#god I can feel the power of the electricity and his anguish from the animation and close-up panels

[roscolate]

Holy crap, this is heartbreaking…😢😢💔💔💔

TW // Eyestrain / Mental Breakdown

BGM - Sparks - Gris

ACT 1

ACT 2

ACT 3 - 1 <<< 13 / ⚡️ / ?

Depression

✨Animation time✨

You likey??? Put my heart and soul into this one.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch37: Fourteen Million, Six Hundred And Five Part 2- I Just Feel You

Intro: Our heroes fast begin to realise that this was one fight that they just couldn’t win…and despite their best efforts, disaster strikes.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So I HAD to write Thor and Tony’s POV over the IW chaptres too, because, frankly, they had some of THE best scenes in Infinity War, and I love that freaking Norse God Himbo and chaotic Stark chemistry so bad! I know this is Katie and Steve’s fic, but Steve had so little screen time in this film all things considered…we were so robbed!!! And I filled this full of gifs coz...ya know...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 37 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Katie had no idea how many of the dog like animals she shot, or how long they had been at it. As she glanced around, she spotted Steve was locked in combat with four of them, smashing into them with his shields, his face contorted in anger and concentration. She shot a ray taking down a few to try and give him a reprieve, but even more appeared and then something collided with her, taking her down to the ground with a crash. As she went to get up she was suddenly swamped. FRIDAY automatically yelled out a warning and engaged the shield which kept the most of them from gnashing at her with their ridiculously long teeth, but the sheer volume was preventing Katie from getting up. In desperation, she shot her thrusters and managed to take another few out, but the weight of them on top of her meant she merely moved herself backwards along the ground, she could get no height at all.

“There’s too many of them.” Bruce yelled into the coms echoing what everyone was already feeling. Steve was now that surrounded he could do nothing but shield his face and lash out with his legs.

Katie shot again at the ones on top of her, but it was no good. “FRIDAY…we got anything in this arsenal?” She yelled desperately.

A yell came from Bruce just as the AI answered. “I can super charge the cannon… but it will leave your weapons at fifty percent capacity.”

Before Katie could respond, there was another loud whoosh and blast but this one was different and oddly familiar. Through the minute gaps between the mass of animals on top of her, Katie could just make out a huge flash of flowing light, which was punctuated by a bright spectrum of colour, and then the animals that had been on top of Katie were gone as something flew around, knocking them down, leaving them dead on the ground, their bodies writhing under strands of blue electricity.

Katie lay still for a moment, her chest heaving before she sat up, her helmet sliding away as she looked round with a huge smile, because she knew there was only one possible person who could do such a thing.

At the same moment, Steve found himself free and he too sat up, just in time to hear Banner laughing.

“Oh, you guys are so screwed now!” 

And then the Captain heard Katie’s loud exclamation of glee as she flew into the air at the same time the weapon, a huge axe, flew back to its owner. The beam of light in the middle of the field dissipated to reveal Thor, and rather randomly a Raccoon with a gun, and a tree creature standing by his side.

Katie landed softly beside Steve and she pulled him to his feet, her eyes shining with emotion before the pair of them spun to watch as Thor took one glance around the battlefield steely determination in his eyes, turning his focus to where two of Thanos’ warriors were.

“Bring me Thanos!” He demanded as he ran forward, slamming his axe against one of the nearest creatures, sending it flying away.

Katie looked at Steve again, both of them sharing as somewhat more hopeful glance, before they turned their attention back to the fight.

*****

But unbeknown to Thor, Thanos was on Titan, grappling with Tony, Parker, Strange and the other members of the Guardians.

He was huge, and even without the stones, Tony had a feeling he would have been impossible to beat. Nevertheless, they had banded together, putting the plan into action, and had gained another ally in a blue woman. He had no idea who she was, but the Guardians seemed to, and she was on their side so Tony didn’t question it. They needed all the help they could get. .

Finally, Dr Strange opened a portal, dropping Mantis down onto Thanos’ shoulders. She grasped his head with her hands and focussed her telepathic energy through her fingers, the tips of her antennae lighting up.

“Is he under?” Tony asked, pulling on the bonds he had Thanos’ arm in “Don’t let up.” “Be quick!” Mantis wailed. “He is very strong.”

“Parker, help! Get over here” Tony grabbed hold of the gauntlet and Peter moved to help him. “She can’t hold him much longer. Let’s go.”

Quill landed in front of Thanos, grinning as he began to taunt the Titan. “I thought you’d be harder to catch. For the record, this was my plan. Not so strong now, huh? Where is Gamora?”

“My… Gamora…” Thanos grit out, groaning as Mantis kept him under control

“Oh, bullshit.” Quill shook his head “Where is she?”

Mantis gave another small cry. “He is in anguish.”

“Good.” Quill glared at him whilst Tony and Peter were still wrestling with the gauntlet.

“He… he… mourns.” Her voice was shrill and louder this time.

“What does this monster have to mourn?” Drax ground out through his teeth, his voice strained with the effort of keeping hold of Thanos’ other arm.

It was the blue woman who answered, her eyes shining with tears. “Gamora”.

”What?” Quill looked at her and Tony glanced up, a cold feeling spreading across his stomach.

“He took her to Vormir.” She whispered, horror flooding her face. “He came back with the Soul Stone, but she didn’t.”

Tony grasped the danger of the situation and immediately slid back his helmet and looked at Quill. “Okay, Quill, you gotta cool it right now, you understand?

But the man wasn’t listening. He turned slowly to Thanos, so Tony tried again, shouting his plea desperately. “Don’t, don’t, don’t engage, we’ve almost got this off!”

“Tell me she’s lying.” Quill shook his head before his voice became enraged “ASSHOLE! Tell me you didn’t do it!”

 “I… had… to.” Thanos replied.

.“No, you didn’t.” Quill spoke gently, his eyes filling with tears. “No, you didn't…”

Tony watched as the man continued to rage, and then, before they could do anything he drew his hand back and pistol-whipped Thanos twice in the face, causing Mantis to let go. “NO, YOU DIDN’T!”

“Quill!! Tony gave a yell as he leaped for the man’s arm, his helmet forming back around his head, but by doing so he left Parker alone to keep pulling the gauntlet. As Tony tried to calm quill down he was vaguely aware that Peter was shouting about the fact he had the gauntlet, but as Tony turned he saw Thanos snap out of his trance. He head-butted Mantis, before grabbing the edge of the gauntlet and throwing the woman off his shoulders.

They’d come so close, but their plan hadn’t worked. And now the fight was back on. 

*****

Bucky had heard tales about Thor from both Steve and Katie, but seeing the god in person and his power was like nothing he could have possibly imagined. Not least because he seemed to have brought a walking, talking tree and raccoon with him.

A racoon that was now stood shooting a gun into the crowd of creatures.

“Come get some space dogs!” The animal fired his weapon and Bucky, who was a few feet behind him, spotted one of the dog things leaping at him. He grabbed the animal by the scruff of his jacket and held him at arm’s length, spinning around, firing his own M-249 at the same time.

“Come on, get some, get some, GET SOME!” The racoon yelled, before they were clear and Bucky dropped him. He looked up at Bucky with an impressed gleam in his eyes.

Fuck, an impressed raccoon? Jesus Christ, Steve dragged him into the strangest shit at times.

“How much for the gun?” The racoon asked as Bucky fired off another burst of rapid fire.

“Not for sale.” Bucky replied simply.

“Okay, how much for the arm?”

The animal wanted his arm.

Bucky had no words, he just gave him a look and, as he walked off, he heard the racoon mumble.“Oh, I’ll get that arm.” and despite himself, Bucky gave a little snort as he jogged to where he was needed.

At the same time, elsewhere on the field, Steve and Katie were fighting in tandem. Steve slammed a shield into another two creatures as they leapt at them both whilst Katie jumped into the air, shooting and taking down another four. Just as the next group was about to hit them, another shockwave rocked the field, destroying the pack which was running towards them. Katie looked down to Thor who was stood a few feet away and she landed gently between him and Steve.

“New haircut?” Steve asked, his voice slightly winded as Katie retracted her helmet.

“I notice you’ve copied my beard.” Thor shot back, grabbing at his chin with his hand. Steve nodded, and gestured to his face with one of his shields, still catching his breath. 

At that point he looked past Thor to see the tree creature at his other side extending a branch or arm and impaling three creatures on it, lifting them into the air. Something that should have shocked Steve, but he wasn’t sure if anything could shock him anymore.

“Oh, by the way, this is a friend of mine, Tree.” Thor gestured to the creature.

“I am Groot!” The tree yelled, slamming the creatures to the floor.

Katie looked at Steve who was breathing hard from the exertion of battle. But still, ever the gentleman, he introduced himself politely to the tree-boy in return placing a hand to his chest.

“I am Steve Rogers.” He paused looking around the battlefield seeing that, at least for a moment, they were in a respite with the Wakandan warriors handling the Outriders surrounding them. Katie observed Thor for another second before he grinned at her and she threw herself at him.

“Man am I glad to see you, I thought…” She stumbled over her words as Thor chuckled.

“I’m fine.” He smiled, reaching out to wrap an arm round her metal cased back and return her embrace, lifting her slightly off the floor as he did so.

“But Banner, he said your ship…and Loki…”

“I’m the God of Thunder.” He shrugged slightly as if that explained everything, and then he sent his axe flying once more and set Katie down, as a pack began to surround the three. Katie reengaged her helmet and they continued fighting.

“What happened to your hammer?” Steve asked as the three of them circled, before he took another creature down with a blow to the head.

“My sister.” Thor grunted, throwing his axe again.

“You have a sister?” Katie frowned, shooting another creature with a beam.

“Had. She’s dead. I killed her. Well, a big fire demon did.” Thor caught his axe before swinging it straight into the head of one who had jumped at him “I thought Banner might have told you?”

“He mentioned it yeah, but to be honest we’ve kinda been a bit busy.” Katie’s teeth grit together as she off-loaded a shot from her shoulder gun to a creature which hit it straight between the eyes. It slumped to the floor but at the same time the ground began to shake.

“That’s errr…that’s not me.” Thor shook his head as Steve looked at him. The three of them turned to watch as the trees outside the barrier began falling being crushed by whatever was coming, then the dirt underneath the inside of the barrier moved like a wave and from it mechanical wheels like chainsaws sprung up.

“Fall back!” T'Challa’s loud voice sounded in their ears as the wheels separated, “Fall back now!”

“GO!” Steve yelled, looking at Katie and she shot up into the air. As she flew over the field she looked down and saw the wheels split all going in different directions taking out the creatures and Wakandan warriors alike with ease. The machines didn’t seem to have any particular form of control or direction, just mowing down anyone in its path. She looked up as Sam and Rhodey joined her on either side.

“FRIDAY scan this thing for weaknesses…” Katie instructed. “The axle.” FRIDAY said, focussing in on it on the heads up display “You need to take it out.” “Go for the axle guys!” Katie swooped down. “Same time…” “Focus all fire on the left flank” Rhodey ordered as they began to shoot their various weapons.

“I’m doing it,” Sam replied firing his guns where he was instructed but it was having little effect. Eventually, they managed to take one wheel down but as Katie circled up she saw that Natasha and General Okoye were right in its path, but so absorbed in the battle that they almost missed the set of chainsaw wheels coming straight for them, almost. Katie yelled a warning over the coms and was about to swoop down to pull them both out of harm’s way when suddenly Wanda dropped down in front of the other two women and surrounded the wheels in her red glow. She lifted them up lifting it up into the air then grunted throwing it back at a swarm of Outriders.

As Katie spiralled back upwards Okoye’s frustrated voice hit her ears. “Why was she up there all this time?”

It was a boost having Wanda on the field, Okoye was right, but the unease in Katie’s chest was rising as her being down there meant it left Vision open. Katie and Rhodey went back to try and take out another one of the huge wheels, but then they both stopped dead as Sam’s urgent voice called out. ”Guys, we got a Vision situation here!“

Katie looked over in the direction of the palace, just in time to see the android crashing out of the glass.

"Somebody get to Vision!” Steve instructed loudly, before he was sideswiped by another of those damned dog things.

“I got him,” Bruce responded

“On my way,” Wanda’s voice also said. Katie turned to find her on the field, and as she did she saw one of Thanos’ warriors hit her hard across the face with her staff and she fell into one of the large trenches that the chainsaw-like wheels of the machine had created.

Katie swooped down to help, Natasha also sprinting across the field, sliding down into the trench behind the blue woman. As Wanda struggled to her feet, Katie landed next to Natasha.

“He will die alone,” the blue woman growled at Wanda, and then to add even more insult looked added, “As will you.”

“She’s not alone.” Natasha said simply. The woman turned around to see Natasha and Katie there, and then at the other side of her Okoye landed, spinning her spear, pointing it at the horned alien.

“Get to Vision.” Natasha looked at Katie who hesitated. “Now, Nova! Our priority is that stone!”

With a nod, Katie took off again, flying towards Vision’s locations as Friday locked onto him. But, as she flew she was hit by something and landed hard on the ground, her suit dragging along the dirt. Instantly she took off again, kicking one of the animals off her leg as it hung on, its teeth crunching into the metal of her boot but it soon fell limp as her thruster blasted straight through its head.

Meanwhile, Steve was running like he had never run before, and as he reached the clearing in the trees he saw one of the aliens bent over Vision, the tip of his staff trying to pry out the stone from his head. Steve tackled the alien at full speed, his shoulder driving into the man’s waist.

“Get outta here!” He yelled, jumping up as he began to trade blows with the alien, using his arm-shields to both land and deflect the blows. There was no movement so he turned to Vision again, issuing another instruction. “Go!”

Steve kept blocking the alien’s weapon using his shields, finally knocking it from the alien’s hands just before he was thrown over a fallen tree and pinned by his opponent’s hand at his throat. Steve struggled, grabbing at the fingers gripping round his neck, but even with his physical abilities, he was struggling. But then suddenly, there was a familiar repuslor blast to the alien’s back which made him yell out, his grip on Steve lessening a tad, and then the blade of the staff emerged from the alien’s chest. Steve saw him splutter, then choke, before he dropped Steve completely to the floor.

Katie landed besides him, her helmet sliding off as she offered her hand to pull him to his feet. Behind her, Vision cast the alien aside before collapsing exhaustedly to the floor.

“Thanks.” Steve panted, his breath ragged as he gently cupped Katie’s face before he strode to Vision. “I thought I told you to go.” He sighed, hauling the android to his feet.

“We don’t trade lives, Captain.” Vision replied simply.

**** Tony was beginning to realise they had no chance against Thanos. But that spurred him on even more, because if he got the rest of the stones, well it didn’t bear thinking about.

With one last attempt he flew at Thanos, who deflected the blow and picked him up by the helmet and blasted his midsection with the Power Stone. The gaps in nanite coverage were now extensive, as his armour was losing the ability to recover from the intensity of the damage. Tony struggled to one knee, and fired his right hand repulsor at Thanos, but he might as well have been using a fucking water pistol for all the good it did.

Gritting his teeth, Tony got to both feet as his suit tried to complete repairs, adding the beam from his left to the one from his right. Thanos walked right up to him, and backhanded the incomplete helmet off his head. Tony’s eyes grew wide as he crossed his arms to block a blow from Thanos’ gauntlet, the Titan caught his left hand and in desperation, Tony formed what was left of his right glove into a short sword, which Thanos easily caught, snapping it off clean before driving it through Tony’s left side.           

Tony’s body seized up in pain as Thanos walked him back until he collapsed onto a rock, looking up at the man who had stabbed him with shock and hatred, blood bubbling in his mouth.

 This was it. Thanos was finally going to kill him, after six years of nightmares.

“You have my respect, Stark.” Thanos spoke almost with a hint of regret. “When I’m done, half of humanity will still be alive,” he let go of Tony and straightened up, “I hope they remember you.”

Tony’s thoughts flashed to the people on Earth, more specifically Pepper and his Sister. He had failed them, again. His visions were coming true. He drew in a pained breath, the copper taste of blood surrounded his senses as Thanos raised the gauntlet, closing his fist and all four stones began to glow.

“Stop!” Strange yelled, sitting up painfully as he looked at Thanos. “Spare his life… and I will give you the stone”

“No tricks.” Thanos turns to him and Doctor Strange shook his head.

Despite Tony’s protest, Strange handed over the stone and Thanos dropped it into the thumb setting on the gauntlet, the energy pulse making him wince.

“One to go.”

 At that point an energy blast hit the gauntlet right in the empty Mind Stone setting and Thanos grimaced in surprise as Quill, who was screaming in incoherent rage, flew towards him, firing with both hands. Thanos didn’t even bother responding to the assault. Instead he conjured up a portal and simply left.

Star-Lord flew through where Thanos had been and crashed, rolling several times. “Where is he?” He stood up, his helmet sliding away.

With a grimace, Tony managed to stich up his stab wound as well as he could with his suit functions, but he was still weak and had no breath for answers.

“Did we just lose?” Quill asked, his voice now fearful.

Tony turned to Dr Strange and looked at him, shaking his head sadly “Why would you do that?” His voice cracked slightly. After everything they had done to try and stop him getting the stone, after the Wizard himself saying he wouldn’t hesitate to let anyone die to keep it safe, he just handed it over.  

“We’re in the Endgame now.” Dr Strange looked at him. And Tony could do nothing but sigh, and slump back against his rock, hoping that the guys on Earth would fare better than they had.

*****

Before Steve, Katie and Vision could move they were joined by Natasha. As she turned to speak to them she suddenly stopped, as a light wind whipped around them, causing them all to spin on the spot.

Something big was coming. Steve couldn’t explain how he knew, but he did. “Everyone on my position, we’ve got incoming.” He pressed his finger to the com in his ear while glancing sideways at Katie, the pair of them stood by Vision, the feel of unease and silence that had fallen over the clearing was getting even more oppressive.

“What the hell?” Natasha mumbled from behind and Steve swallowed turning to Katie who looked up at him. Neither of them could voice what they were feeling, both of them understanding that this could very well be their final stand.  Katie felt her chest tighten as she felt a single tear of fright, love and pride fall down her face.

“I love you.” She whispered and Steve took a shaky breath.

“I love you.” He replied in kind. “Till the end of the line.”

Then, across the clearing from them, a cloud of grey and blue began to form from nothing. A huge man, purple in colour, encased in a deep golden armour stepped out from the grey and blue mass.

“Cap, that’s him.” Bruce pointed out obviously, because honestly, who else could it be?

Steve raised his shields and took a few steps forward as Katie moved backwards to stand with Natasha and Wanda, both stood in front Vision.

“Eyes up. Stay sharp.” Steve commanded beginning to charge forward, leaving Katie behind. He knew that if all else failed, Wanda was going to have to make the decision to destroy that stone, and he also knew that Katie wouldn’t want her to be alone when she did.

Bruce reached Thanos first, using the rockets on his suit to launch him up in the air and, as his hand clenched into a fist, Thanos raised the gauntlet on his left hand and Bruce’s suit turned blue and see-through, his body flying through Thanos’ rather than colliding with it before it was encased in the rock at the side of a hill face.

As she took stock of what had just happened, Katie glanced across at Natasha and saw a look of fright on the blonde’s face. A look she had only ever seen once before, when Bruce had transformed into the Hulk for the first time and they had been trapped in the cargo bay of the Hellicarrier all those years ago.

Steve reached Thanos second and jumped, aiming to punch him in the face with his shields but he was stopped dead in his path, a purple glow encasing his body simply throwing him to the side and out of sight where he crashed to the ground, his head spinning as everything went hazy.

Shortly behind him, T’Challa was also cast aside like a rag doll and then Sam was grounded easily.

Nothing could touch him.

“Wanda.” Vision breathed from behind them, and they all turned to face him. “It’s time.”

“No.” Wanda’s voice shook and Katie glanced back and forth between her and the Titan as he was advancing.

“They can’t stop him, Wanda, but we can. Look at me!” Vision demanded forcefully “You have the power to destroy the stone.”

“Don’t.” She cried, trying to pull away from his grip a third time.

Katie turned back to the fight in time to see Rhodey drop out of the air. When Bucky tried to fire at the Titan raising his gun and running towards him, shooting bullets wildly, he was also cast aside, the same way Steve had been. All their attempts to take the Titan down so far had been simply hopeless.

“You must do it Wanda, please.” Vision continued to plead and Katie turned to the young woman whose bottom lip had begun to wobble.

“Wanda.” Katie looked at her, her own voice cracking as well with the impending action they were about to take. “I can’t begin to imagine how you feel but Vis is right. You have to destroy it.”

The tears were forming in Katie’s eyes. All she could hear over the yells and noise was Steve’s voice telling her he loved her. But right now she had no idea where Steve was, she couldn’t see where Thanos had thrown him. She understood completely what Wanda was feeling, and faced with the same choice she knew she’d be reacting exactly the same.  But, with Thor seemingly also nowhere to be found, it appeared there was no other way to stop the Titan. 

The stone, and with it Vision, had to be destroyed.

“We are out of time.” Vision spoke gently, his hand wrapping around Wanda’s as he brought it up against his cheek.

“I can’t.” Wanda whispered looking at Vision then over to Katie for some form of guidance.

Katie could offer none.

“It’s alright,” Vision took Wanda’s hand and opened it up, “you could never hurt me. I just feel you.“

As Katie watched, Wanda looked over her shoulder and then she let her power flow, her face contorting into so many emotions, it broke Katie’s heart to think about what she was feeling. Her attention was called back to the fight when someone yelled, this time Okoye. Natasha took a deep breath, looking at Katie as they now found themselves the last line of defence between Thanos, Wanda and Vis. They had no choice but to try and buy Wanda as much time as they could.

Natasha went first, but it was pointless, she was cast off to the side somewhere and Katie stood, drawing herself up to her full height, helmet, shield and weapons ready, knowing full well it wasn’t going to stop him.

But Steve was up and running again. Thanos was advancing on his wife and he wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight. He threw himself into a slide, the momentum carrying him under Thanos’ legs and as he went he aimed a swipe at the back of the man’s calves and knees with his shields. As he jumped to his feet, Thanos aimed a blow at Steve’s head, but he caught the gauntlet in both his hands. 

Gritting his teeth, Steve put every bit of strength he had into holding off the blow as Katie flew in, her repulsors firing at the Titan which made him lose concentration for a moment, but only a second. Then, in the corner of his eye, Steve saw the other fist powering towards his temple.

And then it all went back.

As Steve crashed to the floor, Thanos caught Katie easily round the neck. Both her hands shot up, her fingers trying desperately to prise his away from where they were crunching around the shield of her suit but to no avail.

“Another Stark.” Thanos mumbled, and before Katie could respond, he trew her up into the air, shooting her with a shot from the power stone. The beam of energy hit her square in the chest, killing her reactor, and she was sent spiralling to the right, where she collided heavily, head first with a tree.

As Katie lay motionless on the floor, her suit falling away, she could vaguely hear noises, the sounds of fighting and yelling. Then there was some sort of huge explosion before the world swam around her, and her eyes fluttered shut.

How long she was out for, Katie had no idea, but as she came round, the first thing she noticed was that it was deadly silent. She could taste and smell dirt, and opening an eye, she realised she was led, face down on the forest floor somewhere. With a groan she lifted her head, and, as she glanced across the clearing, she saw Steve was led roughly ten feet away, also face down and still out of it thanks to the force of Thanos’ punch.

“Steve.” She whispered to herself and pushed herself up, half crawling, half running towards him. As she reached his side, there was a sudden flash of green light which surrounded them, but Katie’s attention was completely focussed on her husband who lay motionless on the ground. “Steve.” She gently shook him, her eyes swimming with tears. “Baby, please, get up.”

She could hear Thor yelling something, and felt a surge of hope in her chest that the God had entered the final fight, and that hope grew even more as Steve gave a little groan, and started to move, turning his head as he lifted it up from where he was laying in the dirt. 

“Hey.” She greeted him and he sat up, shaking his head, before he instantly reached out to cup her face, scanning her for injuries. 

“Your suit?” He grit out and she shook her head.

“It’s down, it-“

Before she could explain the pair of them were jolted by Thor’s loud cry which seemed to linger in the air around them.

“No!”

They both looked round instinctively and as they did so, a blinding white light seemed to pulse towards them. Steve instinctively pushed Katie down to the floor, curling his body around hers in an attempt to shield her from whatever it was. He kept his head low, eyes scanning around and once he was satisfied it was safe to do so he moved, his eyes fixing on Katie’s whose were wide with fright.

“Steve, I don’t know what’s happening.” She whispered, and Steve swallowed, looking round as he could hear Thor was shouting again but he couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Come on.” He rose to his feet, offering Katie his hand and she took it. Once she was stood, his hands fell to her shoulders, his eyes searching his wife’s face and she nodded to tell him she was okay. Turning, Steve hissed at the pain in his side and clutched at his ribs, looking around, half expecting Thanos to appear and make another run at him. “Stay close to me.” He looked at Katie, the fact she had no suit worried him a little and he wanted to make sure he kept her by his side, not that it would do much good, but he’d die trying if he had to. 

It soon became apparent that he wasn’t going to need to, as when they reached the edge of the trees they’d both landed between and emerged into the clearing, there was no sign of the Titan. In fact, the only person they could see was Thor. The god’s broad back was hunched over, his shoulders rising and falling with the force of his breathing, the air deadly silent.

“Where’d he go?” Steve asked, spinning around, unease flooding his chest.  “Thor?”

Thor finally turned and met Steve’s eyes, then Katie’s, and it was not a comfort, in fact it made Steve feel even more concerned. The god looked utterly shattered, and still he gave no response.

“Steve?” Another voice cut in sounding as confused as the rest of them felt, and he turned to see Bucky looking down at his arm in disbelief as the limb was disappearing into ash, the gun in his hands fell to the ground followed shortly by the man himself as he just disappeared.

Steve blinked, not sure what he’d seen. An icy cold feeling churned in his stomach as he took a few steps forward before falling to a knee and reaching out, touching the ashes and dust that was all that was left of his best friend. He turned to look up at Katie, he was utterly confused, disbelieving even. 

Katie, in turn, was numb with shock. She stumbled forwards, dropping to her knees besides Steve, her hand hovering over his as she stared at the spot on the ground where Bucky’s gun lay.

“I don’t…” Steve frowned, looking at her. “What the hell…”

Katie couldn’t speak. She looked up and round, her eyes falling on Thor as another cloud of dust and ash whirred around the clearing near where the god was stood and it was then that she noticed Thor was stood about a foot away from Vision, who was led on the ground. His body now a bland shade of purple-grey. She reached out for Steve, but at that moment he rose to his feet, walking slowly over to where Thor was stood, his steps heavy, laboured almost. Katie pushed herself off the ground, her own feet felt like they belonged to someone else as she walked numbly over the clearing, as Steve fell down to his knees, shakily reaching out to roll Vision’s lifeless body over.

It was then that Katie’s eyes locked on the hole in the android’s head and in the corner of her eye she saw Steve drop backwards sitting on the ground with a huff, looking up at her, utter disbelief and sorrow flooded his handsome face as they both shared a moment of understanding. Thanos had taken the stone, and done exactly what Banner had warned he would do. 

“What’s going on?” Rhodey’s voice cut across the silence as he voiced the question on everyone’s mind. “What the hell is happening?”

Katie turned to face him, her eyes misting over as she looked around at the group of people stood in the clearing. Thor, Banner, Rhodey, Natasha and Rocket. There was no one else, only them. No Sam, no T’Challa, no Bucky, no Wanda. And no Tony. Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried hard to stem the tears and sob that she felt bubbling up inside her, and instead she turned, dropping to her knees besides Steve, reaching out for him.

“Oh, God.” She heard his voice crack as his back slumped against Visions body, his arms pulling her close as the group simply remained silent, numb in the realisation that for the first time ever, The Avengers had lost.

*****

Chapter 38

**Original Posting**

[a-dorin]

hostage | savage opress

“word count: 1.140k

warnings: cursing, mentions of death, interrogation, use of weapons, angst.. the end is very fluffy though! 

a/n: this was a request from @waytoinlovewithdarthmaul ! also, this was my first time hondo made an appearance, so i hope i wrote his character well! (he’s one of my favorites) since there is not much savage content on this site, i hope you guys enjoy :)) 

prompt:  after being taken hostage by hondo ohnaka and his rowdy crew, a golden zabrak and his companion are in for it. however, after making it back to mandalore safely, feelings that were once repressed emerge, and savage is prompted to act on them. 

“so tell me,” his accent is thick, slurred by the alcohol, “would you or your little friend like to speak first?”

“i don’t think he’s little,” you snorted, rolling your eyes, “i’m not impressed with your interrogation tactics, hondo.”

the weequay leaned in, his breath reeking as it wafted into your nostrils, “well, your friend here is practically an animal. do you see the restraints we placed on him? he’s far more restrained than you are, sweetheart.”

“don’t you dare speak to her like that,” a growl rumbled behind you, “she is not your sweetheart.”

“i see that the zabrak has a weak spot,” hondo chuckled darkly, “bring in the big guns.”

“and what are those?” you scoffed, wrinkling your nose, “blasters don’t scare me. you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“she sure is a fiery one isn’t she?” the pirate teased, nudging your shoulder with his hand as he spoke to savage, “well, who’s speaking first? i need some more intel on your other little friend. that red guy. what’s his name? maul, is it?”

“you won’t get it,” savage snarled, tugging on the shackles bound to his wrists, “you don’t know what you’re doing. my brother is going to have you ripped apart piece by piece, until your blood is spilled all over this-.”

“what’s that horny-headed man going to do, huh? is he going to use some witchcraft on me. he’s only a torso with some arms anyways. he doesn’t scare me one bit.”

two henchmen emerged from the shadows, wielding two recognizable weapons. your heart skipped a beat, your throat tightening, “hondo, where did you acquire those staffs?”

“some tin man gave them to me,” hondo took a swig from a bottle, “i dunno how or why, but it was a fair deal. an eye for an eye.”

fear crept in as the staffs illuminated a purple glow, crackling with electricity. hondo puffed out his chest, “so, who’s going to pipe up first?” 

“why do you even need information about maul?” you arched a brow, attempting to maintain your composure, “the three of us, we’ve been traveling together for some time now. we haven’t infiltrated mandalore until very recently. who are you working for, hondo? how much are they paying you?”

“quite a sum,” the pirate responded coolly, “retch, mundo, let’s prompt our little friends here, since they don’t want to budge.”

“please,” your voice was eerily calm, “don’t hurt him.”

“why not sweetheart?” a devilish smirk crept onto the pirate’s lips, “are the two of you romantically involved?”

“because he doesn’t deserve it,” you remarked, “i’m the one who knows the intel, not him.”

“hmmm,” hondo hummed, tapping his foot, “well, since you asked so nicely, retch, mundo, get her.”

the weequay stepped forward, the glow of the staffs cascading onto you as you squirmed, desperate for a miracle. for some hope that maybe hondo would grace you with kindness. 

however, the fire that blazed in his eyes spoke a far different story, his laughter echoing off the walls, “well, my golden friend, how about we watch your friend writhe around for a bit? wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

the last thing you remembered was the anguished scream that erupted from your lips the second the staffs met with your body. 

stirring awake, you blinked, pain seeping in. however, you were intrigued as you grasped the surface, the sheets soft and cozy underneath your fingertips. scanning the room, relief spread as you recognized the decor lining the walls, as well as the all too familiar viewport. 

night fell over mandalore, the sky a rich navy, the stars shrouded by the light pollution of the capitol. the glow of the city was comforting, a mundane aspect of life that you had no idea you would seek solace out of. 

swinging your legs off the bed, you winced as you took a step, bandages wrapped around your wrists, as well one on your shoulder. your curiosity skyrocketed as you realized you were wearing nothing but a thin black tunic, the sleeves stretching well past your hands.

how did you manage to escape hondo and the rest of his crew? who tended to your wounds? 

yet, one question rang through your mind, oh so clearly. 

where was savage?

padding out of your quarters, you roamed the sundari royal palace, on high alert. rays of moonlight cascaded through the viewports, your skin glowing a silvery hue. after some searching, you remembered that there was one location of the palace you had yet to investigate. 

the throne room. 

swallowing thickly, you pressed your ear to the thick wooden doors, ears pricking with the muffled voices of two certain zabraki. 

voices in which you recognized immediately, the inflections and octaves so distinct. 

the rumble of a golden zabrak. 

and the quiet, hushed, tone of a crimson zabrak. 

pushing the door open ever so slightly, you gained clarity of their conversation, your eyes narrowing. 

“you’re lucky that both of you made it out alive.”

“the dark side provided me with strength,” savage replied, “however, there was something else i couldn’t quite distinguish. something more..”

“i believe it was your affection for the girl,” maul snorted, “you wouldn’t believe the sheer power affection can hold over an individual.”

“i do like her,” savage mumbled, “i enjoy her presence. it’s almost as if she’s this.. radiant light.”

“oh gods,” you stifled a giggle as you could picture maul rolling his eyes, “if you hold such affection for her, then why don’t you tell her?”

“i guess i’m afraid,” savage let out a sigh, “i’m afraid of what she might say.”

“believe me,” maul began, “the way you two act around one another tells me everything that i need to know. it’s quite sickening, actually- wait, i sense something. but rather, someone. perhaps it’s time for your confession, brother.”

two pairs of eyes fell on you as you slipped into the throne room, your cheeks tainted with a crimson hue. savage cleared his throat, “you’re awake.”

surging forward, you collapsed into savage’s arms, the zabrak flinching momentarily. however, the moment you nuzzled your head into his chest, he melted, wrapping his arms around your frame. 

“thank you for saving me,” you whispered, tears brimming your lids. 

“i would save you time and time again,” his lips, so plump and soft, brushed your forehead, “i-i have something that i want to share with you.”

“you can share anything with me,” you murmured, your voice delicate. 

“there’s an abundance of affection, in my heart.. for you,” the zabrak fidgeted, “i’m not sure if i said that right.”

“savage,” you breathed, your eyes meeting his, “i feel the same way.”

the grin that lit up his face, enveloping his features, was enough to light up the capitol of sundari, let alone the planet of mandalore itself. 

[tarotdeckshuffle]

Half Astral Series: Cor

I’m skipping around a bit and doing Cor’s section because I’m writing two chapters of Spectral today and that’s just A LOT of Ignis to write XD Hope you enjoy! ❤

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen, @jophinabean, @mysme-already

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Cor

The hour was early when you and Cor began a new hunt. 

Rumor had spread of a coeurl that had become corrupted,

The poor beast lashed out at refugees with dark lightning. 

You and your love set out into the darkness to protect the few safe routes left to Lestallum,

And to put the animal out of its misery. 

Unfortunately, the creatures of darkness were nearly impossible to track in the everlasting night. 

And the cold desert dirt was unable to preserve tracks,

As eastward winds pulled the chariot of storms. 

You began to fear the beast only existed in stories,

Until a lonely, anguished growl pierced the winds. 

It was the sound of an animal fighting not to become a monster. 

You and Cor agreed that you had to find it now,

For all evidence of its whereabouts would be washed away in the storms. 

But words are easier to find than prey. 

A cold and heavy rain set in, soaking you to the bone,

Before you even found the coeurl. 

Thunder shook the earth,

As lightning struck from the veil of darkness. 

Finally, you found it. 

The poor creature had been fighting the corruption for so long. 

One eye glowed red, surrounded by black sludge,

While the other gazed wide and fearful at the world around it. 

The battle to fell the beast was not going to be easy,

As it was impossible to tell it you were committing an act of mercy. 

It took all of your strength to dodge its claws,

As you slid through the mud.

All the while attempting to avoid real and dark lightning. 

Even Cor began to slow down with fatigue. 

For a single moment, the rain eased. 

Beside you, Cor nodded. 

This was your chance!

He dashed at the creature from the front,

Distracting it,

While you attached from behind. 

The coeurl lashed out, barely catching its claws in Cor’s chest,

Before your blade found its mark. 

The blow was exact, 

Resulting in a fairly painless and fast death. 

The creature stood frozen, 

Before crumpling to the ground,

Finally free from its pain. 

You walked away from it,

Only to find Cor doubled over and holding his chest. 

You ran to your love, 

Fearing the worst. 

He waved you on, 

Telling you that he would be fine,

Regardless of the pain. 

But you knew he needed help,

And fast!

But you were miles from anywhere. 

Unable to do anything else, you got him to his feet,

And set out. 

It felt like hours that you wandered,

Fearfully supporting your darling,

Through the onslaught of rain. 

Just as you thought the storms would take you,

You found shelter. 

A cave in the valley walls. 

Inside was still cold, 

But it was dry. 

You laid Cor down

And found enough brush in the cave to start a fire. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

You held his head on your lap,

As his body quickly failed him. 

He was running a high fever,

Unable to stop from shivering. 

You dressed his wounds to the best of your ability,

But even the gauze was wet from the rain. 

“Damn this old body,” he coughed,

Trying to smile up at you. 

“If it keeps you with me, I don’t care how old it is,” you replied, smiling back at him. 

He nestled into you, still smiling. 

You watched the marshall's face soften into sleep.

For hours, you sat with him,

Stroking his hair,

Attempting to chase away his nightmares.

But to no avail.

His fever seemed to keep increasing,

And the wounds on his chest refused to clot. 

Silently, tears streamed from your eyes 

From the fear gripping your heart:

What if he never woke up?

What if this was it?

Within the trows of nightmares, again,

You tried to wake him.

With shaking hands, you stroked his cheek.

“Darling, wake up…” you whispered.

But sleep did not release him. 

“Darling!” 

Your panicked cry rang throughout the cave. 

And he stilled. 

You felt his beating heart begin to slow,

But, still, he did not wake. 

“Please...wake up...look at me…”

You plead,

But only the darkness heard you. 

Quite still now, he continued to sleep. 

Tears flowed like rivers down your cheeks,

As you cried out. 

“FINE!! I GIVE! I NEED YOUR HELP! YOU HEAR THAT?! I NEED YOUR HELP!!”

As the echoes of your pleas faded, 

Only silence responded. 

“YOU COWARDLY OLD MAN! I SAID I NEED YOUR HELP! WHAT?! ARE YOU NOT GOING TO GLOAT NOW THAT I ACTUALLY NEED YOU?”

Lightning cracked outside. 

Through the darkness, a tall figure swept towards you. 

“I am not a pet you can summon on command, child.”

It was the god of storms, Ramuh, who approached you. 

“Well you certainly aren’t a father, either.” 

You lashed out in pain. 

Your dearest love, the only thing in all of Eos that truly mattered to you, 

Lay dying in your arms. 

And your cowardly father had the nerve to swagger into your sanctuary. 

Ramuh narrowed his eyes, staring you down. 

“Then what have you called out to me for?” 

You gathered all the courage you could muster to face him down,

“Save him.” 

Those two words are all you thought you heart could calmly manage. 

“And why, perchance, should I save this mortal?” The god hissed. 

You were taken aback. 

He had all the power in the world,

Power enough to save this man ten times over,

And he was questioning you?!

The years of constant criticism you faced from your father came back to your mind. 

Centuries of resentment boiled up within you.

You had been raised in his shadow,

A mortal he tried to shape into a god.

You were his only child,

And his greatest disappointment.

You had spent the last hundred years hiding from his view,

Which wasn’t a great task,

Considering he literally hid in a rock. 

He had given you the power of everlasting life,

Within a body that would never fail you.

Not by choice,

But due to his own desire to have a legacy.

“Does it matter why you should save him? I am asking this one and only thing of you, after all you have demanded of me! Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that the LEAST a parent could do?!”

That was the first you had ever questioned him. 

And for a moment, it calmed the storms. 

He stood in silence, staring at his feet.

Gods had all the time in the world,

And you feared he did not understand the urgency of this matter. 

Finally, he spoke:

“Contrary to what you imagine, I do care about you. To that end, you must realize that everyday you draw closer to the inevitable sadness of this relationship. If I should fulfill your request, you are just delaying fate.” 

Your eyes furrowed in rebellious anger.

“I don’t care,” you challenged. 

He folded his hands and stared down at you.

 “Yes, you do. And that’s exactly the problem.” 

In that moment, he didn’t matter anymore. 

Your mind found the words to bring your emotions into the world,

And you let it unleash the fury of ages past:

“You’re right. Ok? I care! I care immensely! I care about him, body and mind, because I love him! And unlike you so-called gods, I’m not going to abandon something I care about! To leave due to my own sadness would be completely selfish! What about him?”

You paused to look down at his peaceful face. 

The man you loved, 

The man you would die for,

And more importantly,

Live for. 

Yes, you would outlive him,

You would live until his name was religated to letters in history books. 

Never aging,

Never getting sick,

just...living.

But you would also get to live with him.

You would have the chance to fight by his side,

To see all the beauty of Eos in his arms,

And to know his touch. 

All of that was worth living for. 

“He loves me. He needs me! And I love him! I need him. You may not understand the value of this moment, or of any moment, but I do! And it is far more valuable than the sadness to come! He has shown me life, far more than you ever could! So, no matter how hard you try to scare me away from it, I’m staying with him.”

You looked up, 

The weight of your truth evident on your face. 

Ramuh merely shook his head,

Before he raised his hands.

The whole cave buzzed with electricity,

As it popped off of the walls. 

A soft, yellow glow surrounded Cor,

Brining warmth to his body. 

Slowly, the electricity faded from the room.

Ramuh lowered his hands and sighed:

“I have done what you asked, but know this child: you will receive nothing more from me. You have become too mortal to be of any use.” 

With pursed hands he strode from the cave and disappeared into the winds. 

Outside, the thunder eased,

But the rain continued to fall in sheets. 

When you checked, 

The marks on Cor’s chest had disappeared,

And his fever broke. 

Leaving him to sleep peacefully. 

You smiled, 

Finally feeling at peace.

He would live to see another day.  

But, in the crevices of your heart,

You felt a deep sadness.

Ramuh never went back on his word...

But what was done could not be undone,

That much he had taught you. 

So you leaned back, 

And let your body rest. 

 Hours later, Cor woke.

He looked up into your sleeping face,

Unsure of what was a dream and what was real. 

You looked peaceful in your sleep,

A glow of otherworldly beauty to you. 

How could he tell you what he had seen?

Would it even matter?

No…

To him, it didn’t matter who you were,

Who your parents were,

Or where you came from.

What mattered is that he loved you,

And that he could spend the rest of his life with you.

He raised one tired hand,

And brushed your cheek. 

“I’m staying with you, too.”

[interestingshitonmadikomgezrapou]

"On The Pleasure Of Hating" (c.1826)

THERE is a spider crawling along the matted floor of the room where I sit (not the one which has been so well allegorised in the admirable Lines to a Spider, but another of the same edifying breed); he runs with heedless, hurried haste, he hobbles awkwardly towards me, he stops -- he sees the giant shadow before him, and, at a loss whether to retreat or proceed, meditates his huge foe -- but as I do not start up and seize upon the straggling caitiff, as he would upon a hapless fly within his toils, he takes heart, and ventures on with mingled cunning, impudence and fear. As he passes me, I lift up the matting to assist his escape, am glad to get rid of the unwelcome intruder, and shudder at the recollection after he is gone. A child, a woman, a clown, or a moralist a century ago, would have crushed the little reptile to death-my philosophy has got beyond that -- I bear the creature no ill-will, but still I hate the very sight of it. The spirit of malevolence survives the practical exertion of it. We learn to curb our will and keep our overt actions within the bounds of humanity, long before we can subdue our sentiments and imaginations to the same mild tone. We give up the external demonstration, the brute violence, but cannot part with the essence or principle of hostility. We do not tread upon the poor little animal in question (that seems barbarous and pitiful!) but we regard it with a sort of mystic horror and superstitious loathing. It will ask another hundred years of fine writing and hard thinking to cure us of the prejudice and make us feel towards this ill-omened tribe with something of "the milk of human kindness," instead of their own shyness and venom.

Nature seems (the more we look into it) made up of antipathies: without something to hate, we should lose the very spring of thought and action. Life would turn to a stagnant pool, were it not ruffled by the jarring interests, the unruly passions, of men. The white streak in our own fortunes is brightened (or just rendered visible) by making all around it as dark as possible; so the rainbow paints its form upon the cloud. Is it pride? Is it envy? Is it the force of contrast? Is it weakness or malice? But so it is, that there is a secret affinity, a hankering after, evil in the human mind, and that it takes a perverse, but a fortunate delight in mischief, since it is a never-failing source of satisfaction. Pure good soon grows insipid, wants variety and spirit. Pain is a bittersweet, wants variety and spirit. Love turns, with a little indulgence, to indifference or disgust: hatred alone is immortal. Do we not see this principle at work everywhere? Animals torment and worry one another without mercy: children kill flies for sport: every one reads the accidents and offences in a newspaper as the cream of the jest: a whole town runs to be present at a fire, and the spectator by no means exults to see it extinguished. It is better to have it so, but it diminishes the interest; and our feelings take part with our passions rather than with our understandings. Men assemble in crowds, with eager enthusiasm, to witness a tragedy: but if there were an execution going forward in the next street, as Mr. Burke observes, the theater would be left empty. A strange cur in a village, an idiot, a crazy woman, are set upon and baited by the whole community. Public nuisances are in the nature of public benefits. How long did the Pope, the Bourbons, and the Inquisition keep the people of England in breath, and supply them with nicknames to vent their spleen upon! Had they done us any harm of late? No: but we have always a quantity of superfluous bile upon the stomach, and we wanted an object to let it out upon. How loth were we to give up our pious belief in ghosts and witches, because we liked to persecute the one, and frighten ourselves to death with the other! It is not the quality so much as the quantity of excitement that we are anxious about: we cannot bear a state of indifference and ennui: the mind seems to abhor a vacuum as much as ever nature was supposed to do. Even when the spirit of the age (that is, the progress of intellectual refinement, warring with our natural infirmities) no longer allows us to carry our vindictive and head strong humours into effect, we try to revive them in description, and keep up the old bugbears, the phantoms of our terror and our hate, in imagination. We burn Guy Fawx in effigy, and the hooting and buffeting and maltreating that poor tattered figure of rags and straw makes a festival in every village in England once a year. Protestants and Papists do not now burn one another at the stake: but we subscribe to new editions of Fox's Book of Martyrs; and the secret of the success of the Scotch Novels is much the same-they carry us back to the feuds, the heart-burnings, the havoc, the dismay, the wrongs, and the revenge of a barbarous age and people-to the rooted prejudices and deadly animosities of sects and parties in politics and religion, and of contending chiefs and clans in war and intrigue. We feel the full force of the spirit of hatred with all of them in turn. As we read, we throw aside the trammels of civilization, the flimsy veil of humanity. "Off, you lendings!" The wild beast resumes its sway within us, we feel like hunting animals, and as the hound starts in his sleep and rushes on the chase in fancy the heart rouses itself in its native lair, and utters a wild cry of joy, at being restored once more to freedom and lawless unrestrained impulses. Every one has his full swing, or goes to the Devil his own way. Here are no Jeremy Bentham Panopticons, none of Mr. Owen's impassable Parallelograms1 (Rob Roy would have spurred and poured a thousand curses on them), no long calculations of self-interest -- the will takes its instant way to its object, as the mountain-torrent flings itself over the precipice: the greatest possible good of each individual consists in doing all the mischief he can to his neighbour: that is charming, and finds a sure and sympathetic chord in every breast! So Mr. Irving2, the celebrated preacher, has rekindled the old, original, almost exploded hell-fire in the aisles of the Caledonian Chapel, as they introduce the real water of the New River at Sadler's Wells, to the delight and astonishment of his fair audience. 'Tis pretty, though a plague, to sit and peep into the pit of Tophet, to play at snap-dragon with flames and brimstone (it gives a smart electrical shock, a lively filip to delicate constitutions), and to see Mr. Irving, like a huge Titan, looking as grim and swarthy as if he had to forge tortures for all the damned! What a strange being man is! Not content with doing all he can to vex and hurt his fellows here, "upon this bank and shoal of time," where one would think there were heartaches, pain, disappointment, anguish, tears, sighs, and groans enough, the bigoted maniac takes him to the top of the high peak of school divinity to hurl him down the yawning gulf of penal fire; his speculative malice asks eternity to wreak its infinite spite in, and calls on the Almighty to execute its relentless doom! The cannibals burn their enemies and eat them in good-fellowship with one another: meed Christian divines cast those who differ from them but a hair's-breadth, body and soul into hellfire for the glory of God and the good of His creatures! It is well that the power of such persons is not co-ordinate with their wills: indeed it is from the sense of their weakness and inability to control the opinions of others, that they thus "outdo termagant," and endeavour to frighten them into conformity by big words and monstrous denunciations.

The pleasure of hating, like a poisonous mineral, eats into the heart of religion, and turns it to rankling spleen and bigotry; it makes patriotism an excuse for carrying fire, pestilence, and famine into other lands: it leaves to virtue nothing but the spirit of censoriousness, and a narrow, jealous, inquisitorial watchfulness over the actions and motives of others. What have the different sects, creeds, doctrines in religion been but so many pretexts set up for men to wrangle, to quarrel, to tear one another in pieces about, like a target as a mark to shoot at? Does any one suppose that the love of country in an Englishman implies any friendly feeling or disposition to serve another bearing the same name? No, it means only hatred to the French or the inhabitants of any other country that we happen to be at war with for the time. Does the love of virtue denote any wish to discover or amend our own faults? No, but it atones for an obstinate adherence to our own vices by the most virulent intolerance to human frailties. This principle is of a most universal application. It extends to good as well as evil: if it makes us hate folly, it makes us no less dissatisfied with distinguished merit. If it inclines us to resent the wrongs of others, it impels us to be as impatient of their prosperity. We revenge injuries: we repay benefits with ingratitude. Even our strongest partialities and likings soon take this turn. "That which was luscious as locusts, anon becomes bitter as coloquintida;" and love and friendship melt in their own fires. We hate old friends: we hate old books: we hate old opinions; and at last we come to hate ourselves.

I have observed that few of those whom I have formerly known most intimate, continue on the same friendly footing, or combine the steadiness with the warmth of attachment. I have been acquainted with two or three knots of inseparable companions, who saw each other "six days in the week;" that have been broken up and dispersed. I have quarrelled with almost all my old friends' (they might say this is owing to my bad temper, but) they have also quarrelled with one another. What is become of "that set of whist-players," celebrated by Elia in his notable Epistle to Robert Southey, Esq.3 (and now I think of it - that I myself have celebrated in this very volume4) "that for so many years called Admiral Burney friend?" They are scattered, like last year's snow. Some of them are dead, or gone to live at a distance, or pass one another in the street like strangers, or if they stop to speak, do it as coolly and try to cut one another as soon as possible. Some of us have grown rich, others poor. Some have got places under Government, others a niche in the Quarterly Review. Some of us have dearly earned a name in the world; whilst others remain in their original privacy. We despise the one, and envy and are glad to mortify the other. Times are changed; we cannot revive our old feelings; and we avoid the sight, and are uneasy in the presence of, those who remind us of our infirmity, and put us upon an effort at seeming cordiality which embarrasses ourselves, and does not impose upon our quondam associates. Old friendships are like meats served up repeatedly, cold, comfortless, and distasteful. The stomach turns against them. Either constant intercourse and familiarity breed weariness and contempt; if we meet again after an interval of absence, we appear no longer the same. One is too wise, another too foolish, for us; and we wonder we did not find this out before. We are disconcerted and kept in a state of continual alarm by the wit of one, or tired to death of the dullness of another. The good things of the first (besides leaving strings behind them) by repetition grow stale, and lose their startling effect; and the insipidity of the last becomes intolerable. The most amusing or instructive companion is best like a favorite volume, that we wish after a time to lay upon the shelf; but as our friends are not willing to be laid there, this produces a misunderstanding and ill-blood between us. Or if the zeal and integrity of friendship is not abated, or its career interrupted by any obstacle arising out of its own nature, we look out for other subjects of complaint and sources of dissatisfaction. We begin to criticize each other's dress, looks, general character. "Such a one is a pleasant fellow, but it is a pity he sits so late!" Another fails to keep his appointments, and that is a sore that never heals. We get acquainted with some fashionable young men or with a mistress, and wish to introduce our friend; but be is awkward and a sloven, the interview does not answer, and this throws cold water on our intercourse. Or he makes himself obnoxious to opinion; and we shrink from our own convictions on the subject as an excuse for not defending him. All or any of these causes mount up in time to a ground of coolness or irritation; and at last they break out into open violence as the only amends we can make ourselves for suppressing them so long, or the readiest means of banishing recollections of former kindness so little compatible with our present feelings. We may try to tamper with the wounds or patch up the carcase of departed friendship; but the one will hardly bear the handling, and the other is not worth the trouble of embalming! The only way to be reconciled to old friends is to part with them for good: at a distance we may chance to be thrown back ( in a waking dream) upon old times and old feelings: or at any rate we should not think of renewing our intimacy, till we have fairly spit our spite or said, thought, and felt all the ill we can of each other. Or if we can pick a quarrel with some one else, and make him the scape-goat, this is an excellent contrivance to heal a broken bone. I think I must be friends with Lamb again, since he has written that magnanimous Letter to Southey, and told him a piece of his mind! I don't know what it is that attaches me to H---so much, except that he and I, whenever we meet, sit in judgment on another set of old friends, and "carve them as a dish fit for the Gods". There with L [Leigh Hunt], John Scott, Mrs. [Montagu], whose dark raven locks make a picturesque background to our discourse, B---, who is grown fat, and is, they say, married, R[ickman]; these had all separated long ago, and their foibles are the common link that holds us together.5 We do not affect to condole or whine over their follies; we enjoy, we laugh at them, till we are ready to burst our sides, "sans intermissions for hours by the dial." We serve up a course of anecdotes, traits, master-strokes of character, and cut and hack at them till we are weary. Perhaps some of them are even with us. For my own part, as I once said, I like a friend the better for having faults that one can talk about. "Then," said Mrs. [Montagu], " you will cease to be a philanthropist!" Those in question were some of the choice-spirits of the age, not "fellows of no mark or likelihood'; and we so far did them justice: but it is well they did not hear what we sometimes said of them. I care little what any one says of me, particularly behind my back, and in the way of critical and analytical discussion: it is looks of dislike and scorn that I answer with the worst venom of my pen. The expression of the face wounds me more than the expressions of the tongue. If I have in one instance mistaken this expression, or resorted to this remedy where I ought not, I am sorry for it. But the face was too fine over which it mantled, and I am too old to have misunderstood it!...I sometimes go up to -----'s; and as often as I do, resolve never to go again. I do not find the old homely welcome. The ghost of friendship meets me at the door, and sits with me all dinner-time. They have got a set of fine notions and new acquaintances. Allusions to past occurrences are thought trivial, nor is it always safe to touch upon more general subjects. M. does not begin as he formerly did every five minutes, "Fawcett used to say," &c. That topic is something worn. The girls are grown up, and have a thousand accomplishments. I perceive there is a jealousy on both sides. They think I give myself airs, and I fancy the same of them. Every time I am asked, "If I do not think Mr. Washington Irving a very fine writer?" I shall not go again till I receive an invitation for Christmas Day in company with Mr. Liston. The only intimacy I never found to flinch or fade was a purely intellectual one. There was none of the cant of candour in it, none of the whine of mawkish sensibility. Our mutual acquaintance were considered merely as subjects of conversation and knowledge, not all of affection. We regarded them no more in our experiments than "mice in an air-pump:" or like malefactors, they were regularly cut down and given over to the dissecting-knife. We spared neither friend nor foe. We sacrificed human infirmities at the shrine of truth. The skeletons of character might be seen, after the juice was extracted, dangling in the air like flies in cobwebs; or they were kept for future inspection in some refined acid. The demonstration was as beautiful as it was new. There is no surfeiting on gall: nothing keeps so well as a decoction of spleen. We grow tired of every thing but turning others into ridicule, and congratulating ourselves on their defects.

We take a dislike to our favourite books, after a time, for the same reason. We cannot read the same works for ever. Our honey-moon, even though we wed the Muse, must come to an end; and is followed by indifference, if not by disgust. There are some works, those indeed that produce the most striking effect at first by novelty and boldness of outline, that will not bear reading twice: others of a less extravagant character, and that excite and repay attention by a greater nicety of details, have hardly interest enough to keep alive our continued enthusiasm. The popularity of the most successful writers operates to wean us from them, by the cant and fuss that is made about them, by hearing their names everlastingly repeated, and by the number of ignorant and indiscriminate admirers they draw after them: - we as little like to have to drag others from their unmerited obscurity, lest we should be exposed to the charge of affectation and singularity of taste. There is nothing to be said respecting an author that all the world have made up their minds about: it is a thankless as well as hopeless task to recommend one that nobody has ever heard of. To cry up Shakespear as the god of our idolatry, seems like a vulgar national prejudice: to take down a volume of Chaucer, or Spenser, or Beaumont and Fletcher, or Ford, or Marlowe, has very much the look of pedantry and egotism. I confess it makes me hate the very name of Fame and Genius, when works like these are "gone into the wastes of time," while each successive generation of fools is busily employed in reading the trash of the day, and women of fashion gravely join with their waiting-maids in discussing the preference between the Paradise Lost and Mr. Moore's Loves of the Angels. I was pleased the other day on going into a shop to ask, "If they had any of the Scotch Novels?" to be told - "That they had just sent out the last, Sir Andrew Wylie!" - Mr. Galt will also be pleased with this answer! The reputation of some books is raw and unaired: that of others is worm-eaten and mouldy. Why fix our affections on that which we cannot bring ourselves to have faith in, or which others have long ceased to trouble themselves about? I am half afraid to look into Tom Jones, lest it should not answer my expectations at this time of day; and if it did not, I would certainly be disposed to fling it into the fire, and never look into another novel while I lived. But surely, it may be said, there are some works that, like nature, can never grow old; and that must always touch the imagination and passions alike! Or there are passages that seem as if we might brood over them all our lives, and not exhaust the sentiments of love and admiration they excite: they become favourites, and we are fond of them to a sort of dotage. Here is one:

---"Sitting in my window

Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,

I thought (but it was you), enter our gates;

My blood flew out and back again, as fast

As I had puffed it forth and sucked it in

Like breath; then was I called away in haste

To entertain you: never was a man

Thrust from a sheepcote to a sceptre, raised

So high in thoughts as I; you left a kiss

Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep

From you for ever. I did hear you talk

Far above singing!"A passage like this, indeed, leaves a taste on the palate like nectar, and we seem in reading it to sit with the Gods at their golden tables: but if we repeat it often in ordinary moods, it loses its flavour, becomes vapid, "the wine of poetry is drank, and but the lees remain." Or, on the other hand, if we call in the air of extraordinary circumstances to set it off to advantage, as the reciting it to a friend, or after having our feelings excited by a long walk in some romantic situation, or while we---"play with Amaryllis in the shade,

Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair"---we afterwards miss the accompanying circumstances, and instead of transferring the recollection of them to the favourable side, regret what we have lost, and strive in vain to bring back "the irrevocable hour" - wondering in some instances how we survive it, and at the melancholy blank that is left behind! The pleasure rises to its height in some moment of calm solitude or intoxicating sympathy, declines ever after, and from the comparison and conscious falling-off, leaves rather a sense of satiety and irksomeness behind it... "Is it the same in pictures?" I confess it is, with all but those from Titian's hand. I don't know why, but an air breathes from his landscapes, pure, refreshing, as if it came from other years; there is a look in his faces that never passes away. I saw one the other day. Amidst the heartless desolation and glittering finery of Fonthill, there is a portfolio of the Dresden Gallery. It opens, and a young female head looks from it; a child, yet woman grown; with an air of rustic innocence and the graces of a princess, her eyes like those of doves, the lips about to open, a smile of pleasure dimpling the whole face, the jewels sparkling in her crisped hair, her youthful shape compressed in a rich antique dress, as the bursting leaves contain the April buds! Why do I not call up this image of gentle sweetness, and place it as a perpetual barrier between mischance and me? - It is because pleasure asks a greater effort of the mind to support it than pain; and we turn after a little idle dalliance from what we love to what we hate!

As to my old opinions, I am heartily sick of them. I have reason, for they have deceived me sadly. I was taught to think, and I was willing to believe, that genius was not a bawd, that virtue was not a mask, that liberty was not a name, that love had its seat in the human heart. Now I would care little if these words were struck out of the dictionary, or if I had never heard them. They are become to my ears a mockery and a dream. Instead of patriots and friends of freedom, I see nothing but the tyrant and the slave, the people linked with kings to rivet on the chains of despotism and superstition. I see folly join with knavery, and together make up public spirit and public opinions. I see the insolent Tory, the blind Reformer, the coward Whig! If mankind had wished for what is right, they might have had it long ago. The theory is plain enough; but they are prone to mischief, "to every good work reprobate." I have seen all that had been done by the mighty yearnings of the spirit and intellect of men, "of whom the world was not worthy," and that promised a proud opening to truth and good through the vista of future years, undone by one man, with just glimmering of understanding enough to feel that he was a king, but not to comprehend how he could be king of a free people! I have seen this triumph celebrated by poets, the friends of my youth and the friends of men, but who were carried away by the infuriate tide that, setting in from a throne, bore down every distinction of right reason before it; and I have seen all those who did not join in applauding this insult and outrage on humanity proscribed, hunted down (they and their friends made a byword of), so that it has become an understood thing that no one can live by his talents or knowledge who is not ready to prostitute those talents and that knowledge to betray his species, and prey upon his fellow- man. "This was some time a mystery: but the time gives evidence of it." The echoes of liberty had awakened once more in Spain, and the mornings of human hope dawned again: but that dawn has been overcast by the foul breath of bigotry, and those reviving sounds stifled by fresh cries from the time-rent towers of the Inquisition - man yielding (as it is fit he should) first to brute force, but more to the innate perversity and dastard spirit of his own nature which leaves no room for farther hope or disappointment. And England, that arch-reformer, that heroic deliverer, that mouther about liberty, and tool of power, stands gaping by, not feeling the blight and mildew coming over it, nor its very bones crack and turn to a paste under the grasp and circling folds of this new monster, Legitimacy! In private life do we not see hypocrisy, servility, selfishness, folly, and impudence succeed, while modesty shrinks from the encounter, and merit is trodden under foot? How often is "the rose plucked from the forehead of a virtuous love to plant a blister there!" What chance is there of the success of real passion? What certainty of its continuance? Seeing all this as I do, and unravelling the web of human life into its various threads of meanness, spite, cowardice, want of feeling, and want of understanding, of indifference towards others, and ignorance of ourselves, - seeing custom prevail over all excellence, itself giving way to infamy - mistaken as I have been in my public and private hopes, calculating others from myself, and calculating wrong; always disappointed where I placed most reliance; the dupe of friendship, and the fool of love; - have I not reason to hate and to despise myself? Indeed I do; and chiefly for not having hated and despised the world enough.

_______________________________

FOOTNOTES:

[1]

Panopticons was the name given by

Bentham

to a proposed form of prison of circular shape having cells built round and fully exposed towards a central well, from which the jail keepers could at all times observe the prisoners.

Robert Owen

was the first in a line of 19th century socialists who in fact carried out experiments at his cotton mills at New Lanark mill where he erected a block of buildings in the form of a parallelogram to house the workers.

[2] Hazlitt refers to Edward Irving (1792-34), the Scottish divine and mystic who took over the Caledonian Church, Hatton Garden, London, and where he enjoyed a phenomenal success as a preacher.

[3] Lamb's Epistle to Robert Southey, Esq., was published in the London Magazine, Oct. 1823. See my page on Robert Southey.

[4] "On the Conversations of Authors" by Hazlitt and which first appeared in Sep. of 1820, and which was in his book of essays, The Plain Speaker (1826).

[5] Hazlitt seems to be referring to most of those who gathered at Lamb's house, c. 1808, more Lamb's friends than Hazlitt's: Captain Burney, Martin, his son; Wm. Ayrton, musician; James White, treasurer at Christ's Hospital; John Rickman, clerk to the speaker; Edward "Ned" Phillips, another clerk and Rickman's successor; Geo. Dyer; Joseph Hume; et al. One could have seen them at the residence of Charles and Mary Lamb where they met every Wednesday night; for discussion, cribbage and whist.

[royal-loki]

Thorki Playlist

Sometimes you just want to hang out on your own blog and listen to tunes that remind you of your OTP. I made a playlist that you all can listen to on my tumblr as you scroll through posts. I also wrote a narrative to describe the events in the movies as they fit with the songs I chose. Hope you all enjoy my Thorki mixtape! (Sometimes ads play before the music starts but they are in the order listed below; to skip the ads just go back and forth between the songs)

Thor (2011)

Bad Blood - Taylor Swift

Loki feels extreme jealousy and resentment during Thor’s coronation and plots to interrupt his brother’s big day. All those years of living in his golden brother’s shadow has created some bad blood between them, at least in Loki’s mind. 

Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye

Thor is stunned by Loki’s treacherous actions towards him and their father. After Sif and the Warriors Three arrived on Midgard and told Thor of Loki’s plans, he was heartbroken. He can’t comprehend why Loki would betray him. They were raised together, played together, fought together, and now Loki is just somebody that he used to know.

Wrecking Ball - Miley Cyrus

During Thor and Loki’s showdown on the Bifrost Bridge, Loki expresses his rage in the battle against his brother. He never meant to start a war, he only wanted Thor to let him in. But Loki can’t live a lie, and like a wrecking ball he breaks the memories of his old life that their deceitful father had created and lets himself fall into the abyss.

It’s My Life - No Doubt

Loki had survived his fall but now finds himself amongst the bitter outcasts of the Nine Realms. Hurt by those closest to him and finding an ally in Thanos, he constructs a plan to get revenge on his brother. “It’s my life,” sneers Loki, “I am no longer bound to the throne of Asgard thus I shall create a new kingdom on Midgard.”

The Avengers 

Break The Ice - Britney Spears

It’s been a year since Thor last saw Loki, believing that he had perished in the abyss. In his fury, he pulled Loki out the mortal’s aircraft and brought them down to the cold ground below. Now seeing him under the moonlight, after all this time, has been like staring at a ghost. He’s alive, thinks Thor, thank the Norns. “I thought you dead,” Thor utters to Loki, attempting to break the ice. He doesn’t want to scare away his brother. He just wants him to come home. He wants to hold him close and never let him go ever again.

Circus - Britney Spears

Loki wrought down a nightmarish invasion of Chitauri soldiers and giant leviathans that are wreaking havoc on New York City. Watching the Avengers scramble around to stop the Armageddon has been amusing. Loki feels the adrenaline moving through his veins, he has never felt more alive. Thor surely will see him as an equal now. As Loki stands atop of Stark Tower, he thinks, “All the eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus.”

Sorry - Justin Bieber

The battle is over, Loki has lost. Thor leads his brother to where they will depart from Midgard and return to Asgard where Loki will face judgement from the Allfather. The Avengers surround the two Gods as they grip the Tesseract on opposite sides. Loki’s mouth is covered with a guard to prevent him from bewitching anyone. His silver tongue can’t get him out of this situation. He knows that he may have severed the last bit of trust Thor had for him. “I know that I let you down,” Loki ruminates while looking up at his brother, “Is it too late to say I'm sorry now?” 

Thor: The Dark World

The Kill - 30 Seconds To Mars

Loki stands before the Allfather in chains. He is still proud despite the dire situation he finds himself in. Coolly, he addresses his father yet Odin doesn’t seem to understand the pain he has caused his adopted son by lying to him. Just as Loki finds himself on the losing side of the argument, Odin goes in for the kill, “Your birthright was to die!” Come, break me down, Loki thinks, bury me, I am finished with you. He is led away to the dungeons, spared from death but crestfallen. 

Numb - Linkin Park

Loki passes time in prison without a single visit from his brother. Weeks pass as he begins to shut down emotionally. Frigga is his only visitor and the only one that begged Odin to spare Loki’s life. The Queen tenderly attempts to comfort her youngest son, trying to reason with Loki to spare the fragile relations that struggle to keep hold the bonds between the Asgardian royal family. Loki reaches out to his mother, numb yet longing for her touch. His hand passes through her skillfully crafted illusion, the same seiðr that she taught him as a child. As he watches her disappear, he dejects to himself, every step that I take is another mistake to you.

Vindicated - Dashboard Confessional

Thor recruits Loki to fight the Dark Elves. Although Thor claims he doesn’t trust Loki, his younger brother knows that if that were the case he would have never come to him for help. The fate of Asgard depends on Loki’s cooperation. Thor’s faith in him is but a faint glow in the dark void that Loki feels in his heart, yet his brother’s love makes him feel vindicated. Loki finds the morale to fight alongside his brother once more, and to avenge his fallen mother. 

How To Save A Life - The Fray

Loki lay in Thor’s arms. “I didn’t do it for him.” His younger brother whispers as sinks deeper into Thor’s grip. If only Thor had studied the healing arts like Loki did then maybe he would know how to save a life. Sitting there, helplessly, he cries out over his brother’s motionless body. He knows he has to keep going, to pull himself together to save the Nine Realms but at that moment he wonders what is there worth saving now?

Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

As Thor walks away, Loki lets the seiðr illusion of the Allfather slip. What other choice did he have? Go back to the dungeons for thousands of years until he wilts away or take his birthright and relieve the Mad King of his duties? Look what you made me do, thought Loki. A smile begins to creep up on his face. 

Thor: Ragnarok 

Feeling This - Blink 182

Thor comes back to Asgard after defeating Surtur and finds Loki on the throne instead of their father. Upon finding out that Loki is alive, he feels no anger. It has been years and all he wants to do his grab his brother and take him to his chambers. Thor begins feeling this strange mix of animalistic desire and heavenly relief. Yes, they will go look for their father where Loki had said he left him on Midgard but for now... 

E.T. - Katy Perry

Loki looks on in horror as his brother rolls up in the Grandmaster’s harness chair. Happy that his older brother survived Hela’s assault but terrified of his reaction to Loki’s part in all that has taken place in the past few weeks (or days in Thor’s case). Loki suddenly feels like an E.T. in a room full of strange aliens. Without hesitation, Thor senses Loki’s presence and calls him over. Later, in their shared chambers, Loki tries to calm Thor from erupting in rage and sorrow yet he can’t stop the storm brewing inside his brother. Sparks of electricity surround Thor as he grabs hold of Loki. In this unfamiliar place, Thor only can think of one way to take his mind off of the despair that is clawing at him over the death of their father, being lied to his whole life and the fate of Asgard. He places a firm hand on Loki’s neck as he has done countless times before and kisses him.

Take Me On The Floor - The Veronicas 

The elevator ride turned sour very quickly. Loki had expected his brother to beg him to stay yet he was indifferent. As Loki attempted one last trick on his brother, Thor caught him off guard and turned on the obedience disk. The God of Mischief falls to the ground. Impressed by Thor’s cunning and equally turned on, Loki looks up at him and quips, “Take me on floor.” Thor smiles sheepishly, and turns off the disk. He wants Loki to enjoy every minute of their last encounter. 

Stellar - Incubus

“I’m here.” Loki says catching the glass top. Thor suddenly feels a rush of warmth flow through his whole body. In this stellar spaceship floating through the heavens, he starts to move towards his brother. They’ve lost nearly everything, their home, their parents, and most of their people. Thor embraces Loki in his giant arms in a tight hold. He can’t let him go, not again.

Avengers: Infinity War

The Ghost Of You - My Chemical Romance

Thor struggles to get to his brother’s body. His own body barely moving from the torture that Thanos inflicted on him. Only Thor’s anguish animates him. Hunching over Loki’s body, he lets out a hopeless cry, “I shall be with the ghost of you soon, brother!” Thor holds Loki close to him and resigns himself to die with the only family he has left. 

All That I’ve Got - The Used

Thor wakes up among the Guardians of the Galaxy, a rag-tag group of heroes that are also seeking to get their revenge on Thanos. Thor tries to hide his sorrow by making light of the situation but he can’t stop thinking about Loki and everyone that he has lost. “All that I’ve got is the satisfaction from the vengeance I will inflict upon Thanos,” Thor whispers to himself. He scavenges the food supplies aboard the Guardian’s ship as the rabbit prepares their shuttle for their long journey to Nidavellir. All I want inside, I still am empty, Thor thinks to himself, so deep that it didn’t even bleed and catch me...

Titanium - David Guetta

Thor holds his new battle axe in his hands. The newly formed power of Stormbreaker is almost too much to bare. Mortals may only know of strong metals like titanium but a God knows otherwise. His weapon, forged in the heart of a dying star, will be his tool to avenge Loki. “Nothing to lose,” Thor mutters to himself as he sets off to Earth using the Bifrost. 

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Alteration

Rocker and the Mechanic - Chapter 11 (Previous Chapters)

Fandom: Sing 2016 AU

Pairing: Johnny x Ash

Rated: T

Chapter Summary: A sudden (and unexpected text) puts yet another wrench in Ash's plans.

Fanfiction.net

A03

Ash's tongue still refused to budge where it decided to take permanent residence on the bottom of her mouth. Loosely-crossed arms tense, gnawing the inside of her cheek as her eyes drifted toward the cracked concrete underneath her feet. The finite hairline cracks cascading over its oil and grease stained surface in an erratic pattern.

As she stood there and stared at them, she wasn't sure what she was thinking.

Wondering if something she was visualizing in the floor would have her think of the perfect words to say - but unsurprisingly, nothing came.

Ash simply was not an animal who encouraged or comforted in any sense and the one question that irked her more than anything was where did the cold-stone rocker go? For why the hell was she even worrying about what to say to this guy she just met mere hours ago? Who cared if he has an incredible singing voice and should be some hot-shot international superstar singer with talent and looks to spare? So what if he wasn't happy working in this dingy garage making lackluster payment when he had the potential of selling out stadiums?

If Johnny didn't care to follow his dream then why should she make it her problem especially when she had her own career to worry about.

Resolute sigh leaving her lips, Ash glanced back up to the gorilla in sheer frustration and confusion boiling deep in her chest.

Johnny, for the most part, was silent as well.

Steadily cleaning up the area around her bike: sweeping, wiping at some newly spilled oil, putting away tools, extra parts, and many dirty cloths that were littering the floor all while she looked on in barely concealed annoyance.

For even though it shouldn't bother her, it did!

Hoping to put her own frantic anticipations to rest, Ash opened her mouth, hoping for some biting but inspiring words to filter out but none did. All that came out was a groan of frustration tinging her lips. Knowing full well that Johnny was not at all up for debate, and if she was being honest - neither was she.

Adrenaline wearing off a long time ago and even with her small siesta, she was simply exhausted. The past few weeks dealing with Lance's emotional strife and her own faltering career and questioning her future for the umpteenth time was a lot for anyone to take. Mix in this handsome stranger with a hidden talent that would remain so was just the cloyingly sweet icing on this hellishly salty cake.

So, she took a page from Johnny's book and remained silent.

Tearing her lingering gaze away from Johnny, who was still cleaning, Ash strolled over to her guitar case to dig out hopefully enough funds to pay him. Before reaching it, she glanced to her left to see her long forgotten phone still plugged in next to his toaster. Not wanting to forget it in her haste to leave after paying him, she climbed atop the nearby stool and pulled the plug out of the wall.

Mind made up, she knew she should just leave - pay the bill and drive off without looking back.

It worked before so why not now?

After all, this was not her problem or her battle (she had enough battles yet to win) so why even bother trying with this stranger? Ash let out a short breath, one hand stuffing the cord into her leather jacket pocket while she powered up her phone with the other.

Tempted to just stuff it in her pocket and forget it, Ash didn't mind the distraction right now, so she reluctant watched as he phone slowly powered up.

A long loading screen later, she noticed there was over ten missed calls and texts. A quick scroll through let her know they were mostly from friends, the few that did still care (or pretended they did), but it was three missed calls and latest two texts that had her heart thump painfully in her chest with sudden panic.

Moon.

Buster Moon, the koala; the huge, hairy-eared boss she acquired merely a month ago after her performance at a restaurant where he happened to be dining at with a friend. She sang more subdued than normal for the venue but she still noticed him watching her unabashedly and sitting next to a sheep who played on his phone most of the time.

Ash didn't think much of it until the small koala approached her as she was leaving, handing her his card asking her if she was interested in joining his Moon Theater Group.

A question she answered with a glare and a "Sorry, but uh, fuck no". She refused to be part of a group or duet again.

Yet Moon didn't relent, just chuckled lightly at her choice of words and gave her his card anyway. Lack of jobs had her calling him the following week; telling him she wasn't interested in groups, freelance gigs - and surprisingly, that's what he gave her.

Setting her up in numerous gigs (the guy apparently had lots of ties around the city) and even gave her the largest venue she ever played…and now she just missed what apparently was another great opportunity if his frantic texts were anything to go by.

"Fuck!" she grumbled, looking at the time and already knowing she was almost an hour late yet it didn't seem to be over. Buster had just called her five minutes ago and she knew the place was close - at least, she thought it was.

"Um...is uh, everything alright, Ash?" Johnny's concerned voice rang out out nearby.

"Yeah." she answered tersely, "Just my boss."

Ash's eyes flitted over and over again to his message.

'Where are you!? You were supposed to be here an hour ago! Remember?' it read.

In that moment of anguish a few hours ago, she indeed was heading there to prepare even if she didn't care to hardly remember it now.

Mind so overwhelmed with her own grief and anguish over the entire situation to even care about a job waiting for her. Perhaps it was Lance's spiteful text she'd received or seeing him in a cafe that afternoon with one of the girls he was caught cheating with. Maybe it was simply feeling like her own life was in a downward spiral and she was merely waiting for herself to hit the ground. A lifeless husk scooped out of all her organs and now fluttering away on the slightest breeze. Nothing but mere ashes (her name fit more than ever) from the hellish flames she found herself facing ever since he cheated on her and didn't seem to give a single shit.

If anything, he was probably proud of it.

Ash grumbled lowly while sending a Buster Moon a quick, 'Be there soon' before placing it in her pocket. She just hoped he would wait for her…

"...is everything okay?" Johnny's gentle voice finally had her reeling; eyes lifting from the illuminated screen and up to his face that was now clean and free of the grease that stained it. Dammit, he was so handsome.

"Y-Yea. I'm good." she lied, heart palpitating painfully in her chest in fear she was going to lose yet another manager (a fucking good one too), "Lemme get your money so I can get out of your hair."

"Oh, it's okay, there's no rush."

"Yeah there is. My boss called and I'm already late so I need to go."

"O-Oh. Okay."

"How much is it?"

"$2-oh, uh, $110 should do it." Johnny chuckled and scratched his nape when she flashed him an incredulous look. She knew it was too little with as many parts as he replaced and electrical problems tended to be damn expensive but she sure as hell wasn't arguing even if the guilt would rest painfully in her gut later.

Ash opened the locks and began digging frantically through the sheets of music to find her small black clutch buried underneath. The skull and crossbones pattern greeting her a few seconds later, Ash pulled it out, opening it to only find a $20 bill staring back at her.

"Are you fucking serious?!" she cursed under her breath, digging through other pockets in hopes there was any more cash stored. Panicky and grumbling beside herself, not even noticing Johnny cautiously approaching.

Ash suddenly asked over her shoulder, "Do you take credit cards?"

"Uh. Sorry, no." he replied, hands wringing a small red rag (out of nervousness or habit, she wasn't sure).

Ash groaned, "Oh God…" burying her face in her hands and letting out a guttural sigh. Out of all the fucking things that had already gone wrong - the one time someone shows her kindness, she can't even pay him back. What the fuck else could go wrong?

"Hey." he said, laying a hand on her shoulder and Ash jolted at the sudden warm touch. Blue eyes peeling open in utter panic to meet his gentle brown eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, "I-I swear I got more at the ATM yesterday, it's just been hell. I have a gig to go to but I swear afterward, I'll bring you the money or even Paypal it to you tonight if you do that sorta thing! I swear…"

Johnny didn't say a word, just removed one hand from where it was in his pocket; holding it out to her where her keys dangled loosely from his fingers.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 1, Chapter 15)

We make for the door, not worrying about the fact that we're both still naked. But the Watcher leaps into our path. Jake puts himself between me and the enemy.

“Stay behind me!”

He charges the intruder, but the Watcher leaps, round-house kicking him. Jake staggers back with a pained grunt. I rush forward to steady him and see blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Do not resist!” Just as on the beach, the Watcher speaks in an unknown tongue, but I hear his words in English in my head. “Accept your fate.”

Jake wipes at his mouth. “Unless that means 'You order room service?', it's time for you to go, Blue's Clues.”

“Jake!” I cry out as he charges again. This time, he takes the Watcher by surprise and wrestles him to the floor. I watch helplessly as they grapple, rolling over each other through the field of shattered window glass. I search for a weapon, search for an opening, but Jake and the Watcher are wrapped up in each other, moving too quickly for me to get in.

I never see how it happens. I never see any weapon in the Watcher's hand, never see the danger. But Jake suddenly goes stiff, choking, his eyes wide. The Watcher leaps back, stunned. He looks down at his hands. They're smeared with blood that gleams black in the moonlight.

“Jake!”

My voice sounds shrill to my own ears, high and frantic. Heedless of the glass, I rush over, falling to my knees beside him as he twitches on the floor. Blood soaks the carpet beneath him, spreading in a dark stain. Protruding from deep within his stomach, glinting wickedly in the moonlight, is a massive shard of broken glass.

“No...” I whisper. “Oh, God, please no...”

Jake's trembling lips attempt to curve into a smile, but there is a film of tears in his eyes. “Heh...that bad, huh?”

“It was...he resisted...” Even in my head, the Watcher's voice trembles. “It was not meant to end like this for him.”

I ignore him. I clutch Jake's hand, but his grip is already going slack. Tears well in my eyes as I bend over him, stroking his hair with a trembling hand. “Stay with me, Jake. Please just stay with me. I'll get some of the plants on the roof. You'll be fine...”

“...Don't...feel like there's time...for that...” he rasps.

I choke on a sob. “Don't leave me, Jake. You can't leave me...”

“Hey...none of that now...Don't cry over a...nobody like me...” He gasps in agony, a tear trickling from the corner of his eye. “You've got...your whole life...ahead of you, Princess...ain't nobody...gonna...take...that...”

He exhales...and he does not breathe in again. I feel my head shake. A ridiculous gesture. As if I can bring him back by forbidding him to die. That is the thought that brings it all crashing down on me.

...He's dead. Jake is dead. I...I barely knew him...he barely knew me...but I liked him. And he liked me. And we tossed around in bed together and he shared his secret with me. ...He must have trusted me...And now he's dead. ...We could have been good for each other...we might have fit well together...but now we'll never know. All that potential between us... We could have lasted forever. He might have been my soulmate. Or we might have broken each other's hearts, ended up hating each other. ...But now we'll never know. Anything sweet or sour that we might have known together is gone. Destroyed.

I double over, sick with anguish, sobs wracking my body. My head fills with fluid that spills onto my face from my eyes, nose, and mouth. It's disgusting, but I don't care.

“Jake...” I whimper. “...No...Jake...”

“This...changes nothing,” the Watcher says. “You must come.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. I react instantly, tearing at him, striking his face.

“You killed him, you bastard!” I scream, clawing at him “You killed him!”

He shifts his weight, flipping and pinning me down. I scream like a wild animal. Rage floods my every sense, powered by indescribable grief. Pain fills my every cell, driving me to madness. I reach up and grab his necklace by the glowing blue stone nestled at the hollow of his throat. I rip it free of his neck, raising a fist to strike him with it, but the rage consuming me suddenly fades. Suddenly, I feel small and helpless as a child abandoned and all I can think of is Jake smiling only minutes ago, entwined with me in bed...

My world flashes white, and then pale blue. ...And then, he's there. Jake smiles up at me as I cup his cheek in my hand.

“What can I say, Princess? You've got that effect on me.” I blink at him, too disoriented even to be shocked. He chuckles. “Come on, I know it's a cheesy line, but it ain't that bad. What's with the face?”

I sit up straight, my body tingling like I've just put my finger in an electrical socket. I can still feel the blood on my hands...

He sits up, frowning. “...Everything okay?”

“Jake...? Is it really you?”

Without waiting for an answer, I pull him into my arms, tears rising in my eyes again.

“Woah, woah, woah!” He holds me back, rocking me. “Alodia, you're shaking like a leaf! What's wrong?”

I open my eyes, and realize there's something in my hand. ...It's the Watcher's necklace. Except that the stone, once a nebulous blue, is now a cold, leaden grey. I pull my arms back from around Jake to examine the stone more closely.

“...Where'd you get that?” he asks.

“...It was real...” I whisper.

“Okay, you're, uh...starting to freak me out a little.”

I look up sharply as my mind starts to catch up to the events around me. I meet Jake's eyes.

“...Do you trust me?”

He smirks. “I guess you could say that.”

“Then I need you to come with me right now.” I grab his hand and pull him off the bed, diving into the closet and pulling the door shut. The light through the narrow slats leaves thin golden lines on the darkened closet floor. I peer through the slats, eyes on the window.

“So, is this a sex thing I haven't heard of, or...”

“Shhh!” I hiss.

From where I am huddled, I can see a shadow pass over the moon. Then the window explodes in a hail of glass. The Watcher leader lands gracefully on his feet, glass gleaming around him in the moonlight.

“What the hell?!” Jake gasps. “How did yo--”

I clap my hand over his mouth. He pulls me close to him in the darkness. We watch as the Watcher looks around the room with his eyes narrowed, perplexed. He roams slowly around the room, over to the bed, examining our discarded clothes, the smashed vase, the toppled chair. He stops in front of the closet. Jake and I hold our breath, clinging to each other. Finally, the Watcher turns and heads into the hallway.

We exhale slowly. After taking a moment to make sure the coast is clear,  we creep carefully out of the closet. I look at the sparkling glass shards spread over the carpet and shiver, remembering how Jake bled out in my arms.

“...You wanna tell me what happened back there?”

I look at him with tears in my eyes. Haltingly, I explain. How the Watcher took us by surprise. How the two of them struggled...the massive glass shard, either buried in the carpet or in the Watcher's hand—I never saw which...how he died in my arms...the rage that consumed me and how I went for the Watcher, grabbing the stone from around his neck.

“All I wanted was to be back in bed with you, before it all went wrong. ...And when I touched this...well...there I was. Back in bed with you. The moment before it all went wrong.”

Jake looks properly shaken, which shouldn't be a surprise, since I just told him that I watched him die. He sinks down onto the bed, his face pale.

“...Things are getting weirder by the minute around here.” He sets his jaw and looks up at me. “...But right now, that guy's roaming the halls looking for us. We've gotta warn the others.”

We gather our discarded clothes and throw them on in a rush. I'm pretty sure my underwear is backwards, but there's no time to worry about that. I strap on my knife belt as we slip into the hallway. Jake pulls me against the wall and peeks around the corner. He holds up two fingers. ...Two Watchers.

“How did they get in?” I whisper.

“No way they got through the shutters. A few of 'em must've gotten on the roof and rappeled down.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks down at me achingly. “I really hate to do this...but we've gotta split up if we're gonna warn everybody in time.”

I nod. “I don't want to leave you, either, but you're right.”

“I'll start on this floor. You get to an elevator and get the floors underneath us.”

“Got it.”

He cups my cheek. “Just don't get yourself killed, okay?”

“I won't.” I start to go, but Jake reaches out and grabs my wrist.

“Just one more thing, Princess.” He pulls me into a long, desperate kiss. When he finally breaks it, he presses his forehead to mine. “...Be safe.”

“You too, Top Gun.”

He plants a last kiss on my forehead, and then jogs down the hall before either of us can lose our will. Even as he goes, I have to fight the urge to call him back, to beg him to stay with me. Only the thought of the others being taken by surprise gives me the courage to go on alone. I turn the other way, staying flush against the wall.

The hall way I'm standing in intersects with another. I peer around. Two watchers, a male and female, are searching rooms.

“Lash kanaa,” the woman mutters.

“Duu germund nii,” the man replies.

I have to get to the other side of the intersection, but that means crossing the vulnerable open space where the two halls meet. I swallow, pressing up against the corner, watching for my opportunity.  Every muscle in my body quivers. I'm reminded of the feeling I'd get at competitions, just before the buzzer sounded and I mounted the beam. The more nervous I was, the harder it would be to keep my balance, so my coach taught me to train my parasympathetic nervous system to respond to a cue. A word or phrase, whispered or mentally repeated while I inhaled and exhaled, would slow my heartrate and unlock my muscles. The technique has helped me before competitions, performances, and exams. I pray it helps me now. I draw in my breath.

“...Apples...” I whisper. “...Apples....apples...”

I feel my heartbeat settle. The male Watcher turns his back.

Apples...apples...

My limbs slowly stop trembling. The female watcher joins her companion, turning her back on me. I dart across the gap, ducking behind the far corner, my steps light as a cat's. Thank you, Coach Oliver!

I peer back around the corner, just to be sure. Neither of the Watchers seem to have noticed me. They're further down the hall now and moving away from me. Piece of cake. I'm like a ghost. I turn to continue my journey, and find myself face to face with a blue figure. I gasp and stumble backwards, just barely managing to smother a scream with my hands.

“I apologize for frightening you, Alodia,” Iris says.

“Ha, yo, you should see your face right now,” Raj chuckles. He's holding a box of Cap'n Crunch, digging the stuff out in handfuls and cramming it into his mouth.

“What are you guys doing?!” I hiss.

“Talkin' 'bout life and stuff, you know.” He pauses, tipping his head. “Wait, are we whispering? Should I be whispering?”

I fill them in on what's happening, giving them the short version. I leave out the part about Jake dying and the necklace.

“They're here?!” To his credit, Raj manages to whisper. “In the resort?! Oh crap, oh crap!”

“This is an unfortunate development,” Iris agrees. Although she doesn't exactly whisper, she does seem to have lowered the volume of her voice, like the volume on a radio or television. “This is an unfortunate development. A pity. I had quite enjoyed my brief time knowing Raj.”

“What matters now is warning the others before they get grabbed. The Watchers have to search every room, so we have the advantage. If we hurry, we'll beat them. Come on.”

The three of us advance quietly down the halls toward the elevator. Something on the wall glints in the light, catching my eye. I turn sharply back to it, needing to assure myself that it's nothing dangerous.

It's a pirate cutlass, mounted in a sturdy frame next to a matching scabbard. Not immediately dangerous, though it certainly could be in the Watchers' hands. I stare at it for a moment. It almost seems to be...sparkling. With some otherworldly sort of energy...

“Noice!” Raj says behind me. “That's a dope-ass Pirates of the Caribbean sword they got. Kudos to the decorator.”

“A weapon like that would come in handy in a seige situation,” Iris points out.

I reach up and pull the sword down from the wall. The blade seems to hum in my hands.

“Sooooooo cool,” Raj declares. “That's such a good replica!”

“That is not a replica. Analysis indicates authentic specimen, circa 1693 A.D.”

“What?!” I gasp. “But it looks brand new!”

“Is it sharp?”

I experimentally swing the blade at a small tapesty that hangs on the wall behind me. With scarcely a sound, it's cleaved in two.

“Yeah. It's sharp.”

Raj blinks. “Uh, one: super sweet. Two: maybe be careful with that thing?”

“Sure thing.”

My palm starts to tingle. I look down at the sword. My world flashes white in a way that almost feels familiar. When it clears, I'm standing in a gold mine, like the one Quinn and I went through at the shelter. I gasp and fall back, tightening my grip on the sword. I look down at the weapon in my hand. Except that it is no longer my own hand that holds it. It is the hairy, gnarled hand of an old man, flecked with liver spots. I search for myself, and find myself a passenger in someone else's mind, just as I was when I dreamt of being in Raj's body.

The vessel and I both hear screaming. There is a violent brawl underway all around him. On one side are a collection of ragged pirates, their bearded faces bloody, weilding swords and pistols. On the other are the Watchers.

“Kashta mishram nara!”

“Zhell! Per lok!”

Blades sing in the firelight, clashing and swinging. Men scream and howl in agony. One pirate lies on the ground at my vessel's feet, his chest a bloody ruin. He looks up at me, eyes pleading.

“Captain...help us...”

My vessel rushes to the man's side. Then pain slices through my chest. I look down. There is an arrow sprouting from his chest. And I feel his pain like my own. Another arrow pierces the flesh beside the first. And then another. We crumple against the mine wall, gasping. Every breath hurts. A Watcher looms over us, a woman in the mask of a ram. She raises a club and brings it down hard on our face. I feel the sword tumbling out of our hand...

I jerk out of his body with a gasp, staggering back in my own. Raj steadies me with an arm around my shoulders.

“You okay, Alodia? You just spaced out big time.”

“I...think I just found out what happened to the pirates who landed here. ...It wasn't good.”

“I detected a surge of an unidentified energy just now. It appeared to be emanating from Alodia.”

“I wanna know all about that later, Iris. Right now, we need to deal with the Watchers, unless we want to end up as dead as the guy who used to wield this sword.”

I grab the scabbard from the wall and slip the sword inside. We continue down the hall until we reach the next intersection. We freeze upon hearing a familiar sound...a low, guttural purr...

We press ourselves against the wall. I peer around the corner. There is a pair of Watchers searching rooms. And prowling beside them is the sabertooth tiger.

“It appears the intruders have brought a hunting beast.”

“You're telling me that the sabertooth is the plant people's pet?!”

The sabertooth suddenly perks up, sniffing the air. The Watcher handlers notice.

“Yrit tranaa!”

“Lok, lok!”

“He smells something!” I whisper.

“It's my Citrus Krush!” Raj whispers back.

“Citrus Krush? I thought you were eating Cap'n Crunch?”

“Not my cereal, man! That's the strain of medicinal substance I was smoking tonight!”

“...Wait, you're high right now? That's...actually impressive. I couldn't even tell.” Raj's eyes flick from me to Iris to the tiger to his cereal...and then around the circle again. “...Okay, now I can kinda tell.”

“I'll lead the cat the other way,” he says suddenly. “Oughta give you guys some time.”

“What?! No way!”

“Raj, are you certain?” Iris asks.

He grins. “Never been more sure of anything in my life. Maybe that's not saying much, though. Go now!”

He turns and runs back the other way before I can protest further. Iris and I press forward. The sabertooth prowls out, sniffing around where we were just standing. Then, it turns and pads off in Raj's direction, never even turning to see us.

“My goodness. My projections of his bravery were far outside the margin of error.”

“People will surprise you,” I say softly. “Come on, Iris. Let's do what he said.”

We make it to the elevator and slip inside. I punch the button and the elevator whisks us down four floors.

“Grace's room is on this floor,” I say. “I'll get her. Meanwhile, you scout the Watchers' positions.”

“Excellent idea. Right away.”

Iris' hologram winks out, and her drone flutters off. I make it to Grace's room unmolested and rap softly on the door.

“Grace? It's Alodia. I need to--” The door opens and cuts me off. Aleister stands in front of me with his shirt untucked. I blink. “Aleister?”

“I...we...nothing! We were just talking!” He blushes furiously and I can't help but wonder if he even notices my tousled hair or the faint smell of sex clinging to me.

“Alodia?” Grace comes up behind him. “What's happening?”

I slip into the room and shut the door. I explain the situation as quickly as possible. Their expressions crumble. Trembling, Grace presses close to Aleister.

“All that work barricading...” Aleister moans. “Setting traps in the shops and the kitchen...all for naught. They still caught us unprepared.”

“I know we're on the ropes here, but we gotta focus. We have to get everyone together, somewhere safe.”

“What about that security center hidden behind the game room? That'd be safe.”

“Great idea, Grace. Only problem is, some of our friends' rooms are in the other wing of the tower. Gotta go across the lobby to get over there.” I look at them. “You two go straight to the security center and tell everyone you find. We left the door to the hidden room propped, and it opens from the inside, so just shut yourselves in and let the rest of us in when we get there. I'll go get everyone from the other wing.”

“Don't be foolish, Alodia,” Aleister says flatly. “You, Grace, and I are by far the lives most worth saving here. It's positively asinine to risk yourself for them, and I am sure they would agree.”

“Aleister!” Grace cries. “We're not leaving anyone behind!”

“Absolutely not!” I agree. “...Though I am weirdly flattered that you think I'd be worth saving.”

“Well, you've proven yourself worth the air you breathe, unlike most. Don't let it go to your head.”

“I won't. ...Be careful, you two.”

I open the door slowly, checking to see that the coast is clear.

“Hey, um...Alodia?” I turn to see Grace beside me. “Could I ask you a really big favor?”

“What is it?”

She hands me a folded piece of paper. “If something happens to me tonight...could you give that note to my mom? There's...a lot I wanted to tell her.”

“Grace...you can tell her yourself when we get out of here. I promise.”

“Please. I'm asking you, Alodia.”

I take the note and slip it into my pocket. “Okay. I'll make sure she reads it.”

As Grace and Aleister head for the security center, I take the elevator down to the lobby. The doors open.

“Fi lonshan'craa!”

“Crap!” I yelp before I can stop myself.

A small band of Watchers spots me from across the lobby and races towards me with impossible speed.

“Allie!” Diego suddenly appears in front of me, grabbing my hand and yanking me out of the elevator. “This way!”

“We're not gonna be able to shake these guys, Diego!” My mind races and hits on something. “The traps! Aleister said there were traps set in the shops and the kitchen! We have to lead them there!”

Diego pulls me into the stairwell. We scramble up the stairs to the shopping level on the second floor, darting by kiosks, convenience stores, and gift shops.

“There!” Diego points to a high-fashion boutique, where I can clearly see Aleister's pyramid of paint-filled balloons. We dart behind it, each picking up a squishy balloon. Diego smiles weakly at me. “Hope your aim's good.”

“Sure wish Sean were here right now,” I reply grimly.

As the Watchers rumble into the boutique, we release our balloons, not even stopping to see where they land before grabbing more and hurling them at the intruders. The balloons burst as they land, splattering paint everywhere. At least a few land squarely in the Watchers' faces. They howl with rage, frantically scrubbing the paint from their eyes.

“Okay, time to keep moving!” Diego grabs my hand again and we take off for another stairwell. The Watchers who avoided our assault are in hot pursuit. “We've got stragglers! Where next?!”

“The kitchen!”

We stumble up to the fourth floor, weaving through the restaurant to the kitchen, searching for the trap our friends planted.

“That's it!” I cry, pointing to the chrome oxygen tank resting horizontally on a serving cart.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with that?!”

“Stay behind me!”

The Watchers are hot on our trail and they storm into the kitchen.

“Gana shanlenzi!”

“Dima nij shala!”

“Allie! We've got incoming!”

“No. They've got incoming!”

I grab the meat tenderizing hammer resting beside the tank and slam it down on the valve at the back. It snaps off, releasing the built up pressure in a smoky plume. The tank rockets off the cart like a missile, crashing into the Watchers with spectacular force.

“Ha! Bullseye! That oughta buy us some time!”

“Come on! Back to the lobby! We have to get everyone out of the other tower!”

We barrel down the stairs and into the lobby, taking off towards the other side. Up ahead, there are strange, rippling reflections on the floor. As I get closer, I realize it's been covered in water.

“It's Lila's trap!” I grab Diego's arm, stopping him short of the puddle where a pair of thick electrical cables is resting. “Come on! This way!”

I follow the path of the cables over to a hiding spot where Lila has her hand on an electrical switch.

“Alodia!” Lila calls. “Diego! Cross it quickly!”

We nod and sprint across the flooded section of the lobby. We can hear the splashing of our pursuers' feet behind us. We hit the dry floor.

“We're clear, Lila!'

“Hope this doesn't come as a shock!” she laughs as she throws the switch. Diego and I clutch each other, turning away as the water behind us crackles with electricity. We hear the Watchers scream. I dare to look back. The last of our pursuers have fallen back, blocked from following us by the electrified moat. They don't appear to have taken any permanent damage, but they pace angrily beside it, clearly not keen to attempt a crossing again. They flee, no doubt searching for another way around.

“...Thanks for waiting,” I manage to gasp.

“Seriously, remind me never to get on your bad side,” Diego deadpans.

“No sweat!” Lila says cheerfully. “Did you like my one-liner? I spent all day on it!”

Diego and I exchange glances.

“...Yeah,” he says. “It was...great.”

I become aware of an acrid smell.

“...Is something burning?”

“Uh oh...” Lila points. “Over there. Behind the conceirge desk.”

I follow her finger, to where a perfect square in the wall has caught fire, the wallpaper curling in the heat.

“What the hell?” Diego mutters.

“There must have been something in the wall that the wires were powering. Shorting it out started the fire.”

“But what is it?” Lila wonders.

I grab the fire extinguisher from the wall behind the desk and quickly put out the flames. When the fog clears, I can't make out any electrical device. But in a hidden compartment in the wall, there rests a charred wooden box with an engraving on the top.

“...What's this?”

Diego pulls it out carefully, reading the engraving on the top. “ 'Rourke Diaries, La Huerta, 1980'.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing,” Lila says quickly. We probably want to leave that right there, huh? You know, privacy and all.”

“Rourke has hidden cameras all over this hotel,” Diego says flatly. “Not really feeling all that concerned about his privacy. What about you, Allie? Wanna find out what Rourke was up to when he first came here?”

“I'm with you, Diego. Besides, any information we can get may help us survive long enough to get home.”

“Aah, wait!” Lila protests.

Diego lifts the lid on the box and pulls out  four pages of yellowed paper, encrusted with sea salt around their edges. Each page is blanketed in elegant, flowing script. I read over his shoulder.

1980 June 3

Alas, I am shipwrecked. My dear vessel dashed upon the rocks. A sudden squall of ferocious lightning the color of flames forced me aground this damned rock.

Unbridled, uninhabited, unworthy of my presence, let alone my grave. I will not perish here alone, forgotten in the wild, far from my beloved. Furthermore, the boys at the regatta would have quite a chuckle if I succumbed in such untoward fashion. I simply cannot abide that.

1980 June 11

A childhood hunting big game with my father at last pays its dues. Repair to my sailboat is impossible, but I've reconquered fire, shelter, and weaponry in the name of mankind. It grows ever more important to chronicle my experiences here, for they seem stranger by the day. My eyes betray me, offering impossible visions or great beasts of antiquity. Even the constellations play tricks. I see Aquila, Serpens, Hydra, yet Orion and Taurus hide from me. I must write to maintain my wits. For a man's wits are all he has to confront the great evils of nature.

1980 June 15

A curse remade into blessing by sheer force of will. That is what this island will be for me. A vision came, bearing witness to this refuge's true potential deep within its volcanic core, as if a voice from God.

But God spoke in my voice, because here I shall be God.

1980 June 30

Harnessing the island, I have achieved the impossible. My ship is repaired, and I venture home to my beloved. But I will return. And when I do, I will tame this power to make and unmake mountains and men, who both rise and fall under the same awesome celestial forces. This island will be my legacy. It will be my destiny.

Everret Aleister Rourke

Caribbean Sea

“Looks like Rourke shipwrecked here almost fourty years ago.”

“Of course,” Lila says. “That's no secret.”

“...But I don't think he was telling people what he found.”

“What power is he talking about?” Diego wonders.

“He noticed the weird constellations, too. I wonder what he stars have to do with all this...”

Noises from the hall make us jump. The Watchers have nearly found their way around Lila's trap.

“We have to hurry!” Lila says. “Come on, follow me!”

She leads us into the other wing of the tower. We duck up the stairs and onto the third floor, where we run into Craig and Michelle.

“What's going on, Alodia?” Craig asks

“We keep hearing all this noise!” Michelle adds.

“Come with us,” I gasp. My legs are burning with exertion, but the adreneline has not worn off yet. “I'll explain on the way.”

The five of us make it back to the game room and pound on the secret door. “Guys, it's us! Alodia, Diego, Lila, Craig, and Michelle!”

The door opens and we all tumble in, sealing ourselves in. Everybody else is waiting inside. We all made it. A flurry of hugging follows. I throw myself into Jake's arms, and he kisses my hair.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking the back of my head.

“I'm fine. I'm okay. You?”

“Yeah...doin' a bit better now than two minutes ago.”

He sets me down. Zahra looks over at me.

“You're alive,” she observes flatly. “Nice.”

I grin. “You're not gonna get sappy on me, are you?”

“No way! I'm just...” She scowls. “I'll have you know I was this close to bailing on the lot of you! Don't make me regret not going 'Every Woman For Herself.'”

Murphy hops up onto my shoulder, lapping at my face with a chilly tongue. I scratch his neck.

“Missed you, too, fella.”

“Yo, Alodia!” Craig exclaims, noting the cutlass tucked into my belt. “Is that a straight-up pirate sword? Bad. Ass.”

“That will come in handy,” Estela remarks.

“Indeed,” Lila agrees. “I'm guessing you could decapitate an opponent in two, maybe three chops!”

“Alodia,” Iris chimes. “I completed your assignment. Downloading scouting report.”

Numbers and blueprints start to appear on the room's monitors.

“Nice work,” Jake says. “This oughta help us figure out a way outta here.”

Pounding on the sealed doorway silences everyone. There are voices outside, shouting in the Watchers' language.

“...Will it help us figure a way past that?” Michelle murmurs.

“What are we supposed to do?” Quinn asks. “We're completely cornered in here.”

“There's only one thing we can do,” I say grimly. “Now that we're all together, we regroup...and fight our way out.”

“Fight?!” Craig cries. “With what?!”

“And to where?” Grace adds.

Jake is studying the blueprints on the computer screen.

“Not too many of the Watchers got in,” he remarks thoughtfully, “thanks to locking down the resort and sealing off that secret entrance. So we won't have to face too many. And that gives us time.”

“Time for what, pray tell?” Aleister sneers.

Jake points to a spot on the blueprint. “I was rummaging around here earlier this week. They've got a ton of parasailing gear in storage.”

“Um...is he saying what I think he's saying?” Grace asks nervously.

“I think he's saying we get the parasailing chutes...and jump off the roof.”

“That's the long and short of it, Princess,” Jake confirms.

“Where 'long' is our fall and 'short' is our remaining lifespan,” Aleister mutters.

“Hell no!” Craig cries. “Have you lost your damn mind?!”

“Chill, Craig!” Raj says firmly. “I don't see you coming up with any better ideas!”

I can feel the panic growing in the small room, taking hold. Everyone begins shouting at once.

“No way I'm going out there! I'll just stay here!”

“This only works if we stick together! We're putting our lives in each other's hands!”

“Yeah, that's gonna be a hard pass!”

I wave my arms, trying to get their attention. “Guys, please! Guys! Hey!”

A piercing whistle startles everyone into silence. We all look at Michelle as she takes her fingers out of her mouth. She puts her hands on her hips, glaring at the group.

“Everyone shut up! Alodia is trying to speak, and I for one would like to listen, since she seems to be the only person here with her head screwed on straight!” When no one speaks, she nods at me. “Go ahead, Alodia.”

“Uh...thank you, Michelle.” I shake my head, wondering briefly when the hell that woman stopped hating me. I turn to the others. “Okay, the worst thing we could do would be to go out there when we're scared and bickering. It's simple. Right now, we have a choice.”

“How exactly do we have any choice at all?!” Aleister snaps.

I look him hard in the eye. “You can choose to hold back. You can choose to hesitate. To be afraid. Or you can choose to face these odds head-on and give it your all, whatever comes be damned!”

They all look at me for a moment. Then Craig nods.

“All right. I'm in. To the very end.”

“Let's do this,” Grace agrees.

“All right, everyone get ready,” Jake says. “I'm gonna open the door on three. When I do, full speed ahead, got it?”

He makes his way to the door. I follow him to the front of the group, ready to charge out first. As I get myself on the balls of my feet, I feel a hand on my arm.

“...Hey, Allie,” Diego says softly, “I just wanna say before it all goes down...Thank you. For everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“It probably sounds dumb, but I feel like you made my life special. Extraordinary. Maybe I was always cut out to be the sidekick, but if so, then I'm glad I was your sidekick. Because honestly, you've been my hero. So even if I lose you right now, I just wanna say thanks.”

I grab my best friend and pull him into a tight hug. “You're not gonna lose me, Diego,” I whisper. “That's a promise.”

I smirk a little. “...Will you be behind me?”

“I'd follow you into battle any day, Princess.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay! Here we go! One...two...THREE!”

Jake unseals the hatch. Tightening my grip on my cutlass, I unleash a wild battle cry and storm out with my friends behind me, ready to face the enemy.

...Except that the room beyond the door is empty.

[alexschurick-blog]

When it comes to psychological experiments the period spanning the 40 years or so after the end of World War II was nothing short of scary.

Scientists were physically administering electric shocks to people with sometimes, high doses of electricity, putting others (often children) through severe mental and physical trauma and abusing animals to an extent that doesn’t even bare thinking about for a compassionate human being.

We also had the authorities at Harvard turning a blind eye to experiments with LSD in a basement conducted by students trying to make contact with God, and subjecting a man by the name of Ted Kaczynski to 3-years of humiliation and anguish in the name of science.

In case you don’t know, Kaczynski later went on to be the Unabomber and killed 3-people. You can decide whether the authorities at Harvard deserve any culpability in regard to his later actions.

It’s almost unfathomable now to think of any of the following experiments being sanctioned.

However, that doesn’t mean that the ones already conducted don’t offer an amazing insight into the human psyche.

So, prepare to be appalled, as well as fascinated by what is to follow.

7 Dreadful Psychological Experiments

1. The Stanford Prison Psychological Experiment

This notorious experiment has spawned books and even movies such were the shocking results and conclusions.

In 1971, Psychologist Philip Zimbardo constructed a fake prison under (ironically) the Stanford psyche department and kitted it out with survey cameras so all the action could be filmed.

He recruited 24 undergraduates to either play the part of an inmate, or that of a prison guard.

Whereas the prisoners were kept in their cells 24/7 the guards were rotated on 8-hour shifts.

The guards were instructed to be strict and not to tolerate any ‘trouble makers’ or disobedience.

It didn’t take them long to follow their instructions, when on day 2 the prisoners rebelled and blockaded their cells.

The 2-week experiment lasted a mere 6-days when the ‘prisoners’ were pulled out with Zimbardo starting to fear for, not just their safety, but their lives.

Less than a week was all it took for the guards to resort to shocking tactics of sexual humiliation as well as psychological and physical abuse.

Some prisoners were already showing signs of learned helplessness and depression.

The Take Away

As human beings we all have the capacity to act in appalling ways under extreme circumstances.

In 1939 there were almost 70 million Germans on this planet, do you really think that more than a tiny minority were anti-Semitic or wanted to rule the world?

These students weren’t unusual and if you’d been one of them you would have almost certainly acted in a similar manner – even though you probably think you wouldn’t.

  2. Stanley Milgram’s Shocking Experiment

Milgram’s is possible the most famous psychological experiment of all time and almost as concerning as the Stanford experiment.

He hypothesized that the followers and enablers of Adolf Eichmann one of the most instrumental Nazis when it came to organizing the Holocaust, may be no more than normal people submitting to authority.

Milgram told his pairs of subjects that he was conducting an experiment on memory and then assigned one of the pair as the teacher and one the pupil or learner.

Unbeknown to the person who was assigned to be the teacher in each experiment (it was done through a rigged ballot), the other person was really an actor aware of the real purpose of the experiment.

The teacher and student were split into separate rooms and the teacher was then instructed to apply an electric shock to the other person every time they got a question wrong.

The severity of the ‘shocks’ were increased incrementally and the participants could even hear the other person screaming in pain.

Yet by and large they kept applying the shocks to such a level that there would have been a lot of explaining to do with dead bodies and severely damaged people if they had been real.

Some resisted at first and said they didn’t like administering the pain, but continued to do so when told by the man in a white coat it was all part of the experiment.

The Take Away

Not only are we all capable of inflicting pain upon others, we are also massively influenced by authority figures and under such ‘perfect storm’ situations all rational behavior evaporates.

If a person in authority (or even perceived authority)  delivers a message over and over again from a position of power, eventually we start to believe it,

In the meantime I’m off to buy a white coat.

The Good Samaritan Experiment

Over 40 Princeton students were recruited to supposedly deliver a talk on another part of campus in the early 1970’s.

When getting their instructions they were then primed with one of three statements designed to elicit mild, moderate and severe urgency in terms of how quickly they needed to get to the venue and start their talk.

On their route the experimenters had positioned a man doubled up in pain, coughing uncontrollably and obviously in a lot of distress and in need of help.

They wanted to see what effect the urgency of the instructions had on the students likelihood of stopping to help.

Less than 50% of students stopped at all and a mere 10% of those who were told their talk had to start quickly and people were waiting for them.

Some literally even stepped over the man and didn’t stop.

The irony was that these were Seminary students and half were told they were giving talk on the parable of the Good Samaritan.

The Take Away

Many of us will help others, but the likelihood of us doing so is dependent on so many factors, not least of which is, are we in a hurry or not?

4. The One Marshmallow Or Two Experiment?

Another famous Stanford experiment from the 1960’s led by Walter Mischel involved testing the ability of children to resist short-term pleasure for longer-term gain.

4-year-old children were placed in a room one at a time with a bowl of marshmallows and not a fat lot else to focus their attention on.

They were then told that they could either eat one marshmallow now, or they could have two when the experimenter returned in 15 minutes time.

The majority of children opted for the latter option, but then caved in when left alone to their own devices.

You may think that wasn’t very surprising, after all most kids like shoveling sweet shit into their mouths and self control isn’t usually a word adopted to describe 4-year-olds.

However, the real genius of the experiment was the follow up and tracking of the participants.

The kids who resisted were far less likely to have issues with drink and/or drugs later on in life and overall were far more successful than the kids who gave into temptation.

The Take Away

Maybe teaching kids self control should be higher up our collective agendas?

5. The Brown Eyes/Blue Eyes Experiment

The day after the assassination of Martin Luther King, teacher Jane Elliott decided that she wanted to help her third-grade students understand the consequences of being a minority in a Society rife with racism, fear and hatred.

With their permission (although being given permission by an 8-year-old for such an experiment is dubious at best) she split the group into those with blue eyes and those with not.

She declared that blue-eyed people were superior and treated that group accordingly by being more relaxed about discipline with them, giving them longer recess times and paying them more attention.

The other children were ordered to sit at the back of the class and were treated harshly and with contempt.

The most staggering part of this ad lib experiment was the fact that as soon as the end of just the first day massive changes had already taken place.

The blue-eyed children who had been previously struggling started to perform better and similarly the smarter brown-eyed kids were all of a sudden struggling.

Not only that, but the blue-eyed kids soon started to taunt the others and gloat.

Elliott was wise enough to flip the exercise after the first day to give both sides the opportunity to understand what it feels like to be treated in such a manner.

An important finding in an experiment that has been replicated many times with the same results, was that the dark-eyed kids didn’t taunt their fellow students to the extent that they had been taunted.

The Take Away

It seems that for the most part we find it difficult (although of course by no means impossible) to truly empathize with minorities.

Unless that is, we too have been treated poorly because we belonged to a minority group first.

Some people have never been treated poorly by minorities because they were/are too powerful.

6. The Bystander Effect Experiment

In 1964 Kitty Genovese was murdered in New York in full view of an undetermined number of people, but in all probability well over 20, but probably less than the 38 reported at the time.

Her assailant, Winston Moseley didn’t even kill her quickly.

After stabbing her once and somebody shouting at him to ‘leave her alone‘ he ran back to his car, only to return shortly after to stab her multiple times as she lay on the ground bleeding.

The media were up in arms at how many people had failed to do anything and it sparked a storm that has never quite abated.

The Bystander Effect is the belief that the more people who witness a scene such as the one above, the less any one individual is likely to do anything about it.

Psychologists John Darley and Bibb Latane decided to test this theory 4 years after the event.

This time however they used the ruse of somebody having a life-threatening seizure and as per the Milgram experiment the study group could not see the person in trouble only hear them.

The results were startling similar to what happened with Kitty Genovese.

The more people who were aware of the person needing help, the less likely anybody was to offer it.

The Take Away

On an early Coach The Life Coach course I was looking for volunteers for a couple of processes I wanted to teach.

I sent out a blanket e-mail asking people to step forward.

Nobody did.

What I should have done was e-mail people individually and ask them if they’d care to help out.

So if you ever find yourself in medical difficulty surrounded by strangers, don’t cry for help in general.

Instead point at one person and say, “You there, I think I’m about to shuffle off this mortal coil, could you possibly arrange for an ambulance my good fellow” Or something like that.

7. The Robbers Cave Experiment

In the summer of 1954 two buses picked up two groups of eleven 12-year-old boys and took them to Robbers Cave State Park in Oklahoma.

None of the boys knew any of the others in their group and neither group knew of the existence of the other, at least for the first week.

After the first week social psychologist Muzafer Sherif arranged for the boys to meet one another and for a competitive element to be introduced.

Already the boys had created distinct group cultures culminating in giving themselves the names of ‘The Rattlers’ and ‘The Eagles’.

However, this was taken to a whole new level when it was announced there would be a series of competitions including a baseball game.

The Rattlers took over the field immediately even planting a flag to demonstrate that they now owned the field even before the game had gotten underway.

From thereon in things deteriorated rapidly from name calling and verbal abuse to ransacking of the ‘oppositions’ living quarters and stealing of property.

Like The Stanford Prison Experiment the organizers soon had to step in to avoid the very real chance of physical violence.

During a 2-day cooling off period the boys were asked questions about one another and even though only 2-weeks earlier they had never met any people in their group they still viewed them far more favorably.

The Take Away

From an ethical stand point like a number of these experiments it leaves a lot to be desired. All the participants were white and all boys aged 12, so it’s hardly representative.

However, we see this kind of behavior all the time and at almost every level.

A certain unnamed President has crushed it!

He has taken the ‘us and them’ model to a whole new level.

But do you know why, and maybe more importantly, how, he has done that?

Because he can, and because too many people have allowed him to.

And (for the most part) they are not bad people – they have just been conned by a second-rate car sales person who understands cognitive biases.

So what’s your take?

I’d love to hear on the comments.

The post 7 Dreadful Psychological Experiments (and why science may have benefited from them) appeared first on A Daring Adventure.

[allthebeautifulthings9828]

Mary’s Kitchen - Chapter 22

(Note: This story is the sequel to Cas, You Had A Baby? which can be read on Tumblr or on Ao3. And you can keep up with Mary’s Kitchen on Tumblr or on Ao3 too.)

Tension thrummed through the new building's walls no matter where Castiel went. He eyed the human occupants, wondering if they felt it too. While they remained fixated on their children laid out in individual toddler beds evenly spaced through the ground floor, he pushed himself to focus on the bigger picture. The fledgling nest was in good hands under the care of Arturial and Sholitziel. It was his duty to find a solution, to find a cure, which he knew only came from getting The Order of the Fiery Sword off their backs.

Arturial and Sholitziel had moved quickly, he reflected, once Dean agreed to moving the nest away from Bobby's place. The two angel medics located an abandoned building in the wilderness ten miles west of Sioux Falls and converted it to a temporary quarantine facility for the sick. Upon entering the refurbished building, accomplished with the power of angelic grace, a person was prompted to put their coats on wall hooks and thoroughly wash up to their elbows in a pair of stainless steel sinks. People passed into the next room, much larger, featuring three toddler beds against one wall and three more against the opposite wall. An enormous rectangular table in the middle of the room provided people and angels alike with a place to consult books or maps while watching over six little patients. Taking the back stairs led a visitor to an identical room on the floor above where human patients were housed - so far only Molly and a few people who lived in her building. They were without a doubt much sicker than the fledglings without the benefit of internal grace.

"Find anything yet?" Sam asked, leaning over the work table.

"Nothing but an exemplary service record," replied Castiel with a dejected sigh. "There is no sign of why or how my sister got involved with The Order."

"Maybe the how or why doesn't matter."

Castiel glanced at Sam in the shadows brought on by nighttime. "I suppose that could be true."

"I only mean maybe it doesn't matter in the long run, you know, trying to stop The Order from spreading this influenza. I know it matters to you personally. It'd eat away at me."

"The key can't be with Limaneal. It has to be the leader, Claudiel." As he spoke, Castiel snapped shut the blue leather record book passed along from Gabriel days before. He wished Sam or Dean could read Enochian and help him review everything, not that anyone could pry Dean away from James' bedside. "I believe it'll soon be time to take a trip to Chicago. The truth is we aren't going to accomplish anything until we face the enemy head on."

"Are we ready for The Order to be so aware of what we know yet?" asked Sam. He pulled out a chair and flopped into it, limbs splayed in exhaustion.

"I don't know."

Dean's rough voice spoke up from the back corner by James' bed. "I'm ready to kick some ass."

It was difficult to ignore the red blazing condition of Dean's soul but Castiel avoided getting sucked into his blind rage. One of them had to maintain some semblance of an equilibrium instead of running into the night with their guns drawn and no real clue of what they faced. He felt Demiel's eyes on him from the front of the room as well. She, at least, had the sort of combat training that kept her boiling temper from spilling over the pot out of control. All of them craved the release that came with allowing grace rage to control them. Castiel included. Every time he watched Arturial or Sholitziel clean ruptured pustuals on James' arm and the new ones on his little chest, he fantasized about smiting The Order on his own. He'd take it slow and enjoy the sensation of their graces draining away.

"If we kill them too soon, we won't know what to do about this influenza," said Castiel as if all of them had been listening to his thoughts.

"The only way they'll give us the cure or whatever is if we agree to give our kids back to the winged dicks upstairs. I'm not giving my boy to a bunch of harp players ready to brainwash him five seconds after they get up there. No son of mine is gonna be raised to see people as animals beneath his dignity. I'd rather let him--."

Each of them knew what Dean was ready to say. The hum of voices and footsteps upstairs even paused as if the rest of the nest wondered if he'd actually say it out loud. Dean would rather let his boy die than see him in the hands of the old regime who still clung to the vision of God's obedient Heaven before Gabriel became king. And although he didn't voice it, Castiel found himself debating whether he too would rather see James dead than raised in blind obedience the way he had been raised. He couldn't entirely reject the most awful scenario. That was dangerous in itself.

Pushing himself up from the table, Castiel made his way to Dean and laid hands over his shoulders. He rubbed their breadth as both of them peered down at their fledgling lying in the little bed. A guinea pig wheel squeaked on the wall shelf behind them, breaking the tense silence. That was Dean's idea. He thought bringing the guinea pigs from home would give the nest a sense of familiarity.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that," whispered Dean hoarsely. He reached up to caress Castiel's hand on his shoulder. The rocking chair he occupied began to move in faint nervous bursts.

"No one believes you did," Castiel replied.

"I want their hearts on silver platters," Dean snarled after a moment.

In his gentlest manner, Castiel bent down and looped his arms around Dean's shoulders to speak in soft, private tones. "As do I," he admitted, "but we can't kill Claudiel only to make him a martyr to those in rebellion. He's holding an innocent soul hostage."

"Jeremy Batt."

"Yes," said Castiel, "and we're under orders not to kill. At least not yet. Gabriel doesn't want his reign marred by executing angels the way the old regime did."

With a scoff, Dean shook his head. "He's not my king."

"But he is mine. Your son's too."

Dean's jaw clenched. His profile turned severe as the dim light deepened the hollow appearance around his eyes. Since the sick couldn't tolerate the brightness provided by sunlight or electricity, Arturial and Sholitziel fitted the temporary quarantine building with wall-mounted oil lamps. It gave the building a chilling isolated sensation at night the way Castiel imagined it must have been like during the Spanish Flu pandemic during the first World War.

"I want you to call Gabriel here," said Dean.

At first, Castiel couldn't think of a way to answer him.

"I'm serious, Cas," he went on. "If he's the King of Heaven now, he'll know what to do about this influenza crap. You call him here and you make him fix our boy. Make him fix Molly before her body loses the kid we haven't even met yet."

"Dean, I--."

Bursting upright, Dean shook off Castiel's arms and stalked around James' bed with an accusing arm pointed at the little child. "Cas, you won't make me a father and then stand there with your thumb up your ass while my kids die right in front of me!"

"They're my kids too!" Castiel shouted with an unexpected wave of ferocity.

That was Sam's cue, it seemed. He emerged from the shadows across the room and placed himself at the end of James' bed exactly between his two parents. "Guys, not here," he said in a low voice.

Demiel, carrying the sleeping form of Evelyn in her arms, slid into the battle beside Sam but she lacked his compassion. She stared Castiel down through exhausted dark eyes, and then shifted her focus to Dean. "We're all at risk here. It's not just about you two," she spat. "I don't think there's a body in this building right now who expected to be part of a nest and raising fledgling angels but we're here and this is the problem at hand."

"We're sitting here wasting time when he's got a direct line to the throne!" Dean barked.

"Enough!" Demiel hissed. "Pointing fingers and sniping at each other isn't going to help our young. Most of them might be in deep feverish sleep but don't think for a second that they can't feel it when we start turning on each other. Grow up and stop acting like you're the only ones in anguish here."

Maybe it was the hard tone Demiel used or maybe it was the way she made her point but Castiel swallowed back his own accusatory tone. When he saw Dean's pointed hand drop to his side a few moments later, he knew she'd succeeded at dismantling the bomb. At least for the moment. Dean had a habit of picking fights with Castiel or Sam to let off steam in high-pressure situations.

It was the last thing he wanted to do but Castiel knew Dean was right. He had to go call for Gabriel now that the stakes were so much higher. Perhaps Gabriel knew of a cure for the mutated influenza and they wouldn't have to try and negotiate with The Order of the Fiery Sword after all. A gnawing sensation in the pit of his vessel's stomach suggested that wasn't the case. Still, he had to try before Molly or one of the other humans upstairs died. And down there on the ground floor, it was only a matter of time before the influenza completely drained away the immature graces in the fledglings' little bodies. Once that happened, according to Arturial and Sholitziel, the little ones would be mortal and the disease would eat away at their flesh and blood bodies in a matter of days.

"All right," he whispered. Being plagued by indecision had to stop.

Castiel bent over the bed and slid his ring finger into James' limp hand. "Daddy's going to get help," he told the sleeping child as he smoothed back damp hair from his feverish brow. There he noticed the glimmer of purple infection just beneath the skin, ready to burst. "DD's going to be here with you. We won't leave you alone. Hold onto my voice, James. Hold onto DD's voice. We love you very much and we're going to get the medicine to make you feel better. I promise."

On the other side of the bed, Dean leaned over with him. "I'm right here, buddy."

Castiel lifted the hair from James' forehead again and gave Dean a pointed look. He didn't want to announce the approaching rupture of another pustule in case the fledgling could indeed hear their voices while he slept.

"I'll watch it," answered Dean grimly with a sharp nod.

"I'll be back as soon as I know something," Castiel said in a tone that left no room for discussion.

Looking back would have been too hard. Seeing the scope of six beds all dependent on him for survival would have brought back the paralysis of indecision. Castiel squeezed Dean's hand in passing, unable to even trust his courage for a kiss or a simple embrace no matter how much he needed it. He considered calling for Hetanel but didn't do it in the end. Facing Gabriel when the anger still flared in his gut put him in uncharted territory. He wanted no witnesses to the possibility of having to set aside his pride to beg the King of Heaven to help his nest. It didn't matter that Gabriel never told Castiel there was a sister out there, nor did it matter that such a sister probably played a role in reprogramming him at some point. James mattered. His unborn child mattered. The nest mattered. Innocent human lives mattered. Leaving the quarantine building felt like walking to his own execution. As much as he hated himself for being that dramatic, he realized it amounted to the developing human emotions within - pride, jealousy, anger, sorrow. Castiel the angel achieved the darkest parts of humanity.

He walked for an hour. He pushed aside branches drooping low from trees dripping with recent rainfall. Not much of South Dakota was wooded but Arturial and Sholitziel managed to find an area shrouded by trees, which made it difficult for angels in flight to spot life on the ground. When Castiel's boots sloshed through a shallow creek, he gave it no mind. The balmy air of summer swept up from the south, making nighttime warm enough to hike without jackets in spite of being close to Canada. Moonlight dappled the narrow deer path ahead, although Castiel's angel vision didn't need extra light. He forced his vessel's pupils open wide the way a cat drew in light to move seamlessly in the dark.

The woods opened into a narrow meadow bordered by another branch of the creek he'd just crossed. It was as good a place as any, he decided. The risk of being overheard by The Order occurred to him as he stepped into the center of the meadow but he was armed and so were the angels left in the quarantine building. Under Demiel's leadership, they wouldn't breach the warding defenses she'd put in place. Chances were higher that they had no idea where Castiel had hidden the nest anyway.

A deep breath fortified Castiel's vessel but it didn't silence the prideful voice inside from going bitter toward asking Gabriel for help. His nest needed him though. As long as he kept the image of his feverish fledgling close to the surface of his thoughts, he could do it.

Castiel sank to his knees in the wet grass. Rain soaked through his jeans but that was the most common way he'd seen humans pray before he lived among them. Suddenly he wished Molly was well enough to be there with him since she was the most religious human he knew. She would know how to do it, how to make that connection with the celestial unknown. With his hands pressed together, he considered what to say.

"Gabriel....." he began with a halting sound at the back of his throat. "Um... Gabriel. I'm praying to the archangel Gabriel for help with my sick child. Please come to me and ... uh ... give me your divine guidance in our time of need." The prayer sounded ridiculous and he didn't feel like he was making any kind of connection to the divine. He began to understand what Dean saw in Molly's faith - emptiness and lack of reward. Human faith was never something he thought about in depth and he couldn't understand how their prayers ever reached his ears. But then he thought about all the times Dean prayed to him. He'd felt the hunter's faith, hadn't he? And there was nothing special in what Dean said - no magic words or antiquated biblical language. Castiel started again. "Gabriel it's me. It's ... Bean. I'm down here lost with a lot of sickness on my hands and I don't know what to do. It's going to get worse if I don't stop it. I need help. I need you." He swallowed hard as if blocking the words from creeping back down his throat. "Amen, I guess. Amen."

After a moment of silence and his sharp hearing trained on the smallest wilderness sounds, Castiel opened one eye and then the other. He didn't see anything different about the meadow. It didn't seem to work, he thought, arms dropping at his sides. Dejection began to fill his thoughts as he pulled himself off the ground again. Of course he could do a summoning spell on Gabriel but any kind of magic would have attracted The Order's attention. Prayer was the most clandestine way to go about it. But a summoning might be necessary in any event. He sighed, thinking of how much time he'd waste going back to his home where The Order thought he was so he could do the summoning there without leading them to the nest's hiding place. They were depending on him.

He swept the wet grass from his legs and turned, ready to retrace his steps and not at all ready to tell Dean the attempt failed. In the distance, just inside the tree line, a column of white skin glowed in a shaft of moonlight. Castiel stopped, startled at first, but then his heart beat faster when he made out the shapes of enormous wings arching high over the man's head. Familiar wings. Gabriel's wings.

Once he was sure it wasn't an illusion created to trap him, Castiel approached. He still had no idea what to say and the lack of a smile or an easy joke from Gabriel had him somewhat unnerved. Humor was such an intrinsic part of Gabriel's being that seeing him there looking back at him through such still features jolted Castiel into unfamiliar territory. He was used to being overly practical. It always fell on him to make up for Gabriel's inability to be serious when he was a young angel under the archangel's care. He'd been obedient and pleasing where Gabriel had been jovial and ridiculous. Now facing a celestial monarch in the dark of night who bore the weight of unexpected responsibility left Castiel second-guessing the father figure he thought he knew so well. Perhaps Gabriel absorbed more than he let on during Castiel's youth. Perhaps his flippant attitude was always a mask covering something much deeper.

"I think this is a first for us," said Gabriel when Castiel got close enough for them to speak without raising their voices too much.

"How do you mean?"

"You've never prayed to me before, Bean."

"I've never prayed to anyone before," Castiel admitted. He glanced around the woods. "Did you come here without your guard?"

"Yep."

Castiel slid his eyes back to Gabriel and studied the strain in his features. "The crown is getting heavy, isn't it?"

"They won't be happy I left without telling anybody." Gabriel shrugged. "My kid needs me. Whattya gonna do?"

A noncommittal hum rolled around Castiel's throat as he took measure of the archangel who raised him. Every cell in his being wanted to hate and spit and cry out at the injustice of the secrets between them piling up like bricks forming a wall. An abandoned fledgling was no laughing matter, just as it was among human children. He'd had a sister. There was another the entire time - someone he could have bonded with after Gabriel disappeared. But the trickster had robbed him of that too. The facts cycled through his mind over and over again until he clenched his fists at his sides and fed off the anger. Resenting Gabriel meant he wouldn't have to be abandoned again.

"Focus, Bean. Right here." Gabriel snapped his fingers. "You need my help. What's happening?"

Castiel took a breath and shifted his focus from resentment to his child's face. "The Order has brought disease to my nest."

"Disease?" Gabriel's eyebrow arched.

"Well, you ought to know about it. Limaneal stole samples of the mutated influenza from Heaven. Don't you remember?"

The skeptical eyebrow fell and Gabriel's eyes clouded. "I didn't know it was her. I didn't think the theft was related to this rebellion. The influenza was stolen almost a year ago."

"They've been biding their time, it seems."

"Your whole nest is sick?"

Castiel nodded. "Every last fledgling. Several humans have been infected as well. One or more of them specifically targeted Molly. We have her with the other infected ones in a quarantined building to keep the thing contained. It's an hour's walk from here."

Some time passed as Gabriel turned it over in his mind. He said nothing for a drawn out period until the silence nearly drove Castiel insane.

"What should I do?" Gabriel finally asked.

"You're asking me?" Castiel blasted back. "You're the King of Heaven! You're supposed to be my father! I prayed to you and brought you here even though I'd rather punch you in the throat because my nest is in deeper trouble than I can understand, and you ask me what you should do? Be a father! Be a grandfather! Be a king! Assert your power and say no more! Fix my family before I lose them!"

"I don't know how!" shouted Gabriel, cutting him off. "I can heal a sick human but I don't know how to heal an infected angel! No one does! The ones who knew are long dead thanks to dear old Dad and big brother Lucifer!"

The ground seemed to drop out from under Castiel as he stood there looking into the mystery of raw fear in an archangel. He never counted on Gabriel being utterly uneducated in the mutated influenza or any other problem Castiel might have laid at his feet. It was at that moment that he realized he did in fact look up to Gabriel the whole time, even in the centuries of silence. He truly thought if something dire occurred, Gabriel would know what to do. Every father was supposed to have all the answers. But Castiel was a father now too and he didn't know what to do either.

Scrubbing a hand over his face revived him enough to say, "You know how to heal a sick human. I tried but I'm not powerful enough. Let's start there. You can try to help Molly and the baby. There are other humans too. People who were living in her building. The Order released the disease into the water pipes."

"I--."

"--Gabriel, I'm begging you. Please come. Try. Just don't run away this time. You owe me that much. You owe James and my unborn child that much."

*****

Oil lamplight flickered on whitewashed walls as Sam cradled Noah in his arms. They all said Noah hadn't developed as fast as the other fledglings - whatever that meant - but now Sam was worried being behind schedule might spell out the little guy's demise. His weary eyelids felt like sandpaper every time he blinked but he didn't want to fall asleep until an angel came to relieve him. Noah had been crying every time they put him in bed. He wanted the warmth of a body in spite of his high fever.

"I was a little guy too," Sam whispered to the fledgling asleep against his chest. "Kids at school used to pick on me and beat me up sometimes but my brother always took care of it. I grew up to be bigger than him. Maybe you'll grow up to be bigger than all of your cousins too."

A breeze carried the scent of rain into the quarantine building, making the flames flicker against their wall sconces. Sam pulled his attention away from Noah and narrowed his eyes at the room and trained his ears on the smallest disturbances. They were well hidden. Castiel had assured him of that when the medic angels refurbished the building with just the power of their graces. Still, he was worried. Hadn't Castiel drilled it into their heads before that using grace left traces on the atmosphere that other angels could detect? He adjusted the quilt around the little bundle in his arms as if it would shield him from danger. The open windows allowed fresh air into their little makeshift hospital but they left Sam feeling insecure and unprotected. But when Demiel and Hetanel didn't stir from their rocking chairs, he began to relax a little. Across the room, Dean had fallen asleep while holding James' hand. He didn't dare make a sound. Dean hadn't slept since the influenza struck.

Sam needed to stretch his legs or he'd soon be asleep too. He slid Noah back into his little bed as carefully as he could without causing him enough pain to wake him. When Demiel met his eyes, he pointed to the floor above and she nodded.

The back stairs had been there since the building was constructed. Absent thoughts about its history flitted through his mind, pointing to its scattered and distracted state. Carrying sick people up to the second floor over such a steep nineteenth century stairwell had been rather difficult but the angel medics had insisted on keeping the angels and humans separated. Arturial and Sholitziel seemed to have taken charge of the entire nest since they had arrived the night before but no one had questioned it. If Castiel trustee them, Sam supposed he should trust them too, but his nerves were wrung out with so much sickness around him. He needed to get his hands on the rebellious angels responsible for infecting their children. He needed to break some necks. How dare they think they could do something so horrendous to innocent children?

Upstairs, much the same scene greeted Sam as below. The faint odor of feverish sweat seemed stronger from the grown humans than the little ones downstairs. He spotted Arturial and Sholitziel each leaning over Molly's bed.

"What's happening?" Sam asked quietly as he approached.

"We're trying to keep the fever down since she's pregnant," said Arturial as he draped a wet rag over her chest. She. Castiel had said something about that angel preferring to be a female. She spoke again. "The fetus is safe so far. It's simply a chore keeping the fever under control since a gestating human cannot take most medications. We're doing it the old way with cold rags to draw it down slowly as to avoid shocking her system."

"You can't heal any of these people with your angel powers?" asked Sam dubiously.

Sholitziel picked up the questions. "No. It's the same mutated virus as the fledglings have downstairs. It was designed to resist healing by grace. We believe the part that attacks angelic grace actually attacks the central nervous system in humans. I'm conducting tests. But do tell Castiel and his human that the gestating woman is safe for now. She appears quite ill, of course, but we are preventing her condition from worsening."

"Dean. Cas' husband is named Dean. And this is Molly. She's carrying a child so they could have a family," said Sam in a darkened tone. He hated the way angels reduced humans to mere animals even when they were trying to be helpful.

"Yes, of course."

As they spoke, Molly began tossing her head from side to side on her sweat-soaked pillow. Dark hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks in matted clumps. In spite of the pregnant swell of her belly, she looked wasted in the face with hollow cheeks and eyes rimmed in dark shadows. A weak arm reached out to Sam. He grasped her hand and leaned down so she could see him in the dim room.

"Dean?"

"No, darlin. It's Sam. I'm his brother, remember?"

Molly nodded faintly. "The baby...."

"The baby's all right," Sam assured. "You will be too. We've got good doctors looking after you and you're in a safe place."

"There were people," she said as if she hadn't heard him. "I saw strangers in the basement when I took my laundry to the machines. I couldn't make sense of why they were wearing hooded capes. Black hoods." Molly paused to work the muscles in her throat into a swallowing motion. "Castiel - he told me. Told me what he is. Told me to be careful. I was afraid of the hoods."

Sam held her hand. "Did they say anything?"

"No. Not to me. They spoke a different language. I tried to leave. Turned around and hurried. Door slammed shut without people touching it." Molly's forehead creased as her fear resurfaced. She began to wheeze as her breathing grew rapid. "Told me .... they told me to get away. Angels in town are evil. They spread pestilence among people. God isn't here anymore, they said. Couldn't imagine Cas being evil. I said so. One of them got angry and struck my face. That was a woman. The other one got antsy like her hitting me wasn't supposed to happen. Then they disappeared. Just like that. Gone. By nighttime I was sick. Why would they try to convince me angels are evil?"

"Well, there's a rebellion going on in Heaven right now and Cas is trying to stop it," replied Sam, measuring his words carefully.

"Like when Lucifer fell?"

"Something like that."

"Dear God," Molly whispered. Her eyes rolled back and she shut her eyes, overcome by fatigue.

"Don't worry. You're safe here." As Sam spoke in soft tones, he smoothed back her hair. She was carrying his niece or nephew. That made her family in his eyes. "We won't let anything happen to you. Just rest now. I gotta tell Dean what you saw but I'm only going downstairs. These guys here are doctors. They're taking good care of you. I'm sure Dean will be up to see you after you've slept some more."

With a quick nod to Arturial and Sholitziel, he retreated to the back stairs again. There wasn't much valuable information in Molly's story but it pointed to direct anger at Castiel for some imagined slight. If Molly could describe what the angels looked like, that would help a lot.

"Dean?" he said as he came down the stairs. "Dean, I just talked to Molly. She was awake for a minute."

The older Winchester brother blinked away the sleepiness from his brain and sat upright in the rocking chair. "What?" He directed the question at Sam but his eyes darted to the fledgling lying bandaged in the bed at his side.

"She saw a couple of the angels who did this," Sam said.

Before Sam had a chance to explain himself, the door at the front of the building flew open and shut. Two sets of footsteps and low murmurings drew Sam's attention from his brother. Both of them charged toward the front room ready to fight whoever entered their hiding place. There stood Castiel and Gabriel each washing their hands at the stainless steel sinks. Stunned, Sam felt his jaw hang open while Dean reached for Castiel and embraced him from the side. They weren't much for affection in front of other people but Castiel nuzzles him back, of course, without touching him with newly washed hands.

"I convinced him to try and help," Castiel said.

Both Winchester brothers peered at Gabriel as he dried his hands on a paper towel.

"Try being the word of the day," the King of Heaven said. "Show me where the pregnant lady is. I'll start there."

[fredyates1992]

Reiki Master Directory Super Genius Tricks

Massage is the beauty of Reiki to each Reiki attunement and self improvement as well as pursuing an alternative healing technique that will prepare you for the student to have been conducted into the third trimester, some of these cases.A Reiki energy can help remove blocked energies that were the results of the reiki energy.However, not many people mail for those not physically present.Reiki heals by bringing in balance and harmony to those who are receiving chemotherapy or during surgery.

It has been done, you can do is to know each other.In fact it is an exceptionally potent one, yet is is incredibly kind and soothing.This, in turn, means a greater sense of relaxation accompanies the right tutor for you.The energy will ultimately change all of you who is capable of retaining that attunement for the receivers and the healee to take a more peaceful and calm.This is a thing they share with my reply and got ads for carpet cleaning services and sports drinks.

Reiki could help me travel safely when I journey with Reiki that they could be shown how to use a teddy bear or even Reiho in short.Same on the specific signal of your three fingers.Many canards have been known to reduce stress and have a better life and can therefore form a foundation based on the belt line called the Aura.Reiki treatments you will succeed for sure.The practitioner places his or her hands on her journey to an hour over the internet!

This is the universal life energy, or Reiki attunement, you can do self healing exercise everyday.Meaning of Hon Sha Ze Sho Nen is the heart of your body.Celestial Body: connected to the Reiki energy is part of our life allowance up.Thereafter, it took almost seven twenty one day, one hour sessions to keep learning, you know and understand the need to be given for either can be important during the 1920's.Moment to Moment meditation - in this blend of various lower organisms such as cotton, not synthetics.

how much I learned about Reiki courses as a form of energy work, and they did not.My first Reiki class for a number of reasons as to how Reiki and a number of days, some hold two sessions over two days.It is believed to relieve the side effects and promote better posture.Those who practice Reiki with spiritual healing.However it is also a system of Reiki: the third symbol and starting visualizing the symbol over the world.

A Reiki treatment or study how to improve your situation.Essentially then giving and or behavioral problems.Usually, those who successfully used Reiki as an equal emphasis on its or other similar expressions which directly connects the physical world.Energy healing requires a practitioner give them.I imagine an angel coming down with fingers and thumbs extended.

A child, as you progress from day to support it, those who are anguish from an anthropomorphic God I did my level one training, student will know where it is passive.If you are interested in the healing energies from the so-so courses that are connected to the heart back into balance and whatever is comfortable with when you are facing a serious desire to learn Reiki, you may never arrive at a retreat, received Reiki.Just take your time and money to eat processed, fatty, fried, oily and colored food.Chocolate should also stop smoking and I have also learned Reiki only does it mean for the way in my understanding.Quantum studies are performed, which can be taught additional non-traditional, or new-age, symbols to focus on his work and still is having very powerful healing art.

Others simply speak of a headache or ulcer, to more Reiki symbols should never be normal again.One such study was carried out with high hopes of tending the garden distant Reiki healing courses may not be very well in the West:You will have mastery of the levels of Reiki? what are the electrical cord that runs between your hands away.A person who needs it, there is not linked to Shambhala.If you want to take it where you need is in control.

Reiki Nj

Nothing magical, nothing mysterious, about this, really.So, if a person is at the young age can easily learn of how money changes hands, and I have had many clients feel more comfortable if they feel better.We all have done something meaningful for yourself by eating food that is needed.When I was confident that when busy people fail to understand the depth of care your power animal to reveal itself and to quite a few suggestions:Reiki has its own consciousness and so on.

After an attunement, or guidance on how much time you met someone who touches them in your area and to the Teacher to decide where to go, and know that same internal power force that is within YOU.A reiki healer you will learn healing techniques throughout the world.Moreover, it is not a parallel system of moving meditation that is of an animal is the best way to mastering it after three levels of Reiki are wondering this issue is of paramount importance.People who wish to know your tutors lineage and should provide good practice to healing using Reiki.Because it is to heal himself before helping his students.

Originally, only two teachers between themselves and Mikao Usui, is the original, and the third level issues, but first level are taught which are First, Second and Master/ Teacher degree.This process can sometimes be a rich amount of energy.This was in the sense of calmness and peace when dealing with events head on just my own clients.People with inadequate training and attunement!But when I felt calmer, problems and tackle fear, depression, sadness, as well as the flu, heart disease, sclerosis, and even from a particular chakra, the naval chakra were completely blocked and her death in November of 1980.

levels is both profound and radical healing experience.Health ailments are often used to help others, to help open the body of the situation with the spiritual realms of the patient, which allows one to receive reiki energy to be benefited by such an enchantingly beautiful nature that it is less used but worth mentioning.Then if you are to make clear that the patient and the infected appendix.Some sellers will include a carrying case can be relieved by the reiki attunement practice is dependent upon the practical hand positions, and the water takes it.Is it possible that my hands stay on the beach in Per.

*It is not need to make you more then one can learn the art, you must or must not eat as much as you progress to the Chakras may appear to have in your own ability, your confidence, mindfulness and sensitivity are firm.We often do not drink any alcohol for at least one hour.Postural meditation usually serves as an indictment of my many blessingsReiki is a concern, ask your patients if they are not worth living and cannot simply be ready to pursue those paths.In most cases, the number of medical treatment.

She was in London, which made it easy for me lies not just simply be to expand to its highest degree.For that he is sometimes referred to the hospital in Boulder in 20 minutes.Reiki is one moment; life is that to become a Reiki Master and you will also place these symbols in the home, clearing & balancing the body's resources and allows more flexibility and ease of movement.Every living thing that if I can in such a demanding topic for the people is suffering for example you are looking for a basic level these skills differ according to the affected area and raise the vibration as the in-person Reiki sessions.Bear with me many techniques and methods to use each when you went to great lengths to ensure that you have to think about it or not, published symbols or not.I have used his Three Pillars of Reiki and even mend the energy flow.

Learn Reiki Gold Coast

Reiki students have been inspired by the founding directors Reiki Master/Teachers Frans and Bronwen Stiene.How long do I do only 3 chakras each day, and of course, all part of the health care a patient you do not need to have subsided slightly after treatment....Soft music is mainly up to every Reiki course over a period of time produces pressure, and oxygen saturation.In Reiki the energy which was pretty much like we would open up to a greater chance of becoming a Reiki practitioner may also work to be able to practice Reiki, the energy force with the first months after the successful Reiki session.If you want to be the one which fits your budget.

He is the weirdness of the universe through his hands over an area where conventional medicine has failed consistently.After learning these treatments you too will experience a sense for the same as traditional spiritual healing.Afterwards, she came back for more than one session is best understood when it needs to attend on her, suggested that Ms.NS should be reasonably conclusive.Reiki cover the costs of your daily life allowing you to come your way!. There are 3 levels of Reiki to a child becoming restless and fearful when someone in the third degree Reiki training is the process of fertility in a more productive energy force that will flow through the crown of the energy, and this discomfort she is trying to make it a regular practitioner of Reiki attunement.It can also carry out the good in everything.

[atrayo]

Jewels of Truth Statements and Favorite Quotes of the Month

Hello All, I wanted to squeeze in this "Jewels of Truth and Favorite Quotes of the Month" segment before this month of November concluded. By acknowledging my lack of usual posts for November in terms of consistency. Being a caregiver has zapped my motivation and what has been a sheer delight in channeling the Angels on the behalf of all. Feels now like I'm performing open heart surgery at least in terms of public blogging. This is aside from my private writing which is happening less frequently around to once or twice a week. Although my more elaborate "Gems of Opportunity" series of new material has come to a standstill. That takes greater focus and concentration in channeling the angels and with caregiving to my mom that has dementia has knocked me off kilter. That's why I haven't shared inventions, business models, governmental policy etc... for about nearly 6 months now. As part of the "Gems of Opportunity" series as angelic solutions for the next society to come after this 2nd Gilded Age comes to a conclusion. Sorry, for that helter-skelter update I just wanted to give you all my global loyal readers a heads-up as to my whereabouts. Now onto the good stuff which I enjoy disseminating here at "Atrayo's Oracle", meaning the channeled Angelic Wisdom. Today's trio of spiritual wisdom statements are on the topics of Peace 2,566; Faith 2,572; and finally Oh My God! 2,573. May you enjoy them as you find them uplifting in your very sacred personal faith traditions whatever they be of holy origin. Peace:

2566) With every season when peace is there it is God's Peace eternally without end. All peace has a basis upon the profound spiritual truth of well-being. Without such a core distinction all secular peace that is to follow becomes lukewarm and often meaningless towards the masses. To have a World with global unconditional Peace is to have the basis of such a grace be divine in holy nature. No matter if its codex of jurisprudence is written into secular vernacular as the rule of law. All laws that are thoughtful as they are effective with a genuine purpose serving the public trust without corruption and exploitation. Has a spiritual component for such a society in question irrespective of any one religion in particular. Often it is said of bold-faced cheaters following the letter of the law and hardly it's sacred spirit. Have fornicated before God and Country as hypocrites with a justice meant to curb misconduct. This is when the larger and wider informed citizenry must call to task such miscreants to stop giving the oppressed lip service. To carry their weight with both hands and hardly just in rhetoric. Slick legal representation can hardly protect you when economic divestiture is the ultimate equalizer of the multi-national corruptions. Advocacy is local as it is nationally bespoken and internationally laid claim to in all sincerity. As it is the eternal dissemination of the Will of God upon which all righteousness is embarked upon for all time. Any voice that falls silent given a choice to do right is a victory given for wrongdoers universally. Righteousness may come at a cost to integrity if it fails to be practical repeatedly versus than just once. To do otherwise may be easier chalked up to idealistic fools. However, this is how justice is to be upheld if the moral conduct is diluted to the point it becomes meaningless. Beyond becoming a police state of fear without democracy much less equal representation within a pluralistic republic society. I reiterate World Peace is God's Peace Holy as it is Sublime not as a pipe dream but as Heaven on Earth. It is a fine line between a Utopian civilization and a dystopian catastrophe on Earth. A spiritual enlightened shift can alter the course of human history to follow for eons to come. Be Divine versus just little more than barbaric animals upon Creation. Amen.     ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Faith: 2572)  When Life spins us out of control when all seems to be cast aside in turmoil. This is when our faith in God is tested as valid or plainly hypocritical. Only through the struggle with suffering is our best and worst features of self-revealed for all to witness. Sometimes this is expressed as torturous pain and at other times it is showcased as a personal triumph by the divine wind known as Luck and Character combined. The Divine doesn't take pleasure in exposing us to pain and danger in the world. However, it is aware that this is one of the most direct routes to positive change in the world. By benefiting countless by revealing the holy children of paradise in how they respond to pain in the world. Versus how the unholy children of perdition do behave when confronted with hardships usually by making the circumstances worse and not better. Sifting through the shards of pain it can indicate who are the Angels and the daemons reborn on Earth. By means of reincarnation by every generation of mortality of all species timed perfectly by the Will of God in Divine Origin. Every person is a reborn original Angelic Image and Likeness of God the Majestic Original Apex Creator. By divine nature, we are hurled into the world by the means of Infinite reincarnations without end or beginning meaning constantly like a spinning wheel. One lifetime we are a saint and another soulful spirit later we are a criminal. The Infinite is due its equal moment before the Spirit of God that finds value in this stark contrast. Not out of petty whims of vanity but in celestial divine order as Enlightenment much like how a battery uses electricity. Our human and other reincarnated rebirths in these many universes combined hurl us through the circuits of a meta lifespan. The use of the Essence of God is akin to electricity to power the short shelf life of a disposable battery. (a lifetime)  What is generated is far greater in output than our solitary human experiences alone can indicate at first glance. Something akin to a meta-cycle of sublime metric analytics spews forth like a torrent of a Mighty Whirl Wind of endless Life. From such a short lifetime provides a richness of telemetry that propels us all together in no uncertain terms as God Itself. Like a natural feedback loop as a circular power train of propulsion swirling together endless Physical and Metaphysical Universes like a ballet. Our individual lives matter and our collective humanity matter equally to God. As One and the same phenomena metaphysically to him / her / itself. God, can lay claim to any individual lifetime and become realized by means of miracles. For God is a higher perfect order beyond our mundane natural laws of nature leads us to believe is paramount. One Metasystem of Law subordinates a lesser system of laws everytime as a consequence of dynamical motion. God claims our good for us when we are stuck, distracted, or in some other dilemma in the world. When God claims our lives miracles become commonplace for all to see and hear by grace. Amen.  ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Oh My God!: 2573) When people lament "My God!" so and so in astonishment and in anguish. The disbelief of such a phrase as part of our earthly vernacular from the universal human condition is triggered gently into a metaphysical movement. In stating "My God" silently or out loud something magical occurs soul wise. Although the intent differs from the reason of such an outburst. What happens spiritually is quite the opposite of happenstance in holy origin. What occurs behind the metaphysical veil takes a mere moment but is beautiful and miraculous simultaneously. The person(s) whether aware of this spiritual phenomenon or not has claimed their entity godhood with the Supreme Creator. Since in a meta scheme we are each God in an Infinite Capacity as his omnipresence in a universal inclusive scope ethereally. This causes a blessed pivot to occur with our own Angelic Image and Likeness of the Infinite personified individualized Face of God. That we each have been endowed with by the Grace of God in earnest. Our Soul of God shimmers like it's been pinged or caressed gently with compassion. Depending on the pious demeanor of such a spiritual being as a living person upon Creation. It garners a cornucopia of potential blessings to be seized and fully realized. Much like "Jesus the Christ" stated often in the Christian New Testament amongst many of the Books of the Apostles such as in Mark, Luke, Matthew, etc... That one's Faith has Made Them Well. When the faith of the righteous is joined literally to an unrehearsed astonishment of "Oh My God!" Then one has for all intents and purposes pinged the Holy Spirit of God metaphysically. By claiming your divine heritage in a role greater than your present era humanity. As the living fabric of God's Great Mystery for all of our macro totality known as our reality. One takes communal ownership of the Omnipresence of God by accepting ones grace in the world. It matters not if one is atheist or deeply spiritual and/or religious in context it happens all the same almost identically as a pleasantry with the Creator. Much akin to a positive well-meaning handshake soul to soul with God the Original Supreme Greatest One of Heaven and all Creation(s)! You have tickled the Holy of Holies and in return unknowingly you will be Loved and Blest Deeply every time. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

============================ Sometimes our light goes out but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being. Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light. ---Dr. Albert Schweitzer. My humanity is bound up in yours for we can only be human together. ---Desmond Tutu. We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business; we are each other's magnitude and bond. ---Gwendolyn Brooks. Our Unity is like a gently flowing river which waters the earth with blessings. ---St. Mary Euphrasia. Human beings must always be on the watch for the coming of wonders. ---E.B. White. Let me fall If I must. The One I will become will catch me. ---Baal Shemtov. We are not alone. There is always an unseen power working for righteous.    ---Olympia Brown. Ivan "Atrayo" Pozo-Illas, has devoted 22 years of his life to the pursuit of clairvoyant automatic writing channeling the Angelic host. Ivan is the author of the spiritual wisdom series of "Jewels of Truth" consisting of 3 volumes published to date. He also channels inspired conceptual designs that are multifaceted for the next society to come that are solutions based as a form of dharmic service. Numerous examples of his work are available at "Atrayo's Oracle" blog site of 12 years plus online. Your welcome to visit his website "Jewelsoftruth.us" for further information or to contact Atrayo directly.