day, I still don't know most of the minute details of every single activity we planned, I just know that I enjoyed watching the attendees have the time of their lives while involving themselves in games made to test their grit, creativity, resourcefulness, teamwork and even their limits.

Sleeping over on a Thursday for a last minute preparation proved to be a challenge—at three in the morning, everyone was either grumpy, fighting to keep their eyes open, singing a particular line over and over again (all for you!) or straight up, shamelessly yawning, all the while, everybody has their own task of cutting crepe papers, papers, printing last-minute changes or creating medals.

At four a.m., our bodies gave up and we succumb to an hour-and-a-half of sleep.

We were up by 5:30 and unsurprisingly, nobody was well rested, everyone holding on to their last thread of strength and adrenaline to survive the day.

As we arrive in Lopez Farm, the greenery greeted our tired, tired bodies.

Choosing to stay over for some peace, quiet and a bit of rest, instead of going to the market, an emergency review of the budget, kit-preparation and room-planning commenced.

At one in the afternoon, people started trickling in, their excited and expectant gazes no doubt pushing all of us to squeeze out the last of the strength that we have, forcing us to exert a new bout of efforts to finally finish the planned stage setup and the super last minute preparations.

The first day was filled with talks and calm activities, just a way to prepare them for what's about to come.

My lack of sleep was finally catching up on me, most of the time, I don't have any plans— just going with the flow, saying yes on things, accepting whatever task comes my way and sneaking in some minutes of longed sleep.

I was tired, goddamn tired, but the smiles and the unconstrained excitement of the reason for this teambuilding sustained me the whole day and night.

I think I did everything that Friday: from thinking of animals that made the weirdest sounds to hosting an impromptu late night show.

But that was not the end of it.

As the high went down, we prepared them for the last activity before the worship night: The Faith Walk.

If you think that this is just hard for those who were blindfolded, then I'll straight up tell you now that it's not.

Guiding them, telling them what to do and where to go is just as exhausting as being the one kept from seeing the surroundings and trusting someone to keep you from falling.

Everything was going well, I was holding an exorcised rosary courtesy of one of my favorite persons ever and I was guiding the attendees through the vast and unknown land of Lopez Farm; everything was light-hearted and fun until that one person who I was supposed to guide came crying.

Then it hit me, all at once, that if I were the one doing this, I'll probably be bawling my eyes out harder than she was, my trust issues acting up.

The mere strength, courage and bravery to continue when she could barely breathe and could just scream "Stop!!!" at any point if she really wanted to made me look at things in a different perspective.

Yes, I have all the senses, yes, I know where they were going and yes, I was supposed to be their guide, but my job is just as exhausting as theirs.

Trust goes both ways—you trust another person and you wish for them to never put you in danger, and then you are being trusted, and it's your duty to do all you can to never break it.

When it was done, my feet hurt like hell, I can barely stand during worship night (which in all fairness, as much as our voices were already giving up, was a great, great, great success).

And yet, I chose to take a dip in the pool that was infested by two frogs just mere minutes before we got in.

Imagine the pain my poor, poor calf muscles experienced the next day.

Three hours of sleep later, I was woken up, not by my alarm clock but by a hand grabbing my feet and someone telling me "Jazz, 5:30 na, yung lugaw!"

I had to get up so we won't die of hunger; and lo and behold, there was not enough water to properly cook the porridge, but I had no choice but to start cooking it, otherwise, breakfast will happen at noon

I would now like to extend my sincerest apologies to everyone who almost died of hunger because breakfast took three hours before it was served, and to Sis Love who had to salvage whatever that was I initially made.

Another impromptu hosting, raffle and dancing later, the attendees were now ready to face the real thing: the much awaited activities.

I am and will forever be amazed by the fact that no one tried to bring anyone down, instead choosing to cheer for the other team, all the while fighting for their own.

I was given the task to facilitate an activity that involved the usage of lips and believe me when I say I've never seen something that was as funny and limit-pusher as that one.

The number of times people almost kissed another person accidentally made my day.

And of course, who would forget that squabble for that flag which tested friendships, patience and people.

But, really, by the end of it all, the unity was palpable, the love surrounding and, of course, the delicious waft of sinigang na baboy was calling all of us.

I could go into details with how the rest of the afternoon went by—swimming, resting, a different kind of worship for the facilitators, taking a much needed bath and poop—but I won't.

Instead, I would just like you to remember what you did, bask yourself in the feeling of it and take this moment to thank Him for all that He has allowed us to do.

I would dare say that this teambuilding was a success; the constant expression of gratitude from everyone made every single tear, blood and sleepless night worth it.

And this time, allow me to thank everyone who said yes, everyone who chose to spend their much-awaited long weekend with us.

Thank you, for being cooperative, supportive and for every single "Oh, magpahinga na muna kayo, kami na muna dito." you uttered even though this was made so that you would enjoy every single moment of it.

To those who spent the two days in the kitchen, making sure that there would be enough food for everyone, thank you.

We all know that you are the unsung heroes of this event, we would have suffered a lot if you weren't there exercising your arms while cutting onions and garlic and stirring the food we all know we enjoyed so much.

To our council who approved this, thank you.

As previously said, this only happens once in a blue moon and the fact that you allowed and trusted us to push through this made us feel honored.

And to my cofacilitators: Rachel, Raul, Babs, Love, AJ and of course, our ministry head, Jake, thank you for the tireless dedication and the never-ending support and efforts you've all exerted the past few weeks.

Words will never be enough to compensate for all the nights you didn't sleep, for all the mornings and afternoons you worried yourself sick (I'm looking at you, Jake) and pushed yourself to the limit (Yes, you too, Rachel) and for everything in between when you gave your all at all times.

Here's to more bingsu, 12 hours of bonding, roadtrips, stories, bickerings and unplanned trips to Bonchon.

Here's to friendship, twinning and bullying with love.

You're all the reason why I always, always look forward to Sundays.

I hope you all know how much space you occupy in my heart and how happy I am to grow with all of you.

I love you, prod team! See you on Sunday!

And, of course, to Him, without whom this would not exist. To You be the glory, oh Lord. 💜

[alexbfmp]

Week 5

Wednesday session with Rachel

During today’s session we firstly went through a presentation of artists that would hopefully inspire our work in the workshop we completed. We went through the artists and made some notes on the examples of there work and how they appear to look

For the practice side of things, we experimented with a painting work shop onto fabric, creating different background and designs in theme with our projects. For mine I tried to create patterns with my chosen colour schemes for my outcome as my theme is ‘Patterns and palettes’ 3 of the outcome colours are pretty much the ones I am using on my outcome but the 2 others are just random colour experimentation. At the moment I have decided to keep the outcomes just as the backgrounds because they showcase the different tones and patterns but I may work back into them with some illustration over the top.

Thursday session with Sophie

During today’s session with Sophie, we pushed the workshop from last week further experimenting with the photograms and trialing centigrams this time around. It was the same process as last week with using our acetate sheet designs, the machines and the specials inks in the dark room to create the outcomes. The only difference with creating a chemigram is putting the image into the developer to see the outcome starting to be visible then quickly transferring it into the fixer which keeps everything into place but not putting into the water to completely stop the process. This then allows the image to turn a pinky colour from the chemicals instead of doing the full 3 step process which then normally results in a negative loll outcome. I personally like the full 3 step method and the result as it is easier for me to see but still found the chemigram version an interesting outcome.

Friday session with Craig and Sophie

During the morning portion the session we created a dry point plate ( etch with a sharp metal tool into a plastic square to create a design ) with one of our chosen designs. I chose one of my designs from the first week work shop with rachel as I really like the look of the outcome as a whole but to me personally showcases what my take on the project is incorporating.

The method of creating a dry point is quite simple in which I needed to put ink onto the plastic plate and cover the entire surface with a mini squeegee like item, wipe away the excessive amount of ink left over and in the areas needing to be more clearer with detail by using a couple of pieces of scrim fabric. Once this step was complete then it was time to go to the printing press with my plate design and a piece of damp paper, lay down the paper with the plate inked side downwards onto the paper surface and then roll the press back and forth applying pressure onto the plate. The damp paper helps to absorb the ink even into the little details of the plate, bring them out to be visible once the design is printed. Once through the press, I took the plate of the paper and my design was printed and ready to go dry. I did this same method a few times as it’s a very trial and error method sometimes not having enough ink or to much. Over all I was happy with the outcome.

For the rest of the day going into the afternoon after discussing the assessment criteria with Sophie, I then proceed to continue work on my outcome. There wasn’t to much more to do as the first sleeve was near completion, simply a case of adding the last lot of beading work onto the final patterned section I was currently working on. This took the whole afternoon but it’s a very lengthy process doing it all by hand, much faster if I had a proper embroidery machine! Once I got home later that night, I added some extra details onto the sleeve using some glass hot fix crystals and a hot fix wand tool the fused the glue on the back of the crystals to the fabric making sure they don’t fall off. I specifically used crystals that were in the colours from my chosen palette for this project making sure I stick to the theme through out. Overall I am incredibly pleased with the outcome

One last addition i chosen to do was to add tiny glass crystals in between the lines pattern section as these areas looked very much still missing detail compared to everything else that was looking heavily embellished so just by adding these tiny crystals really allowed the price to look complete and sparkle all over as it’s fullest potential. I am aiming to have the following sleeve and maybe part of the back detail finished by next week as we are now working full time in class on our outcomes.

Week 5 Evaluation 

Media, skills, processes and techniques - Evaluative section on – Media, skills, processes and techniques that were used/explored – what was learnt – how wide ranging research informed this - and how these met the purpose of the proposal? First section – your planning, themes, specialism and how you have been working.

Media/ techniques: On wednesday in class we participated in a painting workshop which involved canvas fabric, acrylic paint, tape (to make clean edges on the fabric), sponges as well as cotton buds to create different effects. On Thursday I used the same materials as the previous Thursday in the dark room - chemicals, light machines, acetate designs, special light photographic paper and this was to create photograms again and also chemigrams. Lastly on Friday for the etching workshop I used a square of plastic, a sharp metal etching tool, printing ink, scrim, damp paper and the printing press machine. During the afternoon portion of the day, I worked on my outcome with all my materials I brought into college - thread, needle, beads, sequins, fabric, wooden frame for the fabric to be stretched over and scissors.    

Purpose/ theme/concept – Evaluative section on the FMP development – the thought processes – the struggle to solve a problem the journey of change and learning – why decisions were made and for what purpose - what is the point/function of the work?. How the FMP could be further developed in ambitious and innovative ways? 

Again, similar to last week, this week was our last to create workshop based outcomes to generate art work to bulk out our project and for anyone to experiment with the process/ techniques they may want to use for their project. The time during directed study on thursday and friday afternoon really gave me the chance to start full working on my outcome and immersing myself into the project

What are you planning for next week? – How and what are you doing?

To use the full week to continue work on my practical outcome for the project and aiming to get the first big section of the bead work/ garment out of the way so i can then start working over the easter holiday on the main components of the garments. I feel if i achieve this then i will be on a good timetable in order of completing this on time.  

Evaluation methodology - Evaluative section on the processes of evaluation, feedback, peer assessment, critical reflection and how this IMPACTED on the creative and technical processes.

 Getting feedback/ advice during our practical workshops did help as my tutors would guide me into the right direction in order to create the outcomes to the best of my ability whether that have been keeping my developed image from the photogram/ chemigram workshop in the chemicals for longer/ shorter or if i needed to ink up my etching plate more so it would result in a better printed outcome. 

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 31: Light 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Injuries and blood (including in illustrations), near death experience, suicidal imagery (**the character’s not actually suicidal i promise its just the imagery of the scene could read that way), mentioned alcohol abuse, mentioned physical abuse, some minor medical talk; Illustrated

Author’s note: chapter is named after the song Light by Sleeping At Last which u can access by clicking that link, but for best effect u should wait to do that until you’re at the final scene/the part that starts with “Climbing out of sleep” and then just like. listen to it on repeat for the rest of the scene 

also wow thanks tumblr for killing the color quality on the pics from the dream jfC whys it so brown its supposed to be way orangeyer 

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They were in a safehouse, evidently. One chosen by Terezi, who was going to want to know how exactly Rose and Rachel had gotten to the scene before she did, just as soon as she returned from chasing down Derek and dealing with on-sight investigation. That was going to be an interesting conversation, certainly. Explaining that a bird had shown them the way was going to be difficult, especially with the crow now nowhere to be seen.

And yet, Rose still found that she’d prefer to be in the midst of that uncomfortable conversation right now, rather than where she currently sat: on a chair outside the room Dave had been rushed into, next to her mother. The door muffled most sound, but she could make out the beeping of a heart monitor and sometimes catch what two doctors tending to Dave were saying. The heart monitor was worryingly unsteady, and what little she could make out of the doctors’ words did not help soothe her anxiety any.

Dirk was in some other room, being treated for a broken leg, a days-old concussion, and general exhaustion. He’d apparently passed out shortly after they all arrived here. Dave had been unconscious even before then.

Probably the most frustrating piece of all of this was how, now, after they’d finally been able to do something, they were right back to being helpless.

Desperate for some conversation, something to pass the time as they waited for something to happen — it had been over an hour, now, just sitting out here, waiting — she tugged the first loose thread she could find in her memory and dragged it into the open.

“So. Ravens, huh?”

Mom snorted. “You’re waiting until now to ask about that?”

“I was focused on other things on the way over, in my defense,” said Rose, “But, really, you can’t just leave something like that in front of me and not expect to clarify. What did you mean when you said that Aunt Ramona usually uses ravens? You hardly seemed surprised at all that our guide wasn’t human, and you responded so cryptically. Please, mother, the curiosity is killing me.”

“Ha. Okay, you’ll have to forgive me a little, I’m really not sure of the specifics,” Mom sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes, “But my understanding is that a part of the family magic is that…you just. Get to be friends with a particular kind of bird. Our mom could get those little, uh, sparrows? Finches? Y’know, the little brown birds you see everywhere, she’d just hold a hand out at one and it’d come land on her finger. We had an uncle who could not get seagulls to leave him alone ever. And Ramona has ravens.”

“Really?” Rose said, perking up a little. It was an interesting topic, albeit one she felt a bit bitter at not learning about before now, but it also made for an excellent distraction from the worrying sounds coming from behind the door.

“Yeah. She actually used them as scouts during the invasion, too,” Mom said, sinking back in her chair. “I dunno how exactly, but she’d call one down, whisper at it, and then it’d…fly off and she’d go real still and quiet for a while, and then it’d come back and she’d just. Know shit.”

“So what kind of bird do you have?” Rose asked.

“The family magic skipped me altogether, honey,” she said, “I don’t have any.”

Rose looked down. “And I suppose if I had some, I’d already know, wouldn’t I? You said before that her powers started kicking in when she was thirteen.”

“Maybe,” Rachel shrugged. “But I mean, you might be a late bloomer. Who knows.”

Conversation fell away again for a moment. The sounds from the room behind them were getting really worrying.

“Dave mentioned at one point that he gets harassed by crows a lot,” Rose said, desperate to break up the silence. “Does that sound like the family magic?”

Rachel laughed. “Oh, God, I bet that’s exactly what it is, poor baby.”

“There was a particular crow he described that perfectly matched the description of the one we followed,” Rose said, “Which is why I…”

—The unsteady, frantic bleeping of the heart monitor had turned into one long, cruel note. Her breath caught in her throat, and something in her chest turned to ice, burning with cold.

(He…wasn’t sure how long he’d been here. Or exactly where ‘here’ was. It felt kind of like he had just suddenly appeared here, and also at the same time like he’d just always been here.

‘Here’ was…probably Texas. He wasn’t sure what city. It was quieter than any city he remembered being in, but he didn’t know of anywhere else with such oppressively hot, heavy air choked with smoke. The world was dyed shades of orange and red and white, distant buildings seeming to shimmer, dissolving and reforming themselves like a mirage or a hologram projected onto smoke. The building he was standing on seemed only marginally more solid. Sure, he was standing on it, but thick clouds of dust or smoke constantly floated off of it. It felt like the heat was causing everything to boil, almost.

Still, it was…kind of eerie. The place should have been full of sounds. Distant cars, maybe a siren or two, some guy below swearing at someone for cutting him off, but…nothing. It was completely silent. Nothing seemed like it was moving, except for the smoke, and even that was so slow it barely seemed to move at all.

Something, he wasn’t sure what, drew him to the edge. Peering over the side of the building, he looked down. He couldn’t see the ground. Just a whole lot of a strange, dark mist. It looked…cool, and inviting, almost seeming to whisper promises of rest, and…

God, he was so tired. Exhaustion was weighing on him, dragging him down, making the call of that mist below all the more tempting. He just wanted to rest, please, fuck, he couldn’t even remember what he’d been doing before but he was so tired…

Easy there, Junior, there’s no coming back if y’go that way.

There was the sound of fluttering wings. Dave heaved a sigh, even before turning around. “Of course,” he said, “Of fucking course the king of brainless feathery assholes is here. Can’t ever fucking escape for a Goddamn moment, can I. Nope, only living being for miles besides me is this motherfucker.”

I mean, “living” might be stretchin’ it just a bit, all things considered.

That…hm. He’d thought these were his own thoughts, but…He turned his head. There was another part of the building he was on that stood out a lot higher, and there he was, perched with his legs hanging over the edge, looking down at Dave with a relaxed if sorta sad smile.

Seriously though, he said, and if Dave wasn’t watching the guy’s mouth move, he’d have thought the words were coming from his own head — they weren’t sound, exactly, the kid’s mouth just moved and words seemed to appear — you should step away from there. I know shit’s tempting, but trust me, if you go down there, you’re gonna be stuck looking like that forever. I mean, look at me. I never even got my fuckin’ shoe back. He gestured angrily at his feet, one of which was indeed in only a sock. It’s fuckin’ bullshit. And, uh, no offense, but you look like shit, Junior, you really don’t wanna get stuck lookin’ like that for eternity.

Dave glanced back down at the mist, then back up at the kid. “I’m so tired,” he said.

I know, believe me, I remember that part. But ya gotta trust me here. You gotta keep fighting a little bit longer, okay? I didn’t have a fuckin’ chance, but you still do. If not for yourself, then for all the people waiting for you on the flipside, huh?

Sighing, Dave took his foot away from the ledge and backed up several steps, turning to face the kid before dropping down heavily onto his ass. Fine. If he couldn’t sleep yet, he was at least going to sit the fuck down.

There y’go, Junior. We got this.

“Aren’t you a little young to be calling me Junior?” Dave shot.

The kid jerked back with a snort of laughter. Motherfucker, it was my name first! Anyway, I’d be plenty older than you if I hadn’t, uh, y’know. He gestured at the ragged slashes torn through both layers of clothing on his chest. Point is, I can call you Junior all I damn well wanna, fuckin’ deal with it and respect your elders or whatever.

“Hah,” Dave huffed. He looked around. “So. Any idea where the fuck we are?”

It’s not really a ‘where,’ exactly? It’s like…A border, I guess? I mean, that’s what I think it is, yours looks super different from what mine looked like. And also because this shit doesn’t come with any fucking explanation, honestly, so I have no idea if I’m right or wrong about any of this, but I think it’s like…a crossroads, sorta, between being alive and being dead.

Dave blinked.

“Oh.”

Shit, yours would be buildings, though, wouldn’t it? Kinda predictable, there, Junior.

“I’m dying.”

The kid winced. I mean, you might be, he said, rubbing his hand underneath the backwards rim of his hat. Like, your heart’s definitely stopped right now, but there’s actually a nonzero chance of you pulling through.

“And…why’re you here, then?”

He grinned. Well, for starters, I’m not gonna pass up what might be my only chance of finally getting to talk to ya without you thinkin’ I’m your own fuckin’ brain. God, do you have any idea how fuckin’ boring it is to pass seventeen years with no one able to hear you? Except Ramona, apparently, but I literally found out she could hear and see me, like, today, and thank fuck because she’s the entire reason I was able to get Ray’s help to save your ass. But, uh, also, I’m stalling.

Dave tilted his head. “Stallin’ for what?”

For the doctors tryin’ get your heart goin’ again. Like, I’m pretty sure time moves way the fuck faster in here than it does outside, and this whole conversation’s happened over the course of about a minute or so out in real time, but, still. Y’know. Tell you not to go into the light, except in this case it’s some sorta weird smokey shit, but, same difference. Give ‘em time to fuckin’ bring you back around so you’re not stuck lookin’ like you picked a fight with five flamethrowers and a steamroller for the rest of your fuckin’ existence.

Pulling a face, he plucked at his shirt. Yeah, this shit was beyond ruined, fuck, all black and brown and twisted up. “I really do look like shit, don’t I?”

Yeah, man, it’s pretty — A tremor rocked the building, abruptly. Both Dave and the ghost looked down.

Shit, said the kid, that can’t be good.

Another tremor, this one filling the air with the sounds of stone grinding and breaking. Cracks formed all along the building. Dave struggled to his feet, only to nearly lose his balance again as the stone beneath his feet began to crumble away and fall.

Fuck, Junior — hold on!

The earth was giving way beneath him, he was falling. Smoke and dust threatened to cloud his lungs.

The sound of flapping wings filled the air again, and a massive shadow fell over him, huge black feathers surrounding him as clawed feet reached out to catch him —)

Dave’s eyes shot open as he gasped for an agonizing breath. It was too bright in here, fuck, what the fuck was beeping, where was he, fuck, everything HURT —

“Easy there, son, easy, welcome back,” said a voice. Two hands, one on his shoulder and  one just below his ribs, pressed him gently back onto clean fabrics. His eyes tried to focus — two white clad figures were leaning over him, one a human woman, one a troll that was probably a guy. Doctors? Fuck, his side hurt, his throat hurt, his lungs were screaming, fuck.

“Try to stay with us, okay?” The human woman was saying. “Don’t try to talk, just try to stay conscious as long as you can. We’re gonna patch you up, maybe put you on a ventilator.”

—Hang in there, Junior, I dunno how many more of those either you or me has left in us.

There were tears running down his face. He didn’t even realize he was crying, but they were there. The doctors were back to talking to each other, frantically doing…something, sometimes they’d be touching him, he couldn’t…he was so tired………

Even as the beeping started up again, even as she heard one of the doctors say, “It’s alright, he’s just unconscious this time,” the frozen thing in Rose’s chest refused to thaw out.

“Oh, God,” Mom whispered, her voice hoarse. “Oh, God, they almost lost him.”

Sometime after three in the morning, one of the doctors came and quietly told Rachel that Dave was stable.

She and Rose had moved over to Dirk’s room, where he was sound asleep, poor thing. They’d gotten the gel outta his hair, at least, it looked like, and he didn’t have the makeshift bandage wrapped around his face anymore. Still stuck with a bit of a beard, though, which was bizarre to see and, knowing him, was probably pissing him off.

Rose was asleep, too, her head pillowed on her arms, leaned over onto Dirk’s bed. She had gone…real quiet after Dave had…

Had flatlined. She had to force herself to actually think the word. He’d flatlined. It’d only been a minute and a half — felt a lot fuckin’ longer — but he’d been gone for a moment there. This really was that bad.

Dirk, too, God, Derek had been standing over both of them, ready to fucking — to fucking skewer them both.

She didn’t want to think about it. Every instinct of the past ten, hell, the past seventeen years screamed at her to ignore it, put up the walls, reach for the booze she didn’t have on her for once and drown out the things she didn’t want to be real.  

But. Ignoring it was how she’d gotten into this mess, wasn’t it.

She’d pretended it hadn’t existed and drowned it all in alcohol and hadn’t seen that her kids fuckin’ needed her until they were dying.

“Ray, girl,” she said to herself, “You gotta get your shit together and do better.”

There was a blanket laid down on the end of the bed; she picked it up and draped it gently over Rose’s shoulders, kissed both her kids on the forehead, and headed down the hall to Dave’s room.

The doctor’d warned her he was still unconscious and on life support, but, God, seeing her baby passed out with a tube down his throat, hooked up to a gently bleeping machine and covered in bruises…

She didn’t let herself look away, though. Not anymore.

No more trying to live in a memory. She needed to be here now.

She pulled a chair up to his side. She couldn’t go back and take away all the hurt that’d been done, but at the very least, she could keep a vigil until morning, so that if, by some chance, he woke up, he wouldn’t be alone. In all likelihood, she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, anyway.

Well, they’d all somehow survived Dave’s insane escape plan, somehow (although Dirk hadn’t been able to see him just yet, and what he’d heard from a nurse had been…concerning), and yet, freshly showered with no small amount of effort, Dirk found himself faced with his hardest task yet: finally shaving off the fucking forest that had taken root on his damn face.

He glared down at his hands, pressed against the counter of the little bathroom he’d been guided into and to the plastic razor next to them, willing all three to fucking cooperate already. He hadn’t waited this long to finally get this shit off his face only for his nerves to stop him.

(They were particularly determined nerves, though. The nurse had said Dave was finally stabilized at three in the morning, how bad was he if it had taken that long…? That awful, broken scream kept ringing in his ears, over and over…)

He nearly jumped at a knock on the door. Rose’s voice came through; they’d both agreed to go in to see Dave together once they’d both eaten (already done) and gotten cleaned up (Rose had already finished that; Dirk had gone second since the new cast on his leg meant he was sort of doomed to take longer). “Are you alright in there?” she said. “I’ve already got one brother in need of intensive care. At this point, it’d be a cruel joke to wind up with two because you managed to slip and fall.”

“I’m already out of the shower and dressed,” Dirk said. “Just, uh, having a bit of a shaving malfunction.”

Rose tipped the door open (left unlocked on the doctors’ orders, just in case Dirk really had slipped and fallen) and glanced in. “What sort of malfunction?” she asked, a tired amusement twinkling in her eyes.

Dirk held up one of his hands so she could see how badly they were shaking. “Think my blood sugar might still be low,” he said. It…wasn’t entirely a lie. He and Dave hadn’t had much food the past four days, so that could certainly be a part of it.

Her face softened. “Do you need some help with that?” she asked.

Dirk sighed. God, it was embarrassing, but they’d be here all day if he tried to wait for his hands to stop shaking, so. “Yes please.”

It was awkward as hell, and needing help for something as simple as fucking shaving felt like one last insult on top of the hell that had been the past several days. But at the very least, it felt good to have his face back. He thanked Rose, thanked her again when she helped him up from where he’d been sitting and onto the crutches he’d been given.

They shared a look full of an unspoken, mutual apprehension before heading toward Dave’s room.

Mom, in a chair by the bed and looking exhausted, was talking with Terezi in hushed tones when they entered the room. Both girls looked up, and Terezi said something quietly to Mom before brushing past them both, granting them a sympathetic nod as she passed.

Dave had a blanket over most of him, tucked under his arms and pulled up to his chest. What little of him was visible beyond the blanket was a mess of wires, tubes, and bandages that made Dirk’s breath twist painfully in his throat.

Mom smiled, her eyes heavy and a little bloodshot. “The doctors said they don’t know when he’ll wake up,” she said, “But that he’s at least not technically in a coma or anything. Just really exhausted, poor bugger. Whole lotta years of not getting enough to eat combined with the shit you two’ve been through this past few days all caught up to him at once.”

Rose was silent as she drifted across the room to Dave’s side, opposite their mother. She pressed clenched fists against the mattress, focus fixed on her twin, although Dirk couldn’t see her eyes from here.

Dirk forced himself to look away, turned to Mom instead. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked.

“Uh-uh,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Couldn’t. Wanted to make sure Dave wasn’t alone, anyway, so it worked out.”

Dirk swallowed. “Well, he won’t be alone now, either,” he said. “Me and Rose can take turns watching him if Terezi needs to question us, and if not, we’ll just…both hang out in here, I guess. You should get some rest.”

“Probably,” Mom said. “Terezi’s not quite done talking to me, though, she’s just giving us some time alone. She made a lotta arrests last night, though, it sounds like. That dragon of hers got a buncha treats.”

“Good,” Dirk said, not trying to keep the contempt out of his voice. “I hope those bastards fucking rot. They were all nearly as bad as the old man.”

“Speaking of,” Mom said, “I’m pretty sure he got away.”

Rose stiffened.

“Figures,” Dirk muttered. “Really, though, Mom, we’re fine, you should finish up with Terezi and get some sleep.”

“You sure?” she said, glancing at Rose.

“We’re fine,” Rose said, her voice flat.

“…Alright, I can take a hint,” Mom said. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

Silence hung over the room as she left. Tightening his hold on the crutches and forcing a deep breath, Dirk limped across to stand near where Mom had been, across from Rose. She hadn’t moved, but this close, Dirk could see that her arms were trembling.

Dave’s face, at least, didn’t look particularly troubled, if one were to look past the bruises and bandages.

Rose’s hands tightened on the sheets. Her voice was cold and calm, her face hidden to Dirk by her bangs as she stared down at her clenched fists. She spoke with a certainty that would have chilled Dirk to the bone had he not  been just as furious.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” she said.

Unsure whether to reach out to comfort her, or if he should indeed respond at all, Dirk simply nodded.

The two settled in to wait, for however long it might take.

Dave didn’t wake up that day at all. Eventually, the doctors insisted that Dirk go to bed, as he needed to rest his concussion or some shit like that. Rose was watching over Dave alone when the machine Dave was hooked up to began screeching, and the doctors chased her out of the room. The commotion woke both Dirk and Mom, all three family members clustered worried around the door.

Not long after, one of the doctors came out and told them that Dave had briefly regained consciousness, for only a few minutes; he’d been desperate to speak, and panicked upon being unable to do so due to the breathing tube down his throat, so they’d taken him off the ventilator.  His breathing had been fine enough without it that they’d kept it off, in case he awoke again later and the same thing happened.

Apparently, he’d stayed conscious only long enough to ask if Dirk was alright, and had calmed and fallen back asleep as soon as he’d been told that he was okay.

Dirk felt his heart twist itself into knots at the news. Of course he did. Of course the first fucking thing he did was ask if Dirk was okay. Of course even after all this Dave still thought he was the one who had to protect Dirk.

God, he didn’t deserve his little brother.

No one got back to sleep.

Climbing out of sleep felt kinda like he’d imagined snow would feel like, except not as cold, just the parts about it being soft and fluffy and filling everything up around him. And, uh, climbing up out of actual snow that thick would probably have been terrifying, so there was that too, but this was just…a slow, lethargic crawl out of some sort of thick subconscious pool of…whatever.

The first thing he was sort of aware of was that someone was holding his hand. Not very tightly, and at a kind of awkward angle, but there was someone there. He hoped they were real. He really hoped he wasn’t dreaming anymore. His dreams had been of running through a thick, choking forest of branches that reached out to grab him and hold him back, hunted all the while by some terrible beast he never quite saw, but he somehow knew to be there; a creature too wild to be human, too cruel to be an animal, hungry and angry and relentless.

(Sometimes, he’d heard the distant beating of wings, as well, and somehow, he’d known them to be friendly, trying to lead him to safety. He’d never seen their owner, either.)

The nightmares already were starting to fade out of mind, though; and he dearly hoped this wasn’t another one. Trying to move his fingers at all was a fight and a half, like someone had dumped the pathways between them and his brain full of fuckin’ molasses or something. At first, he could only get them to twitch a bit, but with a bit of an effort, he managed to curl his hand around the other.

The owner was moving, now, suddenly frantic; he tried to stop them, but the hand slipped away. Sound was starting to come back, distant, as if through a thick, impenetrable fog; some strange high pitched  repetitive noise and a lower sound that might be someone speaking. A new hand wrapped around his, their thumb dragging across his knuckles.

It took a bunch of false starts to get his eyes open, sound leaking in more and more strongly — that beeping was fucking annoying, Jesus — and, shit, did he regret getting them open even a little almost immediately. Fuck, it was bright in here. Once he managed to get them like, halfway open, though, a darker shape slowly resolved into a human being — their silhouette was unfamiliar, but something about the face was familiar.

“Hey,” said the guy, an actual word finally managing to filter through the haze, as did the realization as to who was talking. Dirk. It was Dirk, but minus that fuckin’ beard he’d complained so much about, and with his hair down, pulled into a loose bob behind his neck. Dirk was here. Okay. That was either really good, or really bad, probably.

It took even more effort (was there…something around his neck? What the fuck), but he managed to look around a bit, get some stock of their surroundings. Not, like sitting up or anything, he wasn’t sure he wanted to give that a shot just yet, but he could move his eyes around.

“Where t’fuck are we?” he said. His voice was fuckin’ awful, Christ, all strained and quiet and a little bit wheezy. He was breathing fine, at least, but, shit.

“Safehouse,” said Dirk.

Like…like a police safehouse? “We’re alive?” Dave asked, just to make sure, because boy, was he not sure of that one. He felt….like the ghost of pain, like he should’ve been hurting all over, but something was keeping it just barely at bay. “We made it?”

Dirk’s worried smile turned more gentle. “We made it. Your plan worked, Dave, you got us both out of there alive.”

“Fuckin’ sweet,” Dave said, because it was. Holy shit, it had worked.

“Rose went to go get Mom, she’ll be back — right now, actually, by the sound of it,” said Dirk, as the sound of rapid footsteps came  through from outside and the door swung open. Dave would’ve jumped if his body wasn’t currently made of cotton and overcooked spaghetti.

Rose about barreled in, her face probably the closest to actual honestly expressing real fuckin’ emotion besides anger that he’d ever seen. She nearly bowled Dirk over, he had to hobble over to the side and give up his grip on Dave’s hand (moving instead to let his hand rest on Dave’s shoulder). Mom came around the other side of the bed, careful not to disturb the IV tube Dave had just noticed was in his arm (hey there, how long had that been a thing), and pressed one hand against the side of his face.

“Hey, baby,” she cooed, eyes already threatening to fill with tears, “Welcome back.”

Alright. Enough of this laying around shit, he was gonna try and sit up and wake up all the way.

It didn’t work. He didn’t even make it up off the bed, and felt even more tired for his efforts. Like they were all part of one being, Dirk, Rose, and Mom all moved to press his chest down (not that it had gone up any) as Mom said, “Nonono, honey, don’t try to move. Hold on, there’s a doohickey here we can use to get you more upright…” She reached around for something, some sorta box, and pressed a button on it, and, oh, hey, the part of the bed his head was on was tilting up slowly, alright, cool. Dirk kept his hands out to steady Dave the entire time as it lifted up, only pulling away once the bed had stopped moving.

Soon as he did that, Rose stiffened up and surprised Dave by lunging forward, sweeping him into a careful hug around his neck. He felt himself go tense, fuck, it was like when Mom would surprise hug him back at home except it was Rose doing it? Mom got in on the action pretty quick, too, her hands wrapping gently around either side of his face, peppering the side of his head with kisses. For a moment, it was way too much, too overwhelming, and he flashed Dirk a nervous look, he couldn’t move to get away, fuck —

The fear faded pretty quickly, actually, though.

Mom was murmuring soft reassurances in Spanish, weaving them in between kisses. Rose was fucking weeping, he could hear it, she was doing it right in his ear. And that overwhelming wave of panic turned into something warm and soft and safe, and….Fuck it. He sank into it. It was too much, way too much, but it was so fucking nice to feel so fucking loved for a while.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s what it was.

Dirk rubbed gently at Dave’s shoulder, unable to get in on the hug from this angle, but it was plenty for now. Dave let himself lean into Mom, let one of his arms weakly wrap around Rose until she pulled away, trying to compose herself and saying something snarky about how Dave had “certainly taken his sweet time to wake up,” and as soon as she gave him the room, Dirk leaned in for a hug of his own, bumping his head gently against Dave’s, all while the barrage of kisses just kept fuckin’ going.

“We made it,” Dirk whispered, and Dave felt the last bit of tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding slip away.

[caffeineivore]

MOAR FIC

Title: Yuan Fen

Ship: R/J AU

Notes: Yuan Fen: Fateful coincidence; destiny which brings two people’s lives together at some point, often through astronomical odds. “It takes hundreds of rebirths to bring two persons to ride in the same boat; it takes a thousand eons to bring two persons to share the same pillow.” A concept related to karma in Chinese Buddism.

Rating: PG/PG13

In which Jadeite talks about jadeite. Because of reasons :P

Perhaps it’s the oxygen, or finally getting over the jet lag, but Rachel starts to feel a bit more like her normal self after another day or two, and on the morning that the tour is scheduled to go to a historic old town, she manages a nice enough smile for all and sundry when she boards the bus.

As usual, John Simmons takes his spot up at the front of the bus, and gives a brief overview of the old town, its history, and some of the local arts, crafts and eats sold within. 

“You will find lots of little shops selling silver, and jadeite, both of which are produced in the area. Now, I wouldn’t be doing my job as a tour guide if I allowed you guys to buy glass masquerading as the good stuff, right?” He reaches under the shirt he’s wearing, and pulls out a lustrous, dark-green pendant on red thread. 

“This is the Bodhisattva Guan Yin, or, more in layman’s terms, the goddess of mercy. It’s carved of jadeite, which is found primarily in Myanmar, a country which borders China to the south. Most of their raw stones are sent here for processing and carving, and a lot of the artisans in the area still create jewelry and artifacts in the old way. Jadeite is known by a few other names-- hard jade, because it is higher on the Mohs scale than nephrite, or kingfisher jade, because its colours are said to resemble the iridescence of a kingfisher’s feathers.” He then reaches into a pocket, and pulls out a small woman’s compact, much to the amusement of everyone on the bus, and winks. “I know, I know, not everyone can say they woke up like this. Some people are luckier-- and a lot prettier-- than me.” 

Rachel tells herself amidst the chuckles that his glance at her means nothing, and focuses on his movements as he opens up the compact mirror. He clears his throat and continues his explanation. “So back to the original topic of how to tell real jadeite from fake. For one thing, it’s fairly hard. So...” He slides the bottom of his pendant along the glass of the mirror, then holds up the mirror for all to see. “Real jadeite falls between 6 and 7 on the Mohs scale. Which is hard enough to scratch glass. It’s also cold to the touch, and takes a while to warm up against your skin. If you clink two pieces together, it should sound almost like when someone taps a fork against a champagne glass, rather than a dull, plastic-y sound. And you should hold it up to the light. Anything that is too even in colour, without any type of crystalline structure in the stone, is probably either overly chemically enhanced, or pulverized glass bonded together to look like the real thing.”

He goes on to name a few reputable shops in case they wanted to buy any while there in the area, before moving on different topics such as local eats one might wish to try, before reminding everyone of what time to be back on the bus after the visit. 

After the bus parks, he falls in step next to Rachel, and at her startled look, grins in a slightly impertinent way. “Everyone else is off in groups. You’re the only one here alone, so you’d be the hardest to find if you were to get lost.”

She scowls at that. “I don’t always get lost. That day on the mountains in Shangri-La I wasn’t lost, I just didn’t feel well. And furthermore...”

What probably would have been a tirade on her part is cut rather anticlimactically short when a diminuitive old lady in ethnic dress steps into her path, holding out several wreaths of fresh flowers. “Hua hua, Mei nü?” 

Rachel involuntarily glances at John, who smiles. “She’s asking if you would like to buy some flowers. We’re still pretty high up, and it’s quite sunny today-- the combination of high altitude and hot sun can result in some pretty nasty sunburn. For local girls who may not have heard of SPF 45, flower wreaths are a popular way of keeping the worst of it out of their faces and eyes.”

“Did she just call me...?”

“Yeah, she did.” Now his smile morphs into a grin. “It’s not meant as a creepy term, you know. Didn’t you ever have friends from down south in America who call people honey or sweetie all the time?” He says something in Chinese to the flower seller, who smiles and surveys Rachel’s face critically before picking a wreath of exuberantly-blooming purple and lavender rhododendrons with a gap-toothed smile. She reaches up and unceremoniously places it on the top of Rachel’s head even as John slips her a small amount of cash. The flower seller quickly moves off, looking for her next buyer, and Rachel frowns up at John through her new, fluffy headdress. 

“You didn’t have to-- I’m wearing sunblock. My foundation actually is SPF 15, too, on top of that.” 

He merely shrugs, and takes out the scratched compact again, and holds it in front of her face. Reflected, Rachel sees the slightly incongruous reflection of herself, with perfectly-winged eyeliner and classic ruby studs in her ears, and a flower crown befitting some fairy tale princess settled on top of her hair. There’s a flush in her cheekbones that certainly must come from the sun shining overhead. 

“It suits you.” John says quietly. “And... it’s a nice face. Might as well take whatever precautions we can to keep it that way, yeah?” And then, unthinkingly, he reaches up and tucks a stray lock of her hair behind her ear before dropping his hand, and Rachel can almost see him reminding himself to keep a professional distance. “Well. Want to go grab some tea or coffee? They produce both, locally, and it’s quite good.”

The last thing she needs is more caffeine to wreak havoc on her suddenly-jittery nerves and the mysterious swarm of butterflies in her stomach, and Rachel manufactures an air of studied nonchalance perfected from a long legacy of Manhattan cynicism. “Mm, I’m good. So where did you say we should go to buy jade?”

**

John takes her to a shop definitely a few steps up from the apparent tourist trap variety, with well-lit jewelry counters manned by polished-looking young men and women in matching ethnic uniforms. There’s a wide selection ranging from pendants to beaded necklaces to bangles in all different colours. “I thought jade was supposed to be green,” Rachel glances up at him. “Yours is. Did you buy it from here, too?”

“No, mine was a present,” he answers. “A good luck charm, if you will.”

Rachel privately wonders if it was from a woman and then scolds herself for the direction of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’ve only seen green jade before, I think.”

“That’s certainly the most common colour,” John tells her, before walking towards a selection of bangles in an ethereal shade of lavender-tinged white. “Mm, maybe this. Lavender jadeite is very rare, very precious. Some people call it violet flower jade.” As though on cue, one of the sales clerks unlocks the glass-fronted display and brings out a selection of stunning, translucent bangles for Rachel’s perusal, and she can’t help but pick one up, dazzled by its glossy, delicate colour. It is cold to the touch, much as John had said. 

“It’s probably a bit hard to put on,” he says softly even as the helpful sales clerk, apparently quite practiced at her task, wraps Rachel’s left hand in a polyethylene glove and helps her slip on the bangle. “But, you’re supposed to keep it on. Jade’s colours deepen and brighten the longer you wear it, especially if you’re healthy. It looks good on you. Brings out your eyes.”

“I don’t... oh, hell. Why not?” Rachel digs out cash, then raises her wrist to admire her new purchase. “It’s beautiful, it really is. But why did she put it on my left wrist without asking?”

“Jade bracelets are always worn on the left,” John tells her. “It’s on the side of the heart, and when someone wears jade, especially if it’s given as a present, it’s to remind the person that they’re loved, and that the giver wants to ensure their protection from evil, illness and sorrow.” He aims a crooked smile at Rachel and picks up her hand. “And when you buy it for yourself, it’s a reminder to love and care for yourself, because you’re worth it. Understand?”

It’s almost the sort of words her grandfather would have said to her when she was a little girl, and for that reason, Rachel gives his hand a squeeze back. “Yeah.”

[magick-socks]

This blog post is about the fourth mask, Green Heart Antelope created for the Prismic Vision NYE event hosted by the Body Earth Collective in Longmont. Read the previous posts in this series about Rabbit, Skunk, & Swan and other posts about the beginnings of the process as a whole and the success of the actual event. There will be three more posts, one for each mask. Be sure to Follow my blog to catch all the updates. I am looking forward to sharing more deeply about the process I went through with each mask.

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The Beginnings

Once we all had landed on the idea to work with animal allies, in addition to the Prismic Vision theme and the chakra rooms with altars, it also became clear that we wanted those animal allies to be found locally in Colorado. We used the Animal Medicine cards by Jamie Sams & David Carson to discern which allies would appear at which altars. I loved getting out of my own way, allowing my personal mythos and associations to fall away to see what threads of connection the universe wished to bring into the mix.

The Animal Ally from Animal Medicine cards by Jamie Sams & David Carson

For the other animals the way forward was fairly clear. However, when we came to the Green Heart center Rachel and I felt pretty strongly that we wanted Deer, or a similar animal ally, to be the guardian of our heart space. The Heart Altar was the central altar, in the middle of everything, and so it was especially important for our heart opening intentions. We couldn’t stop laughing when we drew the blank card from the Oracle deck, a clear sign that it was up to us to choose. To be extra sure we drew one more card, and that card was Pronghorn Antelope. I was excited by this message, for in India Antelope is already the traditional animal totem for the Heart Chakra. To spin this towards our own native Antelope ally lit me up.

I started with the horns, since Pronghorn Antelope have such interesting and distinctive antlers. I looked at many images to be sure I understood the delicate curve, which starts in one facing and then elegantly curves so that the points create almost an upside down heart above the Antelopes head. Like many of the other armatures, I used a combination of tape, cardboard, and tinfoil before cloaking in papier-mâché.

Getting the angles correct

Where do I put the eyes?

Attaching the Antlers and Ears

Finishing the Headdress

The head of the mask took a long time to trouble shoot. Unlike a Rabbit or Skunk, the placement of Antelope’s eye are nothing like that of our human ones. To accurately mimic the elongated face of Antelope I needed to come up with another solution for seeing out of the mask. I eventually settled on lifting the whole face above the head, similar to the Swan mask, making it more into a headdress. Maria of the Shamanic Dolls lead the opening procession. I wanted to be sure she could see clearly to guide the ceremony confidently.

Working with Antelope Medicine and the Energy of Green Heart

Green in the Heart always evokes for me images of Green Tara, Earth Mother, and Kwan Yin. Powerful and Kind goddesses of the Earth. The human eye can see more distinct shades of green than any other color, so I chose to work with the Greens found in the Prismic Vision Postcard, lovely colors between soft jade viridian and a true spring green. Colors that I can easily visualize radiating out from my heart into the whole world around me.

Green is fundamentally linked to nature, as well as joy, balance, harmony, and luck. The Heart Chakra is also a wellspring for balance and deep calm. It is the center were love originates. The mantra for the Heart is “I am Loved.” It is the center of the seven chakras, sitting equidistant from the higher realms of spirit and insight, and the lower realms of ground and action.

Green Antelope – Heart Altar Sketch

Pronghorn Antelope in this Green Heart space speaks to choosing action from the Heart. In society today we so often make decisions based on our mind or our gut, being driven by the pressures of every day to stay afloat in the chaos. Decisions made from the heart lead us along a different pathway, and although it may not seem clear at first, in the end our decisions are made with authentic integrity.

The Mask in the Space

The Green Heart Altar was extremely special. The base was built just for the event to meet the ever evolving needs of the central room. The central lobby was the literal heart of the event, with people pulsing through it constantly and a flurry of diverse performances, workshops, and art installations.

Photo Credit: Jack Jameson

The altar was built up to be a mound of sacred earth energy. Moss had been collected then reverently placed across it and a giant activator quartz crystal anchored the center. Pieces from the Healing Helix that had blended wishes and grief at Arise Festival were affixed to the sides for a communal weaving. Baskets of yarn were arranged around the altar, interspersed with candles and mindful art. The Antelope Mask rested confidently on the connection of two pieces of the Helix. Above the Altar hung sacred geometric shapes, a crystal Merkaba and a copper activator pyramid which flooded the space with energy.

As happens so often with participatory art the weaving took a life of its own. It expanded beyond the intended panels from the helix to envelop the whole altar. Even the Antelope Mask was woven into the Altar. When the time came to retrieve the mask for the Opening Procession it was already thoroughly bound into the magic of the Heart, and took some delicate unraveling to free it for the ceremony.

The Altar was on wheels so when the Procession arrived in the central room it was moved to make room for our dance. We began by spiraling around Maria, creating a nexus of energy, a revelation. We danced toward her from Despair to Hope, dancing from the action of our hearts, landing connected together. Then spinning back out into the room we called out our intentions, inviting the whole room to speak their activations. It was a glorious, hopeful moment of Unity.

The words on the Altar were as follows: 

Green – Heart – Pronghorn Antelope

Clear & Direct … Decisive Action. 

Ancestor Wisdom. 

The Imagination of the Heart.

Antelope signifies knowledgeable action; action that has its basis in clarity, focus, and commitment. Antelope is a symbol for the antenna of your hara, which attaches you to Great Mystery by its long cords of light. As we look at Antelope, we become aware of our mortality and the short time we have on this planet. With this is mind, we must act accordingly.

Antelope medicine is the knowledge of life’s circle. Knowing of death, Antelope can truly live. Action is the key and essence of living.

– Excerpt from “Medicine Cards” by Jamie Sams & David Carson

Rachel and I Resting & Admiring the Altar after the Event

Stay in Touch

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Prismic Vision – Green Heart Antelope Pronghorn Antelope in this Green Heart space speaks to choosing action from the Heart. Decisions made from the heart lead us along a different pathway, a pathway of authentic integrity.  This blog post is about the fourth mask, Green Heart Antelope created for the Prismic Vision NYE event hosted by the…

[softupshur]

Imperfect Faith: Chapter 1

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Can also be read here

When her mother is arrested on Lydia Degan's ranch, a young Marta finds herself amidst the Testament of New Ezekiel in its infancy. As she travels with the other escapees, she watches the church grow, the gospel teachings evolve, and create a close bond with the reverend Sullivan Knoth.

Characters: Marta and Sullivan Knoth

Chapter 1-September 21, 1969:

The last Marta saw of her mother was through the window of the police car.

She never once took her eyes off Marta. Not even when the cops cuffed her hands, and threw her into the car. She cried out Marta’s name so loud that the child could hear her through the glass.

Marta took a step towards her, when someone grabbed her hand. She looked up and recognized the good Reverend Knoth.

“We’re all meeting behind the big barn,” he told her. Amidst the chaos, his expression remained calm. “There’s an exit there that the cops didn’t find.”

“Where the old bus is?” Marta asked.

“That’s right.” Knoth opened his mouth to say something else, but when he noticed a pair of his followers in hysterics, he rushed to offer them the same choice.

Marta froze. She could still hear her mother calling her name, and her fists pounding the window, but over the voices, the calls, and the pounding, she heard Knoth’s preachings.

Only the chosen few will see paradise. We are as Noah and his kin, afloat in the flood of sinners. One day the storm will pass and the floods will recede. We will see a new world, a paradise of our own. We will not have to fear the eternal damnation our lord has forseen for the rest of this wicked world.

She took a deep breath, and looked upon her mother one last time before running as fast as she could. She dodged the flashlight paths, climbed over fences and obstacles she came across, and thanked God for her too long legs that brought her to the secret exit.

The exit was a rusted gate, covered in ivy that no one bothered with anymore, but now Marta recognized two of Knoth’s trusted deacons standing guard at the gate.

Marta stopped at the familiar faces and caught her breath.

“Knoth said to come here,” she said, when she could breathe again.

Though the men exchanged confused glances, they did pry open the gate for her to squeeze through.

Once through the gate, there was a third man guiding the stragglers to the old bus.

Marta joined the fellow escapees and found there to be a couple dozen of them on the bus. Most of them were young men, but there was a fair share of women among them, several of whom held crying infants to them, and one that prayed as she clung to her swelling stomach. All of them stopped to stare when Marta stepped in the bus. First at her, and then at one another, trying to place where she belonged, but before anyone could inquire about the stray child, one of the men outside ran in.

“Is everyone ready? The cops are getting deeper in and we don’t have much time until they find this area.”

“But what about Knoth,” asked one of the women. “We can’t go without him!”

The crowd murmured in agreement, and the man groaned. “Fine, but we need someone at the wheel when he’s here.”

He returned to his post outside, while one of the men took the driver’s seat.

For all of two minutes, the passengers waited. Many of the men fidgeted and frequently checked the windows. Meanwhile, the women murmured their prayers, and the mothers did their best to hush their bundled babies.

Marta only stood and watched their reactions until Knoth stumbled into the bus with two of the testament's women.

In tears, the women hurried to the back of the bus, and huddled together.

Once they were settled in, Knoth called for the patrols to join them, but before the driver could floor it, one of the women with an infant cried out.

“Father, wait! Don’t go yet!”

“What is it, child?” Knoth snapped. “Don’t you realize that the enemy is at our doorstep? We haven’t much time!”

“But the little girl,” she said of Marta. “Her parents aren’t here. Is it really okay for us to steal her away like this without them?”

Knoth looked to the child and raised an eyebrow. When he came towards her, Marta neither flinched nor shrank away, though her brow did furrow in concern.

“Child, what is your name?” His tone was considerably softer than before, and he smiled as if the chaos outside their hideout was nonexistent.

“It’s Marta.”

“Marta.” Knoth nodded as he echoed her name. “You’re the midwife’s daughter, aren’t you? I believe her name was Rachel?”

“Yes, Father Knoth.” Marta’s eyes fell to the floor at the mention of her mother. “The cops took her away, and I ran.”

“I see,” Knoth’s smile vanished, and he put a comforting hand on the child’s shoulder. “I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you,” Marta said, in a voice so small that she could barely hear it herself.

“And I’m also sorry to burden you with this choice, but we are leaving this place tonight and we need your answer. Will you be joining us?”

Marta bit her lip, and shifted in her seat. Her mother’s cries echoed through her head again. “What will happen if I stay behind?” she asked.

Knoth sighed. “You are still young, and for that the evils at our feet will surely show you mercy, but keep in mind that your youth will one day be spent and I cannot promise your safety beyond that. Knowing that, which do you choose?”

Though Marta fixed her gaze to the ground, she felt the stares on her. They told her to trust in Father Knoth, to believe in paradise, but it was only through recalling her mother’s regard for the reverend that she found the courage to look back up at Knoth.

“I choose salvation.”

“That’s a good girl.” Knoth’s voice was gentle as he put his hands on her shoulders. He turned her so she could face the naysayers. “You should all look to this child as an example!” He spoke as if he were at one of his sermons. “For even in her fear, she chooses that path to redemption, as treacherous as it may be. Her faith is a perfect kind, and for that she will receive the greatest rewards in Heaven!”

Before the crowd could either cheer or jeer, Knoth looked to the driver. “Go for the wooded path. Keep slow and don’t turn the lights on. Don’t be reckless unless you know for certain that we’re being pursued.”

Everyone held their breaths as the driver started the bus. They waited to hear those sirens and see the flashing lights at their tail, but as the seconds turned into minutes, there was only darkness and the hum of the engine.

It was then that Marta realized that she stood alone, even though there were plenty of open seats.

Many of the women offered her encouraging smiles, but Marta turned from them to the nearest open spot beside Knoth.

“Father Knoth?”

“Yes, my child?”

“May I?” she asked of the seat beside him.

“Of course.” He pat the spot once to welcome her.

At first, Marta was quiet. She sat straight and proper, picking at a loose thread on her skirt.

Knoth allowed her silence, without complaint, but when she found her voice again, he gave his attention.

“Father Knoth, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

Only then did Marta notice his bloodshot eyes.

“What will happen to my mother? I saw the cops take her away and I’m scared. Only the few can be saved, but she couldn’t follow us. I know she would have if she could, but...she just couldn’t. It’s not her fault. God wouldn’t punish her for something she couldn’t help, would he?”

Marta’s eyes watered as she spoke, but Knoth only smiled.

“The good Lord knows what is in her heart, and shall reward her justly.”

“Oh…” Marta feared revealing her ignorance, but Knoth continued.

“You understand what a ‘martyr’ is, do you not?”

“Yes, like Jesus Christ.”

“Just like Jesus Christ. And he is the most holy, right?”

“Right.”

“But do you remember what he had to do to become most holy?”

Marta frowned. “He had to die.”

“True, but through his death, he became our almighty, all powerful savior. For a martyr’s suffering is the most beautiful in God’s eyes, therefore their rewards are the greatest.”

Marta took a moment to process his words. “So is my mother going to be a martyr? Like Jesus Christ?”

“I suspect so,” Knoth said. “For she’s done our people a great service.” He looked to the whining infants. “She’s helped bring the next generation to life, and for that she will be remembered and revered among our people. Not only among what you see before you, but when those babes grow, they shall know it was your mother who delivered them to life, and when they offer their own children into this world, those children shall remember her, and so will their children, and so forth.” Knoth looked back at Marta. “I regret that your mother was taken by the enemy, but you are still here, and I believe your mother’s story will continue through her, and you shall keep her memory alive among our people.”

“But I’m just a child,” Marta murmured.

“For now, you are, but I believe that God has a mighty purpose for you, having delivered you from the hands of evil. Already, you have shown great courage this darkest of nights, and I believe it is only the start of many great things you shall do in the Lord’s name.”

Finally, Marta managed a smile. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Knoth said. “And I’m eager for God to tell me his plans for you.”

“Thank you, Father Knoth,” Marta said, bowing her head.

“Don’t thank me.” Knoth gently lifted her face so she looked at him again before letting go. “Thank the Lord in your prayers tonight before you sleep.”

“Will you pray with me, Father Knoth?” Marta asked. “Not just for me, but for my mother as well?”

“Of course, child.”

Marta bowed her head and clasped her hands together. When she felt Knoth’s hand on her head, she began her prayer.

“Thou Father who art in Heaven, thank you for delivering me from the hands of evil. I will work hard to ensure you did not save me in vain. Protect us on the road ahead, wherever you may take us. I pray you bring us to paradise and that I will live to see it. Protect the men, the women, and the little ones and give us courage. Also protect my mother and those that are left behind. Should you not guide them back to us, then welcome them into your paradise with open arms. They love you so and wish to see your face, as I do.” She gripped her hands tighter. “Praise be to the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Knoth. Amen.”

Marta opened her eyes.

“That was a lovely prayer, Marta,” Knoth said. He took his hand from her head and stood from his seat.

“Where are you going?” Marta asked.

“A shepherd must watch his flock,” he replied. “I’m going to offer solace to the others. You rest your eyes. The road ahead of us is long, and you should seize these moments of peace while you still can.”

“Yes, Father Knoth.”

With the reverend checking on the rest of the testament, Marta had the whole seat to herself. She laid her head down and brought her legs to her chest. Sleep came quickly, but at one point she stirred.

Her mother’s fists beat on the window, begging to be let in.

The pounding woke Marta up, and she jolted up to look out the window, but there was nothing. Only an endless expanse of desert. She soon realized it was nothing but a bump in the road, and she went back to sleep easily.

[hopewielding]

hopewielding’s RP Cheat Sheet

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Rachel OOC Contact: Asks please. I’m not a great fan of IMs and I keep my other contact information private.

Who the heck is my muse anyway: Kitty Pryde is a self-described mutant rights activist who was one of the youngest mutants to ever join the X-Men. Her powers emerged when she was thirteen and a half, when she phased through the floor of her second-level bedroom. The X-Men and Emma Frost both tried to convince her parents to let her go with them, with Emma kidnapping the X-Men in the process and Kitty working to save them. She joined a fractured and hurting X-Men team immediately after the death of Jean Grey, and her quick wit and terrible costume choices provided a welcome distraction from their woes. Despite her young age, she joined the X-Men on many missions, including fighting the Brood and Skrulls in space. 

The first time she tried to leave the team, heartbroken over Piotr Rasputin, she was possessed by the ninja demon entity, Ogun, and was imbued with all the technical martial arts skills his mind offered. She returned to the X-Men, only to be injured in a battle with the marauders that left her permanently phased and in danger of dissipating from existence. After some time, with the help of the Fantastic Four and Doctor Doom, she was returned to her natural state. However, the X-Men were soon killed, and she fled to England with her remaining friends, Rachel and Kurt, where she formed the British superhero team Excalibur with Brian Braddock and Meggan Puceanu. With Excalibur, Kitty traveled through time and across realities, and fell in love for a second time with Pete Wisdom. Some time after learning the X-Men were alive, Kitty returned to the United States to rejoin the team.

The second time Kitty left the team, it was to mourn the death of Piotr Rasputin and his sister Illyana to the Legacy Virus and the death of her father, killed on the mutant island Genosha. Wishing for a chance at normal life, Kitty moved back to her home state of Chicago and enrolls in college. But, there was no escaping the mutant life, and Kitty was forced to fight bigoted humans, mandatory therapy and Sentinels for the opportunity. Once again, she returned to the X-Men in their time of need, accompanying the team into space once more and sacrificing herself to save the Earth by phasing a giant bullet through the planet. She was lost in space for some time, before finally being saved by Magneto, while the X-Men were living on an island off San Francisco. However, her powers were once again broken and she was forced to wear a special suit to remain solid, until she was killed in a Breakworld plot and resurrected, her powers healed.

Following Schism, Kitty followed her old mentor Logan back to Westchester, where she co-headed the Jean Grey School of Higher Learning. She took no part in the fight between the Avengers and the X-Man over the Phoenix Force, and was devastated when Charles Xavier was killed. When the original X-Men were brought to the future, she decided to mentor them, eventually fleeing to Canada to be with Scott’s team. There, she began a relationship with long-time friend Illyana Rasputin, and the two rescued then adopted the mutant child Bo. Eventually, both teams were united once more, although the school had to be moved to Limbo to avoid the Terrigen Mist brought to earth by the Inhumans.

Points of interest:           Physical Appearance: Kitty is rather small in stature, both short and slight in frame. She has long, dark brown hair usually pulled back into a high ponytail, and deep brown eyes. When not wearing her uniform, her outfits fit largely into the simple jeans-tee-sweatshirt combo. She is usually confident in her mannerisms and behaves with purse. She isn’t afraid to take up space and give loud, inspiring speeches when she needs to.

          Powers: Kitty is able to phase through material objects and elements such as fire and lightening. She does this by passing the molecules of her body through the molecules of the object in question, with the process being largely subconscious. In a similar way, she is also able to align her molecules with other objects so that she cannot pass through, which gives her the ability to walk on air. She is also able to phase other people with her, as long as she remains in physical contact with them. While intangible, her thoughts are perceived as erratic by anyone who tries to read them, and any electronic devices she phases through are instantly short-circuited. A less utilized aspect of her powers is her ability to blend into the shadows and be practically invisible.

          Personality: Kitty is best described as a self-righteous, stubborn, kind, and passionate young woman. She is talkative, witty, sarcastic, and constantly trying to make light of her situation with humor. She has dedicated her life to the mutant cause and seen many friends die as a result, with this experience often lending itself to bitterness and regret. However, she is also fiercely determined to do her best by the next generation and eliminate prejudice against mutants so that others will be able to live a normal life. She is sometimes prone to bouts of insecurity, stemming mainly from body-image issues. 

          Skills: Kitty is a self-described genius and polymath, with prowess in physics, engineering, and computing software and hardware. She is also a  highly skilled hand-to-hand and armed martial artist, has trained in dance, and is a competent Earth and interstellar aircraft pilot, capable of speaking a wide array of Earth and alien languages.

          Heritage: Kitty is a third-generation Jewish-American, her grandparents having fled Warsaw, Poland prior to the Nazi occupation. Her great aunt is known to have been killed in Auschwitz. Kitty’s father, Carmen Pryde, fought in the Vietnam War with Charles Xavier, having volunteered when he was still underage. He was divorced from her mother, Theresa Pryde, by the time Kitty was fifteen, and devoted his life to helping others in any way he could, and even when it got him in trouble with the Japanese mafia.

          Canon Divergence: My Kitty diverges from canon at the point where she meets Peter Quill. On this blog, there was no romantic relationship between them and Kitty never joined the Guardians of the Galaxy in space.

What they’ve been up to recently: Kitty has recently returned from Chicago, having taken her third break from the X-Men following their war with the Inhumans. She now leads the team and heads the school now located in Central Park. Her aim is to increase mutant visibility in order to foster harmony between humans and mutants.

Where to find them: Kitty is currently operating out of New York, specifically in Central Park. However, she frequently travels around the United States and other parts of the world, answering distress calls from new mutants and battling threats to the planet.

Current plans: Currently, Kitty is adjusting to being the leader of the X-Men while juggling her responsibilities at the school and her relationships with Illyana, Bo, and other members of her mutant family. With Illyana, she is also working on expanding her abilities in order to phase through magick, which she has never been able to do before. However, she’s fearful of breaking her powers once more, and is largely keeping her experiments a secret from the rest of the team.

Desired interactions: Right now, there’s nothing specific I’m looking to write with a partner. However, I would love to explore more of Kitty’s canon relationships and do some mutant rights-related threads.

Offered interactions:            Teacher/Headmistress: Kitty is a lot of fun to writein a mentoring role, though this kind of interaction is more-or-less exclusive to mutant characters. Whether it’s guiding your character through mutant life or helping them with her powers, Kitty is a really compassionate, inspiring teacher.

          Teammate: I enjoy action-orientated threads as much as dialogue-orientated ones, and this goes doubly for when the other character is a X-Men or mutant and they’re working together on some mutant-related issue. Rescuing young mutant children from terrible situations, dealing with monsters, stopping members of the new Brotherhood, or just training together in the Danger Room -- it’s all on the table.

          Friend: Above all, Kitty is a great friend. She’s a great listener for when your muse is down, needs someone to talk to, or needs someone to beat their head against a wall. She’s reliable, loyal, and won’t shy away from some hard truths. But, she’s also a great person to just hang out with in general, whether your muse wants to go to a crazy nightclub or have a picnic lunch on the lawn.

Current open post/s: I don’t have any current open posts, but I welcome everyone to send in memes or chat to me about making a starter or plotting out something more in-depth.

Anything else?: I am currently working on a PhD in social psychology, am attempting to get two research papers published, and am running tutorial classes at my university. I usually set up my queue to put out one reply per day, with the queue restocked on the weekend. 

Tagged by: @alterphase -- thank you! Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it!

[klstheword]

SPOILERS BELOW

“As I’m writing this, the seventh and penultimate episode of Season 1 of Legion has just aired on FX. It answered a lot of baffling questions, brought together several plot threads, and set up all the players for a final showdown next week. For those of you who gave up on the show midway through its eight-episode first season—or never bothered to start the series in the first place: now is the most important time to tune in. The series is at a creative high, and could beautifully stick the landing next week. It could also stumble at the finish line. But either way, you don’t want to miss out. So turn off those other, subpar comic-book shows: this is the series you should be bingeing.

If you’ve managed to avoid any information about the series whatsoever, the gist is this: Legion is a loose (very loose) adaptation of a Marvel comic-book story about a mentally deranged young man, David Haller (Dan Stevens), who discovers that his disordered mind also houses a tremendous number of uncanny powers. He’s the son of Charles Xavier—though this show is about as far away in tone from the X-Men cinematic universe as you can get. It’s also (probably) divorced almost entirely from the world of Professor X, Storm, Jean Grey, Magneto, and the rest. It’s from the very thoughtful mind of Fargo creator Noah Hawley and is, for my money, the most inventive and entertaining show currently on television.

Unshackled from any of Fargo’s realism constraints, Hawley on Legion is like a kid in a candy shop, packing each episode with boundary-pushing visuals. The show flirts with but never achieves alienating levels of disorientation as the camera whirls upside down or shifts into gummy slow motion. Inspired by creative freedom of both his protagonist’s subjective reality and the comic-book medium, Hawley is free to insert a Bollywood number, check in on Jemaine Clement grooving out in a space ice cube (really), or, in the latest episode, switch to a black-and-white silent film (complete with dialogue cards) while a scorching version of Ravel’s “Bolero” plays.

All this experimentation with form is saved from feeling overly precious and exhausting simply because it’s anchored by the emotionally honest performances of its leads. Given his mental condition (or at least years of mental abuse), David Haller could be a slippery character to latch on to. But in Stevens—who has been both cuddly and appealing on Downton Abbey and dangerously seductive in The Guest—Legion found the perfect leading man. When Stevens makes his enormous blue eyes go wide with innocent confusion, viewers are instantly sympathetic. When those same eyes then gleam with manic evil seconds later, audiences may cringe in fear. Very few performers could contain such multitudes.

A steadier sympathetic figure is David’s would-be girlfriend, Syd Barrett (yeah, that’s right), played by Fargo Season 2 alum Rachel Keller. Syd is given a more typically X-Men-esque mutation-as-curse plotline. Like Rogue, she can’t endure skin-to-skin contact—the lightest touch will force her to temporarily swap bodies with the other person. This puts a wrinkle in her dating life and, eventually, is revealed to be attached to some serious childhood trauma. But though she’s a guiding light for David, Keller doesn’t play Syd as victim or sap. She’s complicated, dark, brave, and, despite the genre setting, one of the more nuanced female characters currently on TV.

All of these very human portrayals—seen also in the somber serenity of Jean Smart’s psychiatrist-to-mutantkind Melanie Bird—are countered by some zanier performances. Famous physical comedian Bill Irwin gets to play it straight until he doesn’t, bending and clowning through some of the later episodes while Clement gets a chance to go full Conchord. But best of all is Aubrey Plaza, who gives a dark, gonzo performance so stunning not even her most ardent Parks and Recreation fans will recognize her.

So, why catch up with Legion now, versus some months from now? That has as much to do with potential spoilers as it does with me simply wanting you to experience some great TV. Certain mid-season twists—like some additional information about Plaza’s character—may have already leaked onto your radar, via various unavoidably porous social-media outlets. And there’s another big twist on the horizon. As Legion star Jean Smart said in an interview with The Independent:

Oh my goodness, when we did the seventh episode we were sitting around saying, “How is this going to tie together? They’ve just one more episode. It’s just impossible,” and of course, he does it. In his own way. And then there’s a twist at the end and I mean the end—the last seconds of the show. We were like, “Oh my God.” I wouldn’t want any viewer to be held hostage by spoiler or twist culture. These twin trappings of modern TV shouldn’t dictate when you watch any given show. But I also wouldn’t want that final twist—or more pertinently, any groupthink reaction to that final twist—to ruin your Legion experience. Hawley isn’t one to not stick a landing, but there is a real danger that Legion won’t deliver on its promise in those final seconds. Like most shows with a mentally unsound protagonist (::cough:: Mr. Robot ::cough::), there’s a slight possibility that this season and all the characters we’ve met are merely a projection of David Haller’s troubled mind. If anyone can execute a concept that high, it’s Noah Hawley—but the show also runs a risk, à la Westworld, of souring the audience in its final moments. I’d rather that reaction not distract any viewers from the creatively dazzling eight hours of television that precede it.

But that’s not the only reason the days between now and next Wednesday’s finale are ripe for a Legion catch up. (Nor should it be.) Both FX and Noah Hawley may disagree with me, but I’d argue that Legion is actually a better experience when binge-watched. (This is not true of all shows. Some reward a week in between episodes, and space to catch your breath and meditate.) Legion is the kind of series that sends a lot of information at its audience very quickly and also one that, at first, fosters an intentionally disorienting experience. The show wants to put audiences in the mentally unbalanced shoes of its protagonist.

But having just re-watched the series in one fell swoop (after taking it in episode by episode), I can attest that little threads, visual hints, and narrative links make much more sense to the viewer when watched very close together. (Of course, re-watching in general doesn’t hurt either.) Episode 6 in particular—which is a looking-glass retelling of the season premiere—is even better when watched fairly shortly after Episode 1. In short, Legion can only benefit from the binge-watch model, which encourages viewers to be more accepting of confusion when they know an answer is just a few episodes away. (In this case, Episode 5 serves as a big “a-ha!” moment.)

Unlike some of its comic-book series brethren, Legion isn’t quite as easily accessible to stream. (FX is famously more elusive than most networks for cable-cutters.) But all seven episodes of Legion can be found on demand via your local cable subscriber, or on the FXNow site/app. The first six are currently available on Hulu, with Episode 7 going up on Sunday. And, as far as bingeing commitments go, seven hours is relatively light. In fact, other comic-book shows should take a page from Legion’s economical episode order: the Netflix Marvel shows, in particular, have a considerable amount of fat to trim.

Ultimately, I appreciate that TV watching shouldn’t come with so many rules and provisos. We should watch what we like when we like it and not worry about external factors like timing, twists, spoilers, bingeing, etc. But, reasonably, this is the TV-watching culture we live in. So, for your own good and for the good of this distinctly creative show (and the incredible performances of Stevens and Plaza), make Legion your weekend plans. Other comic-book shows can wait.

[topicprinter]

I see a lot of people on this thread asking Should I start this? How does XYZ be able to do it? How do I find the motivation to do it? etc. This is part II of a two-part summary of the book Deep Work by Cal Newport that I wrote for my friend to urge him to read it during the quarantine. I categorize the essence of an entrepreneur into certain core skills. I then read up on books that teach those skills and summarize them for the benefit of my friend and mine. I plan to post the summaries here for yours as well. You can find the first part hereMy friend, the 4DX framework is not a how-to guide for deep work alone. You can apply it to anything you do. Most successful people apply this (Planning, Measuring, Execution & Feedback) in their lives to some extent but some do not realize they were doing it. (unconscious competence)As you will see, deep work is a common skill from Bill Gates, Carl Jung, J K Rowling, Walter Isaacson and every other successful person who has ever achieved something worthwhile. (Walter Isaacson is the biographer of many great 21st century personalities. As an Apple fanboy, You will particularly appreciate that Steve Jobs personally requested him to do his biography)Coming back to our deep work example, You are in IT sales. You want to earn that commission. It means financial freedom to you. If I asked you to measure it, you would probably start measuring sales deals closed/month or revenue earned/month. But as we just learned, these are lag measures. You cannot directly measure them. What should you measure? The Number of leads approached/day. The Number of clients spoken to/day. These are things that you can directly influence daily. If you work on them and do it right, your lag measures (sales deals closed/month) will increase, right? Right. And then you can get the commission you wanted.​Tip #1: Plan these things in advanceWhere you'll work and for how longHow you will work once you start to workHow will you support your workAt this point, you might think, isn't this excessive? Do I need to plan out that far? Well, the answer is yes, my friend. Remember our school friend Dan? He makes it a point to start work at 7 am every day. He has a ritual. He reaches his office by 7 am, makes calls to his clients for an hour, and then schedules other work for the day and takes small breaks in between. This ritualistic habit is key to making it work. (Co-incidentally building habits is key - whether it is going to the gym, learning a new language, learning to code, etc - more on this later). Deciding where you will work and then getting there and doing it, will automatically put you in the mood for deep work.How long you will work for is also equally important. This is something you must decide after trying it. Initially, your focus muscle will be weak. So you will find yourself distracted. ( I will teach how to deal with distractions later) So it is important to set timers for yourself (say 25 minutes. I started with 25 minutes a year ago and now I can work for 90 minutes without my mind starting to wander).How will you work once you start to work? - Set rules and processes to keep your effort structured. For example, I will make 5 sales calls per hour. I will not use the internet or my phone until it is over, etcHow will you support your work - Your brain needs all the support it can get for doing deep work. It could be a cup of coffee, a light morning walk or exercise. Our friend, Dan always said that the 30-minute early morning walk kept his mind brisk and his day energetic. What worked for him may not work for you. So from now on, take stock of how clear your thinking is when you do certain activities. I start the day with guided meditation ( I use the headspace app - the free version should do just fine) and it allows me to concentrate. More importantly, it lets me realize when my thoughts have gone on a different track, even when I am not meditating!​Tip #2: Make Grand GesturesIn 2007, J K Rowling was struggling to finish her final book - The Deathly Hallows. She recalled in an interview that there was a day when the window cleaner came or the dogs were barking or the kids were at home. She decided to do something extreme to finish her book. She booked a suite at the Balmoral Hotel, located in Edinburgh. And she completed her book there!Back when Bill Gates was still Microsoft CEO, he was famous for taking a 'Think Weeks' holiday. He would leave behind his work and family to stay at a cabin with research papers to think for weeks at a time. He could have done this at his office, but he chose to do it there. He arrived at his famous conclusion that the Internet was going to be the next big thing in the industry there! (seems obvious now).Walter Isaacson and Carl Jung retreat to hard-to-reach places to complete their books or to improve their thinking.You might remember that I go to Starbucks to work on the e-commerce store idea. You scoffed at me for spending so much to do my work there. I was simply using this. I didn't want to say why at the time, because I wasn't sure back then if it would work. I did my feedback sessions (from the 4DX framework) there and plan out the week ahead. It helped me stay on top of my work while leaving enough time to learn new skills. This commitment to deep work is paying off for me with the current pandemic situation, as I can stay on top of my work while learning a new language and learn content marketing as well.​Tip #3: Schedule every minute of your dayPeople lack the motivation to do things because they do not know what to do (and when to do it). If you come up with a schedule full of activities focusing on lead measures, you will be very productive. Quite often, disturbances or emergencies pop-up that will ruin your plan for the day. It is important that you do not get frustrated. What you need to do instead is take some time off (after your distraction) to revise your plan for the day. I will share with you my schedule (which I revise weekly, earlier at Starbucks and now at my deep work desk at my home)​Tip #4: Be Lazy - Schedule breaks tooReason 1 - Breaks help you get insights on 'stuck' problem: There is a 2008 study by Ap Dijksterhuis called Unconscious Thought Theory. In it, Ap argues that 'contrary to popular belief, decisions about simple issues can be better tackled by conscious thought, whereas decisions about complex matters can be better approached with unconscious thought'. It means that, if you are stuck with a complex problem, it's best to take your mind off of it. You might have seen it in the movies - the trope where the lead character is unable to solve his big problem. He gives in to distraction and does something else. An unrelated remark by the bumbling friend makes him sit up and think. He says - X, You are a genius! and proceeds to work out the solution.Reason 2 - Breaks help you recharge: Stephen and Rachel Kaplan proposed that walking or even looking at pictures of nature aids concentration. They called it Attention Restoration Theory (ART). They validated it through a study done by Berman, Marc & Jonides, John & Kaplan, Stephen and published it in 2009. They let a bunch of people walk through traffic and another bunch of people walk through a park. They were asked to solve problems after some time. The one that went through nature did it faster. They repeated the experiment sometime later. The same people who went on the city walk were now on the nature walk and vice-versa. Again, the people who went on the nature walk were the ones who did the tasks assigned faster.You might argue that walking through a nature park is a pleasant experience, so they repeated the conditions in freezing weather. The people who went through the park still did better than the ones who went through traffic.Reason 3 - Without recharging, you will deplete your concentration muscle: This is simply the negative statement of Reason #2. People think that concentration is simply a question of will-power. Similarly think they will be a rich man one day but it is simply a question of setting their mind to the task. They could not be more wrong! Achieving something requires deliberate practice. And just like how elite athletes schedule breaks after a training session, you must schedule breaks in between your deep work sessions.​Tip #5: Embrace Boredom:Boredom is also a way to recharge your concentration. But a lot of people can only last a minute in waiting before picking up their phone. You see this in restaurant queues, grocery lines, etc. but lately, people do this even after they get seated at the table or in family dinners! People constantly crave something to look at. You might remember our mutual friend who was unable to make use of his talents. If you asked him to sit still for a minute, I bet he would crack in 10 seconds before reaching for the phone. Why is this behavior damaging? Because they deplete your concentration muscle!​Tip #6: Don't take breaks from distraction, instead take breaks from deep work. Once you are rewired this way, you'll soon crave deep work activities instead of craving breaks.​Tip #7: Memorize a Deck of Cards - It doesn't have to be cards, it could be anything - numbers, a new language, etc. It helps your memory and concentration.​Strategies for the office worker to include deep-work in their day:​Select the right network tools - People use a lot of network tools indiscriminately - Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Twitter, Slack, Reddit, etc. The list goes on. They justify it using the any-benefit approach:You justify using a tool if you can identify any possible benefit to its use, or anything you might miss out on if you don't use it.Cal advises you to use the craftsman approach instead: Identify the core factor that determines success in your professional and personal life. Adopt a tool only if it positively impacts these factors substantially outweigh the negative impacts.Take my case. I deleted Facebook as I decided that having both Facebook and Instagram would be redundant. De-clutter your life from tools that don't help you and eat away your time. And make sure to mute those notifications when you are busy with deep work as those pesky notifications will distract you.​Turn off the internet when you work - When you check the internet, even for official things, you will come across an e-mail or an article and soon you will start to respond to the shallow work instead of continuing your deep work. You might have instances where you checked the internet for sending an e-mail and ended up on BuzzFeed's 33 ways this cat made your day article! In our 30-minute scheduling example, you'd work for 25 minutes and take 5 minutes to check the internet and resume work again.​Leave the office at by a fixed time - Just as your cellphone leaves you distracted, taking a sneak peek at the e-mail after office hours, continues to work your concentration muscle. So schedule what time you will leave your office and stick to it. have a shutdown ritual - plan for whatever work is pending and move on to your home and stop thinking about work. Revise your schedule if you are unable to stick to it.​Become hard-to-reach during your deep work - Due to instant messaging tools, people expect you to reply immediately. It is gratifying for them; damaging for you. Sometimes they may be offended if they can't reach you. It is easier if you tell them an important reason Eg: I was working on something that the boss (or the CEO) asked for urgently.​Make people who send you e-mail do more work -Strategy 1 - Check out this contact form.Strategy 2 - If you receive an e-mail that says ' I read the article. What are your thoughts on it?' here is an example response"I will get a draft to you by XYZ date, I'll do my part and add comments for where I need your help. No need to follow up with me in the meantime or reply to the draft I send, unless of course there are issues with it.Strategy 3 - Don't respond. If it was important, they will follow back anyway. Unless of course, it is an e-mail from your boss or CEO.

[warninggraphiccontent]

22 November 2019

Electoral dysfunction

I'll keep it very short this week (the intro, not the list of links, naturally...):

Join a brilliant panel - Sir John Holmes form the Electoral Commission, Liz Carolan from Digital Action, Martin Moore from King's and Will Moy from Full Fact (and me) - as we ask: at a time when technology has transformed how elections unfold, can we trust our electoral system? Here at the Institute for Government, next Wednesday lunchtime. Tim has helpfully compiled a list of all our other GE2019 events.

Some more sonification from me last week for the IfG's Inside Briefing podcast - on demand for social care and A&E waiting times. And listen out for this week's, out later today...

Have a great weekend

Gavin

Today's links:

Graphic content

#GE2019

British general election (Reuters)

Manifestos still matter even though their promises aren't being delivered (Emma/Sarah for IfG)

Boris Johnson benefits from UK voters’ lack of trust in politicians* (FT)

The Brexit disruptors: beyond left and right* (FT)

Thread

Timetable of #GE2019 debates (Election Maps UK)

#ge2019data (Alasdair Rae)

How safe is my seat? (Voting Counts)

Animated bar chart klaxon (via Matt Singh)

THIRD COMBINED FORECAST FOR THE 2019 GENERAL ELECTION (elections etc)

Labour is losing the battle for Grimsby* (The Economist)

‘Too close to call’? Accounting for satisfaction with party leadership would have helped better predict the General Election (LSE British Politics and Policy)

General Election 2019: How safe is your MP's seat? (Sky News)

Political Patchwork Chart (Marios Richards, via Marcus)

Prime ministerial tenure (me for IfG)

Government and public services

#SpeedData: social care demand; A&E waiting times (me for IfG)

Creating and dismantling government departments (Institute for Government)

Government at a Glance 2019 (OECD)

Northern Ireland's health crisis (Pivotal via Sam McBride, via Marcus)

What do you know about our prisons? (Russell Webster using Flourish, via Benoit)

US politics

The Fifth Democratic Debate In 6 Charts (FiveThirtyEight)

Which Candidates Got the Most Speaking Time in the Democratic Debate* (New York Times)

Who talked the most during the November Democratic debate* (Washington Post)

It Took A Long Time For Republicans To Abandon Nixon (FiveThirtyEight)

The planet

The destruction of the Amazon, explained (Vox)

The world’s climate goals are not sufficient. They are also unlikely to be met* (The Economist)

Earthquakes between July 2017 and July 2018 (Raluca Nicola)

Companies pin hopes on meat-free cash cows* (FT)

Everything else

Bill Gates just surpassed Jeff Bezos as the richest person on Earth, with a net worth of $110 billion. I struggled to imagine this huge number, so... (@betty__cam, via Marcus)

Lebanese youth voice anger at lack of opportunities* (FT)

Information is Beautiful Awards 2019: The Winners

X-Ray Visualization: A Fine Tradition of Visualizing Medical Data (Nightingale)

Graph literacy, in a sense (Junk Charts)

Chart.Guide

Meta data

#GE2019

Election Live (Full Fact)

Brexit Party under investigation for 'failing to hand over personal data' (Sky News)

The Tories just used a disinformation trick that deserves to get them banned from Twitter* (New Statesman)

Google admits major underreporting of election ad spend (The Guardian)

Google crackdown on political ads 'will have minimal impact in UK' (The Guardian)

The most unpredictable election ever? Don’t believe it* (Prospect)

General Election 2019: The bar chart war in one battleground constituency (BBC Trending)

Polls... (Anthony Wells)

Election memes: are we being played? (BBC Beyond Today)

Broadband

Bread, Roses and Broadband too? (openDemocracy)

Labour’s free broadband plan puts our digital future back in public hands (Mathew Lawrence for The Guardian)

A super-fast way to ruin Britain’s broadband (CapX)

Government

Government data — catching the wave (David Durant)

Life hacks – a year at the National Cyber Security Centre (Civil Service World/Public Technology)

UK Statistics Authority statement on Scottish Government’s use of the Labour Force Survey (UK Statistics Authority)

AI, algorithms, automation

The Apple Card Didn't 'See' Gender—and That's the Problem* (Wired)

Sexist and biased? How credit firms make decisions (BBC News)

Much of what’s being sold as "AI" today is snake oil (Arvind Narayanan)

Decision-making in the Age of the Algorithm (Nesta)

AI in the NHS — panacea or dangerous delusion? (Politico)

New York City Automated Decision Systems Task Force report

A member of the task force writes...

Judge sounds ‘serf’ warning on digital public services (UKAuthority)

Actually, it’s about Ethics, AI, and Journalism: Reporting on and with Computation and Data (CJR)

Big tech

Vestager takes aim at ‘biopower’ of tech giants (EURACTIV)

Our personal data needs protecting from Big Tech* (Rana Foroohar for FT)

Facebook and Google’s pervasive surveillance poses an unprecedented danger to human rights (Amnesty International)

Google runs into data fears over $2.1bn Fitbit deal* (FT)

Data

The Fall of Nate Silver (The New Republic)

#data19

Valuing data is tricky but crucial for the public good* (Diane Coyle for the FT)

Can we have too much data? (VOX)

“The simple answers are wrong:” Toby Lowe on the need for a new kind of accountability in public services (Centre for Public Impact)

Everything else

The State of European Tech (Atomico)

We’re Used to Thinking of Digital Assistants as Female. The Good Place and Big Mouth Show Why That’s a Mistake. (Slate)

The Richard Dimbleby Lecture: Sir Tim Berners-Lee - The World Wide Web, a mid-course correction (BBC)

PDFs (NHS Digital Service Manual)

City Tools: shining a light on the technologies powering London’s boroughs (LOTI)

Opportunities

EVENT: Election 2019: Can we trust our electoral system? (Institute for Government)

AWARD: RSS launches new healthcare stats excellence award (Royal Statistical Society/Health Foundation)

TENDER: Technical research on the collection, processing and use of beneficial ownership data in the private sector (Open Ownership)

JOBS: Comms; Data Science Lead (DataKind UK, via Rachel)

JOB: Director, Media, Information and Journalism Program (Open Society Foundations)

JOB: Postdoctoral Research Fellow in Technology and Policy (Reuters Institute, University of Oxford)

And finally...

#GE2019

Lib Dem Bar Charts (William Kedjanyi)

How much money do you need to earn a year to be rich? And more here (YouGov)

Everything else

Why is it acceptable to kill someone? On the mysterious history of Britain’s road death toll (CityMetric)

WHICH FSB IS THIS PRESS RELEASE FROM? ~ a field guide, per topic ~ (Jack Schickler)

What if the Soviet Union never collapsed? Meet the Football Manager fans rewriting history (Wired)

Is this the largest prime number... (Robin Houston)

And also... (via Nick)

Introducing YouGov's food map of Britain... (YouGov braves polling about food, again...)