#best energy center in king george

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓱?

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings Hello my beautiful souls✨ Today we will be looking into what about you makes your future spouse blush! This was requested a while ago so I am glad to finally get to it! Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. The divider is from @khaer and the pictures are from the game Genshin Impact.

Pile 1 Cards: The Chariot rx, Two of Swords rx, Page of Cups, Two of Wands, Death rx, Judgement, The World, Seven of Cups, Four of Swords Back of the Deck: The Hanged Man

For my Pile 1's, I think your fs blushes at how much life you radiate. This pile is giving strong childhood best friend vibes but it doesn't have to be. I heard "this is the meaning of being alive" and I think your fs is going to realize this when they are with you. You have strong radiant energy, I feel like the world just feels full of color when your fs is with you Pile 1. They love when you are unpredictable and spontaneous in your energy, especially a surprise kiss ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧. When you are in nature or having a picnic, they get really excited to be there with you and it makes them a little shy. They seem pretty poetic when talking about you (which fits with Kazuha LMAO). Although they seem a little shy, like they want to tell you how you make them feel, but they get too embarrassed with themselves and wimp out. Anyway, I feel like physical touch is going to be pretty big with your fs, like I feel like a simple touch on their shoulder or holding their hand can make your fs a blushing mess. I am also getting that if you keep eye contact with them for too long, they start to get nervous, and I feel urged by spirit to say, keep looking at them lol. Like, it's going to make them so flustered in the CUTEST way, spirit recommends (ofc if they seem like really uncomfortable then don't push too much but you know, try it lol). Your fs gets shy when they see how confident you are. Even if you don't feel so confident, I feel like you guys have some natural confidence in your everyday life which makes you look fearless and proud and I think your fs will love this about you. I heard for some of you, possibly just one of you, your fs is going to get frequent nose bleeds because of you when they start feeling shy about you. Or they are going to try to hide when they are feeling shy but fail horribly. Also for a small amount of you, but for my musicians, they love watching you performing, especially if you are writing a song for them or something, I can feel your fs's heart beating as they listen to your music. Even if you do a little silly karaoke session or something and sing a love song, they would eat it up lol. You may have a really pretty voice Pile 1. Also not in a creepy way but I think they get really shy when they watch you sleeping. I feel like you look so cute when you sleep Pile 1, or they see you as really cute when you sleep. There were a few 18+ messages that I got immediately when I started the reading, but I'm trying to keep it PG lol.

Advice Cards:

Make a commitment and follow through

It's time to try something new!

Get clear about your intention and hold firm

A connection needs deeper attention

You are ready to receive your fortune. Be miracle minded!

Your heart is a center of intuitive intelligence. Listen to it!

Channeled Songs: congrats yall get three lol

Pile 2 Cards: Nine of Cups rx, The Moon, King of Wands, The High Priestess, Two of Pentacles, Six of Wands, Four of Pentacles, Six of Cups Back of the Deck: Knight of Swords

So for my Pile 2's, what makes your fs so shy about you is how cool you guys seem. You have some really strong, confident energy that almost seems intimidating and your fs seems to be obsessed with it. Take it how it resonates but I am hearing goth mommy lol. So I feel like some of you may have a bit of a scary vibe but it is really hot. I am almost getting Ramona Flowers vibes, even if you are a guy (In fact, I feel like the energy of this pile reminds me a lot of the relationship between Ramona and Scott, if you haven't watched it, this is a reference to the movie Scott Pilgrim vs The World). You give off a very mysterious and cunning energy that I feel like people can't help but be attracted to, including your fs. Yeah, I am just really getting that your fs finds you incredible like, they are in awe in your presence. Like I am hearing "jaw dropping, phenomenal, show stopping." I think this is my simp pile lol. You may have black cat energy and your fs loves it so much like find you so cool but also adorable. Your fs almost has a bit of a trophy wife/husband/spouse vibes like they just like to watch you succeed and accomplish your dreams. They seem like the type to give up on their dreams to support yours which is kind of sad lol. But they find you daring, bold, and so so creative. Your fs has very funny energy, I feel like they just want to shout to the whole world about the stuff they love about you. You have energy that you are almost untouchable to them, like you are way above their level. They love this cool energy you give off, but I also feel like they love it when you let down your guard and show a more awkward and silly side of yourself. I am hearing specifically that they get a little shy when they see you in your pyjamas, especially if they are really cute, like they eat that shit up. When you relax and show your imperfections, they can't help but admire you. Ugh this pile so cute! I also feel like they like it when they manage to get you all flustered. They also seem to really like if you wear glasses, I can feel how blushed they get when they see you focused on a book or something and then they just watch as you fix your glasses. This seems to really rile them up. Your fs sees you as someone who is really competent and dependent, almost like they are confident that anything you try will do well. There is also so much moon imagery in the cards, I feel like they see you as someone who shines brighter than the moon on the darkest night. The brightest star in the night sky. Damn your fs is becoming a poet when they think about you fr. Also for those that have watched Horimiya, this pile gives strong Hori and Miyamura vibes. AND for anyone who has read the webtoon The Remarried Empress, I am also getting Navier and Heinery vibes which is iconic. I picked up on a lot of references for this pile, so yall may be a little bit of geeks lol. Advice Cards:

Weigh your situation carefully

Ask and you shall receive

Look closely at what is going on around you

Yes, you can . . . Set it in motion!

Make a commitment and follow through

Allow rituals to give meaning to your spiritual life

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Ace of Cups, Knight of Swords rx, Six of Pentacles, The Empress, Ten of Swords, The Moon, Ten of Pentacles rx, Ten of Cups, Three of Pentacles Back of the Deck: Six of Swords

This pile definitely has a lot going on. Your fs feels emotions really strongly, which I know can kind of sound silly since everyone feels their emotions, I am just getting that your fs in particular seems to be highly emotional. They may be a Capricorn Venus. When it comes to you, first of, they think you are absolutely gorgeous. I am hearing "Yup, that is the most beautiful person I have ever seen." and I feel like this is what is going to go through their head when they first see you, or something similar. Your fs is going to feel so shy around you because your appearance makes them feel ashamed to be around you. They might even have imagined being with you pretty early into the meeting you. There is a sense that they don't really feel like they deserve you. Your fs seems pretty introverted (ngl they are actually giving me Scaramouche vibes if yall are Genshin fans, take that how you will lol) they have black cat vibes and I feel like they are going to be pretty shy around you in general. I actually am getting that it may take a little while for yall to really get to know each other because your fs almost seems scared of you. You might feel like your fs doesn't like you at first, like I am getting you might be like "what did I do to offend them?" when they probably just have a resting bitch face or just have a scary appearance and they are just too afraid to look stupid in front of you. I feel like they are really going to like how different you are from each other, yall may have very different aesthetics from each other, I feel like you may even think yall are really incompatible when you first meet but that isn't true at all. Your fs gets shy when you guys are being romantic in any way. I am getting they not have had a lot of romantic attention before you so they aren't used to being lovey dovey with someone so every time you guys hug, kiss, hold hands, etc, they always have a light hint of blush on their cheeks. Your fs is very baby girl Pile 3 lmao. They also seem to love getting to know you. If you are the type of person to rant and talk all day about the things you like or what you dreamt about the night before or get all excited to talk about the things you did that day, they want to hear you and I feel like they even have hearts in their eyes when they listen. For the very specific group of you who are ambiverts, in the moments when you are more chill and introverted, I think your fs really likes the calmness you provide when you are like this. They love the love language you provide, especially if it's words of affirmation. Also for a small group of you, but if you are really good at taking care of planets or perhaps even take care of your own garden, they LOVE that, I feel like I can see very clear imagery of you surrounded by plants and flowers, your fs is just watching like they are looking at a painting. Super cute vibes here.

Advice Cards:

You are a natural teacher

You are moving beyond your old form. Congratulations!

You are wiser than you think

Release all attachments that do not serve you

Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspect of your life

Mother Earth is the source of life on the physical plane

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Ace of Swords, The Chariot, King of Swords rx, The Tower rx, Nine of Pentacles rx, The Hierophant, Six of Wands, The Wheel of Fortune rx Back of the Deck: Six of Swords

One of the first things I am getting for this pile is yall got crazy powerful energy. Like, my Pile 4's are powerful as shit, so your fs seems to be shy about all this power you exude. This is my pile for those who have very ambitious dreams cause yall just seem unstoppable in your fs's eyes. For pile 1, I felt like pile 1 would like to give their fs surprise kisses to make them shy and tease them, but I feel like for yall, your fs is going to give you surprise kisses when they are shy. I heard "Shut up and kiss me" so when they get really embarrassed, they may like to pull you in for a kiss. Your fs sees you as some sort of leader, like I feel like I can imagine you standing tall on a pedestal, wind blowing through your hair and you look almost regal in this imagery. They see you as royalty and to them, it's an honor just to be around you. To your fs, your energy comes off strongest when you stand your ground and stay confident in yourself. Even when things seem to get scary, I heard "It's like you don't have any fear." I think your fs seems very vocal about what about you they love, like if you are doing something that really turns their gears, you will know. They have such cheerleader vibes, it's super cute. Also I am hearing something very specific about cuddling. Your fs loves to cuddle with you and I feel like they may get a little shy in moments when they want to cuddle with you. If your fs is more masculine, they make want to be the little spoon when you cuddle and the other way around if they are the feminine. I am hearing there is something about your arms that just feel so comfortable, like home. I also feel like your fs is just going to be very physically affectionate when you bring a blush to your cheeks. Also, if you are a spiritual individual yourself or if you also do tarot, they really admire this aspect of your life. I am hearing your fs is going to ask a lot of questions about spirituality and for the group of yall that do yoga, they may ask to join often cause they like to see when you are in the moment. But pile 4, your fs seems so sweet, like they don't want to focus much on what makes them shy and more on how you make them feel and I am getting you make them feel so comfortable. I heard "Home is where you are." there is a sense of someone starting with humble beginnings and being so grateful not only because they are winning at life, but because they are surrounded by love.

Advice Cards:

Release all attachments that do not serve you

You are ready to receive you fortune. Be miracle minded!

Have a closer look at your family situation

Take a lighter approach and smile about all facets of life. A smile reflects a heart at peace.

Align your body, mind, and spirit with your heart

A connection needs deeper attention

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

[socaprince]

CARIBBEAN CONNECTION WITH RADIO LEGEND JAI - SEPTEMBER 14, 2024

Saturday September 14th 2024

9pm - 12am on CHIN Radio 100.7fm

Caribbean Connection - Merchant Rack Me Rack Me - Rootsman Maxi Dub - Bally She Wants Me To Sing In She Party - Scrunter Tension - The Mighty Shadow Tell Me Why - Baron

Dancefloor - Baron

Wassy (Dr. Jay Plate) - Full Blown

Blind - Hey Choppi

Junction - Coutain x Tano Tack Back - Kes x Tano Calypso - V'ghn Walk And Wine - Invader

Get On Radical - The Mighty Duke This Party Is It - Tambu Miss Mary/Jane/Royal Jail/Benwood Dick/Sa Sa Yea - The Mighty Sparrow Fix It Up - Carl & Carol Jacobs Fix It Up <-> In The Center Transition (Marxman) In The Center (Dr. Jay Plate) - GBM Nutron x Farmer Nappy Old & Grey - Patrice Roberts

Long Live Soca - Voice Mr. Cape - Roy Cape & The Kaiso All Stars Mash Up (Riddim Master Edit) - Blaxx

Ego Jam - GBM Nutron

Kaiso - Viking Ding Dong Impossible - Problem Child x Patrice Roberts The Menu - Teddyson John  Fete Woman and Alcohol (F.W.A) - Terron Ah Love It Here - Ricardo Drue DNA (DJ Kevin Festival Edit) - Mical Teja

DNA (Dr. Jay Plate) - Mical Teja  Savannah Grass (Jester VIP Edit) - Kes The Band Trouble In The Morning - V'ghn Trinidad Sweet - Voice x V'ghn Welcome To Carnival - V'ghn Finally (Dr. Jay Plate) - V'ghn Heart of Carnival - V'ghn Feeling Nice - Adam O Brain Freeze - Leadpipe x Jus Jay Everytime - Nadia Batson Life After Fete - Kerwin Du Bois Formula - Kes Cyah Hear Yuh (Dr. Jay Plate) - Patrice Roberts Penthouse (Dr. Jay Plate) - Voice Engine Room (Dr. Jay Plate) - Olatunji Search Party (Dr. Jay Plate) Best Ride - Coopa Dan x Dj Spider Like It - Mr Blood x Dj Spider I Like That - GBM Nutron Love Handles - Shaquille GFG Bye Bye - Miguel Maestre BYE x2 - Saddis x Jus Jay Starta Pack - Tionne Hernandez Pampalam - Faith Callender Road Friends - Nessa Preppy x Skinny Fabulous Carnival Contract - Bunji Garlin Horn - Marlo Benn Fi Go Bequia - OG Park

Headways - Speilberg

Start D Party - Imran Nerdy

Rum Bucket (QT 2Hype Edit) - Preedy x King Bubba x Lavaman

Stagga Dance - Lil Natty x Thunda x Muddy

Carnival Jumbie - Problem Jumbie

Sound Check - Mad Skull x Wetty Beatz Up & Up - Teddyson John Anxiety - Patrice Roberts Soca Therapy (Platta x BRose Supreme Road Mix) - Lil Rick & King Bubba Miracle - Kes x Tano Someone Else (Radio Edit) - Littleboy x Quan x Trilla G Explore (Radio Edit) - V'ghn x Travis World Addicted - Jab King x Travis World Not From Here - Lavaman x Travis World Jab Jab Festival - Pumpa x Travis World Mas 473 - Soca ET

Baka Dance - Skull Dawg Start - Dat-C DQ x Skinny Fabulous

All House Is Road - Bunji Garlin Vikings Coming - Bunji Gariln Hard Fete (DJ SHY "Hands Up" Edit) - Bunji Garlin Entering GreenzLand - Bunji Garlin Good Oil - Tallpree

Bag Ah Sugar - Terra D Governor

All The Wine - Jab King

Wet Her Down - Slatta

In The Water - Suhrawh x Chow Minister

Something In De Water - Nailah Blackman

Wet It Up - Zeek Wet x 3 - Zeek x Shatta

Take Ah Bathe - Iwer George Showers - Skinny Fabulous Spirit - Erphaan Alves Last One Standing - Ricardo Drue x D.w.O Work It - Tian Winter Round and Rosie - Nailah Blackman Instruction Time - The Fatha x Klassik Frescobar x Wildfire Flat Bottom (Radio Edit) - DJ Taffy x Freddy Situationship (Radio Edit) - Nice Document We - Shal Marshall x Kerwin Du Bois Do What You Want - Skinny Fabulous x Asa Bantan x Mr Killa Energy - DJ Cheem x Tallpree Toot - Temptress

Carnival - Ghaza

Follow Dr. Jay @socaprince​ and @socatherapy

“Like” Dr. Jay on http://facebook.com/DrJayOnline

[anitosoul]

tripreport.015: Head Cheerleader

feminine energy ✨

Key Inspirations

Comedy shows (Activity)

Rachel Sennott (Comedian)

Pom Pom Squad – Death of a Cheerleader (Music Album)

Early 2000’s R&B (Music Genre)

Late 2000’s Pop Punk (Music Genre)

The current wave of cool indie girl rockers (Music Artists)

Brandy – “The Boy Is Mine” (Song)

Roller skating (Activity)

Nail salons (Activity)

2021 Pride Celebration (Activity)

Outdoor concerts (Activity)

Head Cheerleader Tracklist A-Side

The Supremes – You Can’t Hurry Love

TLC – No Scrubs

Coco & Clair Clair – Pop Star

Yvette Cason – Cash Play

Caroline Polachek – Bunny Is a Rider

Kim Petras – I Don’t Want It At All

Olivia Rodrigo – good 4 u

Brandy, Monica – The Boy Is Mine

Carole King – It’s Too Late

Soccer Mommy – Your Dog

Tkay Maidza – Cashmere

Billie Eilish – I Didn’t Change My Number

Banoffee – Idiot

Head Cheerleader Tracklist B-Side

Porridge Radio, Clarence Clarity – Pop Song (Clarence Clarity Remix)

Pom Pom Squad – Head Cheerleader

Paramore – Misery Business

WILLOW, Travis Barker – Gaslight

Doja Cat – Need to Know

Alanis Morissette – You Oughta Know

Avril Lavigne – Sk8er Boi

Mannequin Pussy – Perfect

SASAMI – Sorry Entertainer

Slow Pulp – At It Again

Snail Mail – Full Control

Amber Mark – Heart-Shaped Box

Clairo – Blouse

Nina Simone – Ain’t Got No – I Got Life (Live at Philharmonic Hall, New York, NY – October 1969)

July was a continuation of the discombobulated vibes of June, but this time without as much of the mystique. We were fully in the throes of HGS, trying to figure out if it was a marathon, sprint, or why it even felt like a race in the first place. The end of June into the beginning of July was full of energy, including a jam packed stretch between Pride Weekend and 4th of July. It was the peak of the intensity: I had been hosting people in the city since June, and that week I had my partner at the time and best friend visiting. Celebrating Pride in Washington Square Park was momentous; the scene felt like history in the making. WSP is always busy, but I had never seen so many people there, let alone with so much positive energy. 

We ran through the fountain, music blasted from every angle, bubbles and glitter filled the air, there was a person spitting fire?? It was bliss. Later that evening, my partner and I went to our first concert in years, George Clinton and the P-Funk All Stars in Central Park. It was a mind-blowing live performance and I was so glad it was my first concert post-lockdown. Seeing Maggot Brain live was one of the greatest experiences of my life. (Side note, we also saw Ted Allen there and chatted with him briefly after the concert, which was one of the coolest things to happen to us as major Chopped fans.) 

Besides that, the beginning of July involved taking full advantage of the city as I hosted other friends. We visited museums, walked around, ate our way through the city, hit up drag performances, went roller skating, and saw lots of comedy shows. I got my nails painted for the first time: yellow, the color that represented my summer and the brightness of the moment. 4th of July was equally intense, with an Octo Octa b2b Eris Drew daytime rave at Knockdown Center and rooftop fireworks to close out the night. It was magical spending those summer moments with loved ones from every era of my life: middle school, high school, college, post-grad, NYC, lockdown. I was reminded of how many incredible people I had in my life. I felt grateful for it all.

I was trying so many new things, and why not? The pandemic infused a latent sense of urgency into everything. I would take advantage of every moment; I may not have the chance in the future! None of it was promised. This philosophy affected the way I viewed myself as well. I started feeling more connected to femininity, both in the people I had around as well as within myself. It was a way of protecting myself, feeling a sense of inherent comfort and doing what I could to take care of others. 

In the midst of all of the fun, I wasn’t admitting to myself that I was totally exhausted. I had been hosting people in the city for 6 weeks straight, not leaving a moment to myself. I was neglecting the fact that I had given myself no space to adjust to all of the monumental changes in my life–starting my full-time career job, living alone in a new part of the city, maintaining a long distance relationship for the first time, and dealing with the whiplash of being thrust into “real life” again after over a year of being in lockdown. The moment the last friend I hosted left to go to the airport, it all hit me at once. 

I had to start taking real responsibility for my life, and I had no idea where to begin. I knew that hosting friends, going out every day and spending with reckless abandon was not going to be sustainable, but I didn’t know how to grapple with the alternative. The back half of July became difficult as the magic of the summer started winding down. I clung on however I could, forcing activity when I knew I needed to rest. I felt imposter syndrome in everything; I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing or what I wanted. After over a year of constantly being around my immediate family and friends, I suddenly felt very alone. I felt like I was drifting; by the end of July, I was aimless and lost. As I’ve always done, I turned to the music–the songs in this month’s mix were relatable and comforting, drawing upon angst, amusement, confusion, and femininity. During this period of minimal direction, the music provided a semblance of maternal guidance.

[jgroffdaily]

Merrily We Roll Along reviews (part 2)

A review summary is at Broadway World and Playbill.

TheaterMania

Groff, Mendez, and Radcliffe are the other reason for the production's sterling success. Giving career-best performances, not only do they have palpable chemistry, but you actually buy them as friends (and I've seen this show plenty of times where you don't). You can sense the gut-punching disappointment when their relationships come crashing down, and the palpable joy they find in the successes that paved the way. They sing the absolute hell out of Sondheim's best score; "Old Friends,""Opening Doors," and "Our Time" have never sounded better.

On the page, Frank is a cipher, and you never really know what makes him tick. Groff grounds him in the reality of a man who watched all his dreams come true, and it's only after he reaches the height of his powers that he realizes it's not what he wants at all.

Vulture

A large part of that lies just in the casting. It is hard to hate anyone played by Jonathan Groff, who lends an innate sweetness to the character and has a silvery voice that lines both his songs and his dialogue with melancholy. We meet him in the midst of a big party for a movie that people say to his face they love and knock behind his back, and he’s playing the part of a wheeler-dealer while also communicating that this character is playacting too (Gilmour has Groff in a finely tailored white shirt and black pants, switching him into looser versions in the same colors as time reverses). 

Friedman, whose version of Merrily originated in London, makes much of the contrast between both Groff’s and Radcliffe’s demeanor (one smooth, one nearly always vibrating with energy) and physical size (Groff lifts Radcliffe on his back twice). You can see her background as an actor in her direction, the way that she’s encouraged them to find as many telling gestures as possible within each individual scene or song. When the trio of Groff, Radcliffe, and Mendez jump into “Old Friends,” you feel as if you’re in a scene-study workshop with them, full of rambunctious energy that endears you to them en masse. They are never sweeter than when doing their little triple-pinky promise.

The Wrap

Groff in particular is a revelation as Franklin Shepard, a once-in-a-generation composing talent who morphs into a self-centered Hollywood producer barely clinging to his second marriage. The “Spring Awakening” and “Hamilton” alum is an irrepressible charmer, and it’s easy to see how he deploys his charisma and crystalline tenor to take the edge off his character’s inherent jerkiness. He’s a narcissist capable of flashes of regret.

New York Stage Review

Let me add, nine years later (although it seems like 20), that Friedman’s present mounting is even stronger.

This, in part, because of the concentration by this ‘actor’s director’ on the central players. Franklin Shepard, the anti-hero of the show’s triumvirate, is here played by Jonathan Groff (from Spring Awakening, in 2006, and more recently that mad King George in Hamilton). Frank is a study of success gone sour, with the idealistic young man turned soulless celebrity over the course of the action. In reverse, as it happens, as Merrily was conceived to roll along backwards, present-to-past.

Part of what sets this production off so powerfully is that Friedman and Groff are not afraid to present Frank as cold, cruel, and decidedly unlikable. That is in the writing, yes, but prior productions have tended to keep him more sympathetic than not. Groff is not afraid to be downright insufferable. It turns out that this jump-starts the action, in an odd way instantly matching the angry energy of the bravura overture which starts the evening. It is not until the trio “Old Friends,” when Groff throws in a bit of a goofy shuffle step, that we start to see what attracted the others to Frank in the first place.

New York Stage Review (2)

Spring Awakening and Hamilton star Groff—who previously played a composer in William Finn’s ode to “heart and music,” A New Brain—makes for a wonderfully sympathetic Franklin Shepard. That’s not to say he lacks a dark side. His Franklin is pretty pathetic when arguing with the scorned Gussie: “Do you really not see that I’m ashamed of all this? That I am as sick of myself as you are?” We can see the sting on his face after Charley’s TV confrontation (“You’re goddamn out of my life, Charley”). And we see the hardness peel away, layer by layer—he literally crumples to the ground during his divorce from first wife Beth (Katie Rose Clarke)—eventually revealing the starry-eyed piano-pounding visionary. 

These three truly look like “Old Friends,” as the number goes; their breaking-through-as-artists sequence, “Opening Doors,” which Sondheim called the only autobiographical song he ever wrote, is irresistible.

The Hollywood Reporter

Franklin has always been an off-putting key character for a musical, a self-serving sellout whose personal loyalty seems easily disregarded. Casting the infinitely likeable Jonathan Groff allows us to see the regret in his choices and the yearning for the young dreamer he once was.

Groff has a wistful way of revealing that all the achievements, the comforts and the fashionable entourage of Franklin’s high life can’t match the vitality of his youth, when everything was about struggle and promise and hope. There’s a contained anguish in his performance that’s very moving. At the same time, he acknowledges his frustration with his friends’ reluctance to allow him to change and grow.

Chicago Tribune

Friedman’s production, which demands with every note to be back on Broadway, features four blisteringly emotional and deeply rooted performances from Jonathan Groff, Lindsay Mendez, Daniel Radcliffe, and Katie Rose Clarke. All dig deep trenches and the show is especially propelled by how richly Groff links his vocal excitement, energy and power to his character’s calcified well of emptiness.

New York Post

When Groff, who is sensational playing a famous composer named Franklin Shepard, stares out at the audience in this staging’s final image, he’s back again in middle age with his life in tatters. At that moment, you really believe that he’s changed and that these three formerly inseparable New York pals can make it work; that our experience watching the show has been Frank’s own all-important lightbulb moment. An infamously unfulfilling show suddenly satisfies. 

But it’s not only a striking image that helps “Merrily” roll along, but a stunner of a trio. The old friends are fabulously played by Groff, Radcliffe and Mendez, who never overplay a millisecond of a story that can easily get caught up in showbiz cliches and 1970s kitsch. Here, everything is grounded and real.

Observer

Nearly decade on, Friedman’s elegant, emotionally searching revival is Off Broadway and it’s remarkably satisfying—and sold-out, thanks to ex-Harry Potter Daniel Radcliffe (a talented comic crooner) as angsty Charley. One also must factor in cult adoration among musical-theater fans (of all ages), in addition to the inspired casting of super-charismatic Jonathan Groff as Franklin and iron-lunged Lindsay Mendez as Mary. Operating at their prime, these ace performers anchor the show and sing the daylights out of the scrumptious score. Don’t be surprised if a Broadway transfer is announced before the January 21 closing. 

The Daily Beast

This Merrily finds Jonathan Groff in a career-shining role as Franklin Shepard, the rich, famous songwriter and film producer...

[georgescatcafe]

and i will be alright

rating: g warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: fantasy au, knight sapnap, prince george, dragon dream word count: 2,560 summary:  The story goes like this: stolen away from the castle as a baby, the Prince had not been seen since, though everyone knew where he was—the tallest tower in the land, just outside kingdom borders. Guarded by the most powerful dragon in all the land, the Prince is trapped there, with little chance of escape. Countless knights have set off to rescue him, and not a single one has returned.

But Sapnap will.

+ao3

;;

The story goes like this: stolen away from the castle as a baby, the Prince had not been seen since, though everyone knew where he was—a tower, the tallest tower in the land, just outside kingdom borders. Guarded by the most powerful dragon in all the land, with scales that glint like emeralds in the sun, with fangs that shine like pearls when they catch the light, the Prince is trapped there, with little chance of escape. Countless knights have set off to rescue him, and not a single one has returned.

But Sapnap will. He heard the story young, started training as a knight not long after—seven years old, holding a wooden sword to a man’s throat, declaring his victory; eleven years old, walking alongside a gentlelady, her delicate hands curled into the nook of his elbow; fifteen years old, swearing his life to his king, the weight of the sword on his shoulders perhaps just as heavy as the crown on the man’s head. Now, he’s nineteen, and he’s given his chance.

“You are aware of what this means,” the King says. It’s not a question.

Sapnap nods anyway. “I swear to return to you.” He lifts his head, meets the man’s eyes. “With your son.”

The Queen makes a small noise, turns away. The King holds his gaze. “I wish you the best of luck, Sir Sapnap.”

“Thank you,” Sapnap goes back into his low bow, “Your Majesty.”

;;

The journey is long, arduous. More than once does Sapnap near fall out of a tree while falling asleep, despite the ropes he’d used to tie himself down. And more than once does he near fall down a ravine while running from monsters, despite his ability to kill and kill efficiently. But not every skeleton needs to be taken down, not every creeper needs to be decimated. He aims to save his strength, store it, up until he finally comes face to face with the fearsome dragon that holds the Prince captive.

Then, he’ll unleash all that energy, all that might, and defeat the dragon once and for all.

;;

He’s aching and weary by the time he reaches the tower. The promise he made the King weeks ago threatens to become a mere stain on his memory; his heart thirsts more for rest than for the Prince. Yet he still reaches the base of the tower. Still checks his sword, its sharpness, its strength. Still leans back on his heels, shields his eyes with a hand, surveys the skies above for the dragon that torments the Prince.

There is nothing.

Sapnap finds a handhold in the tower wall. A ledge for his foot to go, too. The sun has just begun to rise in the sky. Like it, Sapnap begins his ascent.

The day passes by slowly, each step up increasing the trembling that has started in Sapnap’s limbs. He refuses to be perturbed, however, determination swelling in his chest when he realizes how close he’s gotten to the single window at the top of the tower. It’s when he’s at his last burst of energy, haggard, shaking and sweaty, that he reaches up and his fingers curl around the window’s ledge. He lets out a breath, a rush of relief. Carefully, he peeks over the edge.

The room is empty.

Sapnap pulls himself up all the way, up and over the ledge. His feet are quiet when they touch the floor. He pushes off the ledge and comes to rest again the wall, catching his breath. It’s a moment greatly needed, unable to think, coming so close to immobilization. Once he’s gotten a hold of himself again, he looks around. The room looks cozy, lived-in. Across from him is a fireplace, within it, a fire. There’s a bed and a table and chairs. No main lighting, but lanterns rest in various locations, one on the table, one on a stool next to the bed. One on the desk at the other side of the window. A leather-bound book rests atop the desk too. Sapnap frowns. He moves away from the wall, making his steady way to the desk, staring down at the book. There’s a quill and inkwell, too, the ink liquid night. Sapnap lifts a hand, reaches for the book, when suddenly something pricks the center of his back, and a voice speaks low and dangerous in his ear: “What are you doing in my tower?”

Dragons don’t talk as far as Sapnap is aware. The witch is supposed to be dead.

Sapnap tries to turn, but the knife begins to dig into his back. His head snaps back forward. “Are you the Prince?”

“Are you a knight sent to rescue me?”

Sapnap’s hands have come to rest up near his ears. He keeps them raised as a pale hand reaches around him to open the book. Inside, there lay a list of names, all crossed out but one. It’s his own. Sapnap swallows.

“A hitlist?” he asks.

“Something like that,” the Prince replies.

Sapnap lowers his arms. The Prince lets him. “So all those knights sent here… you’ve killed them?”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” the Prince says, serious. “But my dragon is very, very territorial.”

“And you belong to the dragon?” Sapnap cautiously pivots. Again, the Prince allows the movement. Sapnap finds himself standing chest-to-chest with the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. A fresh layer of sweat starts from beneath his clothes, his armor.

“Just as much as the dragon belongs to me,” the Prince answers. “We have a mutualistic relationship. A friendship.”

“But the dragon is evil,” Sapnap says, staring earnestly into deep brown eyes, sweet and soft like melted chocolate, but bitterness in them too—exactly like chocolate. “How can you be friends with it?”

“Him,” the Prince corrects. And then he holds up a hand, and from his sleeve, a snake emerges, curling around a thin wrist. “He’s loyal, and he’s nice. Smart, too. He understands me.”

“And he’ll kill me?” Sapnap asks, uncertain of the snake that watches him with ruby red eyes.

The Prince studies him, gaze turning sharp, cutting Sapnap like the knife he had pressed into his back. “Do you plan to return me to the castle?”

“That’s the aim of this quest,” Sapnap says.

“But do you plan to return me to the castle?”

Sapnap swallows. It’d be ideal to return him. He’d like to return him.

There was a final part to the story, romantic but also the key to the ambition—whoever it is to rescue the Prince shall wed him, able to become a monarch alongside the Prince, gaining access to the riches and luxuries of a royal. Sapnap is not an entirely selfless man.

“No,” he says.

The Prince takes a step back. Another. And another. Sapnap watches the Prince, just as the Prince watches him. “So are you going to go?” the Prince asks. “Return to the castle, say you failed? Not return, become another nameless knight sent to save me, doomed from the start?”

Sapnap swallows. He moves towards the Prince, and the Prince goes to evade him. Sapnap grabs one of the chairs at the table. Pulls it out. Sits in it. “No,” he repeats. “You said the dragon is the only one that understands you. Is it because he doesn’t speak?”

“He speaks,” the Prince replies. “He’s smart. He can do it.” When he holds out a hand, the snake is still curled up around his wrist. The snake’s scales glint like emeralds. When he hisses at Sapnap, his fangs shine like pearls. And then he glows, the light faint then growing stronger and stronger, till both Sapnap and the Prince are turned away. When the light has dimmed down, something of a miniature dragon rests along the Prince’s shoulders.

“He can change his size?” Sapnap asks.

“And he can speak.” The words come out slightly breathy, the s in speak elongated. “What do you want with George?”

“The Prince,” Sapnap corrects. “And I wanted to rescue him. They say you’re keeping him trapped here.”

The dragon wheezes out a laugh. “Trapped? George could leave whenever he wants. It’s telling enough he’s still here.”

“Why?” Sapnap asks. He looks to the Prince—to George. “Isn’t the castle better?”

“How could the castle be better?” George finally takes a seat across from Sapnap, and the dragon scuttles from his shoulders to curl up in the center of the table, watching Sapnap with eyes narrowed in what can only be seen as suspicion. “Sure, the wealth is nice, but Dream is fierce and can get me whatever I want. He does get me whatever I want.” At that, the dragon, Dream, straightens up, looking way too haughty when he’s currently, at best, a glorified snake. “And I don’t have the responsibilities of being the Prince. I can sleep easy knowing everyday will be one where I can live how I want.”

“But what about your family?” Sapnap asks. “Your people?”

“I’ve been missing since I was a baby,” George replies. “To them, I’m nothing more than a fairytale.”

“And you like being that,” Sapnap concludes. “So you don’t need to be rescued?”

“No,” George says, easy. “And I don’t want to go back to the castle.”

Sapnap sits there for a second, taking in the small room, realizing that his initial observations were right—this is more than a tower; it’s lived-in, cozy. It’s a home. George’s home.

“And Dream really isn’t holding you hostage?”

“He can be possessive,” George admits, a hand reaching out to run down Dream’s back, “but he knows he could never hold me against my will.”

Sapnap touches his fingers to his back, where George had pressed the knife into him. That’s fair.

“And you’re perfectly sane?” He had to ask. Just to be sure. Just in case.

George isn’t amused. “I’m perfectly sane, and if I wasn’t, wouldn’t it be better for me not to return to the throne?”

Damn. He’s right.

Sapnap doesn’t dignify him with a verbal response, instead merely shrugging and looking to the dragon. “He gets bigger, right?” Dream nods, so does George. Sapnap drums his fingers against the table before looking to George. “I can become another nameless night, doomed from the start. But I can’t leave.” He meets the Prince’s eyes. “I don’t want to leave.”

“What,” George starts, dry, “are you in love with me?”

“No,” Sapnap says, and George tilts his head, “but I think one day I’ll be.”

George sits up ramrod straight; Dream’s head swivels around to look at the Prince. The two of them completely ignore Sapnap, seeming to have a conversation through their eyes alone. Sapnap swallows, suddenly feeling like a boy asking for a lady’s hand in marriage, receiving the blessing from her father. He glances away when Dream and George look over at him.

“I don’t like you,” George announces. “Knights are annoying at best, the bane of my existence at worst. You’re at worst.” He makes a frustrated noise. Sapnap dares to look over at him. George sits with furrowed brows, frown clear on his face. “Yet I won’t kill you, and I won’t let Dream kill you.”

“Thank you,” Sapnap says. “But….”

“There’s no but,” Dream says, and Sapnap’s gaze drops to meet his. “You can stay. I would do anything for George, but we suppose—we suppose —some new company could be nice.”

“And the falling in love thing?” Sapnap asks, cheeks beginning to heat.

Luckily, George’s cheeks have also begun to flush. “You’re terrible,” George tells him, “but, like, not that bad to look at. I guess.”

Sapnap sits up, eyes wide. “Really?”

George glares down at the table. “It doesn’t mean anything. Just an observation.”

“Well,” Sapnap swallows, “I think you’re gorgeous.”

It’s George’s turn to have wide eyes, staring at the other in shock.

Sapnap offers a smile. “I won’t try to rescue you. You’re right; you don’t need to be. But I would like to stay with you. You can have your dragon,” his smile widens, and his heart lifts in his chest when he catches the small smile starting to spread on George’s lips, “and you can have your knight.”

“You were knighted under the King,” George says. “Not me.”

Sapnap rises, moving to take his sword off his person. Immediately, he offers it to George. “Then knight me.” He kneels, bowing his head.

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say,” the words come out as a laugh. Sapnap grins at the ground.

“Make something up.”

So George says some nonsense before tapping Sapnap’s shoulders. There is no crown on George’s head. When Sapnap lifts his gaze, George smiles down at him. Dream has climbed up to curl around his shoulders. Sapnap looks to him, and the dragon bows his head. Sapnap bows his own in response.

“I think you’ll be the only knight under me,” George tells him when he stands.

“I’m perfectly alright with that,” Sapnap replies. He holds an arm out; George places a hand on it before rising, and Sapnap ends up pulling him closer when he brings his arm down to his side. “Do you ever leave the tower?”

The words break whatever happy haze the trio had found themselves in, Dream immediately growing alert in suspicion, George frowning at him, moving as if to step away.

“I’m not going to take you back to the castle,” Sapnap says, exasperated. “It’s because I’d really like somewhere to sleep or something, and there’s no way I’m climbing back down. I think I’d die.”

George and Dream share a look before George gives a tug to Sapnap’s arm and takes him over to the single bed in the room. “You can rest here for now. I don’t mind. Dream can go and get the materials for another bed.” He looks to the roof, and so does Sapnap, and that’s when he realizes there’s levers and wheels, cogs and rope, all allowing the roof to open. George pulls his arm free of Sapnap’s grip and goes to tug one of the ropes. Dream climbs off his shoulders onto a ledge in the wall. Sapnap takes a seat on the bed. The roof finally opens entirely, and Dream shoots off into the sky, now a deep indigo littered with stars, and George and Sapnap watch him go.

“He’ll return his actual size I bet,” George tells him, releasing the rope and letting the roof close once again. “He loves showing off.”

Sapnap gives a laugh before collapsing back on the bed. “Sorry,” he says, “I’m just… wow. I’m actually really tired.”

“Adrenaline got you up here?” George asks.

Sapnap nods. “And through our entire conversation.”

George gives a quiet laugh. Sapnap wishes he could trap it in a music box, turn a knob and hear it over and over again.

“I’d marry you,” Sapnap admits. “Without the money. The power. I’d marry you.”

“You’re not even in love with me,” George says. It comes out on the tail of a laugh. Sapnap lets it wash over him.

“Not yet,” Sapnap replies.

He feels George’s gaze on him before there’s footsteps and a hand brushing through his bangs. “You really are the bane of my existence.” His fingers are gentle in Sapnap’s hair. “Get some rest, Sapnap. You can fall in love with me in the morning.”

[emerald-studies]

Steps to be an Ally

*Edited for clarity*

Either view the resources I recommend or unfollow me. You don’t want to improve because your laziness, so might as well save your energy from being performative. Channel that into something/someone that matters to you...or stop lying to yourself.

1. Check-In On Your Black Friends/Acquaintances

In my opinion, I believe the best way to be an ally is to reach out to your Black friends and check in on them, consistently. If you can recognize the times we are living in are absolute hell, you should be checking in on the most affected. None of my friends have checked up on me to see how I was doing or just to talk. They didn’t even bring up the protests until I did. It feels very very lonely and scary to not be checked upon by the people who say they support and love you. So, I’m making this the first point because I don’t want anyone else to feel this way, not trying to complain.

2. Learn More About Black History

It’s important to learn about the Black activists that our history books left out. Yes, Martin Luther King Jr. was, and is, important but we need to reflect on why he was pushed on us so much in our history classes, compared to other Black leaders. Is it because our government would rather us walk down the street holding signs than actually defending ourselves against the cop who’s beating us?

Here’s a master list of activists to start you off.

3. Go to Rallies and Protests (If you can)

Find protests and rallies in your area by looking at Twitter and search #yourcityprotest. Or watch your local news channel to see where they are (if they’re being covered on the news). Also, search on Facebook. Wear a mask.

4. Donate and Sign Petitions

If you don’t have extra money to donate, that’s fine. If you still want to be an ally then sign all the petitions you can. Take a day to research all the ones you can sign/haven’t signed and sign them!

(Also you don’t need to donate to change.org! Directly donate to non-profit organizations and victims’ families!)

George Floyd - change.org

George Floyd - amnesty.org

George Floyd - colorofchange.org

Get The Officers Charged

Charge All Four Officers

Breonna Taylor - moveon.org

Breonna Taylor - colorofchange.org

Breonna Taylor - justiceforbreonna.org

Breonna Taylor - change.org

Breonna Taylor - thepetitionsite.com

Ahmaud Arbery - change.org

Ahmaud Arbery - change.org 2

Ahmaud Arbery - change.org 3

Justice for Oluwatoyin Salau

Pass The Georgia Hate Crime Bill

Defund MPD

Life Sentence For Police Brutality

Regis Korchinski - change.org

Tete Gulley - change.org

Tony McDade - change.org

Tony McDade - actionnetwork.org

Tony McDade - thepetitionsite.com

Joao Pedro - change.org

Julius Jones - change.org

Belly Mujinga - change.org

Willie Simmons - change.org

Hands Up Act - change.org

National Action Against Police Brutality

Kyjuanzi Harris - change.org

Alejandro Vargas Martinez - change.org

Censorship Of Police Brutality In France

Sean Reed - change.org

Sean Reed - change.org 2

Kendrick Johnson - change.org

Tamir Rice - change.org

Tamir Rice - change.org 2

Fire Racist Criminal From The NYPD

Jamee Johnson - organizefor.org

Darius Stewart - change.org

Darius Stewart - moveon.org

Abolish Prison Labor

Free Siyanda - change.org

Chrystul Kizer - change.org

Chrystul Kizer - change.org 2

Andile Mchunu (Bobo) - change.org

Eric Riddick - change.org

Amiya Braxton - change.org

Emerald Black - change.org

Elijah Nichols - change.org

Zinedine Karabo Gioia - change.org

Angel Bumpass - change.org

Sheku Bayoh - change.org

Angel DeCarlo - change.org

Sandra Bland - change.org

Sherrie Walker - change.org

Darrien Hunt - change.org

Cornelius Fredericks - change.org

Elijah McClain - change.org

James Scurlock - change.org

Darren Rainey- change.org

http://www.pb-resources.com/

https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/

Visit these sites for more info:

5. Educate yourself and others.

Articles:

- “America’s Racial Contract Is Killing Us” by Adam Serwer | Atlantic (May 8, 2020) - Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement (Mentoring a New Generation of Activists - ”My Life as an Undocumented Immigrant” by Jose Antonio Vargas | NYT Mag (June 22, 2011) - The 1619 Project (all the articles) | The New York Times Magazine - The Combahee River Collective Statement - “The Intersectionality Wars” by Jane Coaston | Vox (May 28, 2019) - Tips for Creating Effective White Caucus Groups developed by Craig Elliott PhD - “Where do I donate? Why is the uprising violent? Should I go protest?” by Courtney Martin (June 1, 2020) - ”White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” by Knapsack Peggy McIntosh - “Who Gets to Be Afraid in America?” by Dr. Ibram X. Kendi | Atlantic (May 12, 2020)

Movies/TV Shows:

- When They See Us - American Son - Hello Privilege, It’s Me, Chelsea - The 13th - Murder to Mercy: The Cyntoia Brown Story - What Happened Miss Simone? - The Two Killings of Sam Cooke - Who Killed Malcolm X? - The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson - Homecoming: A Film by Beyonce (Lighter in tone) - LA 92 - Dear White People

Videos:

- Black Feminism & the Movement for Black Lives: Barbara Smith, Reina Gossett, Charlene Carruthers (50:48) - “How Studying Privilege Systems Can Strengthen Compassion” | Peggy McIntosh at TEDxTimberlaneSchools (18:26) - American Oxygen - Rihanna - Formation - Beyonce

Podcasts:

- Malcolm X Speeches - 1619 (New York Times) - About Race - Code Switch (NPR) - Intersectionality Matters! hosted by Kimberlé Crenshaw - Momentum: A Race Forward Podcast - Pod For The Cause (from The Leadership Conference on Civil & Human Rights) - Pod Save the People (Crooked Media) - Seeing White

Books:

- The Autobiography of Malcolm X - Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About RaceBook by Reni Eddo-Lodge - Black Feminist Thought by Patricia Hill Collins - Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower by Dr. Brittney Cooper - Heavy: An American Memoir by Kiese Laymon - How To Be An Antiracist by Dr. Ibram X. Kendi - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou - Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson - Me and White Supremacy by Layla F. Saad - Raising Our Hands by Jenna Arnold - Redefining Realness by Janet Mock - Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde - So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo - The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison - The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin - The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander - The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activism for the Twenty-First Century by Grace Lee Boggs - The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson - Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston - This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color by Cherríe Moraga - When Affirmative Action Was White: An Untold History of Racial Inequality in Twentieth-Century America by Ira Katznelson - White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo, PhD

Follow:

- Shaun King: Instagram | Twitter | Website - Antiracism Center: Twitter - Audre Lorde Project: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - Black Women’s Blueprint: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - Color Of Change: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - Colorlines: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - The Conscious Kid: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - Equal Justice Initiative (EJI): Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - Families Belong Together: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - The Leadership Conference on Civil & Human Rights: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - MPowerChange: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - Muslim Girl: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - NAACP: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - National Domestic Workers Alliance: Twitter | Instagram | Facebook - Ziwe | Instagram | (She has discussions about race with White people, kinda grilling them, every Thursday at 8 p.m. EST. Super thrilling to watch.)

Here’s Some Music Too:

Change Gonna Come - Sam Cooke Chain Gang - Nina Simone Missisippi Goddamn - Nina Simone Fuck Da’ Police - N.W.A. New Slaves - Kanye This is America - Childish Gambino I’m Not Racist - Joyner Lucas Fight the Power - Public Enemy Glory - Common, John Legend Freedom (Live) - Beyonce I Can’t Breathe - H.E.R. American Oxygen - Rihanna Brown Skin Girl - Beyonce

+

My Playlist With A Few More

Black Artists Matter Playlist

-

What a large list! It looks so overwhelming! Don’t worry, you don’t have to read/watch/listen to everything. It takes a lot of effort. Jk. If you don’t want to do some homework and good deeds, then you don’t want to be an ally. And that’s perfectly fine. Just don’t lie to yourself about it.

Tough shit.

[nancybryans]

No, sir; it is to fall upon the less wealthy class of our citizens, chiefly upon the non-slaveholder.

No, sir; it is to fall upon the less wealthy class of our citizens, chiefly upon the non-slaveholder. “After the big battle where the King-Beyond-the-Wall was killed, the wildlings ran away, and this woods witch said that if they went to Hardhome, ships would come and carry them away to someplace warm. All this deeply wounded the good-hearted Nikolay Sergeyitch; for a long time he refused to believe his senses. Sam yowled, the bird flapped off, corn scattered. Further along an illuminating set of rooms explain the head scratching behind band's more notorious stage designs, including the giant inflatable Honky Tonk Woman and the Lotus design used in Madison Square Garden, and of course the development of that famous logo. "We believe it is more important than ever to be a platform for women's voices and to offer inspiration whenever possible we do this continually through our work at the Women's Freedom Center and once a year at the Women's Film Festival.". Pain crackled up her leg like lightning, and far away she heard her northman say, “You bloody cunt,” as he lifted up his axe for the blow that would finish her.. “A dog haibike e mtb 2020 takes after its master,” declared Mace Tyrell. In its 2012 annual report, Air Canada estimated that a $0.01 change in the value of the Canadian dollar would have a $33 million impact on its yearly operating income. Over 85 percent of the city's Housing and Preservation Department's operating budget comes from federal funds. His guests were in danger. O, ma’am, mine’s been a long sorrow, a long sorrow! I’ve borne this heavy cross a great many pendientes bulgari precio years.”. Bridal Village has been left high and dry and unable to confirm if any of their orders will still go through.At the peak of wedding season, one of our country's busiest wedding dress retailers has filed for bankruptcy and closed its doors. All it takes is one to bring us all to ruin. The higher ranking cadets generally pull in higher bids, with a bid of $210 for the regimental commander, cadet Andrew George. McShay said Cook can "put himself in better position" next year.. I think that’s been described somewhere by Tolstoy: two people promise to call each other by their pet names, but they can’t do it and keep avoiding using any name at all. (You get a good workout, too.) The salt acts like little nonabrasive sanding blocks. donna di porto pim una storia riassunto How could I have been so blind for so long? The Crone came to me with her lamp raised high, and by its holy light I saw the road that I must walk. Low hanging lamps and creeping vines offer just enough ambience for first dates, but the mood is casual. You can ask Ivan Petrovitch, he’s here now and he will confirm what I say, that Natasha’s jealous, and though she loves me so much there’s a great deal of egoism in her love, for she will never sacrifice anything for me.”.. The farm totals 300 acres, 40 of which are scored with vines. Friday: Next generation trickery by the world's most daring riders. Because of Lusk, he said, "I always knew I had a home.". He makes himself into a ball and shouts. I'll just have to iron out the details of our vacation and secure some Sandals Beaches Resorts promo codes for us, and then I can announce the good news to the kids and we'll soon be on our way to an enjoyable summer getaway once more.. This was a great game between worthy opponents who left their body, minds, hearts, and souls on the field of play. The Lord of White Harbor had furnished the food and drink, black stout and yellow beer and wines red and gold and purple, brought up from the warm south on fat-bottomed ships and aged in his deep cellars. To converse all star alte maculate the Dover track before but I had never been as immersed as I am now. He can establish you, and, if you wish it, find you an excellent position . When Jon and Tormund entered, a sound went through the biciclete rusesti vechi hall, like wasps stirring in a nest. “Bring the cart.” The dragons would be more docile once fed. What?s the point of even using one if you?re soaked or end up with a big, red bruise on your face?. We must find you a husband who can teach you courtesy.” The queen turned her glare on Jon. If the aggression is ongoing, bring him in for adidas stan smith j white tactile blue a check up with your vet so that any medical issues can be ruled out.. Sunday, March 4, in the Marmion Academy gymnasium at 1000 Butterfield Road in Aurora. Her accomplice stole her sandalias doradas gioseppo body to get the drugs. I find their recipes to be heavy and the favor is strong rather than subtle. Real world use will not achieve the full speed increase, but the Low Energy Data Length Extension will be a welcome addition to the specification as more and more devices gain connectivity. The new ALMA observation shows that, when the intergalactic weather conditions are right, black holes can also gorge on a clumpy, chaotic downpour of giant clouds of very cold molecular gas. And a clever man might question why your father would engage a hedge knight to train you in arms instead of simply sending you off to apprentice with one horno teka hc 610 me blanco of the free companies. Giddy Funeral Home and Chapel, 280 St. “And with that coin and the others in his purse, he paid a certain man. So, that family il tablet amazon that gets the "great" deal on a foreclosed property, is probably still on loss job away from being the next foreclosure victim, because the banks will run the same game on them.. It something we not seen a measurable amount of in Louisville for 16 straight days now. She remembers that I was in great agitation. However, the Pirates got rolling in the second period and took a 26 24 lead into the half. Soak the affected foot in a solution of Epsom salts and warm water, then apply a moisturizing cream and wrap the foot in a plastic bag. One of his wife’s handmaids has found her way into the bed of my own fool. I meant to bring it to you as a gift for my silver queen, but four of the Cats cut me off and came snarling and spitting after me. Do they fear me dead? I flew off on a dragon’s back. He will be safer as a hostage. At other inns other names are being bruited about, never doubt.” He took another bite of egg, chewed, swallowed. We do not kill to serve some lord, to fatten our purses, to stroke our vanity. They nike air max 102 essential white were too far away for Theon to make out any of the words, but the fear on Fat Walda’s round pink face spoke volumes. Davos had always been fond of this city, since first he’d come here as a cabin boy on Cobblecat. You know our circumstances. A great wind came up then, a wind that filled their sails and swept them north and east and north again, toward Meereen and its pyramids of many-colored bricks. When he was there, he was clearly one of our best player. AND so the Ichmenyevs moved to Petersburg. Kitchen will be helmed by Shane Wilson, theformer head chef of Bistro Dom, who will bring his passion for local, seasonal produce and foraged ingredients to the modern Australian dishes set to populate the restaurant and take out menus..

[harry-leroy]

OK. I've got to ask--Henry VI? I think you're the first person I've met who claims those as their favorite Shakespeare. I'll admit that I've read and seen a fair bit of Shakespeare, but I'm not familiar with them at all. What's the appeal? Why do you love them? Sell them to me. ;)

Oh boy, here we go :))))) (Thank you for giving me permission to scream - I also think I’m the only person I’ve ever met who has those as their favorite Shakespeare plays). Also, as we’ve talked opera - I think these plays could make a great Wagnerian style opera cycle. 

First off, little disclaimer: I’m not a medievalist, so I can’t say that I’ve definitely got the best interpretation of the Wars of the Roses and the history that the H6 cycle covers. I know I do not - so you may read these plays and have totally different interpretations, and that’s great! This will kind of be how I came to love the plays and why they were (and still are) exciting for me to read. 

I will admit, these plays are a bit of a minefield (as my Shakespeare professor said during a lecture on the histories and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that descriptor). Some of these scenes are not as well written, and many of them are almost irrelevant to telling a tight-knit story, so things get cut. Sometimes 1H6 is just cut entirely from productions, and I might venture to say that it is probably the least performed Shakespeare play. We get lines like “O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn’d, / That I in a rage might shoot them at your faces” (1H6.4.4.79-80), which I might say is nearly on par with “a little touch of Harry in the night” from Henry V. But despite the unevenness, there is so much from these plays that are meaningful, heartbreaking, and that continue to fascinate me. There’s so much about power and leadership that we can learn from these plays - and perhaps that’s why I took an interest in 1990s British politics because there are actually some very interesting similarities happening - but also a lot we can learn about empathy, hope, and love. 

These plays have a lot of fascinating key players - it would honestly be a privilege to play any of them - and most (if not all) of these key players have some claim to power, just in the family lines they were born into. And this conflict is one that’s been building up since Richard II. With the Wars of the Roses we have a man who is unwilling, and sometimes unable to lead because of various circumstances, some of which having to do with his mental health, which was generally poor, and some of which have to do with the various times he was dethroned, captured, etc. - and I say unable for lack of a better word. Essentially, politics in these plays are caving in, and at a very rapid pace. There’s a hole at the center of government and people are ambitious to fill it. We also have a lot of people who could potentially fill that role, people who on principle, have a lot of political enemies. The nobles in these plays are having to assure that they themselves are in power or that their ally is in power, otherwise it is their livelihood at stake. 

We have Henry VI, who was made king at nine months old after the untimely death of his father, the famous Henry V, and basically has people swarming him since birth claiming that they’re working in his best interest. He’s a bit of a self-preservationist to start, but by the end we see a man completely transformed by the horrors of war and ruthless politics. I also think he might be the only Shakespeare character who gets his entire life played out on stage. We see him at every stage of his life, which makes his descent all the more bitter. (One cannot help but see the broken man he is at forty-nine and be forced to remember the spritely, kind boy he was at ten). He’s a man who clings closely to God in an environment where God seems to be absent. He desires peace, if nothing else, and he wants to achieve this by talking things through. He’s an excellent orator (one only needs to look at the “Ay Margaret; my heart is drown’d with grief” monologue from 2H6, but there are countless other examples), but there’s a point where even he realizes that his talking will achieve nothing, and his alternative is heartbreaking. 

We have his wife, Queen Margaret, otherwise known as Margaret of Anjou, or the “she-wolf of France”. I advertise her as “if you like Lady Macbeth, you’ll love Margaret of Anjou”. Sometimes Shakespeare can portray her as wanting power for herself, but I genuinely think she wanted a good life for her husband and her child, otherwise the alternative is begging at her uncle’s feet for protection in France (her uncle was Charles VII of France) while separated from her husband, having her or a member of her immediate family be killed, or worse. I think it’s important to remember with Margaret that historically she came from a family where women took power if their husbands were unable to. Her assumption of power in these plays is something that’s natural to her, even if it’s not reflected very well in Shakespeare’s language. You also see some fantastically thrilling monologues from Margaret as well, especially her molehill speech (one of two molehill speeches in 3H6, totally different in nature - the other one is from a heartbroken and forlorn Henry after the Battle of Towton) - Margaret’s monologue has got the energy of a hungry cat holding a mouse by the tail. 

Also Henry and Margaret have a fascinating relationship. Because they’re so different in how they resolve conflicts, they grow somewhat disenchanted with each other at times, and can actually be mean to one another, despite their love. My favorite scene might be at the start of 3H6, where Margaret has come in with their seven year old son, Edward, and starts berating Henry for giving the line of succession to the Yorkists. What strikes me there is that we have a little boy having to choose between staying with his mom, or going with his dad - it’s something very domestic, and I think the emotional accessibility of that scene is what makes it memorable. It’s not about politics for me at that moment, it’s about a boy having to choose between his very estranged parents. Here’s a little taste from 1.1. in 3H6 - lines 255-261: 

QUEEN MARGARET: Come son, let’s away. / Our army is ready; come, we’ll after them. 

KING HENRY: Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. 

QUEEN MARGARET: Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone. 

KING HENRY: Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? 

QUEEN MARGARET: Ay, to be murdered by his enemies. 

We also have Richard, Duke of York, who is Henry’s cousin and leader of the Yorkist faction. If you’re at all familiar with 1990s British politics, as I have grown close to over the past month, York reminds me very much of Michael Heseltine (filthy rich and constantly vying for power) - and I would love to stage some kind of modern H6 cycle production just so I could make that connection. York’s father is one of the three traitors executed by Henry V at the start of H5, leaving him an orphan at four years old (historically). He is also Aumerle’s (from R2) nephew, and so when Aumerle dies at the Battle of Agincourt, little four year old Richard inherits both his father’s money and titles, and his uncle’s money and titles, making him the second richest nobleman in England behind the King. All this information is historical and doesn’t really show up in the play, but I think that kind of background would give a man some entitlement. He’s also next in line for the throne if something were to happen to Henry (until Henry has a son), so he feels it is his duty as heir to the throne to protect Henry (or in better words, he feels that he should be running the show) - Margaret feels that it is her duty to protect Henry as she is his wife and mother of Edward of Westminster, the Lancastrian heir, and so you can see where these two are going to disagree. 

More fascinating are York’s sons, Edward, George, and Richard. Edward is this (for lack of better words) “hip” eighteen year old who comes and shreds things up at the Battle of Towton - becoming Edward IV in the process and chasing Henry off the throne. He is incredibly problematic, but I might venture to say that he’s the least problematic of the trio of York brothers. George of Clarence is (also for lack of better words) “a hot mess” and feels entitled to power, even though he may not readily give his motivations for it. I think he just wants it, and so he actually ends up switching sides mid-3H6 because he would actually be in a better position in government with those new allies. And finally, we have Richard of Gloucester (future Richard III), and in 3H6, you just get to see him sparkle. It puzzles me a bit how people can just jump into Richard III without getting any of the lead up that Shakespeare gave in the H6 cycle, and I think 3H6 is the perfect play to see that. I think it clears up a lot of his motivation, which Shakespeare didn’t get perfectly either, because there are some ableist things going on with these plays. He’s just as bloodthirsty, just as cynical, but in this play, he wins out the day. 

These are just a few of the main characters. We’ve also got Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick (known to history as “The Kingmaker”), who is this incredibly powerful nobleman who is wicked skilled in battle and seems to have a lot of luck in that area (until he doesn’t). We’ve got Clifford, who is just as bloodthirsty as Richard III (if not more so). We’ve also got Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester - Henry’s uncle and quite unpopular with his fellow noblemen, and Eleanor Cobham, his wife who gets caught in the act of witchcraft. (Talk to my lovely friend @nuingiliath if you want to hear about Humphrey or Eleanor). Joan of Arc also makes an appearance in 1H6, and often she’s the only reason that 1H6 gets performed. 

There are so many ways to latch onto this cycle, and it can be for the huge arcs that these characters go on, or it can be for the very small reasons, like in the first scene of 3H6, like I mentioned earlier. It’s very much akin to Titus Andronicus in the language (I did a bit of research a while ago about the use of animal-focused language in Shakespeare’s plays, and the H6 cycle and Titus Andronicus lead the charts just in terms of frequency of people being referred to metaphorically as animals- they’re also chronological neighbors, all written very early in Shakespeare’s career). Also, these plays held a huge amount of weight at the time they were written - the effects of the Wars of the Roses were still pressing over the political climate of the 1590s. 

I think these plays are great to read just in being able to contextualize the histories as a whole - you get to know how things fared after Henry V (spoiler: not well), and you also get the lead up to Richard III. The ghosts in Richard’s dream make sense after reading the H6 cycle - because those ghosts lived in the H6 cycle, and (spoiler: Richard wronged them in the H6 cycle). They were also the first of Shakespeare’s history plays, so you read subsequent histories plays that make subtle references to the H6 cycle, and I think you can take so much more out of the rest of the histories plays once you’ve read these. 

I hope this was a little informative, and perhaps persuaded you to check them out! 

Productions I recommend (you can click on the bold titles and it’ll take you to where you can access these productions): 

Shakespeare’s Globe at Barnet (2013) // Graham Butler (Henry VI), Mary Doherty (Margaret of Anjou), Brendan O’Hea (Richard, Duke of York), Simon Harrison (Richard of Gloucester) - filmed at Barnet, location of the Battle of Barnet, where Warwick was killed in 1471. 

ESC Production (1990) // Paul Brennen (Henry VI), June Watson (Margaret of Anjou), Barry Stanton (Richard, Duke of York), Andrew Jarvis (Richard of Gloucester) - a more modern production, one cast put together all seven major Plantagenet history plays (1H6 and 2H6 are combined into one play - a normal practice). Sometimes this footage can be a bit fuzzy, but I loved this production. 

The Hollow Crown Season 2 // Tom Sturridge (Henry VI), Sophie Okonedo (Margaret of Anjou), Adrian Dunbar (Richard, Duke of York), Benedict Cumberbatch (Richard of Gloucester) - done in a film-like style, also with some pretty big name actors as you can see. Season 1 stars Ben Whishaw as Richard II, Jeremy Irons as Henry IV, Simon Russell Beale as Falstaff, and Tom Hiddleston as Hal/Henry V. (also available on iTunes) 

RSC Wars of the Roses (1965) // David Warner (Henry VI), Peggy Ashcroft (Margaret of Anjou), Donald Sinden (Richard, Duke of York), Ian Holm (Richard of Gloucester) - black and white film, done in parts on YouTube. 

BBC Henry VI Plays (1983) // Peter Benson (Henry VI), Julia Foster (Margaret of Anjou), Bernard Hill (Richard, Duke of York), Ron Cook (Richard of Gloucester) - features my favorite filmed performance of Edward IV (played by Brian Protheroe), and my favorite filmed performance of Warwick (played by Mark Wing-Davey). 

Also if you ever get to see Rosa Joshi’s production of an all female H6 cycle... *like every time I see photos my immediate reaction is *heart eyes* I haven’t seen it yet, but my amazing friend and fellow Shakespearean @princess-of-france has - I’m sure she’d love to talk more about it sometime! I’ll leave a picture I found on the internet... 

Also tagging @suits-of-woe because we could cry about these plays all day. 

[wolf-zer0]

everything not bolted down is fair game (too bad no one told you who else is playing)

Category: Gen Characters: Dream Relationships: None Summary: Dream's been running jobs since he was tall enough to reach locks and fast enough to scale a building sub-fifteen minutes. There's no one else who knows the game as well as him. (Technoblade might beg to differ, but no one asked for his opinion). He's slicker, he's smarter, he's just all around better than all these morons who somehow think they're in his league. When he decides to steal the Manberg Emerald from the Museum of Natural History, he thinks it'll finally show the world who the top dog really is.

(Turns out, there's already a pack of top dogs. And they're all too willing to knock him down several pegs.) AKA Dream's a cat burglar and an arrogant asshole who gets dunked on by a bunch of children AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952117

“...We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming with a breaking news report. Police have announced their findings that Nightmare, one of INTERPOL’s most wanted, is most likely behind the recent robbery at the National Museum of Art...”

“...Nightmare’s true identity remains a mystery. Despite years of activity and dozens of burglaries attributed to him from across the world, no leads have been found. The only evidence authorities have is his signature smiley face symbol spray painted on the wall next to the space where the stolen painting, valued at around $155 million USD, had previously hung...”

“... Investigators believe that his next target is the Manberg Emerald. The massive gemstone, estimated to be worth nearly a quarter million dollars, is currently on display at the Museum of Natural History…”

“... In order to stave off the potential theft, museum officials have moved the Emerald to a secure containment facility within the building, far from public access…”

“...The police are asking the public to watch for any unusual persons near or around the Museum, and report any suspicious activity immediately…”

The night air is cool and crisp around him as he stands at the very edge of an office building’s roof. The city hums beneath him, thousands of feet down. Headlights glimmer against the black of the pavement as people go about their night, mindlessly chattering to one another. They continue their lives without a single glance up.

His silhouette blends seamlessly into the moonless sky. The wind is calm, ruffling the edge of his hoodie just slightly. The smog and bright lights of the big city hide all hints of him from view. It’s the perfect night for a felony. Cocksure grin painted behind the blank smile of a mask, he pulls down the edge of his hood, tilts forward over the edge, and drops.

The wind whistles past his ears as he falls, office windows flickering before his eyes on the way down. The dull roar of the city sharpens. He doesn’t flinch as the lights on the road grow brighter and brighter.

The line clipped to his harness pulls taut. There’s a sudden, sharp jerk as he reaches the end of the rope, and all movement stops. He hangs headfirst in the space between earth and sky, just above the roof of the Museum. With a deftness born only from years of practice, he releases the carabiner and drops safely down onto the roof. Footsteps near silent, he creeps closer to the grating. Strains his ears for any sign of trouble. Nothing. Not a soul notices anything amiss. Perfect.

There’s a reason Dream’s the best in the game. Not a single person could be considered a contender, let alone a real opponent. (Technoblade’s the closest thing, but the guy’s about as easy to rile up as a brick wall. With the social skills to match.) He pulls up the grate he’d found and loosened during his recon and slinks down into the vents.

He loves his crew, he really does. He and Sapnap have been running together since they were kids. They learned how to pick a mark together, how to stitch a wound together, how to run circles around the competition together. Dream honed his sticky fingers, Sapnap taped his fists. They clawed their way out of obscurity, covered in blood and sweat and tears. They took in the view from the top, and they laughed.

George was a recent addition, but not an unwelcome one. Sitting behind his many screens and fingers dancing over the keyboard, he worked his magic in ways neither of them could even imagine. He barely breaks a sweat busting through the most robust security programs. The three of them are a well oiled machine, breezing past crew after crew on the race to infamy.

Dream really loves his crew, they’re his family. But sometimes he thinks he loves running solo even more.

The rush of the chase, the thrill of the hunt, the danger that comes with dancing on the razor’s edge of success and failure where a single mistake can send him plummeting to the ground. It’s fucking addicting and Dream is hooked.

He doesn’t do it often, just often enough to satisfy the itch under his skin. Sometimes, he makes it interesting by letting his crew in on the hunt. George will try to sabotage the security systems, Sapnap will stalk the halls ready to strike. They’ll even recruit help from other crews to add the extra adrenaline he craves.

He’s running without help or hindrance tonight. His only help if things go south is the gear on his back and his ability to get the hell outta dodge. Of course, there’s no real chance things could ever go south.

As Dream soundlessly shimmies his way through the ventilation shafts, his mask’s heads-up display maps out the twists and turns leading towards the Museum’s storage area. It’s honestly kind of pathetic how easy it is to get to the vault. He thought a place with so many priceless artifacts would pose more of a challenge. He may need to find another mark that poses more of a challenge, but first he needs to get what he came for.

He finds the vent he needs quickly, and gently removes the covering. Dropping down from the ceiling, he checks the security camera feed in the corner of the HUD to make sure no one’s watching. All he sees is the lone security guard snoring in the breakroom, teetering dangerously in his chair with his head thrown back. It’s just too easy.

He picks his way through the restricted area of the archives, careful to stay out of camera sight lines. He doesn’t touch a single thing, doesn’t dare leave a tangible mark that he’s been here. Sapnap calls it paranoia, George calls it perfectionism. He calls it pragmatism. Makes the chase that much more enjoyable, watching the authorities scramble for even a fragment of evidence. It’s not fun anymore if he’s not in control.

The vault is massive, with thick steel walls and a shiny control panel. Dream snorts at the laughable protections. This is just so sad. The fact that they thought this thing could keep him out? Hysterical. He could crack it in his sleep. He has before. It’s fucking child’s play.

It barely takes him a minute to get inside. He grins. Add one massive emerald to his stash, thank you very much. He swings open the door with a flourish.

The vault is empty.

Empty, except for a single sheet of lined notebook paper.

The piercing shriek of the alarm drowns out his screech of outrage. In his camera feed, the security guard jerks to awareness, eyes wild and limbs flailing. A warning pops up on the HUD telling him the police are on the way, ETA 5 minutes or less. The paper flutters to the floor as he turns on his heel to make a very quick escape.

Rage bubbles in his chest as he leaps through a nearby window and into the starless night. Running through the alleys and leaping fences, he spits curses at whoever decided to mess with the king.

The sheet of paper lies hidden where it slid beneath a locked supply closet door. As the authorities search the building for any signs of the thief, they somehow overlook the sliver of pristine white under dusty boxes of records. Scribbled on the abandoned sheet is a single line of writing, scratched letters and dark ink mocking in their simplicity.

git gud loser >:3

Far from the museum sits a warehouse. It’s been vacant for years, slowly rotting away as the world continued on without it.

It’s not vacant anymore.

Light from nearby streetlamps streams through the dusty windows, casting watery shadows across a surprisingly comfortable living space. A large, dark wood table takes up most of the room, surrounded by five mismatched chairs with the contents of a first aid kit scattered across it. The kitchen is a mess, with dishes left in the sink, take-out boxes piled around the trash can, and notes like “Whoever ate the last of my yogurt, I’m coming for your eyes dipshit!” and “Please don’t forget to grab some milk at Sam’s, we’ve been eating dry cereal for almost a week :(” stuck to the fridge. The living room has a massive couch, blue fabric worn soft from use and stained in several places, set up in front of a huge television set. Some kind of animated movie is playing, all bright colors and high energy musical numbers.

Climbing gear hangs on the wall across from the kitchen, harnesses and ropes and winches carefully sorted and organized for ease of use. A wall of computer screens sits nearby, mounted over two desks covered in the remains of caffeinated beverages and scraps of circuitry. A closet is tucked into a corner, uniforms and wigs and all sorts of accessories spilling out onto the floor. A well loved punching bag swings slightly next to a dented lead pipe that leans against the wall, gloves and hand wraps nestled into nearby cubbies.

Rather than using the couch, the warehouse’s current occupants are tangled together on the floor in front of the TV. It’s hard to tell where one starts and another ends in the pile of limbs and snarky comments. A lanky blond with fading bruises on his cheekbone and a bandage across his nose is squashed in the center, grousing about some stupid line and earning a pinch from a shorter brunet curled up against his side. Another blond in a deep purple hoodie snorts as he types away on his phone, head pillowed on the brunet’s thigh. A girl wearing a green t-shirt snipes back as she runs her fingers through the two-toned hair of the boy stretched out behind them.

A half-open backpack lies across the kitchen counter, carelessly tossed aside in the mind-numbing high that follows a successful job. The brilliant green facets of a fist-sized emerald nestled inside the fabric glitter in the light of the TV screen as the five jeer and taunt the characters.

Dream may think he runs the game, but he’s not even a player. A single King can only win so often before they’re forced to fold.

And nothing beats a Royal Flush.

[thekillerssluts]

For Arcade Fire and Preservation Hall, Kanaval Ball is a Carnival party with a purpose

Growing up in Houston, future Arcade Fire frontman Win Butler wasn’t impressed by his admittedly erroneous concept of Carnival.

“It never occurred to me to go to Mardi Gras,” Butler recalled recently. “It was never on my list of things I had to do in my life. In Houston, you think it’s more a spring break-y vibe, where people come to do Jell-O shots. Bourbon Street was more the picture you’d have of it.”

After he and Régine Chassagne, his bandmate and wife, moved to New Orleans in 2014, they discovered that the spiritual and cultural roots of Carnival run deep, just as they do in Haiti, Chassagne’s ancestral home.

They wanted to be involved. So in 2018, they partnered with Ben Jaffe of Preservation Hall to found Krewe du Kanaval, a blend of New Orleans and Haitian Carnival traditions.

Kanaval is both celebratory and philanthropic. The celebratory aspect will dominate Friday’s Kanaval Costume Ball at the Mahalia Jackson Theater for the Performing Arts.

The theater will be transformed into an immersive experience of sights, sounds and dancing. Butler and Chassagne’s genre-splicing indie-rock band, Arcade Fire, is this year’s headliner, performing for the first time since the conclusion of the “Everything Now” tour in 2018.

The Preservation Hall Jazz Band is also on the bill, along with Haitian acts Michael Brun, Jillionaire of Major Lazer, Lakou Mizik and Pierre Kwenders.

The Kanaval ball is open to the public. Costumes, the more festive and colorful the better, are “strongly encouraged.” Show time is 8 p.m. Both general admission and reserved seat tickets are available, priced at $85 to $120.

Kanaval’s 2020 king and queen, respectively, are master Congolese drummer and dancer Titos Sompa and rapper, chef and Loyola University instructor Mia “Mia X” Young.

Last year, Krewe du Kanaval hosted a mini-festival in Armstrong Park. There is no such public festival this year. Instead, krewe members will march in the musically themed Krewe of Freret parade on Saturday afternoon along the traditional Uptown route.

A mutual predisposition for parading forged the alliance between Arcade Fire and Preservation Hall that led to Kanaval.

Members of the two bands first crossed paths during a parade on the grounds of the Coachella festival in southern California several years ago. After Butler and Chassagne bought a house Uptown, they befriended Jaffe, who became their New Orleans guide.

In 2016, they teamed up for the David Bowie memorial march that attracted thousands of onlookers and shut down swaths of the French Quarter. The Preservation Hall Jazz Band opened shows for Arcade Fire on the “Everything Now” arena tour, parading through audiences to a boxing ring-like stage.

New Orleans’ similarities to Haiti, including a shared affinity for parading, appealed to Butler and Chassagne.

“When we started coming to New Orleans, we saw the connections to Haiti are so numerous and deep,” Butler said. “That’s part of what drew us.”

The frequent boil water advisories and power outages in New Orleans also reminded them of Haiti. Butler joked that “we call New Orleans ‘Haiti with Whole Foods.’”

They in turn introduced Preservation Hall to Haiti, where the musicians found kindred spirits and distant cousins.

“The amazing thing is how familiar Haiti felt to every band member,” Jaffe said. “Several members of our band had an emotional reaction to being there.”

That Butler and Chassagne are not from New Orleans but have become outspoken advocates for the city’s music and culture reminds Jaffe of his parents, Allan and Sandra Jaffe, the founders of Preservation Hall.

“My parents weren’t from New Orleans – they were from Pennsylvania,” Jaffe said. “The perspective and appreciation they had was a reason Preservation Hall got started. They had a perception that insiders and residents don’t always have. We don’t always appreciate things that are so amazing, because they are our normal.”

Krewe du Kanaval is a non-profit. Proceeds from membership dues and the ball benefit KANPE, a foundation Chassagne co-founded that helps poor, rural families and communities in Haiti’s Central Plateau region with health, education, agricultural, entrepreneurial and infrastructure initiatives, and the Preservation Hall Foundation’s mission to protect, preserve and perpetuate traditional New Orleans jazz and culture.

Thus, Kanaval is a party “with a spirit and purpose,” Chassagne said. “It’s not a party that you take from, but a party that you give to.”

In New Orleans, “that’s not unusual, the idea of celebrating and it having a purpose,” Jaffe said. “That was something that Win and Régine and I spoke about a lot when we started Kanaval. How this had to capture that spirit of New Orleans, that connection to faith and spirituality and celebration and purpose.”

They discerned a spiritual component from the outset. The night Butler, Chassagne and Jaffe decided to launch Kanaval, they drove past Dos Jefes Uptown Cigar Bar on Tchoupitoulas Street. A feeling came over Butler that they should stop and go in.

Inside, they encountered musician Bruce “Sunpie” Barnes, chief of the North Side Skull and Bone Gang, whose Mardi Gras morning ramble through Treme and the 7th Ward is a 200-year-old tradition.

“He’s at the center of the preservation of Creole culture, one of the deepest people I’ve ever met,” Butler said of Barnes. “I’m not a hippy-dippy person at all – my dad is a scientist – but what can I can say about that?"

Kanaval is only in its third year. Butler, Chassagne and Jaffe hope it grows and attracts broad community support. Anyone who can’t afford to join the krewe can still be involved as a volunteer.

“Our goal is long-term,” Butler said. “The more people that can come and take this over…the goal is for us to put our energy into it and have it take on a life of its own.”

Meanwhile, Chassagne said, “we can be a megaphone.”

Especially at the Kanaval Ball. For all the diverse talents of its members, many of whom are Canadian, can Arcade Fire play a credible “Mardi Gras Mambo”?

“We can play anything,” Chassagne said without hesitation.

Jaffe concurs: “They are the best cover band that I’ve ever seen. When they played with Boy George (of ‘80s band Culture Club) in London, my mind was blown. It sounded like karaoke, like Boy George was singing over the record.”

Between Arcade Fire, the Preservation Hall Jazz Band and the various Haitian acts, the Kanaval Ball is likely to generate an energy all its own.

“You know how difficult it is to describe a second-line to someone not from New Orleans – you’ve got to have the experience,” Jaffe said. “That’s sort of Kanaval.

“You have to put your fate in the hands of the universe. It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be amazing.”

[yougotamusicalfriend]

This week’s set of songs #2:

“Both sides now”:  Joni Mitchell wrote this folk song in 1967, inspired by a passage in Henderson the rain king, a book she was reading at the time. This is probably one of Mitchell’s most famous songs, and one of my favourite ones. This Canadian singer wrote about life in such a simple, but profound way. I interpret the song as a look into life’s different aspects, and how there’s always more than one side to things. Nothing is certain, incontestable or always true: it all depends on which side of the situation you’re standing in. And, even if you’ve seen every aspect of life you can imagine, if you’ve experienced every pain and joy you could ever feel, life is still uncertain. It’s an illusion, unpredictable, always on the move. It has more sides than one could ever count. But there’s no use in trying to understand all of them: we should just focus in living and accepting that when life takes something from you, it always gives something in return. It has its own balance. Mitchell did two versions of the songs: the first one in with her guitar, and the second one, 32 years later, with an orchestra. It’s really interesting to see her the changes in her voice and her character, and the evolution of the song’s meaning.

Spotify’s 1st version:   https://open.spotify.com/track/3NW1YMA8kfNVTzGJCGBS8m?si=oEuGHTV5SsehCFYOhVDVBQ

Spotify’s 2nd version:   https://open.spotify.com/track/1pjATX7sbd6Y4jMVqIvzHk

Youtube’s 1st version:                             https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OP8M0jhsM74

Youtube’s 2nd version:                            https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cBf0olE9Yc                                                                                                                                                                

“Born to be blue”: This song was originally written by Mel Tormé in 1946, but multiple artists made their own versions throughout the years. Between all of the covers, I find Chet Baker’s one to be hypnotizing. In this jazz standard recorded for his 1964 album “Baby Breeze”, Baker sings instead of playing the trumpet. I really admire his incredible trumpeter skills, but I also find his voice to be so deep and filled with a unique emotion. When you listen to him sing this sad tune about a lost love and the sadness it left behind, you really think that Baker was born to be blue. I don’t know how he managed to do it, but he somehow sung dark and blue melodies in a sweet and almost lovable way. If you liked this version of the song, I highly recommend you to listen to Ella Fitzgerald’s cover as well, that is as mesmerizing as Baker’s.

Spotify version:   https://open.spotify.com/track/5Z0HDixFz1mtvPOXLtCKU9?si=WvWRafTFTsC9SyFaKxIDZg

Youtube version:                                       https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeAXLO00OFo                                       

“Carmen”: This song was written by an incredible Belgian singer called Stromae. I have a strong connection with french culture, and know some french singers as well, and I consider Stromae to be one of the best french speaking performers I’ve ever heard. Not only his melodies are heterogeneous, catchy and involve multiple instruments, he writes such interesting and innovating lyrics. This song is in his 2013 album “Racine carée” (square root), in which some of his best songs are featured. In “Carmen”, Stromae took the melody and part of the lyrics of “Habanera”, written by George Bizet for his 1875 opera “Carmen”, and modernized it to connect it to social media issues. The play on words that Stromae does is a bit lost in the translation, but the lyrics are still really powerful. He criticizes the way we often confuse our followers, likes, posts, story’s and comments with reality. How we unconsciously start interpreting this numbers with our social reality, and put all of our energy and time into creating a profile that doesn’t necessarily represent us. The youtube version has a translation of the song, but I’ll leave you three clues that are not clear if you just follow the translation. In the beginning he says “L’amour est comme l’oiseau de Twitter” (Love is like Twitter’s bird), which is a clear connection to “Habanera”, that starts with “Lamour est un oiseau rebelle” (Love is a rebel bird). Then, he makes a really smart play of words when he says “C’est comme ça qu’on s’aime, comme ça consomme”. In french the expressions “qu’on s’aime” (the way we love) et “consomme” (the way we consume) are really similar, and that way he tries to say that when we love (aime) we consume (consomme). Finally, there’s a second clear lyric connection to “Habanera”. This 1875 composition is a beautiful reflection on love and it’s free way of flying from person to person, while “Carmen” talks about how love has become an object of consumption rather than a bird that flies amongst us. In “Habanera”, the lyrics say “Prends garde a toi si je t’aime”, which means “be careful if I love you”, making reference to the ups and downs and the consequences of loving someone. Stromae took that and changed it to “Prends garde a moi, si je m’aime”, which means “be careful if I love myself” (instead of “if i love you”). By doing this, he criticizes the egoism that comes with social media, and how one becomes the center of attention in a dangerous way. (I’m sorry, this is so long, but it’s such an interesting song...)

Spotify version:    https://open.spotify.com/track/1pRvlcrVxqdDAyYT1Ym3Wq

Youtube version (with translation and amazing animations that illustrate the song):                                                    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKftOH54iNU

[socaprince]

SOCA THERAPY - MARCH 24, 2024

Soca Therapy Playlist

Sunday March 24th 2024

Making You Wine From 6-9pm on Flow 98.7fm Toronto

Captain (Dr. Jay Plate) - Hey Choppi

Dutty Flex - Kes

Soca Shanty (Nah Going Home) - Adam O x DJ Riddim Master

DAP (Drink And Party) - Viking Ding Dong

Happy Birthday (It's Shot O'Clock) - Motto x International Stephen

Honeycomb - Kes The Band feat Busy Signal & Michael Brun

Sha La La (Remix) - Nessa Preppy feat Skeng

Gal Like Sand - Shal Marshall

Wild Out Remix - Voice feat Rajahwild

Soca Bunx Riddim (Instrumental) - Zimi Records x PP x Dj Private Ryan x Travis World

Closer - Imani Ray 

One Ah Dem - Shal Marshall

Roxanne - Problem Child

Search Party - Preedy

Soca Eden - Destra

Let's Pretend - Patrice Roberts

In The Center - GBM Nutron x Farmer Nappy

So What - Fay-Ann Lyons

You, Soca & Money (Muv Short Edit) - Nadia Batson

Arch - Rhea Layne

Hot Gyal Anthem - GBM Nutron

Holiday - Problem Child

Good Medicine - Jaiga

Human Nature - Voice x Jada Kingdom

1 On 1 - Jimmy October

Wassy - Full Blown

TOP 7 @ 7 COUNTDOWN - Powered By The Soca Source

Top Songs On Jamaica Radio (all stations) from March 1st to 19th

7. Bad Gyal - Erphaan Alves

6. Inventor (Izaman) - Olatunji

5. Whistle While You Work - TK International

4. Energy - DJ Cheem x Tallpree

3. Wetter D Better - Preedy x Sekon Sta

2. We Reach - Iwer George

1. Everytime - Nadia Batson

Bad Gyal Section - Konshens

Boss Wine - Machel Montano x Salty

Back It Up (Remix) - Freezy x King Bubba Bashment

Ba Ba Ben (Wine & Bend Pt. 2) - DJ Cheem

Risk It All - Rudy Live

Night & Day - Th3rd x JMTB

Cut Me Loose - Kes x Travis World

Nothing Better - Nadia Batson x Romain Virgo

Enough - Nadia Batson x Farmer Nappy

Right For Somebody - Kerwin Du Bois

Alive And Well (DJ Kevin Festival Edit) - Voice

Stay Far - Problem Child

Energy Killers - Kerwin Du Bois

Mind Off (DM Edit Clean) - Lil Rick x Jus-Jay

No Press Button - Problem Child 

Dutty O'clock - Hance John

Fall Down - Keith Currency x Viking Ding Dong

Somebody Gyal - Skinny Fabulous

PAN MOMENTS 

Pan By Storm - Fonclaire

TANTY TUNE 

(1988) Woman Is Boss - Denyse Plummer & Len "Boogsie" Sharpe

Take Dat & Cool It -  Nigel Lewis

Turn It Up - Square One

Warming Up - Adam O x Akaiiusweet

BenUp - Porgie & Murda

Mon Bon Ami - Angela Hunte

Human - Machel Montano

Miracle - Kes & Tano

Beatin Road - Preedy & Smiddy Smith

Carnival Contract - Bunji Garlin

Document We - Kerwin Du Bois & Shal Marshall

Born To Fly - Nailah Blackman & Pumpa

Anxiety - Patrice Roberts

Devotion - Destra

My All - Nadia Batson

Best Self Transition to DNA - Nailah Blackman, Lyrikal, Mical Teja, Madness Muv

Rum Sweet - Problem Child

Welcome Back - Imani Ray

Weh Yuh Want (Soca Baby) - Prezzi Don

Yuh Lie - Added Rankin

NORTHERN PRESCRIPTION 

I Will Be Here - Kreesha Turner

Full Extreme - Ultimate Rejects feat MX Prime

Follow Dr. Jay @socaprince​ and @socatherapy

“Like” Dr. Jay on http://facebook.com/DrJayOnline

[hpoelzig]

Pondering GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS (2019)

Director Michael Dougherty amply demonstrates his credentials as a Godzilla fan in bringing to the screen a film that lovingly references myriad aspects of the various Toho series since 1954. This lavish and detailed homage to the legacy of Godzilla is full of nods that aficionados will find delicious and our favorite daikaiju have never looked more conscious and gloriously alive. It is crafted in an American summer blockbuster style in its breathless pacing so that one has to be quite sharp to spot all the goodies he’s woven into this third episode of Legendary’s MONSTERVERSE. While Gareth Edwards’ 2014 GODZILLA employed a Spielbergian touch, Dougherty offers the most Toho-esque installment so far in this franchise. 

Essence of Toho

In my review of the 2014 Edwards film, I had speculated that a MONARCH-centered approach would be best going forward, and indeed that has been the case with both KONG: SKULL ISLAND and this film. Dougherty has taken that Toho Showa series’ leap into “super science,” with defensive masers, secret bases around the globe enveloping recumbent daikaiju, and the ORCA device, meant to communicate with the Titans. This approach, sort of sci-fantasy, enlarges the sandbox in which he can play and recalls what has been part of so many prior Godzilla outings. MONARCH’s Argo, an immense flying wing, seems to echo the various “Super X” vehicles from the Heisei series, the Marvel Comics S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier Behemoth from their Godzilla: King of the Monsters series, as well as being a nod to both the flying wing from George Pal’s THE WAR OF THE WORLDS (the Northrop YB-49) and to the name of the ship from JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS, so well depicted by Ray Harryhausen. One particular delight for me was the Osprey’s arrival at the Castle Bravo facility, recalling the opening of DESTROY ALL MONSTERS, where a helicopter descended into a similar circular vertical tunnel to reach the hidden base on Monster Island. And, as Toho had done with its production design, these MONARCH scientific/military installations are full of gigantic screens surrounded by flashing lights from which “officially concerned” humans can monitor the global monster action at a safe distance.

Eggleton’s Impact

I was impressed by the painterly cinematography in this most Eggletonian-looking of Godzilla films—I actually expected to see Bob acknowledged in the credits as his visual style so permeates many scenes. Fans of his paintings cannot miss how much of the imagery is flavored by this extraordinary artist’s numerous works. That impressionistic sensibility Edwards had captured in the HALO descent to San Francisco scene infuses much of this movie. And his method for viewing the Titans from human perspectives to make their scale apparent was also deliberately maintained by Dougherty. Despite so much care having been lavished on the sweeping imagery, these sumptuous frames fly by in fractions of a second, which has sadly become the standard action film approach to editing and pacing. That for me is a disservice to those who clearly worked diligently to craft impressive and iconic visuals—such splendor should not be snatched away so swiftly from our hungry eyes. Lingering just a bit longer on some of these fantastic moments would have been so much more satisfying. When King Ghidorah seizes Rodan’s volcanic aerie and regenerates his missing head in a very bizarre, placental manner, his dominance over a foreground cross suggests his demonic power, much as FANTASIA’s Chernabog perched atop Mount Triglav—a gorgeous and potent symbol. He then sends out a call to rouse the world’s Titans to do his bidding as their “usurper king.” That pivotal moment passes far too quickly. Would that the two flanking heads have paused and then looked to the central dominant head, who would return their gazes, then look skyward and begin voicing “the call.” Then the other two would join-in, very deliberately, with some unearthly new sound reaching out to be that irresistible global conscription summons. That could have kicked the scene up significantly. The triple voiced sound used in the film was less of a command, rather a sort of keening, which quietly lingered in the following scenes of the other Titans awakening. For my tastes it should have had more of a dramatic emphasis—and have been audibly unique to the moment. Even somehow having King Ghidorah take note of his new troops as they each arise and perhaps respond audibly to his summons would have made his dominance much clearer and more exciting—perhaps cutting back to him as his heads express a knowledge of each new disciple’s activation?

Daikaiju Design

The designs of the quartet of classic Toho stars move to the top of my favorites, as each are detailed, expressive, and dynamic. Tweaking Godzilla’s look to enlarge his dorsal plates and having them flicker even when not powering up for a blast of nuclear plasma works well—he crackles with latent energy. While the 2014 look is an excellent, naturalistic one, changing the primary row of dorsal plates to repeat the 1954 design and then bumping up the secondary rows to Heisei-styled size makes him more in line with earlier Gozilla incarnations. I’d still like him to sport a proper tertiary row of plates that are clearly defined, which has been a common aspect of many incarnations of the King of the Monsters. Taking those sauropod-esque feet and enlarging the claws for more of a predatory aspect looks fearsome, and I like the shortening of the whip tail of the 2014 version to be more like the standard Godzilla profile. And having a new climactic revival of “Burning Godzilla” was a fine choice, reigniting that concept from GODZILLA VS. DESTOROYAH. King Ghidorah is masterfully realized, a proud successor to DRAGONSLAYER’s Vermithrax Pejorative, who can fly, stride or wing-walk with sinuous beauty. That aspects of his wings echo a William Blake image of the Red Dragon really makes for such resonance. The three heads being somewhat independent with unique personalities was also a superb concept. Ghidorah’s condescending curiosity regarding those nasty, puny humans he was seeing for the first time—even to licking their corpses to explore them—brought forth his diabolically sinister consciousness. His gravity beams and the neck-glow charge-up are splendid. Mothra in her bioluminescent glory is stunningly conceived, from impressively carapaced larva to majestic moth-mantis-wasp imago—magnificent, mysterious, and with a feminine puissance. Rodan as the fantasy firebird, a magma-veined pterosaur, fiendishly skeksis-esque in angry avian awareness, has such presence. Bowing like a courtier to both the usurper and finally to the true king, he exhibits a calculating, conscious persona. His thrilling barrel-roll to take out the pursuing jets was about the most spectacular image we’ve seen of him, ever.

As Toho had done in SHIN GOJIRA, Godzilla’s roars from the various series were employed, as well as his roars from the 2014 film. I was hoping for more of the very deep vocalizations from the 1954 original. Mothra sounded as she always has, with plaintive chirrups and screes. The cries for both Rodan and King Ghidorah were not the originals, and were for me a bit more “generic giant monster” voices. I would have loved to hear new recreations of those readily recognizable Rodan yawps and cackles, and much more forward versions of KG’s triple toned “bidi-bidi-bidi” voice—rather than the faint references buried in the raucous sound design. I rather expected more original Toho monster sounds than were used for both of them, since Daugherty was employing past iconic sounds for both Godzilla and Mothra and seemed to be teasing that during the film’s production. 

A Grim Setting

While there is some humor—not all of it apt— intended to break tension, the plot of this film builds upon the global revelation to the people of Earth that past super species were essentially their “gods,” knocking present day humans down a few notches on the dominance pyramid. The context is alarm and terror, though the MONSTERVERSE also offers awe and wonder as viewed through some of those studying the returning Titans. Serizawa remarks in a senate hearing that humanity should be viewed as Godzilla’s “pets”—and he means it. He respects “all forms of life” and sees our world as one that must have a balance which is inclusive of its natural organisms, regardless of where we might end up in Nature’s organic tapestry. Over the course of the film, much is learned about the fascinating past history of human societies who lived in harmony with the Titans. Toho implied some of this in their films—Mothra was regularly portrayed as an eternal goddess for the islanders she protected—but here it is made quite explicit and detailed. Godzilla’s temple lair in submerged Atlantis, with gigantic friezes and sculptures honoring him, is surely an enrichment of this ongoing saga. There is a dark side to this scenario wherein some see humans as being abusive to their world and thus in need of being forcibly “tamed,” and then there is the collective might of the military who want to subjugate these creatures and restore man’s preeminence—behavior that began in the original GOJIRA and sustained throughout most of the films. 

Dr. Emma Russell is an oddly polarized primary character. To begin, she seems a concerned mother who has rescued her daughter Madison from her husband’s descent into alcoholism, which had been incited by the death of their son Andrew during Godzilla’s San Francisco battle with the Muto’s. An aside: That plot aspect is reminiscent of a similar character motivation in the third of Kaneko’s Gamera trilogy, wherein a young girl’s commitment to invoking the destructive daikaiju Iris is sealed by her parents’ collateral death during a monster rampage in the first film where Gamera, an Earth defender, destroys his adversary Gyaos. That Emma is no “mother of the year” is quickly exposed when Allan Jonah’s eco-terrorists arrive to snatch she and her daughter (and her Titan controlling ORCA device) after they execute the innocent MONARCH crew studying Titanus Mosura. Emma has indoctrinated her daughter to comply with her pursuit of shattering mankind’s toxic presence by releasing the Titans as “antibodies” to the virus that is human kind. And Emma is in cahoots with these extremists, her obsession being the first cause setting in motion the slaughter of her MONARCH colleagues in China, Antarctica, and Mexico as well as the other locations wherein the Titans are roused to destroy their containment facilities. And countless others then perish around the globe as the revived Titans rage. The script makes her somewhat sympathetic as a mother—she is shown to love and be concerned with her daughter and mournful of her son—but one could not give her a pass for the oceans of blood on her hands. Nor should she be forgiven for making Madison a victim of Stockholm syndrome. Madison, comprehending the grievous practices kindled by her mother’s theories, does awaken to reject Emma’s deeds and then she strives at great risk to use the ORCA to solve the global catastrophe wrought by both Emma and Jonah’s fanaticism. There is a cut scene in the video release of Madison training with the eco-terrorists which would have underlined her submission to her situation—I would have included that for the parallel with Patty Hearst it presents. Madison ultimately is heroic, and her father Mark renews himself by stepping-up to guide MONARCH’s efforts to understand and control the Titans. He provides some crucial insights based on his knowledge of animal hierarchy and behavior. Ultimately, Emma seeks atonement through her sacrifice, which brings some justice to her character’s story, while Mark and Madison are reunited in a world reeling from cataclysmic destruction. A rather “heavy” arc to this family’s journey, and properly symbolic in dealing with present social concerns. I think that it seemed to be missed by many viewers who were more concerned with the pyrotechnics of the battling Titans, but for me it is a properly grounded human story which offers a grave context to the monster spectacles.

Homages A Plenty

There are so very many references in this film, both visually and via dialogue—“Easter eggs” abound! I’ll touch upon a very few, leaving exhaustingly listing them to other obsessive fans. I enjoyed the numbered MONARCH outposts having significance—the release year of the film in which the Toho daikaiju there contained was a delight and also the fun nod to THE THING in the Antarctica outpost numerical designation. Modernizing the Shobijin by having Doctors Chen and Ling, and generations of twins in their family, as “priestesses” of Mothra is an excellent touch. The new Titans are gleeful references to mythology and cryptozoology, demonstrating that many cultures have embraced daikaiju throughout history. Intriguing archaeological mysteries are touched upon such as 12,000 year old Göbekli Tepe, hinting at past humans dealings with Titans. Even an article in the jam-packed end titles is authored by Steve Martin, the character played by Raymond Burr in the American version of the 1954 film which was first to be titled GODZILLA, KING OF THE MONSTERS. 

MONARCH’s mission critical submarine is named USS Scorpion, after an American nuclear submarine which was lost under mysterious circumstances, and it has a Captain Crane, like The Seaview in VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA. Its conning tower likewise has Seaview-esque planes and shape. The skeleton of Anguirus has a cameo, briefly glimpsed outside of Godzilla’s temple lair, and if only we’d gotten a better look at more of the Atlantean art paying homage to Godzilla—there seem to be monumental figures with Godzilla heads atop humanoid bodies holding some sort of ceremonial weapons which Serizawa passes on his way to revive his “old friend.” A sculpture of Pazuzu is glimpsed atop a step pyramid in that lost city—such artifacts all sadly obliterated to revive Godzilla. Some more time to drink in this elaborately detailed majestic setting would have been appreciated.

Several key plot events here are reshufflings from past Godzilla films. The concept of one daikaiju sacrificing itself to revive another was pivotal in GODZILLA VS. MECHAGODZILLA 2. There, Godzilla is tortured to near death by electrodes from Mechagodzilla which pierced his body and fried his secondary enlarged ganglial areas. Fire Rodan, nearly expired from his conflict with Mechagodzilla, as a dying act drapes himself atop the fallen Godzilla, evaporating into a sparkling mist and then both healing and resurrecting Godzilla, who now has an even more powerful, red-tinged plasma beam. In GMK, Godzilla is the “heel” who fights the more positive trio of Baragon, Mothra and King Ghidorah. Godzilla seemingly kills King Ghidorah, so Mothra makes a direct, suicidal flight at Godzilla who evaporates her with his plasma breath—shared imagery with Daugherty’s film, though here King Ghidorah and Godzilla have reversed roles. In Kaneko’s film, Mothra’s energy descends upon King Ghidorah in a sparkling cloud, reviving him and enhancing his wings and gravity beams for the final combat with Godzilla. That Godzilla thrives on exposure to radiation has long been part of the basic lore of many of the films, and his revival and enhancement through extreme exposure was no surprise as being primary to the MONSTERVERSE’s mythology. And the scene wherein King Ghidorah “powers-up” via biting electrical cables in the Boston battle reminds me of Kong being electrically revived in the original KING KONG VS. GODZILLA. Godzilla’s expression as King Ghidorah takes that bite, and then the massive arcs of electricity that spread out from his wings to clear the attacking human’s jets are both such memorable moments—which could have been given just a bit more time to accommodate earned “oohs and aahs.” 

The novelization of GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS goes into detail about some of the Titans only glimpsed or simply listed in the film, and one hopes they’ll emerge in the next or further MONSTERVERSE installments—if any. There is a beautiful, brief passage in the book which is told from Godzilla’s point of view. We see through his eyes his responsibility as the lord and protector of this world—the globe is his domain and he is aware of the entire planet, sensing time passing through the shifts in Earth’s tectonic plates. He is aware of the much younger Kong, but unconcerned as Kong is only responsible for Skull Island. We know Kong is the last of his kind, and Godzilla also seems to be as well, though in the comic prequel to this film the story of the Godzilla-esque skeleton infested with the two Muto spores was explained as being Dagon—perhaps his elder “cousin”? The Muto which killed him was vanquished by Godzilla between the 2014 and 2019 films in that comic, which also serves to explain the change in his dorsal plates, which Dougherty has said are continually growing, like antlers. It would be a delight if the Kraken, snoozing as it embraces a sunken nuclear submarine, and Mokele-Mbembe, designed according to the legends as part serpent and elephant, had scenes in the films to come. If Godzilla at some point must sacrifice himself to save the world, discovering another younger member of his species in the Hollow Earth regions would not be surprising and would also embrace that “son of Godzilla” concept used in Toho’s series. The sunken Atlantis being part of the subterranean world evokes Verne’s JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH, and of course the 1959 film adaptation concludes with a gigantic lizard menacing the remains of the Lindenbrook party in its ruins. Perhaps there are other humans (humanoids) “down below” as well, in fascinating antediluvian cities, much as Toho posited with the Seatopians, or even like the subterranean Sumerians from THE MOLE PEOPLE? Possibilities abound!

The Score

We’ve been quite fortunate that the scores for Hollywood Godzilla films have been powerful, thematic, and thoughtfully composed works wrought by talented composers. Both Arnold and Desplat crafted magnificent music that expressively carried the action. McCreary’s is the first MONSTERVERSE score to incorporate iconic themes for both Godzilla and Mothra from the Toho scores, and these quotations were well-timed and heightened the drama. Additionally, his new themes are both strong and memorable. The thematic material for King Ghidorah constantly iterates the number three, and the general rising melodic line is even kin to that of Holst’s “Mars, The Bringer of War” from THE PLANETS. The chanting monks’ voices offer a mysterious sense of religious awe to support the diabolical “destroyer of worlds.” Rodan’s theme features whooping horns, as if to echo the “Samurai of the Skies” cries. Even the film’s opening quiet theme has that “Go-Ji-Ra” rhythm that was used in both the 1998 and 2014 films to craft memorable new musical signatures for the King of the Monsters. Most touching was the gorgeous choral music accompanying Serizawa’s Spock-esque sacrifice—which even visually rhymed the descent of the mini-sub with the photon torpedo casket sequence from THE WRATH OF KHAN. The MONSTERVERSE’s Serizawa is essentially a transmogrified Dr. Yamane from the 1954 GOJIRA, a man who studies and appreciates Godzilla as a living being. By having him sacrifice himself not to destroy Earth’s dominant Titan, but to revive him with a nuclear weapon and thus save humanity, works as a pragmatic inverse linking him to the original Dr. Seizawa, the self-immolating physicist who conceived of far too deadly a weapon in the Oxygen Destroyer. McCreary’s “requiem” suited that sequence to perfection. When Godzilla rises again and blasts forth his plasma beam into the sky, the Ifukube-based accompaniment was deeply moving, and the moment Godzilla looked to his human saviors was delightful. He seems to acknowledge their role, much as that of the people from a past civilization who had idolized him, and the soundtrack even has a fleeting phrase of Ifukube’s Godzilla theme much as it was scored for high woodwinds in the requiem from GODZILLA VS. DESTOROYAH—a very brief and subtle nod. McCreary’s triumphant symphonic apotheosis of his own opening Go-ji-ra theme over that concluding acknowledgment of the Earth’s true monarch brought me chills. Being followed immediately by McCreary’s magnificently over-the-top arrangement of B.O.C.’s song “Godzilla” to commence the end titles was fan service of the highest order. Its refrain, “History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man!” is of course the underlying theme of the Legendary MONSTERVERSE. “Bravo!” Maestro McCreary!

Could Be Bettered

Some minor cavils. I prefer to hear the word Ghidorah pronounced in the more euphonious Japanese manner, with the three syllables (ghi-do-rah) given equal emphasis and the first one slightly higher in pitch. One can hear it when watching Toho’s original Japanese prints with English subtitles. Americans emphasize the second syllable (Ghi-DOR-ah), and thus the middle one sounds like the English word door, while the Japanese put the R on the third syllable. I’d have dropped that weak gonorrhea joke, and the “very long fortune cookie” line was a tad clumsy, and a bit out of place for the dignified Serizawa. In this film he seems to take a bit of a back seat to Dr. Mark Russell, once he’s on the scene, which is a bit of a disservice to his character for me. And that his sidekick Dr. Graham is so quickly dispatched by King Ghidorah during his emergence seemed a bit too casual—her character was a fine one, and I’d have enjoyed more from her going forward.

The film brings back the Oxygen Destroyer, a wonderful nod to the original, and they hint at it being tested in the news crawl Madison and Emma have on in the background in their opening domestic scene at the China base. The news commentator’s reporting of “mass die-offs” must be from the military testing it. Rather than having it come as a surprise announcement when the incoming missile is announced by Admiral Stenz, I think that viewers should have been clued-in earlier, and rather easily. The audience primarily sees things from the point of view of the MONARCH characters. But if we go to that senate hearing scene, from which the MONARCH crew departs having been alerted to the eco-terrorist attack on their Mothra temple base—despite being warned that there will be consequences, that scene could have briefly continued. Admiral Stenz would reveal to the committee, once Serizawa and crew have departed, that the military now has a prototype weapon that they think could be used to exterminate the Titans. We’d cut from the blurred footage of the Mutos on the monitor to a graphic of the Oxygen Destroyer (what we saw later when Stenz alerts the Argo team), while Stenz declares this is their tested proposal for conquering the Titans. If one wanted to flesh it out, then perhaps running some brief footage of it killing fish or other forms of life with some dark accompanying music would be a strong punctuation. But even that wouldn’t be required, just that graphic and a Stenz voiceover would have done the trick. So, rather than ending on a weak joke about blurred Titan genitals, we’d have the Oxygen Destroyer’s revelation as added tension for its eventual use.

With such wonderfully detailed renditions of the Titans, particularly the four Toho guest stars, I think they went a bit too far in trying to fit them into their environments by surrounding them with clouds, mists, and fog. This gives the Titan scenes an overall soft and painterly feel, and I can enjoy that aesthetic choice, but seeing the creatures that were so very carefully designed, and whose movements are crafted in such a convincing manner, being obscured far too often I think was an error. Dialing that back somewhat would have been a wiser choice—show us what you’ve got! Particularly in the expert choreography of the battling Titans—which in some scenes appears to have been inspired by Matt Frank’s compositional style—being able to see how the tussles and tumbles progress with greater clarity would have enhanced the viewing experience.

Wishful Thinking

I would hope that there might eventually be a “director’s cut” in some future boxed-set home video release of the MONSTERVERSE films that would relax the pace of this film somewhat—taking time to linger on the beautifully crafted images so that we won’t have to freeze-frame to savor the glories on screen. And the storyboarded but unfilmed mid-credit scene of another Mothra egg being sung to by twin young girls in another hidden temple space beneath a modern city should be added-in or at least exist as part of the extras—possibly an animated version? If the box office returns from the next installment don’t justify further live action films, it would be fun to have a MONARCH-centered animated series exploring the numerous Titans and how humanity must deal with them. The cartoon series that followed the 1998 Emmerich GODZILLA film was quite an improvement over its progenitor, so I suspect something similar could happen with this franchise going forward once live action films are no longer produced.

The Coming Conflict

Daugherty has reportedly had some plot input towards Wingard’s upcoming GODZILLA VS. KONG, and so the end titles give us glimpses into what might be to come via various briefly shown illustrated articles. One explains that the newly emerged Titans were being drawn to Skull Island, so one has to wonder if that locale could at the conclusion become the “Monster Island” of the MONSTERVERSE? That it is a gateway to the Hollow Earth is an exciting prospect, for more mysteries abound there. Already the rumor that the APEX corporation, which funded Colonel Alan Jonah’s eco-terrorists, is now behind the construction of Mechagodzilla (the toys of this character have been leaked already), who will have an ORCA variant built-in to lure Titans to the slaughter. 

King Ghidorah can regenerate in an unearthly manner and the director has mentioned in interviews that his consciousness is spread through his body. Daugherty has said that whatever might have fed on the carcass head could perhaps become some sort of mutating “legion,” perpetuating King Ghidorah, from flies to any sea creatures that took a nibble, if the series goes on. The rumor mill suggests that materials from the brain of this dead head have been used to create a bio-tech controller to enhance Mechagodzilla. Now that we’ve gone to a Showa series sensibility, the film makers have a great deal of latitude for referencing some of the more fantastic concepts from earlier films. With the biggest blockbusters today being super hero fantasies, one need not try to pretend that MONSTERVERSE films are bounded by the laws of our Universe. The relatively more “realist” approach of Edwards’ 2014 GODZILLA has been evolved into a broadly fantastic approach, which reflects much of what Toho had done in all of its series.

Fan Reactions

It seems some Godzilla fans on message boards are now turning on Dougherty’s epic—everyone seems to want each new film to be their vision of the perfect Godzilla film and then disappointment sets in when it isn’t. Yet so many of the films throughout the ongoing saga of Godzilla have been silly, cheesy, daffy, and sometimes just dopey—yet many of we aficionados embrace them all for their charms, after all, we get to see more of Godzilla and his fellow daikaiju. They appeal to quite a wide range of viewers of all ages, and as one ages, different films might head a favorites list based on one’s evolving tastes. Better that more Godzilla tales are wrought and released, regardless of whatever flaws we might find. In GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS the incarnations of our old favorites and some intriguing new Titans are truly extraordinary, brought to vivid life with contemporary effects capabilities. Never before have these sorts of films been graced with such mammoth budgets and been seen by such large audiences around the globe—a golden age for Godzilla is upon us.

Huzzah Daugherty!

Despite its flaws, I find so much to love in this film, particularly that final scene. After Godzilla has vaporized his age-old rival and literally “smoked” his final head, the Titans summoned by Madison’s activation of the ORCA in Fenway Park arrive. Godzilla, battered and weary from his strivings has exhausted the energy gifted to him through his ally Mothra’s sacrifice—like Heracles after his many labors. This unbowed victor is at last confronted by the other awakened super-species. It looks like a further battle could ensue, as Rodan swoops down at last. But, that canny firebird knows his place and thus submits to the true king, with a nod and almost a courtsey-like gesture of his cape-like wings. The other Titans then “bend the knee” and Godzilla bellows his triumphant “skreeonk” as McCreary’s music superbly supports this coronation scene. I felt such a powerful frisson at that moment and do with each repeat viewing. The Titans demonstrate their consciousness, intelligence, and their sense of natural hierarchy in what is one of my favorite conclusions in the entire canon of Godzilla films.

So, I salute Daugherty and all the others involved in what for me is a grand outing for all of the Titans and a very fine addition to the roster of Godzilla’s adventures. I’ve watched it many times since I saw that first Thursday night preview screening, and I continue to enjoy it immensely. Like all of the earlier films, I don’t dwell on what I see as flaws, but I celebrate the unique wonders that have been wrought, and these abound in this Toho-redolent GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS. 

The bar has been raised. Batter-up, Adam Wingard—let the MONSTERVERSE continue!

—Peter H. Gilmore

[musicallisto]

♉️(1/2) Hello Honey!! 🌸✨ I was wondering if I could please get a Harry Potter ship Drabble? (Prompt #41 from the list please! 😊) My name is Margaret. I'm a straight female, standing at 5’4, ENFP, ♉️, Hufflepuff & I wear glasses. I have fair skin & long brown, curly hair. I radiate big musical theatre kid energy. Because of that, I’m incredibly outgoing & am able to make friends really easily. I also radiate massive mom energy-

♉️(2/2) -(I’m kind-hearted, patient, & I’m really good with children). Though I'm usually all sunshine, rainbows, & smiles, I also enjoy things like true crime. I enjoy artsy things like drawing, singing, dancing, etc... & am a hopeless romantic who gets attached to people very easily. I’m also a self-titled critic of things ranging from video games to movies (though I love both). I dress soley for comfort. Thank you so much and I hope you have a great day/night!! 💕🌸✨

ϟ Footloose (George Weasley x Margaret)

author notes: first of all, are you my long-lost twin? we have so much in common it’s insane. second, I hope you like your ship! I’m sure you would be perfect with George, as a chaotic but happy, goofy and fun-loving couple. God, I had so much fun writing this and listening to footloose on loop.

prompt: #41. “May I have this dance?”

word count: 1,7k

your song: kenny loggins - footloose (from “footloose” soundtrack)

MUGGLES HAD PROM. You were certain of it, even if you had never set foot in a muggle school, because your muggle friends would rave about the formal dance each time you saw them. Who was the best dressed, what scandal or love triangle the prospect of dates had revealed, and whether the infamous prom King and Queen deserved the title. You listened politely, and although the idea of being asked by a handsome boy and dancing the night away in a fluffy dress under countless stars seemed somewhat appealing to your romantic heart, you still believed it was all a pretty superficial mascarade.

Your opinion of it all completely changed when the Yule Ball came around the corner at Hogwarts.

It turned out that it was extremely fun to see the entire school bubbling with excitement and teenage crushes. Suddenly, the grounds buzzed with excitement everywhere students walked, and from time to time the joyous chatter of the Hufflepuff common room would make way for a shy proposal. The few days preceding the dance, the professors themselves could hardly focus on anything else than the ball - the amusement it would entail for some, the sheer horror of having to watch over hundreds of hormonal students for most.

You barely expected it - some part of your heart did, as always, but it was foolish to entertain those dreams -, and yet, a few days before the fateful night, George asked you to be his date, and you accepted it an heartbeat. To be fair, you would have asked him if he had not, even if it were just as friends; you couldn’t pass up on the opportunity of enjoying a night of dancing and music and free food and laughter with your two best friends. However, when George had made it clear that he was asking you as his date with that self-assured and goofy smile you loved, and not just his best friend like you had been for years, you were thrilled. You barely focused on your classes, anxiously awaiting the ball.

When the famous night finally arrived, you were even more bubbly than usual, and had been laughing all day at any random comment you’d heard. Your friends had largely teased you all evening, bringing up your crush on George with silly voices. Denying it was of no use anymore, you figured... besides, as you got to the Great Hall to meet George there, bouncing up and down in your flowy, gold - comfortable nevertheless! - dress, you promised yourself nothing would undermine your good mood.

Quite the contrary, actually. It soared high up in your chest when you ran down the main staircase, your heels resounding like a joyous firecracker, to where George was waiting for you next to his brother. A little flare rose up in your ribcage at the sight of him in a tuxedo, complete with the bowtie he swore he would never get close to, but you focused on your own smile as to not let your cheeks redden in front of him.

“Madame,” George purred with a grin, extending his arm to you.

Sticking out your tongue at Fred’s mock whistling, you linked your arm to George’s, and with a pang of excitement that you suspected was more due to his warm chest right next to yours than to the actual dance, you marched into a winter wonderland. On your best friend’s arm, shining in gold against his black, you were a blizzard princess entering a realm of magic on the most beautiful night of your life.

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face as you watched the Triwizard Tournament champions open the ball. By the way George held you close on the side of the dancefloor, shoulders relaxed and his cheek brushing the side of your head, you could tell there were no hard feelings on his part for not being able to rig the tournament and compete as well. Still, as you swayed lightly to the music, without even realizing it completely, you couldn’t help wishing you were gliding gracefully with your love in your arms, before everyone’s eyes, like in a fairytale...

As you formulated the thought, and pushed your mindless sulking to the side of your head - this was a ball, after all, and you were there to dance, and you would! -, George pulled away just a little, and offered you a hand in the most (and way too for it to be natural) gallant way, although you could tell by his eyes that he was really enjoying making a spectacle of himself.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

At that, you giggled. “My lady”. What absurdities had you heard from this mouth in so many years, only to be bested by him trying to be a gentleman! You adored it, though. He was an idiot, but a gentle bolt of love coursed through your veins at how special it made you feel.

“You are my date, George. Of course you can have this dance.”

“I’m just making sure. Nothing tells me that you haven’t started hating me from the moment we stepped inside.”

“I will hate you if we don’t dance.”

No, you wouldn’t hate him. Besides, you can tell he’s eager to waltz with you, just as much as you are with him. As he leads you to the center of the dancefloor among the other couples, and settles his hand on your waist, however, a flash of panic dawns on you.

“George, I... I can’t really dance.”

Yet your hand finds his shoulder like you’ve waltzed a hundred times before. Maybe the practice in your dreams has translated into the certainty of your arms, like a serene haze taking over you.

“Does Harry look like he knows how to dance?” George replies, unfazed.

You huff, remembering his clumsy steps, and Parvati’s excruciatingly obvious efforts not to wince whenever he would dig his heel into her shoes. So much for being the Chosen One, destroyer of Evil, child of prophecy, youngest Gryffindor Seeker and Magnet to Trouble; the boy surely can’t manage his feet and hands doing two different things at the same time.

“Then we’ll make it work. We can’t be worse, right?”

You barely had the time to nod before the music picked up again in a gentle ternary rhythm, and you stepped backwards with as much elegance as you could to conceal the fact that really, you were just instinctively dodging George’s foot. However, as the song progressed, and you grew less stiff, letting the warmth radiating from George’s fingers melt you down, your steps became more fluid, aerial almost, and a wave of contentment surged over you when you noticed that waltzing was not that dreadful after all, that you'd seen it done before hundreds of times on TV and in musicals, and that when George twirled you around, your dress lifted up ever so slightly and blew a ravishing breeze on your ankles. Each time he did, you retained a giggle, and your heart opened more. From the corner of your eye, you noticed other couples, still indecisive, scrutinizing your legs. They were all trying to understand what spell Margaret and George, of all people, had used to float a few inches above the ground.

There was no spell, no trick. Just smiles, frenetically beating hearts behind composed and amused faces, a glimmer of laughter barely contained, and unbreakable trust and guidance.

Just what you would have called love, if someone had asked you...

All too soon, the song came to a halt, letting the last notes sizzle quietly, hovering in the air around you. Just a little breathless, you looked up at George, and saw an infinite devotion in his eyes when they draped over yours.

“Thank you,” you murmured over the sound of your erratic heartbeat and the violins dying down onstage.

“Why, the pleasure’s all mine,” he responded, leaning in slightly.

The same careful fire pulled you toward him, your lips upturned to meet his for the first time... and then an all too familiar beat broke the silence, thunderous and frenetic, and you realized what you were about to do. Suddenly you had pulled back, cheeks crimson and short of breath, not only because you recognized one of your favorite Muggle musical songs to dance to, but also due to the wave of adrenaline that washed over you and painted you red.

“Merlin! I can’t believe they’re playing this!”

“What is this?” he yelled back, beaming as well. A single silver star shone in his eyes. There would many opportunities to pick up where you left off later. But you could only dance to Footloose with George at the Yule Ball once.

“It’s Muggle rock! Dance with me!”

Grabbing his arm, you led him to the centermost point of the dancefloor, where gasping, enthusiastic Muggleborns were already bouncing in a circle. George followed you, not knowing a thing of what was happening, but laughing nonetheless. No use in knowing the details when you’re certain you’re going to have a good time.

“How did that movie go again?” you yell at another student, bouncing excitedly on their feet, but they merely shook their head with unbridled energy and got back to jumping around.

“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!” George exclaimed, barely containing his laughter anymore. Stars of glitter covered your eyes and every morsel of your skin - you were having none of that.

“Me neither! Just follow the rhythm! If I can learn to do it, then you can learn to do it!”

You couldn’t feel your feet before the chorus even kicked in, but the lyrics came to you like second nature, and soon you were twisting and twirling and jumping under George’s arm, who, judging by the everlasting creases by his eyes, much prefered this kind of party. Your golden skirt, lifted in the air with every movement you made, shone like a thousand suns in this palace of ice. And yet George and your’s laughter was the brightest spot in the entire castle of ardent souls losing themselves to a frenetic Muggle guitar riff.

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (7/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: Hey, uh, this is not the Modern AU it was advertised as. Here we’ve got some explanations, Lieutenant Duckling, magic, more magic, Liam Jones, and (hopefully) romance. Thanks for reading, for realz. As always @resident-of-storybrooke @distant-rose and @bmbbcs4evr are the best.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

The Enchanted Forest, Many Years Ago

She’s shivering when they find her. 

There’s snow on the ground and snow in her hair, a distinctly blue hue to the tips of her fingers that can’t possibly be right, but she's young and alone and she can’t really remember a time when she wasn’t shivering. 

The voice that calls for her is barely audible over the chattering of her teeth, an ache in her jaw that’s simply become part of the way she exists. She sits. And shivers. And sits some more. Occasionally she tries to ask for something, but no one ever pays her much heed and the blanket wrapped around her shoulders isn’t much more than a few bits of fabric she’s patched together herself. 

She doesn’t have a needle. 

She has no idea how long she’s been there, no memory beyond that alley and the few inches of space she’s been able to claim as her own. The other children are afraid of her. Because she doesn’t move.

She sits and shivers and the fluttering under her skin makes it feel as if she could make that same alley disappear entirely. She doesn’t know what it is, all she knows is that it’s been there longer than the alley and longer than her, an age to it that certainly doesn’t match up with her. 

It isn’t always bad – sometimes it settles in her, a low hum that’s almost pleasant, like the sound of sunlight, a warmth that works from her center out to her limbs and the tips of her hair and the heels of her feet. 

The same heels that are currently hanging out of the back of her shoes. 

The shoes are almost as old as the blanket.

And it’s been so cold she can’t bring herself to fix them, not like she’s done with the blanket. It’s too much, an energy she can’t find when the alley is full of whispers and questions –  what is she doing and why won’t she move and did you see what happened to her hand. 

They play on loop in her head and make her shake even more, the fear growing and festering and dousing out the light that she desperately wants to cling to. 

The voice calls for her again. 

“Oi, you there! What’s your name?” She jerks up, eyes going wide and lips pressed together, fear slinking down her spine. It’s more cold, dark and dank, but that may also be the pile of discarded scraps from the tavern at the other end of the alley and she doesn’t have an answer to that question. 

She has no idea what she’s capable of. Or who she is. She just is. Right there. In the alley. With fingers that, sometimes, sparkle and shine. 

The man takes a step closer towards her, fingers dancing on the hilt of a sword. She’s seen weapons before, some of them pointed at her when she’s trying to find bits of food or a bed that isn’t covered in snow, but something about that man makes him keep the blade sheathed. 

He stares at her, an appraising look and the fear turns into something else, soft flames that lap at the back of her brain and warn her of something she can’t possibly understand. 

Not yet. 

The man blinks once, tongue flashing between his lips. He crouches down. He doesn’t point his sword at her. 

Ever. 

He’s young – younger than the other men she’s seen patrolling alleys and the darker corners of the town below the castle, looking for something or someone and she doesn’t ever listen to the rumors. She’s usually too busy trying to eat. And they scare her. The whispers and the talk, people taken and used, a small army being built behind walls that are far too high. They must be hiding something. 

There are a few medals on the man’s uniform, the little bit of light around them flashing off his chest, and she supposes that means he’s important. She wonders what he did to earn them. His hair is light, but not as much as hers, a slight curl and softness to it that makes her wonder if he won’t actually hurt her. The other men always seem to thrive on the hurt. She doesn’t think this man does. 

“You don’t have a name, do you?” he continues, and she doesn’t move. “Ah, that’s...well, everyone deserves a name, don’t you think?” She doesn’t respond. The cold has disappeared almost entirely, replaced by a heat and a spark and she glances down to make sure nothing is happening. She doesn’t want to scare him. She doesn’t want him to leave. 

He smiles at her. 

“That’s ok,” he says. “Not many people get to pick their own names. I think that makes you almost lucky.”

She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t really need a name, not here, at least. It seems silly to give a name to something no one wants. 

His smile flickers. “That’s ok,” he repeats. “We’ll..we’ll think of something together, huh? What if I told you my name first? Would that make you a little less scared?” She narrows her eyes, not sure how he’s figured that out, but it doesn’t do much to make the unease in the pit of her stomach fade. She knows something is wrong. She just doesn’t think it has anything to do with him. 

She nods. And his smile returns to normal, an ease to it that makes her wonder if people can actually be like that. 

“My name is Liam,” he says. “I’m here to help you.” “No.”

The word falls unbidden from her lips, but she can’t shake the feeling lingering in her muscles and every inch of her feels tense with a fear that no one else should be able to understand. She’s not sure why she believes he can. 

But magic is in the air in Misthaven, grows in nearly everyone and no one ever wants to talk about it. It’s been there since the start, or so the stories say, sprouting out of something no one can remember the name of, passed on from family member to family member and, sometimes, if a person is very, very lucky, someone else can feel what they do. That doesn’t happen very often, though. 

Because no one is ever willing to share. 

They duck their eyes when asked, mumbled excuses for whatever it is they’re capable of because if anyone ever discovers them, it won’t be long until they’re gone. 

Disappear. 

Behind the walls and away from the town, away from everything and anyone who has ever loved them. She doesn’t have anyone like that. 

No one would notice her missing. 

“You don’t think so?” 

She shakes her head, snow falling on her shoulders. “You work for the King, don’t you?” “Smart,” he mutters, and it takes her a moment to realize what he’s doing, shrugging out of his jacket with its shiny medals to wrap the fabric around her shoulders. “That’ll help you when you get up there.”

“I don’t want to go there.” “I can’t do anything about that. I have orders. This could help. It’s--Gods,” He wipes a hand over his face, leaving red streaks in his wake and there’s a desperation to the movement. It’s anxious and nervous and almost a little cautious, as if he knows what he’s doing is wrong. And knows that he has to do it anyway. “I have to,’ Liam whispers, ducking his head into her eye line. “You have to understand. This can change everything. They won’t look at us anymore if they have someone like you.” She can’t stop shaking her head. It hurts. She hurts. “No.” “People have seen you. What you’re capable of and George...he wants that. He’s not going to stop. If I’m the one to bring you up there, it could--”

“Don’t make me go up there,” she pleads, a catch in her voice and tears staining her vision. She hopes they don’t freeze when they land on her cheeks. It’s so cold. Her lips are starting to crack. “Please, I can’t--I--” She sniffles, shoulders shaking with the force of it all, and she thinks she sees a flicker of doubt in Liam’s gaze – as if he’s no longer certain of orders or what he should and shouldn’t do. The jacket around her seems to get heavier. 

And it all happens quickly, enough that even in the years that will eventually stretch out before her and behind her, she’s never entirely sure what happens. But the surge that moves through her is as strong as it’s ever been, lighting her up like a candle and the snow in her hair melts almost immediately. 

It is, she assumes, because her hair has lit up. There’s no fire, no smoke, nothing except the low burst of light that dances between the strands, wrapping itself around the curve of her jaw and the shell of her ear, tracing down the path of her arms and shining from the tips of her fingers. It doesn’t flicker, it, simply, shines, as if it’s coming directly from her and she knows it is.

She knows that’s what they want. 

Behind the wall. 

In the castle. 

They don’t want her. They want what she can do.

Liam doesn’t say anything – although his eyebrows do jump slightly and his mouth opens with an audible pop she can’t believe she can actually hear. He licks his lips again, eyes flitting around like he’s looking for someone and the deep breath he takes when he realizes they’re still alone is impossibly loud. 

He grits his teeth. And flips his hand. The ball of fire that appears in his palm isn’t large, but the warmth of it is nearly overpowering as she leans towards the flame on instinct. 

Her eyes flutter shut, shoulders sagging. It’s not an admission of defeat, not quite, more like a cease fire and she’s not entirely sure what changed. 

“They might be able to help you there,” Liam says, an empty promise that makes her scoff. He clicks his tongue. “Aye, that wasn’t very good, was it?” 

She shakes her head. Again. On loop. 

There’s still light lingering between her fingers. 

“No,” she whispers. “It wasn’t.” “You can’t stay here. You have to know that. If I leave you here, someone else will take you and then--” “--You won’t be able to collect your reward.”

Liam’s lips disappear behind his teeth, a sharp inhale and she may not know how long she’s been in that alley or what she’s capable of, but she’s always been very good at understanding people. And this man, with his medals and the little bit of power he doesn’t want anyone to know about, is far too easy to understand. 

“That’s true,” Liam admits softly. “I--you know that George is looking for someone who will be able to spark magic. To save it. The most powerful thing in the whole, entire world. That’s what the prophecy said.” ��I’ve never heard the prophecy.” “Aye, I’d imagine you wouldn’t down here. But...well, I can promise you, at least, some better shoes. Maybe a few fine gowns. A warm meal.” “And what will you get?” “People have been talking about you, did you know that?” Emma jumps up, moving so quickly the jacket falls off her, landing in a heap at her feet. She steps in a puddle of snow. It melted from the fire. “I’m not sure what they’re saying is true,” Liam adds, “but they all believe you’re something and now I’ve seen it as well. It won’t stop with me. Others will come and they’ll find you and they’ll take you. No matter what you do.” “I won’t go.” “You won’t have a choice.”

The tears that, finally, land on her cheeks aren’t cold the way she feared they’d be. They’re hot, branding her skin and marking her with the fear she can’t contain any longer. And part of her knows that Liam is right. That she can’t stay in that alley, that the whispers will only grow and the looks will last a little longer, wary glances and pointed stares, and she can see the torment in his gaze. 

He doesn’t want this. 

He doesn’t have a choice. 

And neither does she. 

“Alright,” she says, doing her best to make it sound braver than it is. Her fingers flutter at her side. “What will you get if I go?” “George wants magic. He wants the power and the potential of all the people in this kingdom. To fight the Dark One.” “That’s not real.” “I’m afraid, my dear, in this case, the stories are true. This isn’t a punishment for existing. It’s--you can help. Fulfill the prophecy and save the kingdom. Destroy the Dark One. That’s what George is trying to do.” She blinks – realizing that Liam hasn’t ever used George’s title, a disrespect that doesn’t entirely match up with the medals. “You’ll get paid?” He nods, slow and measured with thin lips. “And you’ll be able to protect whoever you’re trying to protect? Because the king won’t look for more magic? He’ll--I’ll fix his prophecy?”

Liam is the one who stumbles that time, but there’s a flash of something on his face that may actually be pride. As if he’s impressed. She’s never seen that look before. “George will stop with you. I’m...I’m certain of it. And this will--” “--Will it make you an officer?” “It might.” She considers that for a moment, the man in front of her and the way his eyebrows pull together when he stares at her, an imploring look that seems to sink into her. She wonders who he’s protecting. She wonders how one person could care for another that much. 

To give her up. 

She nods. 

“Alright,” she mutters. “I’ll go with you.”

Liam exhales, a burst of air and flames that disappear as suddenly as they arrived. He steps back into her space, draping the jacket over her shoulders and holding his hand out. She takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, squeezing her fingers slightly. 

The walk to the castle isn’t long, but it winds through the entire city, more than a few curious glances thrown their direction as they continue. She doesn’t count the steps, far too focused on controlling her magic and that’s the first time she’s really considered that word. 

Magic. In her veins and in her heart, a bit of her that’s equal parts terrifying and not, power she isn’t sure she wants or wants to understand, but knows she can’t run from and she, simply, wants to be. 

She doesn’t want people to be scared. She doesn’t want to be scared. Not anymore. 

“What are you doing here, Jones?”

There are more men in front of the castle gates, swords and medals and glowering stares, shadows that hang off the edges of their noses and the jut of their chins. She tries to keep breathing. Liam tightens his grip on her hand. 

“It’s alright,” he mutters, before turning back to the man in front of him. His sword is half out of its sheath. “I’m here to bring the Savior to the King.”

She gasps when the sword turns on her, the point ghosting against her skin and she doesn’t think. She doesn’t consider. She doesn’t wonder what’s right or wrong. She reacts, a burst and a flash and the light that explodes out of the middle of her sends the man in front of her sailing into the nearest wall. 

“Gods,” Liam breathes, stepping in front of her when more men move towards them. There are swords and lances and the girl that walks through the suddenly open doors is only a few years older than her. 

Her hair is dark, draped over her shoulder, with a glint in her gaze that looks almost identical to the ball of fire hanging just above her upturned palm. She sneers when she notices Liam, lips curling slightly and her gown is as fine as he promised they’d find behind the walls. 

“The King is busy,” she announces. “And you’ve brought a weapon here, Jones.” “I haven’t, Regina. I wouldn’t--she’s powerful, yes, but that’s only because she doesn’t know how to control it. Look at what she just did. You think that’s not a spark that can save magic, defeat the darkness--” “--Don’t speak to me about the Dark One! Don’t!” Liam sighs, but he doesn’t argue and the magic continues to rush through her. The girl – her name must be Regina – turns towards her, another look that feels like an interrogation without the questions and--

“She does look powerful,” Regina muses. “Does the power have a name?” He opens his mouth to respond, eyes flitting towards her with unspoken question and, she’s sure, eventually simply reacting will be the wrong decision. But in the moment, with Liam’s fingers tight around hers and Regina’s eyes staring straight at her, swords pointed and low mumblings, there is no other choice but to react. “Emma,” she says. “My name is Emma.” Liam’s smile widens. “You hear that, your highness? Her name is Emma and she’s going to save every last one of us.”

She does, in fact, get more than a few very impressive gowns. The fabric is soft, no matter what, a never-ending stream of colors and designs, but each one feels heavy somehow, as if Emma knows that wearing them isn’t right. 

Because she’s not right. 

The years pass and time, suddenly, has a meaning, even when she’s stuck behind walls that seem to grow higher every day. She never sees Liam Jones again, but she does wonder occasionally about who he was protecting and part of her knows it wasn’t him. 

He has magic. 

And, as he said, King George of Misthaven has a habit for collecting magical beings. He never brings in Liam. 

It’s the rumors Emma had been so quick to ignore, but now that she’s living it, it’s impossible to push away, watching George gather up those with power like he’s collecting trophies for the room at the far end of the great hall. 

“It is to protect us,” George says, a mantra Emma can repeat on loop, nearly four years after she first walked through the castle doors. “The Dark One is coming. And he’ll have an army as well, a power we cannot hope to contend with. That’s all changed now though, hasn’t it?” Emma, apparently, is the last piece of a puzzle she didn’t realize she was part of, but she also appears to be the one thing that won’t fit – exceptionally good at failing and floundering, the foretold savior who can’t even stop her own fingers from sparking. 

The seeress had come, years before, leaves falling on the ground and a chill in the air that Emma figures should have been some kind of sign. As if it was clear that everything else was dying already. The seeress had been very clear, though, words that Emma has heard on loop since she walked through the castle doors: 

A Savior of old, 

With future foretold, 

A key and a spark,

The future of magic and light in the dark, 

A Swan and a Knight, 

Preparing to fight. 

George makes her recite them whenever he sees her, a reminder of what she is and what she has to be because--"No one else has your power, Emma, my dear.” 

The endearment makes her skin crawl. And, strictly speaking, it’s not exactly true. There are plenty of other magical beings in Misthaven, even plenty behind the castle walls, who are more than capable of saving magic or sparking magic or whatever it is Emma is supposedly able to do. She regularly finds sparks at the ends of her fingers, an impatience and instinct that doesn’t help during the hours of study George makes them go through every day. 

She loathes practicing magic.

It regularly makes Regina roll her eyes, that same sneer that Emma has come to learn is simply part of her genetic makeup. She can control her power. And her power is...well, powerful. She can produce fireballs on a whim, mumbled words under her breath and a control that was fostered at the Dark One’s knee. 

Or so Mary Margaret tells Emma one night when they’re unable to sleep, a day spent trying to cast spells and find the easy equilibrium Regina simply seems to have been born with. 

“That’s not true,” Mary Margaret promises, tucked under blankets that are nearly as soft as the dresses. “Regina wasn’t...her mother was a witch.” Emma can’t help the smile that tugs at the ends of her lips. “We’re all witches. Some of us are just a little more proud of it than others.” “That’s because Regina had to fight.” “I don’t understand.” “She ran,” Mary Margaret whispers. Her voice goes low, but her eyes go wide, and Emma has to chew on her lip to stop herself from asking more questions. She’s constantly asking questions. She figures that’s the only way to find some sense of control. 

She’d broken a vase that afternoon, a flash of power flying out of her left pinky finger before she could even begin to contain it. 

“She doesn’t like to talk about it,” Mary Margaret continues, and George calls her Snow, a joke about purity and propriety that rings hollow every time Emma hears it. She knows that’s not what Mary Margaret is, can see the power that burns low and steady, a quiet confidence that comes to the surface whenever George isn’t nearby.

Mary Margaret believes, she wants and hopes and clings to everything good in the world, a direct contrast to everything that exists in that castle, the narrow halls and cold rooms, even with roaring fires and fine linens. She still smiles. It’s what makes it so easy to trust her, that certainty that Mary Margaret will defend them all with her last breath, an unspoken promise that Emma has started to covet. 

Even when she knows Mary Margaret’s breath hitches as soon as the magic around Emma bursts to life unexpectedly. 

That happens far more often she’d like. 

“Why?” Emma presses, digging her head further into the pillows underneath her. There are far too many of them. She can never get comfortable in that bed. “She certainly likes to talk about everything else.”

“Because it scares her.” “Please, nothing scares Regina.” “The Dark One does. He wanted her, thought he could twist her magic to do his bidding and it didn’t--her mother gave her up, sent her away and sent her to the Dark One, a bartering chip to better her own standing.” Emma’s mouth drops, disbelief and the desperate desire to believe it isn’t true, if only so she can continue to hate Regina just a little bit. She hopes George doesn’t find out about the vase. She should have tried to fix the vase. 

She can’t seem to fix anything. 

“And she stayed with him for years,” Mary Margaret continues. There are tears in her eyes. Mary Margaret wants to save everyone. “He helped her with her magic, but it was--he destroyed it too, rebuilt it so he could control it and--”

“--We’re not worried about that?” Emma cuts in, that little hint of fear she’s never been able to shake creeping into her voice. 

“Regina wouldn’t hurt us, Emma.” “You don’t know that.” “I believe that,” Mary Margaret says, the closest thing to a snap her voice has ever done. Emma closes her mouth. “Because she left. The Dark One wanted to...turn her, warp her to his will and it must have been close because she’ll barely say two words about it now, but it’s what’s made her so in control of her magic. I don’t think he ever expected her to run like that. He believed she was his. Completely.”

Emma doesn’t respond. She can’t. Because they all have stories like that – David ripped from his home when his mother died, made captain of a guard of men who, Emma is certain, will one day turn on him, afraid of what he’s capable of. Ruby was found in the hills on the other side of the kingdom during a transformation, the amulet thrown around her neck forcing her back into her human form so she could serve as protector of the magic George coveted for himself. 

No one seemed to know how Elsa got to Misthaven, but her magic was as volatile as Emma’s and she’d never tried to run.

None of them did. 

Because the Dark One was waiting, lurking in the shadows and biding his time and George was doing them a service, or so he was quick to remind them. Every day. Since Emma had first walked through the castle doors. 

“I’ve given you a life,” he’d tell them, lips twisted and eyes barely more than slits. “A chance to prove yourself and your worth. I’ve given you titles and opportunity and all I ask of you is control. To control yourselves and give yourselves when the world demands it.”

They were prisoners and they were not. They were students and lambs being groomed for the slaughter, a battle none of them could possibly understand yet, but one Emma knew she’d have to, eventually, fight. 

If she can ever learn how to control her magic. 

It changes unexpectedly, even now, a buzz under her skin and a hum in the back of her brain. It’s desperate and defiant, as if it knows something is wrong, as if it knows it’s being tricked. It’s difficult to trust. 

Emma doesn’t trust herself and she knows, despite whatever story Regina had or however often Mary Margaret gave her that quiet, soft smile, they don’t quite trust her either. They worry. They prepare. They don’t believe she’s the Savior. 

And neither does she. 

She has no idea what that word means, only that it exists, a set of expectations and demands she’s positive she can’t reach, things that only serve to linger in her muscles, a dead weight in the pit of her stomach that makes it difficult to breathe and even more difficult to be. Emma, simply, wants to be. 

“Emma?” Mary Margaret asks softly, the bed on the other side of the room creaking when she moves. “Did you fall asleep?”

She doesn’t respond. Again. It’s petty and childish, but Emma is still a child and she grips the blanket underneath her tight enough to rip it. 

She singes it instead. 

Mary Margaret sighs, but she doesn’t press any more, leaning forward quickly to blow out the candle on the table between them.

It doesn’t get better. Emma’s magic continues to grow, unrestrained and unrestricted and it’s warm when it happens. Even inside the castle, stone walls that constantly make everything damp. 

There’s sweat pooling at the base of her skull, small droplets at her temple and it’s the worst it’s ever been. The magic rushes through every inch of Emma, barely aware of Mary Margaret and Ruby’s panicked voices, and David has to tell the guards that move towards her to back away. 

“That won’t help,” he says, low and menacing and it takes Emma a moment to realize he’s talking to her. 

She squeezes her eyes closed, but that doesn’t do much to help the scene in front of her change. She can still hear boots and mumbled words, quiet assurances that no, no, don’t bother the king, just...find Regina, maybe and Emma’s breath shakes its way out of her, oxygen she’s positive she probably could have used. 

Her body doesn’t care. 

It lets it go, flying out of her without much care to the state of her lungs or the irregular beat of her heart, as if it can’t contain that either. As if breathing is also too much power for one person. 

Emma flexes her fingers, a soft crackle of magic when she digs her nails into her palm. Her mouth has gone dry. It’s probably from the heat. 

It’s not from the heat. 

“I’m--” she starts, but she has no idea what she is or what she’s doing and the Dark One has never come. The threat has never been all that...threatening. And Emma doesn’t think, again, or still, or whatever, she just moves, stepping towards David with a look she hopes he understands. 

He must. He doesn’t try to stop her when she leaves, but his fingers curl around her shoulder anyway, words pressed against her sweat-soaked hair. “Come back. Please.”

She doesn’t say anything. That is becoming a frustrating habit of hers. And she really isn’t certain where she’s going when she moves, but her footsteps are sure and she twists around the tiny bit of space in the back wall of the castle grounds, doing her best to ignore every look sent her direction. There are more than a few. 

Emma doesn’t slow down. She keeps walking, eyes trained on the ground underneath her and the shoes that no longer have holes in them. She walks past places she dimly remembers, moments that have gotten hazier the more years have passed, but it’s almost comforting, the distant memories and forgotten feelings and she’s moving through the crowd at the harbor before she even realizes that’s where she was heading. It smells like salt. 

She pushes her way past people – ignoring the your highness and princess that hang in the air around her because they don’t often leave the castle, but George has done an admirable job of making sure Misthaven knows its royal court. Emma refuses to look up, more steps until she finds her way to the end of the first dock she spots, dropping down and letting her feet dangle over the edge. 

The water isn’t deep here, but there are still tiny waves, little shifts and a bit of foam and she takes a deep breath, trying to focus on that, the small show of power, even when the ocean is contained by the shore. 

“Are you alright?” Emma nearly falls in the goddamn water. She snaps her head around, eyes flying open and magic flying out of her and the man standing a few feet away from her isn’t really a man. He can’t be more than sixteen, dark hair that drifts dangerously close to his eyes and brows that jump his forehead when she glares at him. 

“What?” “Are you alright?” he repeats, and there’s no one else around them. No one else has followed her. No one else has tried to approach her. 

It probably has something to do with the light emanating from her fingers. 

“Why?” The eyebrows get higher. It’s almost impressive, but Emma’s heart is still beating impossibly quick and she can’t seem to catch her breath. She hasn’t actually stood up yet. “What do you mean why?” he challenges. “It’s a simple question, don’t you think?” She shakes her head slowly – a little disappointed with herself when she starts breathing through her mouth. And he doesn’t move, doesn’t run or shout, doesn’t even look like he recognizes her, really, just keeps staring at her with a hint of vaguely familiar interest that also feels entirely brand new. 

Exciting. 

That’s the word for it. 

Emma’s tongue darts between her lips, trying to prevent them from cracking and ensure that this isn’t a dream and neither one of those things really happen. That’s less exciting. “No,” she whispers, wringing her hands together. “It’s not. Not really.”

He lowers his eyebrows, lips twisted thoughtfully and she can barely get out here no, just stay there, please before he’s taking a step towards her. There’s a hole in his boot. And the knee of his pants, the last remnants of what Emma assumes is the most recent patch job barely hanging on when he crouches down in front of her. 

“Ok, so you don’t have to answer it,” he mutters, half a laugh and an almost smile. Emma gapes at him. 

“What?” “You’ll have to come up with a few more words if you want me to actually have a conversation with you, your highness.”

She snaps her mouth closed, teeth clacking. “How do you know that?” “Your rather obvious magic?” “I could have you in the stocks for that,” Emma seethes, but they both know it’s an empty threat because she snuck out of the castle. Ran out of the castle. Really. If she wanted to get technical. She does not want to get technical. 

The boy’s shoulders shake when he laughs, the smile that stretches across his face almost enough to comfort the wave still twisting in the very center of her. He winks. He, at least, tries to wink. And it’s so absurd, so unacceptable that Emma can’t quite contain her laugh, the sound bubbling out of her and echoing around them and--

“I’d rather you didn’t do that, princess,” he murmurs. She hates that endearment too. “If it weren’t too much trouble, that is. I am, after all, only trying to help.” “Is that what you’re doing then?” “I’m trying at least.” “Why?” “Ah, we’re going in circles now.” “And a gentleman should, at least, introduce himself,” Emma says, trying to keep her voice low as if that will make her threatening or some kind of authority. The smile widens. “Particularly when speaking to the--” “--Sovereign?” “You don’t know how to wink!” “If that’s an insult, princess, I’m afraid you missed the mark just a tad.” She scowls, a huff of frustration and magic. His eyes widen. As if---no, that’s impossible and improbable and Emma needs to get back to the castle before she’s missed. David will only be able to make excuses for her for so long. 

“And,” the boy adds, “I’m not exactly a gentleman.” “Obviously.”

He laughs, running his fingers through his hair and tugging lightly on the few strands that curl around his right ear. “Killian,” he says, and Emma doesn’t think she imagines the way he leans forward slightly. “My name is Killian Jones.” Her jaw aches. It is, likely, because it keeps falling open. And the air rushing out of her is almost as absurd as the slight overreaction, but she’s always wondered and this--the boy with the far-too-long hair and slightly ratty clothes and eyes that are deceptively similar to the water under her feet, he’s the one Liam Jones was protecting. 

Because he doesn’t have magic. 

And Liam couldn’t leave him behind. 

“My brother wondered about you,” Killian adds, voice dropping and he’s definitely moving closer. “He--I know he felt bad, but--”

Emma hums, knows it’s dismissive and far too rude for a princess, but she’s never really considered herself a princess and her magic flares to life again. Killian flinches. 

It makes her whole body ache. 

“Did you know?” she asks, barely able to get the words out while she tries to focus on controlling her magic. 

“Did I know what?” “Who I was when you came over here or were you just--” “--No, I knew,” Killian interrupts. “The magic was mostly a confirmation, but…” He cuts himself off, another soft laugh and Emma opens her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them, gasping softly when she notices the small ball of light in her palm. “It’s impressive, your highness,” he says. “And--” “--Don’t call me that,” Emma cuts in, and he at least has the common sense to nod in agreement. “I...I wasn’t trying to do that. The light thing, I mean.” “Aye, I almost figured.” “You shouldn’t make assumptions either.” “Is there a list I should be following, then? A set of rules for the conversation?” The light shifts in time with the seemingly never-ending size of her annoyance, and Killian moves almost immediately. His fingers are rough when they wrap around her wrist, calloused skin that scrapes against hers, but it’s almost kind of grounding and just a little impertinent. 

All things considered. 

“Hey, hey,” he mutters, rushing over the words and Emma can’t quite swallow whatever wad of feeling has appeared in the back of her throat. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

She nods, agreeing to something that may just be the sound of his voice, but she’s also drowning in the scent of salt and the weight of her own magic, so Emma figures she can’t really be held accountable for her actions. “You don’t know that.” “You really do enjoy arguing with me, don’t you?” “I don’t know you,” Emma points out. “And you did just follow me out here. Magic all--you know, doing what it does.” “And what does it do, exactly?” She shrugs. “Not much. At least not much I can control. It’s--well, it scares people. Usually.” “Usually?” “You do seem rather determined.” His eyes do not sparkle. It is absurd to think so. So, Emma refuses to continue thinking it. “I…” Killian starts, gaze falling back to the fingers still wrapped around hers. Something falls over the front of his shirt when he leans forward, more than a few charms and something that catches the light and Emma’s going to have to magic away the burn on the back of her neck. 

The sun is very strong by the water. 

“You…”

“I saw you and you were alone,” Killian says. “And I, well...I knew who you were and, like I said, Liam’s always wondered...he never meant to hurt you, Emma. I wouldn’t…” 

She wishes he would finish his sentences. She’s not sure she’s actually capable of dealing with those same sentences if he did finish them. 

“I didn’t want you to be by yourself.” “No one else seems to have much of a problem with it.” “Aye, well maybe I’m not everyone else.”

“That’s actually almost fairly gallant,” Emma mutters. “I’ve never been able to, you know...control it back like that.” “That seems like a good thing.” She nods. “It does. I just--you didn’t have to follow me, you know.” Killian blinks, far too blue and even more understanding and one side of his mouth tugs up. It isn’t the pity Emma has gotten used to though – no sense of distrust or caution, just something that feels a bit like maybe and a hint like almost and he offers her his hand when he stands up. 

“Have you ever had toffee?” That’s not the last thing Emma expects him to ask, but it’s certainly near the end of the list she’s never made and her answering scoff is more than a little incredulous. “Is that a joke?” “I’d never joke with the high princess about something as serious as stealing toffee.” “You want to steal it?” “Did you have another idea?” Emma grins, half a plan and that ever-growing hope and she nearly jumps up when Killian flutters his fingers in her space. “You’re not running,” she says, regretting the words almost as soon as they’re out of her mouth. 

“Why would I?” Her magic rings out around her, flutters the ends of her hair and makes the string hanging off Killian’s shirt shift slightly, and his thumb brushes the back of her wrist when she laces his fingers through his. “Ok,” she says, another agreement that seems to make everything shift. 

“Ok.”

David is waiting for her, hours and several bars of magically stolen toffee later, pacing a small circle near the wall Emma had snuck out of. He tilts his head when he sees her, gaze turning curious with questions he doesn’t actually ask. “Good,” he says instead, and Emma exhales. “The back of your neck is all red.” “I can fix that.” “Yeah, I know you can.”

She does. And no one ever knows. 

“What about Swan?”

Emma hums, confusion in the sound and the furrow of her brows. It’s spring, the sky finally turning clear again, any hint of snow melted away and she hadn’t been able to get out of the castle when it had been there. 

They’d tried other things – enlisting Mary Margaret and the bird that landed on her windowsill every morning, tiny letters with cramped writing and meaningless updates that meant absolutely everything to Emma. 

Emma told him about dress fittings and magic lessons. Killian told her about Liam’s latest posting in town and the job he’d gotten moving boxes by the harbor. She asked about anything she could think of. He asked about everything she failed to come up with. 

It was nice. It was secret. It was going to get them both in trouble some day, but someday isn’t this day and her magic is still...troublesome, but getting better, not quite as many outbursts and a growing sense of confidence that Emma is beginning to suspect may have something to do with the return of the sun and how easy it is to sneak out of the castle grounds when she has both David and Ruby covering for her. 

She tilts her head up, propping herself on her elbows and Killian arches an eyebrow. “What do you think about Swan?”

“You’re speaking in tongues.” “I’m asking your opinion.” “On?” “What endearments I’m allowed.” She nearly falls over, a feat that would be incredibly impressive while laying down, legs stretched out in decidedly un-princess-like manor beneath the tree they’ve, at some point in the last few weeks, claimed as their own. “You’re making fun,” she accuses, but that’s not it, not really. Anything else feels impossibly large though. 

Killian shakes his head, that look Emma’s starting to consider in ways that are as impossible as endearments and--"I think Swan makes perfect sense,” he says. 

“How so?” “Have you ever seen a swan, Swan?” “I’m going to magic your eyebrows off.” He waggles them, as if that proves she won’t and it’s as ridiculous as it is true. Emma huffs, falling back on the ground. She’s going to get grass in her hair. She’s fairly certain her dress is already stained, mud-drenched hem and a hint of green to the fabric that she’ll have to cover up before she goes back to her rooms. 

Soon. 

She always has to go back soon. 

“If you’re going to ask my opinion on endearments, shouldn’t you wait to use them before I respond to the question?” “Ah, but you’ve been taking so long, Swan.” “Gods, you’re a menace.”

Emma doesn’t have to look up to know that he’s smiling, can feel the force of it on the side of her face like it’s another version of the sun. That’s a far too sentimental thought. “Aye,” Killian agrees, shifting until his leg is pressed against hers. He moves his arms under his head, flipping to the side to glance at her and she’d been right about the smile. “But you’re here, Swan. And I really do think it’s the best option.” “Of?” “Well, you won’t let me call use your title.” “Because it’s fake.” “It’s not,” Killian objects. “It’s your...birthright.” Emma scoffs, but he says it with such conviction she can’t quite do anything except believe him. That’s becoming a theme. It’s very easy. “That’s rather melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Been to any balls recently?” “Explain the Swan jab.” “Aye, aye your highness.” “Killian,” she groans, turning on her side to try and jab him in the chest, but they’ve spent enough time together that she’d consider them friends and he’s very good at reading her. From the very start. He catches her around the wrist, again, thumb pressed exactly where her pulse thuds unevenly and Emma can almost see his eyes darken slightly. 

“You have to promise not to curse me.” “Why are you adding caveats?” “A promise, Swan.” “You’re still doing it!”

He widens his eyes, another shift of eyebrows that might be magic in its own right. “That’s true,” he mumbles, and for half a moment, one crazy, insane moment she believes he’s going to kiss her. He doesn’t. Because this is...impossible and improbable and neither one of them have ever actually acknowledged it. 

“A little bite with the beauty, swans,” Killian adds. “Very quick to defend themselves and those they...care about.” “That so?” He nods, a soft sound in the back of his throat that might be an agreement. Emma’s magic flickers on the edge of her consciousness, clinging to the almosts and maybes and how much she wants. Full stop. 

“I don’t hate it,” she grumbles, more false emotion she shouldn’t be using when she’s feeling so much genuine emotion. 

Killian’s answering smile is wide. And genuine. And Gods does she wish he would kiss her. He doesn’t. Still. 

That’s probably for the best. 

“Well,” he says, squeezing her hand and turning his eyes back towards the sky, “that’s a start.”

The years pass. Emma keeps sneaking out of the castle. Killian keeps sneaking out of his house. He never comes to the castle. She never comes to his house. 

They sit under the tree. 

They wander through the central market – a spell Emma masters when she’s fifteen that deflects gazes and curious stares – and his fingers graze the back of her wrist whenever their arms are near each other. 

He steals her toffee on her birthday. A birthday he made her pick. 

“You have to have a birthday, Swan, that’s how the world works,” he’d reasoned, and Emma picks spring. For...reasons. 

The bird –  His name is Andrew, Emma, at least use his name when he’s so quick to help you – flies back and forth in the winter, letters that grow longer with unspoken wants and secret hopes and neither one of them ever talks about it. 

The magic. 

And how Killian can’t ever stop his eyebrows from jumping when he feels it. 

Emma assumes they’ll get there eventually. 

She hopes. She steals him toffee on his birthday. Andrew doesn’t take kindly to the added weight on his legs. 

Liam is named captain. Of a ship. It’s not a particular surprise – he’s gained more medals over the years, although Emma only knows that because Killian has told her. Still, she’s heard the tales of Liam Jones and his determination to serve the kingdom, part of impressive crews on important missions and it was only a matter of time. 

And even less time until she did something about it. 

Because she’s seen the way Killian’s eyes drop when he talks about his brother, his own almosts that haunt his gaze and leave him half in shadow. He doesn’t have magic. There’s nothing. No hint, no ghost, just an emptiness that Emma worries is getting larger the longer he spends on those docks. 

He doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask. She acts. And hopes she’s not wrong. 

David smiles when he hands her the sheet of paper. 

She’d called in a favor. 

“Easy,” he promises. 

“You think there will be questions?” “Oh, I have no doubt, but it’s a little late for that and I’m sure both Captain and Lieutenant Jones will be more than adept at deflecting any pesky rumors regarding the Misthaven royal family.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she hopes it’s true. She hopes he’s not mad. “It’ll be fine,” she says, half to herself, but David nods anyway. 

“You may want to tell him though. Soon?” Her whole body tenses, shoulders going straight and teeth finding her lower lip. “Why? What do you know?” “It was going to happen, Emma and--” “--An answer, David!” “The Jewel of the Realm sets sail in less than two weeks. Maiden voyage. From what I hear Captain Jones is very excited.” She knows her anger is unfounded – particularly when she’d pulled strings and acted on instinct, but it rushes through her anyway and David doesn’t react. He can’t feel the magic. 

“Gods,” she hisses, spinning on her heels and she only has to blink once before she’s standing on the edge of the dock, Killian wide-eyed and open-mouthed in front of her. “Swan, what are you---”

“Here,” she cuts in sharply, thrusting her hand into the minimal open space between them. He startles at the movement, but he doesn’t actually take a step away from her and eventually she’ll think that is impressive. “This is...well, it’s for you.”

His eyes narrow when he tugs the paper out of her grip, gaze moving across lines and declarations and he closes his mouth. Only to open it again. And close it. And open it. 

So he can scoff. Loudly. 

“Did you do this?” Emma nods, quick and jerky. “Yes.” “Why?” “What do you mean why?” Killian lifts his head slowly, that one strand of hair that never seems to cooperate with the rest of them falling across his forehead. And she’s seen looks – has seen years, expressions she’s committed to memory and moments she’s certain are imprinted on her soul at this point, but she’s never seen anything like that and the flicker of darkness in his gaze makes her arm tremble at her side. 

“Why did you do that, Emma?” Killian asks, voice turning gruff. “That’s--what did you have to do to get that?” “Nothing.” “Don’t lie, Emma.” “I’m not!” It’s a lie, and not a particularly good one, insulting to both of them. Killian jaw clenches. “I--Liam is leaving. And, well...when he found me, when he took me to George the one thing he told me was that he was doing it to---” She huffs, more anger and tears in her eyes. Killian looks torn, that bit of shadow lingering and fighting with the blue in his eyes and his fingers are cold when they curl around her elbow. “I knew he was protecting someone,” Emma whispers. “I just--I didn’t know it was you, until…” “I followed you to the docks.” “You made sure I wasn’t alone,” she corrects. “And now I can do the same.”

He stares at her for a moment, as if he’s waiting to be told it’s all one, great big joke. As if she’s a joke. Or...impossible. It’s impossible. And she doesn’t care. 

She wants. 

With her whole being. 

“You didn’t have to do that, love,” Killian breathes, and neither one of them say anything about that either. They don’t have to. It simply is. “I don’t...it’s too much and I don’t--” She doesn’t let him finish. Emma pushes up on her toes, fingers gripping the front of Killian’s shirt and the soft crinkle of his letter is oddly satisfying as soon as he pulls her against his chest. Her lips find his, all energy and need and the force of it makes Emma whole world feel as if it’s flipping and flopping and settling into exactly what it was always meant to be. 

She slings an arm around his neck, fingers finding the back of his hair and whatever noise he makes at that leaves her magic singing, a burst of triumph that makes her certain she could do just about anything. They don’t stop. They don’t pull apart. They shift, tilted heads and searching tongues, noses pressed together and roaming hands that can’t find enough skin when they’re standing in the middle of the dock in the middle of the afternoon. 

And it’s a miracle no one sees them, but Emma can’t bring herself to care if anyone did. 

Her lungs start to burn, an ache in her legs that’s almost pleasant, and Emma can’t begin to formulate a meaningful thought when Killian’s mouth drops down to her jaw, trailing kisses along her cheek and her chin and the side of her neck. She gasps, arching back against the arm she hadn't realized was wrapped around her and it’s too much. 

It’s not nearly enough. 

And she still has to get back. 

“Thank you, Swan,” Killian whispers, the words pressed against the crown of her head. “For--I won’t let you down, love.” “I know you won’t. Just…” The words get caught in her throat, a fear that she doesn’t want to give credence to, but Emma is greedy and selfish and she knows he can feel her magic. “Every single time, Emma,” Killian says. “Every single time.”

And there’s a ceremony eventually, crisp uniforms and brand-new medals pinned to slightly puffed-out chests and Emma presents Lieutenant Killian Jones with a sword from the royal armory, a golden hilt and sharp blade and-- “Come back,” she whispers, close enough that no one else can hear and she can see the way his lips quirk. 

He belts the sword around his hips, catching her fingers in his and the scandal that the next few moments will cause will be whispered about in town for weeks. He brushes his fingers over her knuckles. “Always, love. Always.”

Tag List: @kmomof4 @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff @captainsjedi @thejollyroger-writer@winterbaby89 @melsbels @tiganasummertree @jennjenn615 @idristardis @cssns

[goodvibesatpeace]

Astrology: Finding Happiness

Aries: Know Who you Are

Aries rules our face, our heads, our identity. Without a strong purpose or identity in life, an Aries may not be happy. Ruled by the planet Mars, Aries is our natural leader; they are the fighters, they are the rebels changing the rules.

I can’t help to think of Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell video, when I think of an Aries. They need a Cause, a Purpose, and they need to understand who they are. Quiet your mind Aries.. look deep within. Silently ask yourself “who am I?” and wait for the picture to come alive.

Once you focus on what you want, keep that fire burning behind it, you’ll get it.. and your looks will help too.

Taurus: Strong Self-Worth

Through Taurus, we understand what we value the most. Without a strong Self-worth, a Taurus may not be happy. Ruled by the planet Venus, our Goddess of Love, and the finer things in life, she is the manifesto for all these things, including our own personal finances.

Once a Taurus can communicate what he/she needs clearly through the part of the body they rule, which is the throat, they will become stronger, and instantly get what they deserve. They are the true Manifestoes.

I am reminded of the Fairy God-mother from Cinderella; all you need to do is wave that wand, and see the picture of what you want. Make sure it is aligned with your true Values, and bippity-boppity-boo, it will come true.

Gemini: Communicate Freely

A Gemini that is silenced, or repressed in expressing themselves may not be happy. They need the freedom to express their feelings and emotions through the best way they can: Words. Words are Gemini’s best friends.

Mercury is the ruling planet here: the planet that rules our minds, our thoughts, and all forms of Communication. In Gemini, it makes them the natural writers, poets, musicians, and speakers.

I am reminded of George the VI, who wasn’t supposed to be appointed King, and had to overcome his speech impediment. Then, once he had the courage, he became an inspiration to many. We know your dualistic, beautiful-mind has lots to say, and the World is waiting to hear it.

Cancer: Home is Where the Heart Is

A crab without a safe & cozy shell, where they can be themselves, may not be happy. A Home to call your own; a place where your emotions are free to flow with the people surrounding you(immediate-family, spouse, or children), that understand YOU, and will allow you to be just ‘You’.

This is the foundation of Cancer: The Happy- home. Create your sanctuary. You are the most emotional of all signs because you are ruled by the Moon, that controls the Ocean-tides. Resolution with mother/ father, and finding peace with your own upbringing, if there is karmic ties that need to be cleared.

If there are things that need to be said, say them now. I can’t help to think of the Brady Bunch; how two families had to live together in harmony under one roof, and they did because emotions were always talked out.

Leo: Express Yourself Bravely

A Lion without a Pride, may not be happy. A Pride has a purpose, and they look to the King for direction. An audience always needs to be around this gracious, Social- being; they are the Center of attention, ruled by the Sun.

The Sun is the light shining bright through our hearts, like most signs, but especially for Leo’s; they must discover what they love through Creative, self-expression. This usually revolves around overcoming some fear.

I think of Simba from The Lion King, who has a many lessons to learn, and overcome, but in the end, we all knew it was his destiny to rule. Allow your insecurities to fall by the Way-side. Do what you love, and do it with grace and passion. You are the Natural-born star.. its your time to shine.

Virgo: Love Yourself First

A Virgo without a good routine, physically and emotionally, may not be happy. It is not because they lack discipline, or are seen as lazy- quite the contrary. Its because they think of others first. They are the natural-born Givers, and Teachers; they are the Mother Theresas’, and the Gandhis’ of our world.

By giving up their life for others, they may neglect what they must do for themselves. Ruled also by Mercury, you have a naturally-organized mind, a ‘to do” list in your head of 100 things perfectly departmentalized.

Learn to Love yourself first. Focus on you, and then others will follow, and appreciate you more. Your family will understand that you need to workout for 20 mins before breakfast is started, and the dishes will wait without the dust running away. It will all be there for you when you get back.

You’ll feel so much better once you get the YOU routine in order, and STAY on track.

Libra: Balance of Energy

Unhappy relationships equals unhappy life for these loving, Bright-beings. It can be through business, or in personal relationships. A Libra without another person in their life(a close friend, relative, or a significant other) may not be happy.

Ruled by our planet Venus, this is where love and marriage is highlighted. They are the Scales of life; the ones who need to balance their energy the most, to feel alive and in good spirits. Work, social, and personal Time is all crucial to your well-being.

Don’t give too much of yourself to your partner in life, and don’t spend too much time in isolation. Im reminded here of Bridget Jone’s character; focused on her career, but has the support of close friends, and family around to guide her love-life, that is highlighted by a decision of two men.

Can she choose the one who represents her energy the most? Vibes attract your Tribe; stay positive, and do you, and the right people will arrive in your life.

Scorpio: Commit to Your Passion

If a Scorpio is not Passionate about anything in particular in their life they, may not be happy. The sign most associated with Sex, the Mysterious, and the Mystical ones. They are creative beings ruled by not only Mars, but the deep, transformative, icy-planet- Pluto.

The most Powerful sign, they see beyond the surface, and through it all. A Surface-partnership, Project, or Life will just NOT do. They strive on big-business and big-deals. They are not scared to explore the depths of the cold-ocean so many are fearful of.

I think of Martin Scorsese; taking chances of ridicule by bringing us movies like Taxi, Casino & Raging Bull, that explore the darker, aggressive, passionate-side of cinema. Death and transformation, is a big part of these movies, and that is what Scorpio must become comfortable with. The idea of killing a project, ego, or partnerships, to bring to life new people, projects, and a more awakened-self.

Boredom is Death to a Scorpio. Learn to Let Go. Be obsessed with what makes you feel alive. Be in Love with those who connect with you at the deepest level, and Be the Phoenix that rises from the grave, to bring your gifts to light.

Sagittarius: Keep Learning

A Sag that is not learning something new, or discovering new lands, may not be happy. You are the Philosophers, the Inventors of the world. You can do anything you put your mind to, and you need to trust yourself enough to Think Big.

Never allow yourself to become complacent. Jupiter, your bad-boy, big-ruling planet, wants to gift you with everything you Desire. When you travel, you expand your horizons, every place you visit will become a part of your essence, and Teach you much more about yourself.

It’s at this time that Saturn returns to your sun sign once more. Can you think back 30 years ago? What major changes in your life occurred then? Maybe you’re just learning NOW, the lessons that Saturn has bestowed upon you.

Its time to grow up, and see that the big-Changes have started to come into your life, and are for the better, if you can just- Believe. Your beliefs: Thinking of the movie Big Fish; many could not believe if his story was true, but it didn’t matter because the Inspiration it left us with was enough to feel like magic, that still exists in this world.

Capricorn: Keep the End In Mind

A Capricorn without a big-Goal, may not be happy. Our Goats of our Zodiac climb high, and steady, as they reach the Top of the mountain. Capricorns are ruled by our Time-keeper- Saturn.

Our Rule-maker, and even as the goats climb sideways, we wonder “How do they do it?” They believe it- that’s why. They know if they just Focus with the end in mind, they will survive, and get there one day, regardless of how much pressure they need to put themselves under. Hard-work, and perseverance never fails.

I think of the lead role in Shawshank Redemption to escape his demise; he made his way slowly digging a hole, little by little, year by year, not allowing himself to be distracted, or discouraged.

You of all signs understand that life cannot be measured in a year, or a day, and if a set back comes your way, you know you will make it to the top of the mountain again, just try NOT to take life so seriously, and learn to yodel along the way.

Aquarius: Stay Connected

An Aquarius in Isolation, may be not happy. You can be sitting in front of your computer, and connected to thousands.. You might even be conjuring up the new Facebook technology of the next generation, but you need Personal connections in this life, outside of the internet.

Community-work comes to mind, and being with great friends or family, is important to an Aquarius, even if they don’t seem to show it. They connect very quickly to many, and can disconnect just as quickly when a new topic, or new surrounding comes their way.

This is just their way of life; they are not being rude, or dismissive.. they are just learning through US. Ruled by the planet Uranus, their minds work overtime, and see things very differently than most. Sudden change, and big-moves seem to happen in an instant, and it’s how You handle them, that make all the difference.

Know that you will always be okay, with strong connections that last longer than others, and will always be there to re-energize you. Social networks like Meet-up, were invented for you, OR maybe you’re working on creating your own.

Pisces: Know that You Know

A Pisces that doesn’t Trust their Intuition, and seems lost at sea, may not be happy. You are the seers, and you probably know the next words I’m gonna write before I even print them. Neptune, your ruling planet keeps you connected naturally to the Ethers, but as you are the two fish swimming in opposite directions so quickly, you can Choose to disconnect this Strong-power.

Whether you use drugs, alcohol, or just convince yourself that they don’t know the truth hearts desire is you can’t run away from the truth. You are here to help others and guide us with your inner knowing.

Don’t slip away into the dark depths of the ocean-tides. Come back to us, take a deep breath and rise up through the surface and let everyone see what a miracles being you are. Your intuition will always guide you. The more connected and sober you go through this life with a spiritual practice in mind, the happier you’ll be.