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gaijin-fujin-resonance · 20 days ago

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How Buck-Tick Found Me: A Fan Origin Story

I though I had written this all out before, but probably on a more ephemeral format.

Buck-Tick discovered me by accident in early 2022. I don't even known how many near-misses I must have had. The only time I had ever previously heard them was Aphex Twin's remix of In The Glitter on 26 Mixes For Cash in 2003. (Why, oh why didn't B-T release Shapeless in the UK in 1994, when I was into many of the artists on it!?!?) But despite having many friends who were into the noisier end of J-Rock (and tried force-feeding me bORIS or Boredoms), not once did anyone suggest B-T. I'm still mad about that!

On 25th February 2022, I was idly reading an interview with a K-Pop producer on The Guardian, who mentioned his teenage obsession with Visual Kei. The picture (of Versailles) on that linked article intrigued me. So I went straight to Spotify and looked up "Old School Visual Kei". The fourth song in grabbed my attention to the point where I looked up the artist - the combination of trip-hop beats; ethereal, shoegazey guitars; and deep, breathy, slightly gothic vocals immediately sucked me in. Yes, like most western fans, my introduction to B-T was ドレス.

I listened to a couple more Visual Kei songs, but none of them did for me what that one Buck-Tick track did. I went back and hit play on their Spotify profile, and ended up listening to them for the rest of the night, until way past my bedtime. I listened to nothing else for the rest of the week, absolutely captivated by everything I heard. It was like someone had taken every single genre of music I had ever cared about from the age of 15 - positive punk, new wave, goth, techno, industrial, cyberpunk, shoegaze, electro, spacerock, drone - and just simmered them in a crockpot with distinctive Japanese flavouring.

This seems crazy to admit now, but I listened to B-T for over a year without ever even knowing what they looked like. I was vaguely aware that they were still going (the latest release at that point was Go-Go B-T Train - I love trains with all my middle-aged British heart so that was a winner for me.) But the singles from Izora started popping up on my Release Radar. Every time one came on, I would find myself sitting upright, paying attention and going to check who it was by. Oh, wow, that old Japanese band has got a new album out? Cool!

I started following the tags on Tumblr. I liked the look of the singer; he reminded me of a cross between Blixa Bargeld and Brett Anderson. In May 2023, shortly after the release of Izora, a gifset wandered across my feed. No source, no tag of what video or song or even album it was. Just the most AESTHETIC images I had ever seen.

The singer was beautiful, but it wasn't the singer that captured me, it was the visual world that this video hinted at.

I spent the next two months chasing down every B-T video on YouTube, trying to find the source of this snippet. Annoyingly, it wasn't in the official videos on their channel. I went on a Deep Dive, until I found it was Love Me, in a fan-assembled playlist of all their early videos. Honestly, whoever compiled this thing: you CHANGED MY LIFE. I wish I could pinpoint the moment that I switched from "wow, I really like this band" to "OH MY GOD THE NEW HYPERFIXATION THAT WILL CONSUME ME FOR THE NEXT FEW YEARS" - maybe it was somewhere between Love Letter and Heroine on this playlist?

I honestly thought I was going to fall in love with the handsome singer, like everyone else on earth. I started devouring Cayce's blog and BT Zone, looking for clues. I read the Japanese Wikipedia entry through Google Translate back when the EngliIh language version was little more than a stub. (Honestly, there was more information about the band on TV Tropes when i started researching.) But the more I read, the more I watched, the more I listened, the more I found myself drawn to the little blond guitarist. Interviews and fact sheets revealed we had a huge number of random, coincidental commonalities. But when he whipped out a theremin during SSL (inbetween commanding said singer to lick his boots) I was lost. You don't choose your Honmei, your Honmei chooses you. He chose hard. I can remember my oldest friend, around her birthday in August, laughing at me, saying "this Imai person has eaten your brain, huh?"

So I guess I had about a year and a half of liking the music, and about 3 or 4 months of being in the fandom before Atsushi collapsed onstage, and everything changed.

...

So although I'm no longer a New Fan, I feel like I have more in common with that experience. I wish I had decades of Deep History with the band - listening to their albums in order, I can hear all of the places in their long history where their taste and aesthetic aligned perfectly with whatever music I was listening to at the time. I do have that Deep History with many of their influences, enough that I feel I have secondhand familiarity with what they were doing.

I certainly understand why fans with a 30+ year history with the band might feel unsettled about the future and trepidation about B-T Mk II. (Except... among the people I follow, it doesn't seem like it's the long-haul fans who have already weathered so many changes, who are having the most trouble with it? The 30+ year fans seem to be the most loyal to the whole group as a concept, with or without Atsushi's corporeal presence.) But that's not where I am.

I had a 35 year history thrown at me to absorb in a few months. I've had 20 months of B-T with Atsushi, and 13 months of B-T without. Change is inevitable. So I feel like I am completely open to a second chapter of my fandom which is different from the first?

Note: Your Mileage May Vary. The way I do fandom is not the only way of doing fandom. All approaches to fandom are valid. You do you, and allow me to do me.

#buck-tick #hermeneutics #fan origin stories #long post

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corelliaxdreaming · 2 years ago

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Katie's 2022 Reading Stats

It's that time of year again, folks! (I get excited about this in a silly way lol; I kinda like numbers!) As a reminder, a single "book" has a loose definition - it's anything that gets a single entry in GoodReads - a picture book, a full-length adult novel, a single comic, a volume of a comic series, etc. etc.

Reading goal: 175 books Actual books read: 200 books

By Genre: Aspec characters - 6 books (3%) Picture books - 30 books (15%) Witchy books - 27 books (13.5%) Canon Star Wars novels - 10 books (5%) Canon Star Wars comics - 15 books (7.5%) Legends Star Wars novels - 27 (13.5%) Legends Star Wars comics - 3 books (1.5%) Star Wars reference books - 5 books (2.5%) Misc. Star Wars books - 13 books (6.5%) General/Other books - 63 books (31.5%)

Star Wars Legends novels numbers were way up because I read through a bunch of YA stuff. I also finally started NJO!!

Witchy books also include self-help and general sort of inspirational stuff, because I categorize as I want. :P For real, though, they're more related than you might think. Anyway, since that's all a totally new genre for me...that number didn't exist before lol.

I didn't read much aspec stuff this year, and I want to change that going forward. I've still got a ton I've bought but not read.

I combined similar categories to make the chart a little more readable.

[ID: A pie chart showing the "By Genre" numbers and titled "Katie's Books Read 2022 by Genre." Aspec books - 3% (red), Picture books - 15% (orange), Witchy books - 13.5% (yellow), Writing/Publishing books - 0.5% (green), General/Other books - 31.5% (blue), Star Wars - Canon books & comics - 12.5% (purple), Star Wars - Legends books & comics - 15% (cyan), and Star Wars - Reference & other books - 9% (gray).]

By Medium: eBooks - 119 books (59.5%) Audiobooks - 48 books (24%) Physical books - 33 books (16.5%)

Looking at the audiobook numbers makes me quite sad, because since changing jobs I have basically no time to listen to them, so the numbers have dropped to basically zero there. I miss it.

Physical books jumped up because I spent more time at Half Price and spent the last Readathon specifically getting through as many of my shorter physical books as I could.

eBooks remain firmly in the lead, because they're my favorite format, both cheaper and more convenient. (I like to point out to people that my phone being 1,000 books is way different than shelves in my one-room apartment being 1,000 books.)

[ID: A pie chart showing the above "By Medium" numbers and titled "Katie's Books Read 2022 by Medium." Physical books - 16.5% (yellow), eBooks - 59.5% (blue), and Audiobooks - 24% (red).]

Faves and Least Faves

I gave one-star reviews to eight books, unsurprisingly several Star Wars canon books, a few Grishaverse books, and a couple of others. Those first two are groups of books I know I don't really enjoy, but let's not spend a lot of time on the negative here.

Eight books got five stars from me:

Star Wars: X-wing: Rogue Squadron unabridged audiobook, written by Michael A. Stackpole, read by Marc Thompson

Star Wars: X-wing: Wedge's Gamble unabridged audiobook, written by Michael A. Stackpole, read by Marc Thompson

Brina: A Pagan Picture Book, written by Andrea Stein, illustrated by Cayce Matteoli

Star Wars: Join the Rebellion!, written by Shari Last, illustrated by Dan Crisp

Star Wars: The Tiny Book of Lengendary Women, from Insight Editions

Monster High Character Guidebook, written by Kristin Mayer

The World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones, written by George R.R. Martin, Elio M. García Jr., and Linda Antonsson

Strange Planet #1, by Nathan W. Pyle

I was proofreading this post and decided to go back and add more numbers and charts. :P So here's the star review breakdown:

1 star - 8 books (4%) 2 stars - 53 books (26.5%) 3 stars - 97 books (48.5%) 4 stars - 34 books (17%) 5 stars - 8 books (4%)

These numbers aren't at all surprising, since I'm well aware that the majority of my ratings are three stars, and it's relatively rare that I go above or below that. For me, three stars is basically "it was aight." Four is "it was very good," five is "I loved it!/it was basically perfect!", two is "ew", and one is "it totally sucked/was completely offensive."

[ID: A pie chart showing the above star ratings numbers and titled "Katie's Books Read 2022 by Rating". 1 star - 4% (red), 2 stars - 26.5% (orange), 3 stars - 48.5% (yellow), 4 stars - 17% (yellow-green), and 5 stars - 4% (green).]

[ID: A bar chart showing the above star ratings numbers and titled "Katie's Books Read 2022 by Rating." 1 star - 8 books (red), 2 stars - 53 books (orange), 3 stars - 97 books (yellow), 4 stars - 34 books (light green), 5 stars - 8 books (darker green).]

Owned Kindle Books This is a new category in this year's Statening, as I'm curious to see how it changes going forward. I buy a lot of eBooks thanks to BookBub keeping me up to date on sales and free offerings every single day. And, no joke, buying and reading are different but related hobbies. XD

Total Kindle books owned - 996 books Read - 357 books (36%) Unread - 639 books (64%)

I've also got piles and piles of unread physical and audiobooks, but I'm not about to attempt counting those!

Plans for 2023 Gonna keep my GoodReads goal at 175. I know I can make that, and I can always raise it later. I'd love to do an even 200, but I personally feel shitty if I don't reach it and/or have to lower it, so I guess we'll maybe call that the stealth stretch goal.

Continue to read the new Star Wars books. Get back to NJO! With 18ish books left in the series, I seriously doubt I'll finish it, but I am really looking forward to the Enemy Lines duology, so let's cross our fingers for that. I also might go back and read some of the earlier books I haven't done. Scourge is the only New Republic era book I skipped, and I want that giant, shiny "ERA COMPLETE" checkmark. I also read a few more Episode I Adventures books while my phone wasn't really working, so maybe finish that out. They're very short.

I accidentallied myself back over the A Song of Ice and Fire cliff this year, reading Fire & Blood in preparation for the House of the Dragon show, and then following it up with A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms and The World of Ice & Fire. I bought but haven't read yet The Rise of the Dragon (because when I finished World, I was not ready to sit through the entire Targaryen story for the third time in a row again right away). I plan to reread the actual ASOIAF series - something I've been meaning to do for ages.

Lastly, I went through that ridiculous number of Kindle books I have and marked a bunch - 89, in fact - as "2023". And since it ended up at that number, obviously I won't get through even most of them, but essentially these are ones I want to read more than the ones not in this category, so I want to get through as many of them as I can in the coming year to pare down that "owned but unread" number a bit.

#katie reads #The Statening

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skydinzeal · 8 months ago

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eimearkeys · 1 year ago

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Week 4 :

In this week i started to complete my own pieces from my own research and started to create better samples. I feel i have improved significantly in embroidery as i start to create samples i can actually use.

Embroidery:

In this week i took images that i took in the club and started to focus of the crowd. I allowed individuals to be selected out of the crowd. I took my materials and placed my image on top of the hoop. I then used to germinate and started to freely move the hoop allowing me to slowly thread round individuals. The image was a rough guideline so i was more accurate when create the outlines of people. This piece was based on a the artist ‘Cayce Zavaglia’ this is due to how this identity focuses on identity. This relates to my sample as i go over people without showing their actually face but recognising that they are present at the club. The are identified with out actually knowing who they know while showing that there were there and was an addition to the setting. The image shown below was before i embroidered into it.

Print:

In this print session i was recreating the club in Turkey that was outside and incorporated not the normal things like palm trees. To add texture i printed the netting material but soon realised it can not be used under the heat press due to sticking to the previous material. I created a collage of images and over lapped to recreate the setting. I used the artist ‘James Collagraph’ as he overlaps his work create different textures and dimensions.

Sketchbook:

In this session i took an image i took in the same club in turkey and created a collage with it however i used the artist ‘Gaby Trinkaus’ as she uses images and cuts out certain images and draws in the missing pieces. I attempted this task but due to not being an artists felt i could not reach my full potential due to my lack of drawing skills. But i did give this my best shot and feel by looking at this you get the idea of what was ment to be there . It pushed me out of my comfort zone and i was happy with the outcome.

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fr3akinthecorner · 1 year ago

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artifactsbeyondtime · 1 year ago

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talonabraxas · 2 years ago

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Arcturus Gateway On October 17, the Sun makes its annual alignment with one of the brightest stars in the night sky, Arcturus. As our Sun comes into alignment with Arcturus, we are able to merge with its energy and receive its incredible frequencies on Earth. We should feel this Gateway of Arcturian energy with us from October 16th through to the 18th.Arcturus is about 25 times bigger than our Sun and is located north of the celestial equator. You can see it shining brightly from both hemispheres, and it has a distinct orange-red hue. As a bright shining star, Acturus captured the attention of our ancient ancestors.Many myths and legends were shared about Arcturus, and it was used as a guiding star for those making the long journey across the seas.In western astrology, Arcturus is believed to be a lucky star that carries the energy of prosperity and determination. It indicates that if we work hard and are fair and honest in our pursuits, we will be justly rewarded. In Vedic astrology, Arcturus is known as Swati, which means “very beneficient.”Edgar Cayce, the famous psychic and prophet has also channeled information from Arcturus, saying it was home to a highly advanced alien race. Other psychics and mystics have also channeled information from this star. There are also Arcturian starseeds on Earth, which are those that descended from Arcturus and feel a strong connection to the star.As the Sun aligns with Arcturus, we are able to receive its light codes directly to the planet and straight into our bodies. These light codes will enter as a column of bright blue light that descends from the heavens straight down into the top of our heads. From October 16th-October 18th, visualize this blue column of light shooting through the center of your body.Feel this bright blue light, lifting your mood, opening your own energy gates, connecting you to the abundance all around, and inviting more joy into every cell of your body. Arcturians are light-hearted beings. They remind us to not take life so seriously and to remember that this is all part of a much bigger “game.”While life feels so real and so serious to us while we are living it, things are not really what they seem. In fact, our limited capabilities mean that we miss so much. We are only ever seeing part of the details, so we must not get too attached to what we are seeing, hearing, and feeling. Arcturians are incredibly gentle and loving beings, they do not know hate the way humans do. As our Sun aligns with Arcturian energy, we can all be reminded that our ability to love is so much greater than our ability to hate.Hating is easy, but loving is where we find our true courage and strength. Learning to love ourselves, love each other, and love those that have wronged us will lead us to a new power. Even though it seems hard or challenging to show and find love for those that we deem bad or dangerous or even evil, if we open our hearts to recognize that the same love that made them have made us, then we start to heal ourselves and the planet.Just remember the next time you are upset with someone or mad about something- remember that it is easy to be upset, but it is more powerful and more liberated to ask- how can I love instead? You must also learn to forgive yourself because remember, nothing is as it seems. The “wrongdoings” that you make in this life could actually be part of something you are not aware of.Ever feel that you have been unfairly treated? It seems that way at the time but everything makes sense in the end. When you step out of your human body, you will see how everything is connected and everything has its place. Even the notion of feeling unfairly treated has its place!The Universe is not random, there is a structure and order, just like every cell of your body has structure and order. It is just that when you are in a human body, this structure and order appears somewhat chaotic to you. This is how it should be, for if you learned the order, the game would be up! And you are here to play a game of sorts.Even though you may be thinking – I want out of this game! Your soul agreed to be here. As hard as that sounds, this game is not just a game for entertainment, it’s a game for something much more. We cannot share all of the information with you here on this “game”, but if you ask your own heart and soul you may just receive a memory or a ping, reminding you that nothing is as it seems.You may even be able to journey yourself back through the hall of records and see yourself before you came into this life mapping out how your avatar was going to “play the game”. This Universe is so big and grand and there are so many forces we are feeling at different times. You work on the planets in your solar system (astrology), but really, you are connected and part of all of it.You cannot just take the focus of one planet or one star and say- there, that’s it. The Universe is not so easy to decode, try as you may.We can tell you that while the Universe and stars like us are a good place to look, an even better place to look is inside of you.Rather than look to the movements of the planets, look to the movements of yourself. Look to the subtle changes and reflections that are taking place in your own inner Universe. But we understand, sometimes it is easy and even necessary to look outside of yourself rather than within. That is why you have eyes to see and lips to tell and feelings to feel.Humans are complex and yet so simple all at the same time. But know that we always come in love. You can ask to connect and talk to us at any time, and if you feel love then you know it is us. Your planet is about to go through a huge metamorphosis and shift in the coming months. You should see how excited — and a little bit concerned, we all are across the Galaxy.Think of yourself as part of Earth’s energy. The entire planet is getting an upgrade and moving up to new levels, which means so too are you. Big things are in the works for Earth, but don’t worry so much about it all. You should be used to all this by now! Know that even though things seem like the end they are never the end.Remember that nothing is really as it seems so don’t get so attached to outcomes and the things that find you. Learn to laugh it off a little for it’s never as real as you think it is. You think that life has a plan for you but actually it is the other way around. You are a plan for life. You get to decide what life is and how it needs to be “lived.”Over the years humans have tried to create some order and structure for comfort and security, but there are better ways coming. If you are struggling, know you are not alone. And if you are not struggling, know it is your job to help those who are. Help each other like you would want to be helped. Don’t take things for granted and know that all of this is temporary. You may be struggling today, but some day you won’t be. You may be fine today, but struggling tomorrow. So don’t judge. And do go out of your way to help each other.

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iwritethat · 5 years ago

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Jason Todd: Paint Job

A/N: Here we go again :)

>>>>——————————>

"Oh my god, is this symbol painted on your bike?"

"Of all things, that's what you pick up on?!" The vigilante yelled back in an exasperated yet distracted tone, evidently frustrated as he released his sleeping hold on the final thug.

"I wouldn't have if it wasn't so bad - it's all over the headlight. You do this with your helmet on or something?" You wittily responded, standing from your crouching position in front of his motorcycle.

"I don't have to explain myself to you now run along and stay out of trouble!" Red Hood waved you off, at this point simply wanting to get on with the rest of his night.

"Ooooh, look whose getting defensive - how 'bout you bring it to my shop, (L/n) Autos, tomorrow night once I'm closed and I'll give it a custom paint job free of charge, think of it as a..." Your hands rested on your hips as you drifted off toward the end of your statement apparently in thought. The way your brows furrowed was quite cute actually.

"A thanks for saving your life?" The vigilante cockily finished for you once getting on his bike, but you shook your head and sassily shot him down.

"Ew, no. An upgrade, I mean wow."

"Rude, so ungrateful nowadays." The tone was unbelievably sarcastic and you knew he was rolling his eyes under the helmet but you couldn't care less, only folding your arms and responding with a dead tone.

"Uh Huh, I'll see you tomorrow 11pm. Got it?" You called after him, the male speeding off into the night - maybe Mrs C keeping you late had its meanings. God that mysterious woman...

In honesty you didn't think he'd show up, or if he'd even heard you after he'd raced off. Maybe you should've thanked him for preventing those assholes from robbing you instead of insulting his ride yet you stayed up after closing just in case.

A diligent knock brought you back to reality, the sound of clanging metal echoing through your workshop as you heaved open the massive entrance door. There stood your knight in leather armour, helmet still covering his identity as he leaned against the wall.

"That offer still open?"

"For that atrocity, hell yes." You internally winced at your inability to be kind to your saviour but breathed a sigh of relief when he laughed and handed you his keys.

"How long do you want it?"

"Hmm, give me a week."

"Whatever you want doll." And with that he was gone, off grappling across Gothams skyline with nothing but effortless beauty.

It had been a taxing week without his baby, but hopefully you didn't disappoint - Jason creaked open the door to your unique workshop, immediately noticing his newly designed motorcycle and it took his breath away.

"Woah..."

He walked around it admiringly, fingers delicately tracing your beautiful handiwork as he went, still unable to comprehend that this masterpiece was once his bike before coming to a stop at the station a metre or two away and inspecting your handwritten checklist.

Red Hoods ‘Thank You’:

• Matte Black = nice finish

• Red line detailing throughout cuz the guy likes red apparently.

• Detachable symbol, nicely painted

• Fixed engine -> more efficient

• Customised weaponry

• Taunt Hood about upgrades

A content laugh escaped him at the mocking words, you truly hadn't changed since he'd been gone and it only made him miss you more - where were you anyway??? He'd carefully scanned the area, finding your sleeping form curled up on the couch and shaking his head he made his way over, stopping in front of you with an amused expression only faltering when he took in your appearance. A red hoodie draped your figure - his hoodie, the sleeves reached the joints of your fingers and it was now stained with motor oil over the time you'd worked in it but honestly you rocked it better than he ever did. He’d given it to you when you were walking through Gothams back alleys together, yourself smugly complaining about the dropping temperatures before Jason had mercilessly thrown it at you rather than admit he cared about your wellbeing as his closest friend. It didn’t stop you from taunting him about his feelings though.

It was apparent you'd attempted to wait up for him so you could check off the last thing on your list but had failed to do so, it was rather late and you'd clearly worked hard on his ride that day. Jason knew he shouldn't wake you, and he couldn't handle making conversation knowing you wore what was once his, that you hadn't forgotten him. Instead he covered you with the fluffy blanket folded over the arm and left $500 on the table beside the takeout bag marked with 'C's Diner', memories of that place came flooding back and he'd silently decided to take Roy there that week. Muttering a thanks before leaving, Red Hood took his bike and left little evidence of ever being there at all.

The scent of the 60’s themed diner was always pleasant, it was a common occurrence for you to stop by after working late. It reminded you of Jason, and the elderly owner remembered you two well considering the liveliness you both once brought and honestly that charming woman was basically a parental figure in your life. Although she always has a suspiciously omniscience aura about her - Nanny McPhee incarnate as you and your lost friend had joked when you were children.

Unbeknownst to you, Jason remembered this place too though he regularly avoided it until tonight and ensured to drag Roy along with him out of convenience. The pair sat in a booth discussing Jason's bike upgrades when a mug of hot cocoa was set in front of Jason much to his confusion.

"Excuse me, I'm pretty sure I didn't order this."

"Ah, it's on the house. Mrs Cayce’s orders." The (h/c) waitress who Jason knew wasn't an employee proudly winked, saluting the elderly owner who waved over to him.

"Hey uh... do I know you at all? Just you seem familiar and Mrs Cayce clearly does..."

"Nope, don't think so, I would've remembered a beauty like you." The ravenette shrugged, you nodded walking back over the counter to converse with the owner once more.

Roy gave his partner a questioning glance, the sudden realisation and content smile briefly crossing Jason's features had him worried.

"Damn... Mrs C remembers me, I was hoping she'd forget. A friend and I used to come in here on the regular before the whole death thing, sometimes even help out and we would always order this."

"I didn't know Jaybird, sorry... But for the record this is the best diner we've been to in a while and I get if you don't wanna talk about it - but woah who was the waitress, d’ya think she’s single?" His partner questioned, gaze lazily drifting over to your laughing form.

"That was the miracle responsible for my bike, but (Y/n) doesn't work he-"

"Really?! EXCUSE ME?" Roy abruptly cut his best friend off, ensuring his wave caught your attention - eyes practically sparkling after hearing that information.

"What the fuck was that?! Don't, it's more conplicat-" Jason grabbed Roys offending arm, pinning it down to the table with his hushed warning.

"Despite me bringing over the drink earlier, I'm not actually a waitress here so you might wanna call -"

"(Y/n)! They're nice boys who probably wanted to talk to a beautiful lady, would you be polite for once in your life?" Mrs Cayce's words caused you to wince, your 'motherly scolding' spurring a frustrated sigh but in the end the judgments always brought you not necessarily what you wanted but what you needed.

"... How can I help you sir?" It was incredibly forced, as was the brief uninterested smile you gave them and the low but polite tone.

"I'm Roy and this is Jason. I was wondering if you could take a look at my ride if that's okay? The Red Hoods' or whoever’s is pretty sweet and he gave all credit to you." Admittedly, they noticed the positive change in demeanour at the mention of mechanics as Roy continued his request.

"Seriously?! He did?! Yes, 100 times yes! I’d lo- wait... Jason... as in Jason Jason? I do know you, don't I?" You were on the verge of squealing before that name registered, how the face matched your memories of your long lost friend and almost immediately your attention focused solely on the ravenette in front of you.

"..."

His silence wasn't considered useful, although his signature guilty expression gave it away, the awkwardly sheepish smirk he always wore when he knew you were right, his facial features were more mature and he was more handsome than you remembered - though you'd wished he'd never died in the first place. In fact you didn't even give a second thought to how he was sitting before you, instead trusting in the happiness he always blessed you with when in his presence.

"Fuck you nerd." Instantly you'd excitedly tackled him to the booth cushion regardless of your contrasting vocabulary, his arm wrapped around your waist whilst the other grabbed the back of the booth for stability since you'd almost pinned him to the seat.

"Rude much?" He abruptly commented, a playful undertone to his voice.

"Give me a break, you're supposed to be dead! I don’t know how or why but it's me Jason, we've always told each other everything..."

"I know, I didn't want to put you through anymore pain."

"You were a pain that I enjoyed having dumbass." Your tone was soft, more meaningful than he'd expected and it encouraged him to tell you everything.

"(Y/n) I-"

"Save the explanation for later, let me just enjoy your company for now and then I gotta show you my place! I managed to get my own mechanic shop and I fixed up Red Hoods bike - the Red Hood! God I have so much to tell you!" Despite knowing the excited tone you held was technically for him, he had no intentions of telling you who he was just yet, after all he was more than content to have you in his life again rather than longing for more of your time when saving your dumb ass under his alias.

That was the only reason he'd come to your garage that night, to enjoy your familiar company a little longer, if it were anyone else he wouldn't have bothered but for you? He'd still do anything for you.

"Me too doll, for a start this is Roy Harper..."

The owner Mrs Cayce carefully studied the scene, towel drying off your favourite mug as she continued to watch with a small smirk on her features and mysterious glint in her eyes.

"Why, it's about time you finally brought those two together isn't it Universe? Better late than never I suppose - but don’t you start any love triangle business ya hear?"

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #dc #dc imagine #roy harper

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voicesfromthelight · 6 years ago

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Healing Work In The Akashic Records Through Dreaming

Today, I’d like to talk a bit about some interesting new experiences I’ve been having with working with the energy of the Akashic Records, made famous in the West in the early 1900s by the “Sleeping Psychic,” Edgar Cayce. While my approach, so far, has been somewhat experimental in limiting the practice exclusively to dream work, the results have been powerful enough that I think it’s worth sharing my initial impressions. Here is how it all started.

Some time ago, I was going through a very difficult period in my personal life, and frequently consulting with my guides about how to cope with the turmoil I was experiencing. One day, feeling out of options, I rather petulantly asked them if there was any way we could simply “fix” my situation through psychic means. I received an answer I didn’t expect. “Yes, but we would need to go into your Akashic Records in order to do that.” While I knew of their existence, this wasn’t a modality I had actively explored before, nor had the guides previously alluded to the records. I said, “OK. Can we please work on that, then?” The guides agreed.

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, the general consensus on the Akashic Records (from the Sanskrit “Akasha”), is that they are a cosmic archive, or energetic entity, in which information on every soul’s incarnation, past, present, and potential future, is recorded and can be accessed. Every action we take imprints itself there, and as such, the archives are constantly evolving. Certain other things, such as buildings, can also have their history recorded in the records. In addition to retrieving information, the archives can be used to heal toxic personal patterns and resolve relationships. Working on these issues through the records is especially useful when the problems are, supposedly, rooted in previous lives. The theory is that by revisiting certain events and “rewriting” them in the archive, we can change, or balance out, the ways in which the ripple effects of those events affect us in the present, therefore healing our futures. (While I generally prefer to work with methods that deal with information that can be easily verified, in the case of past life work in the Akashic Records, what matters to me is the practical healing and integration that can be achieved.) The records are said to operate with their own set of overseeing spirit guides, generally known as the Lords of The Records, and to provide their own energetic healing modality through lifting the individual into the vibration of their true, cosmic Self during the reading. Indeed, the distinction of working in the Records, as opposed to other psychic work, is that it is said to provide a perspective on an individual’s life that transcends their current personality or identity. The Lords of The Records oversee permissions to access the records, and act as facilitators in channeling the information contained therein. Many teachers of Akashic Record reading have alluded to the fact that humanity has recently been granted open access to the records, in the interest of supporting our collective spiritual evolution.

The night after my initial conversation with my guides about the records, for the first time in ages, I had a lucid dream - an experience that usually acts as a trigger for some of my most valuable psychic breakthroughs. In it, I was flying above a long, crowded procession of thousands pilgrims walking down a dirt path in a grassy landscape, dressed in maroon robes. They were all headed in the same direction, toward a kind of checkpoint at the base of a bridge, at the edge of a body of water. This bridge, I understood, would lead to the Akashic Records. I was also aware that for some reason unknown to me, I had been granted a “fast pass” past the throngs of pilgrims. When I arrived at the checkpoint, however, I was asked to pay a toll. To my chagrin, I realized that I hadn’t brought any money with me, and therefore, would not be able to cross over into the records.

I wondered about the toll over the next few months. What did it stand for? In symbolic terms, a toll would usually mean either some kind of energetic exchange, an offering, personal sacrifice, or permission. If I had been given the “fast pass,” which already implicitly constituted permission, what was I missing?

I recently found what I was looking for, in the book, “How to Read The Akashic Records,” by Akashic reader and teacher Linda Howe. In it, she introduces a simple method of accessing and reading the records called the Pathway Prayer, channeled directly from the records themselves. What this prayer does, in her words, is literally build an energetic bridge to the heart of the archive, in collaboration with the keepers of the records. There it was! As my guide, Salvador, would shortly confirm, the missing “toll” had been the prayer itself. (While the Pathway Prayer can easily be found on the internet on its own, I highly recommend reading Linda’s book and learning the context of the prayer for yourself.)

Now, many Akashic Record readers are trained to channel information from the records to an effect that is nearly identical the kind of verbal channeling that I already do through clairaudient dictation. (Though, as I will elucidate in a later post, the guides have confirmed to me that there is a distinction between Akashic Record reading and work we do, the Pathway Prayer has many similarities to some of the opening meditations in my channeling preparations. It’s as if only a small tweak was needed to shift the modality to Akashic work.) While I do intend to apply Akashic reading to verbal channeling in the future, since my clairaudient sense has become so dominant of late, my primary interest in these first forays has been to use the records to support healing through a more clairvoyantly based experience - just like in the initial dream I had that led me to the bridge. What I have been moved to do is to experiment with using the Pathway Prayer in manner similar to the kinds methods one would employ in attempting to trigger lucid dreaming. So far, I have found it to be an extremely reliable way to inspire spontaneous, healing dream work. (Nearly fool-proof, in fact!)

Here is the very simple method I have used.

1. Before going to bed, on a night on which you have not consumed anything such as alcohol or drugs that would interfere with your energetic integrity within 24 hours, and are feeling calm, concentrate on an issue in your life that you would like to heal.

2. Recite the Pathway Prayer to open your Akashic Records. Then, allow yourself to drift off to sleep.

3. As soon as you begin to wake up, see if you can remember what you dreamed. Remain in the hypnagogic state for a while, if it helps. If the method has worked, you will have dreamed of something in your past, or something that seems like a past life memory, that is emotionally relevant to the issue you are working on healing.

4. Before getting out of bed, recite the prayer to close your Akashic Records. (Please remember to do this, as respecting the protocol is important in this tradition!)

5. Journal your experiences.

This method has been incredibly successful for me, so far. What I have found is that every time I recite the prayer before going to bed, my subsequent dreams, while not including any imagery specific to the archives in the sense of going into a “library,” will bring up a memory or relationship that is related, sometimes in unexpected ways, to the pattern I am trying to heal. The dream will either manifest as a balancing “mirror-image” of the remembered experience, or rewrite it in a way that heals its psychological effect. This has happened for several nights in a row. So far, I have expressed my anger to two different people whose behavior hurt me in the past (which I never did), held my grandfather’s hand as he died (I was not present during his death), and lived an alternative reality of a relationship in which, instead of being abandoned myself, I was the one who abandoned the other party. There have also been other signs of healing and integration in the dreams. My mood and outlook have tangibly improved since starting this practice, and every time I repeat the process, new layers of the healing process are uncovered.

I look forward to continuing to develop my practice through working with this new modality, and exploring its many applications. Salvador and Natalie are also quite excited about it, and I’ve even had a new guide pop up in readings, who has been drawn to me through the work I have started. In the near future, I’ll share an interview I conducted with my guides on how Akashic Record work compares to the other work we do together, what their differing advantages may be, and if there are any conflicts between working with different reading modalities. (The guides also told me a bit more about who they are in relation to me, and how they work with me to read people!)

Have you ever experimented with using established psychic protocols in new and exciting ways? What were your experiences like? Think about ways in which you can develop your practice by applying what you have learned creatively and expansively!

#akashic #akashic records #past lives #spirit guides #psychic reading #karma #healing #integration #ascension #dream work #lucid dreaming

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crowkingwrites · 6 years ago

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Ship It

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Request: If your request are open can you do another ramsay bolton where they are in high school and he is popular and he slowly falls for shy reader but he won't admit it because he is dating someone else but they hookup with each other at a party and she finds out she is pregnant with his baby and in the end they get together. I really love your writings they are amazing and your an amazing writer. Thanks

Author’s Notes: Totally didnt intend this one to be this long, but here we are.

Written for: @bittenwolf45

Words: 4973 // [Ao3 Link]

“Ms. Y/N, can you read the next paragraph out loud?” the history teacher asked you. When you shifted in your seat, you locked eyes with him again. Ramsay Bolton was among the rich and popular at North Westeros High School. He chewed at the eraser on the end of his pencil, waiting to hear you speak like the rest of the class. You enjoyed history. It was the only class you shared with him, and it was your favorite subject.

You read aloud a summary of a battle long ago. A civil war within a single house that almost destroyed everything. It was sad how a family can break apart and kill each other for power, but that was history. You’ve seen worse at home where your stepsiblings would argue with each parent. Civil war wasn’t foreign in your life. It was relatable.

The school bell rang for the day and everyone was out of their seats within seconds. You understood. History seemed bland to everyone else. It was boring. Who wanted to listen to a bunch of words dead men said? You packed up your things slowly, taking care to keep everything in neat order. You almost left the classroom when your teacher called your name.

“Sorry, Mr. Cayce. Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I only wanted to give you something,” Mr. Edgar Cayce handed over a pamphlet and an application to you. “There’s an internship program at the museum downtown. One of my past students is in charge there. I recommended you and showed her your last two papers. I think you should apply. It would open some doors for you.”

You smiled softly. “Thank you, Mr. Cayce. That’s really thoughtful of you. I’ll think about it.” You tucked the pamphlet and application between your folder and notebook and ducked your way out of the classroom. The next thing you saw was a redheaded girl kissing Ramsay’s cheek. She played with his fingers and they walked off together. His eyes lingered on you for a moment and then back to his girlfriend.

You couldn’t say it stung you. Ramsay and his girlfriend had been going out with each other for months. You were used to seeing them together. It was hard to swallow. You daydreamed so many times over the idea of you kissing his cheek and playing with his fingers. You also daydreamed of other thoughts that made your cheeks warm.

None of your naughty thoughts were known to the world. You only had one friend you were attached to. And even he didn’t know about your quiet crush on Ramsay.

“So, are you going to do it?” “I don’t know. There’s just a lot of people, you know?” you sighed. “What if I mess up something?”

“You won’t,” David reached his hand over to touch yours. “This is something you really love. Working at the museum for the summer? Getting out of your horrid house? Surrounded by artifacts and other people like you? It’s perfect for you. I think I know what’s really wrong here.”

“What?”

“You’re scared, honey,” David only called you honey when he dropped any kind of truth on you. The first time you brought Crocs? Honey. When you thought Santa Claus was real at 15? Honey. When you thought that RuPaul’s Drag Race was a show only for gays? Hoooonnnnnney. Ru Paul’s Drag Race is for everyone.

David picked up his phone and opened Facebook. His newsfeed with buzzing with LGBTQA articles, friends posting selfies of themselves, and people haring inks of cute kitten videos. His friends number was upwards of 250 people. You frowned. You knew exactly what he was going to say.

“You’re so scared of rejection that you miss out on everything! I mean, look at—

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“And the point still stands,” David firmly spoke. “This is perfect for you. Take it, damn you. I mean, fuck, if Ms. Reyes handed me an internship for Vogue, you best believe I would not be here moping to my best friend about it.”

“I guess you’re right. It would be really cool,” you half-smiled. The idea of spending all summer in a museum with people like you. Away from people screaming. Away from everyone who didn’t matter. That was perfect. “Could you help me pick out an outfit for the interview?”

“Interview? Are you getting paid?” David’s eyes lit up like Christmas. His flat brown hair seemed to have static electricity running through it. His glasses reflected like a Japanese anime character ready to make a stand.

“No, there’s a couple rounds of interviews to get a place in the program,” you explained, almost laughing. “I wanna look my best.”

David’s smile turn to sheer horrific glee. “I watched Devil Wears Prada 79 times. I am prepared for this.”

The flats you borrowed from David’s sister went perfectly with the green dress that David picked from your closet. Your hair was loose in curls around you, and David forced you in his bathroom to wear makeup. It certainly wasn’t your comfort zone, but at least your feet were comfy.

After receiving instructions from front desk information, you found yourself in the waiting room of Anna Nguyen, PhD. The room was mostly empty save for Anna’s assistant at her desk and Ramsay sitting in one of the few chairs by the office. You found yourself unable to breathe for a moment. Your head filled with questions.

Was what he doing here? Is he wearing an Armani suit? Does he even like history? What was he doing here? Did Mr. Cayce give him an application too? Is he that smart? What was he doing here?

Why was he here?

You quietly made your way over to one seat over from Ramsay. You took out your resume and recommendation letters and read over everything. You heard something shift and a voice.

“Hey, it’s you,” Ramsay said. “Y/N? We have History together.” Your mouth ran dry. You cleared your throat before you said anything.

“Yeah.”

“I guess you’re here for the internship?” He asked you. You nodded your head. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Not much for talking, hm? You’re probably smarter than me, but I’ll still get a place in the program. Don’t think you’re better than me.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’m better than you.” You explained. “But why are you here? You don’t like history.”

“You’re wrong.” Ramsay shot at you. “I do. Mr. Cayce wanted me to be here. He gave me the app.” Your questions were being slowly answered.

“I didn’t know. I thought I was the only one.”

“Well, you weren’t, Miss Perfect.”

“I’m not perfect.”

“Do you have straight A’s?”

“Yes, but—

“Then you’re perfect.” He replied with a huff. You knew Ramsay was hard to get along with. He wasn’t popular because everyone liked him. He was popular because everyone feared him. You still liked him anyways. He never bullied you, but this conversation wasn’t going well. You heard the assistant call your name. She gestured you to go inside the office for the interview. You nodded and left Ramsay behind.

“Hey, Perfect,” Ramsay called out to you. You turned to him one more time before entering. He winked. “Good luck in there.”

You thought about that for the rest of the day. On the way home, your eyes glazed over. In your bedroom, you stared at your personal journal. Trying to figure what to say. The words played over and over. His wink. That small smile. Someone had to know. You couldn’t keep these thoughts to yourself.

“What?” David said at lunch that next Monday louder than you wanted.

“Keep your voice down,” you whispered.

“I didn’t even know you liked people! Ramsay tho?” David nodded, tucking his finger under his chin. “I can see it. I ship it.”

“What? No. He has a girlfriend. It’s fine.”

“Still ship it.” David reaffirmed.

“He didn’t like me very much during the conversation we had.”

“Did he smile at you?” David asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “And he winked at me.”

David dropped his water bottle like a mic. “Ship it.”

When you received the email that you made it into the next round of interviews, you were ecstatic. This time you showed up in a pink blazer with a white blouse underneath. Your black slacks complimented your short heels, but what you liked the most was the statement necklace David nabbed from another friend for you. You swore that your closet was anything David could get his hands on.

You showed up holding your phone in your hands. You scrolled through every note you took from social media about group interviews. Your breathing matched your heart. Both seemed to be going fast. Group interviews were never your thing, and will never be your thing.

“You alright?” Ramsay asked. You looked up to see the Bolton with a button up shirt and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You it your lip. You considered lying for a moment, but you were terrible at lying. Why would you lie? It was written all over your face. This was not fine.

“No,” you said in the smallest voice. Your downcast eyes found the floor much more comforting to look at than your crush. “Is it the group interview? You have nothing to worry about,” Ramsay said casually. “They only do this to make good candidates nervous. You’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re perfect,” Ramsay gave you another small smile. “You’ll be measured against your peers, that’s me, and they’ll see how good you are.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m still getting a place in the program. Don’t worry about that.” His cockiness was on full display. He eyed other candidates as they filed into the room. Both of you took a seat next to each other. Ramsay leaned over to you. “Put it away. You’ll look distracted. If you’re still nervous, remember that you have the highest GPA of everyone in this room.”

“What? That’s so dumb. Why would I—

“You do. I already did the research. You have the highest GPA out of everyone in this room.” Ramsay finished his thought. He leaned back as the group interview started. Dr. Anna was there, but it was the Program Director that led the interview. Three other candidates introduced themselves while you and Ramsay were last. They shot easy questions at first. Why do you want to be in this program? What draws you to history?

But then came the more difficult questions. Why should they pick you? What do you have to bring to the table? You answered your best until you remembered what Ramsay told you.

“Ms. Y/N, what are your biggest weaknesses?” the Program Director asked you. Everyone’s head turned towards you.

“I believe my biggest weaknesses are my shyness and how introverted I am.” You watched two of the interviewers lean forward. “I may be quiet, but it’s something I’d like to work on. If I was offered a place here, I would be in good company. Learn and teach from thoe around me and create new friendships.”

You almost wanted to slap your momma that was such a good answer. You watched Ramsay’s smile grow because of you.

“Mr. Bolton, what are your strengths?”

“I know more about that painting to the left than you do,” Ramsay’s quick tongue earned a heated response.

“Do you?” The Director challenged. Ramsay leaned forward.

“The Arnolfini Portrait was painted by Jan van Eyck in the 1430’s. It’s a double full length portrait depicting an Italian merchant and his soon to be bride.” “You can’t prove that his bride.”

“I can.” Ramsay smiled. “Erwin Panofsky and other accredited art historians regarded this as a unique form of marriage contract, recorded as a painting. It was one of the first portraits done entirely in oils and highly regarded for its perspective. Of course, that’s only a copy. The original is in London. Any questions?”

You watched the Director frown and crumble up paper on the spot. You thought you could hear him say ‘that little shit’ under his breath. After the group interview was finished, you waited around for Ramsay who spoke with the art historian. He looked at you and did another double take. He excused himself, walking towards you.

“You know, you’re not the nicest guy at school—or ever,” you shot a look at the Director whose sour face could not be wiped from his face.

“I’m not. Why do you bring it up?”

“Why are you helping me?” you asked. Your hands fiddled with your phone. “Don’t you want a place for yourself?”

“Of course I do, do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Ramsay blankly stared at you for a moment before rolling his eyes.

“This program leads to promising futures. I would rather make my alliances now,” Ramsay explained. You narrowed your eyes.

“Wha-I-Is this some kind of medieval time war game? A game of thrones? Or something?” you blurted out.

“It’s principle. I help you now. You’ll help me later.”

The words made sense, but it certainly didn’t help your feelings. You would still watch him from afar. As soon as the bell rang, Ramsay was in his girlfriend’s arms. Your stomach didn’t forgive you whenever you watched. It felt like torture every single time.

You didn’t know much about her. Only that she was just as popular, an average student, and her hair was kissed by fire. She was a fiery one. And wild. No wonder Ramsay liked her so much. And you were…the exact opposite. Quiet, unpopular, cautious, nervous. The words flowed through your head. You couldn’t hold a candle next to her.

You turned to go to your own lockers. You couldn’t watch them together anymore. Not when you and Ramsay had grown so much closer than you ever expected.

The reviewing process for the museum summer program was underway and it was only a matter of days until you found out whether or not you had a place in it or not. You decided to distract yourself in the school library going over your notes for your next history test. Your eyes almost glazed over until he sat down in front of you.

“Why are you always dressed like this?” Ramsay asked.

“What do you mean?” you replied, looking up from your notes. Ramsay gestured to your outfit. Another t-shirt and jeans. It was easy. No real thought into it.

“This. Why don’t you wear your other clothes to school?”

“The interview clothes?”

“Yeah,” Ramsay scoffed. “Don’t you want to impress some guy you like?” You felt your heart skip a beat. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“W-well, it’s just looking good isn’t that important. I would rather study.”

“Rather study,” Ramsay mocked. “High school isn’t life or death, you know. You should wear your other clothes. You’re prettier in them.”

Ramsay got up from the seat and looked towards the library entrance. His girlfriend entered and waved him over. He nodded and then looked back to you.

“Stop studying. You’ll be fine. Remember? You’re perfect.” Ramsay tapped the table twice and left. Your mind was reeling. He thought you were pretty. Well, he thought you were pretty in your ‘other’ clothes. Did he like you? No, he has a girlfriend. He likes her. He called you perfect again. Was he being sarcastic? The questions and answers spiraled in your head so much that when you were in history you almost wrote Ramsay’s name instead of the correct answer on the test.

But you tried it.

The next day you wore your ‘other’ clothes to school. You did your hair. You even put a little more makeup on. Just to see. Yes, more people looked your way, and the attention was a bit much. You noticed Ramsay’s friend looking at you longer than you were comfortable with.

It was almost lunch and you carefully put your English notebook away when you felt a close presence behind you.

“See? Much better,” Ramsay smiled. You looked around for a moment, catching Ramsay’s girlfriend eye. She was seething.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Ramsay finished texting on his phone and his attention turned back to you. “You and I are going to Mr. Cayce’s classroom.”

You looked back at her. She was still seething. You almost thought she was on fire. “Your girlfriend doesn’t seem to be too happy.”

“She doesn’t matter,” Ramsay shrugged. “Don’t worry. She’s not mad at you. She’s mad with me, and frankly it’s getting fucking annoying.” Ramsay said that last sentence particularly louder. Both of you looked her way. She rolled her eyes and walked off with their mutual friends.

The walk to Mr. Cayce’s classroom was quiet. Until, Ramsay’s hand brushed by yours. You wanted to say something or mumble some sort of apology. When you glanced at him, he seemed too satisfied with himself. As if he did it on purpose. What game was he playing at? You were going to protest his mockery with your anger when you reached Mr. Cayce’s door.

He smiled wide and welcomed you both inside. He placed his hands on his hips. “Congrats to both of you! You made it.”

You felt like you could fly. You felt a sad weight lift off your chest and joy fill it in its place. Your summer would be spent around art, statues, artifacts, and anything you could get your hands on. You would be in the company of other people who did what you wanted to do for a living. You wouldn’t be stuck in your house listening to another argument or hiding away from the tension. In your glee, you squealed and hugged Ramsay much tighter than you planned to.

You blinked and realized you were holding your crush and that his face was inches from yours. Heat rushed to your cheeks again and you let go, mumbling a short ‘sorry’. You watched Ramsay’s face go from confusion to a secret satisfaction in seconds. He was enjoying your embarrassment.

“Thank you, Mr. Cayce,” Ramsay spoke for the both of you. “What do we need to do now?”

“Keep your grades up for the rest of the year,” Mr. Cayce explained. “I’ll get more information to you when it becomes relevant. And celebrate! Both of you did so well!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Ramsay smirked. “We’ll celebrate.” He winked at you. When you told David about it, he almost fell to the floor.

“I can’t believe he said that.” David was beside himself. “He’s so into you.”

“He makes fun of me. He knows I like him a lot and he makes fun of me for it.”

“So, Ramsay’s a little mean. He’s still into you.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“He told you that you were pretty.” “He says I’m pretty in these clothes.”

“He called you perfect.”

“He’s mocking when he says that.”

“I still ship it,” David said while sipping away at his cool drink. He stopped and then he started to hit you repeatedly. “There’s a party! It’s at some fucker’s house! He’s gonna be there! We have to go!”

“What? No!” you reacted. “I don’t like parties. There’s so many people. And there’s gonna be drunk people—

“He said you two were gonna celebrate! This is it! It’s your chance!”

“I have no chance with him.” David was having none of your negativity (as best friends usually do). Before you knew it, you were at the house party in another outfit David put you in. Only this time, it wasn’t for an interview. Your thigh highs showed off your legs while your new crop top (that David may or may not have cut in the car) showed more skin you’ve ever shown in your life.

David led you into the house party. Loud music played while everyone’s conversation with each other were louder. Red solo cups were filled with a mixture of alcohol and punch. A few girls looked your way and commented on your outfit.

“Y/N? Wow! You look so good!” one of them shouted. “Total queen bee right now!” You smiled and nodded. Sometimes you forgot how nice girls were. As you continued through the party, you noticed more smoke clouds, couples kissing in secret, and someone dressed as a banana? You shook your head and kept going.

David pushed you towards Ramsay and his friends. You watched him chug down another beer. Ramsay took one look at you and spit out half of his beer. His eyes were wide as a hungry dog watching dinner be made.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, but you heard him. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you waved.

“You’re here,” Ramsay looked down your shirt. “In that.” You nodded. Silence feel between both of you. David rolled his eyes. He couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

“Have fun with your dick appointment,” David said and left without another word.

“Dick appointment?” Ramsay laughed. He looked back to you and bit his lip. “You wearing that for me?”

“No,” you said in your smallest voice. This couldn’t be anymore mortifying. Ramsay’s smile grew wicked.

“No,” he shook his head. “You’re wearing that for me.”

“Ramsay—

“Y/N,” he teased. You could smell his hoppy breath. “Am I the dick appointment?”

You bit your lip as a response. What else could you say? Ramsay’s mouth salivated like a dog. You watched him lick his lips and his eyes set on you.

“I knew it,” he said as he grabbed you. He pushed through people to get you into a small bedroom. Ramsay barricaded the door and turned to you. “You have no idea what I wanna do to you.”

You felt Ramsay’s hand run up your thigh. His fingers found their way inside your panties. They moved back and forth along your pussy. His mouth found yours not long after. Your mind raced. This is what you dreamed about. What you always wanted was now a reality. You’ve never done anything like this before.

Your hands ran through his hair, kissing him back. You couldn’t have enough. He tasted exactly like the beer he chugged and the junk food he shoved into his mouth, but who cares? In this one moment, he was yours. You opened your mouth and moaned. Ramsay’s fingers went inside of you and you moaned more from pleasure than from pain.

You found yourself in a tangle with him. Both of you were panting and sweating. Ramsay pressed himself against you as he thrusted inside of you. He was rough. He held your hands above your head and kept going. You had him. He was all over you with no sign of stopping.

Each second with him grew more intense. He buried himself in your neck. Your hands held him close, but you wanted him closer and closer. You heard the bedframe moving and the music disappear. All you heard was him grunting. All you could feel was him. His arms around your body. His mouth on yours.

He was so horrible to everyone, but he felt so wonderful. He groaned your name loud and your felt warmth between your legs. He lifted himself off of you and sat on the bed. You started to hear the loud music again. His eyes focused in the dark. As did yours. Then the shameful realization came to you.

“You cheated on her with me, didn’t you?” you asked. Your stomach churned when he didn’t answer you. You dressed yourself and set off without another word. David caught you storming out the party.

“What happened?” David asked, grabbing you. He saw your teary eyes and shaky breath.

“I just wanna go home.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Please just take me home,” you said. You couldn’t sleep for the next couple of days. You watched Ramsay hold her hand. Ramsay kiss her on the lips. All while you knew exactly what both of you did together. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak or look at Ramsay.

But he was insistent on speaking with you. He left several notes in your locker when texting wouldn’t work. He stared at you during history class. Whenever you saw him coming towards you, you avoided him. Suddenly, spending the summer with him at the museum didn’t sound wonderful anymore. If he could do that to his girlfriend, he could do that with you.

Three weeks went by just like that. Avoiding him. Not looking at him. Pretending like he didn’t exist. At first, you thought you were sick. You skipped a day and thought your nausea would go away. Then, it was the fatigue. You barely could keep awake in history class anymore. Your body felt sluggish as if you had to drag yourself to do everything. You thought it was weird that your period didn’t come.

Wait.

Your period didn’t come.

“I’m so scared,” you told David. He waited with you in his bathroom, trying to keep you calm. The seconds felt like forever.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be fine,” David rubbed your back in circles. It felt comforting, but it couldn’t solve the current issue. “This could all be stress. I mean, isn’t your stepsister suing your dad for something?”

“Yeah, for rent, and he’s countersuing.”

“See? Stress. You have a lot on your plate. It could be nothing.” David tried reassuring you, but the seconds were up. The results of the pregnancy test could change your life. Your stomach flipped and turned. Your chest felt tight. You held the small item in your hands and saw the two blue lines.

It was positive.

Everything was a blur. The room had to be spinning. This couldn’t be happening. You had plans. You wanted to go to college. You wanted so much more. Monday came around, and you felt the same. Sluggish, shitty, and trying your best. When you approached your locker for the first class of the day, you saw Ramsay. He watched you not too far away.

You had to tell him.

Quickly thinking of something, you wrote down a meeting time and place on a piece of notebook paper. You approached him saying nothing and handed him the note.

“You’re acknowledging me now? What’s this?” Ramsay took the paper and unfolded it. “What is it?”

“We’ll talk later. That time. That place. Ok?”

“We can’t talk now? Because that’s what we’re doing, we’re talking now.”

“Ramsay, I don’t have the time. I have to go to class.”

“No, you really don’t. Talk to me. Now.” Ramsay waited for you to say something. All you could manage was sigh and close your eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Ramsay.”

Ramsay blinked. He stood there, almost unfazed. “You’re what?”

“I’m pregnant. With your child. It’s yours.” Your vision started to blur. Your face felt wet. Ramsay looked around and took you aside. The bell rung and the hallway was nearly empty of everyone save for a few tardy students.

“You’re serious?” Ramsay’s hands fell on your shoulders. You nodded, trying to keep tears back. Ramsay let out a long and slow exhale.

“I’m sorry,” you said through the tears. “I can get rid of it. I’m not asking for anything.”

“Oh shut up,” Ramsay kissed your forehead, almost smiling. “This…changes a lot of things, but we can do this, alright? Stop crying.”

“We?”

“You didn’t think I would let you do this on your own, did you?” Ramsay tucked his finger under your chin.

“What about—

“We broke up. Three weeks ago. She found out from one of her friends. Took a picture of us going up the stairs. She wasn’t too happy. I didn’t really care.”

“You don’t care about a lot of things, do you?” you felt anger coursing through your veins. You wanted to slap him. Of course he didn’t care. You let your hand fly until he caught it.

“I care about you, Miss Perfect,” Ramsay said in your face. “I don’t regret what we did that night.” You looked down at your belly and then back to him. “Not even now?”

“Not even now,” Ramsay took your hand. “Are we doing this or not?”

The summer went by and so did the internship. When fall came, you opted out of going back to school with David and Ramsay. You entered into an online school where you could finish your high school degree. It was easier. Less people.

David was more than happy to help you in every way possible. He wanted to throw you a wonderfully big baby shower. That is, until you were thrown out of the house. Your father wouldn’t tolerate or deal with ‘baby drama’. David and his family took you in.

When Ramsay found out, his heart broke for you and his anger grew against your father. Ramsay moved you in with him and his family. Roose thought you were kind, but naïve. Walda, Ramsay’s stepmother, loved having you around. They were uch nicer and more forgiving than your own family.

When the day finally came, you pushed for hours. You cursed and screamed at Ramsay at first which frightened him. He’d never seen you like that. That day, he made an important mental note to never ever piss you off. You both heard the cries of your little baby girl. She had your eyes, but she barely opened them.

Ramsay and you laid back in the bed, looking down at her and reflecting on the past nine months. Both of you heard a high-pitched squeal to see David. He held an armful of balloons, a teddy bear, and flowers.

“Hi David,” Ramsay greeted. David still squeaked, looking at both you. Ramsay rolled his eyes. “What is it?”

David smiled and like a cute fangirl, he squealed, “I ship it.”

Taglist: @angelicshinigami @sugarwastaken @carilov09@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @i-theredqueen @sleepylunarwolf@trashpandabarnes @loki-0fasgard @boltonblade

#ramsay snow #ramsay bolton #ramsay imagine #ramsay bolton modern au #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton/reader #ramsay bolton x reader #ship it #game of thrones imagine #got imagine

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im5ftbutmythroat66 · 6 years ago

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Lesson Learned

Mentions of: break-ups and chocking

Note: Just something I was thinking about a in-denial Erik.

Enjoy!- I just tagged who came to mind, if you read leave feedback

Cayce and Erik had been together for a year before she decided to end their relationship. The relationship ended three months ago she was fed up with the late night calls, leaving the house to run “errands” at all times of the night, her fighting because he kept cheating, she couldn’t do it anymore. He was still in that hood nigga mindset when he didn’t need to be, he wasn’t in the hood anymore. It was very weird to watch him to not even try to change. Even though they weren’t together, they would still talk on the phone as friends.

“Come see me bae.” He spoke into the phone.

“Boy I’m not your bae, but I aint doing shit so okay”

“It’s almost lunch want to just grab some food.” He asked.

“Nah I can’t be too long I have to go run some errands, I’m just passing through.” she clarified.

Cayce was a little nervous since she had not seen him in three months, but she missed him. A little, she convinced herself, but it was more than that. She slipped on her Nike leggings, white t-shirt and her slides hopping into her black Toyota Camry. When she pulled up to his apartment building she texted him her arrival and waited. He came out his apartment doors wearing gray sweats, no boxers, a tank top, and some slides, his hair was hanging in his face. Beeping her horn looking at him through the rearview mirror and damn he looked good as hell. Walking to the car he slips into the passenger seat and reaches towards her. She opens her arm and squeezes tightly and starts to rub his hands up and down her sides softly, she should have pulled away, instead she settled in his arms.

“Damn why you always gotta smell good,” she raised her eyebrow at him.

“Why you always gotta look so damn good.” Turning his body towards her with his bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it flashing that beautiful smile.

Turning away from him, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, he always made her nervous when he stared at her. She just never got used to being with such a beautiful man. His smile falters and she feels him staring at her profile.

“So, what’s up” she spoke trying to avoid the awkwardness that was not settling.

“When we getting back together.” He pauses and raises his hand to motion her to not interrupt. “Listen I know I fucked up and I know you been out dating and shit but you know I love you right? Let’s start over I’ll forgive you, and you can forgive me.”

“Erik you know I didn’t come over here for all this and forgive me for what? Leaving you when you couldn’t get your shit together. Nah you tripping I can’t believe that dumb shit just came from your mouth.” Erik was full of shit he just didn’t want to see her with anyone and she didn’t care.

Her glare not wavering, she stared at him like he had 3 heads. His attitude abruptly changed, his nose flared, and he reached out and grabbed the back of her neck. In shock she sat still as he began to rant.

“Look I love you, that nigga you fucked.” He paused and she looked in his eyes, he looked furious and for the first time, she feared Erik would hurt her. “Cay that nigga you fucked don’t love you I fucking love you, you my girl.” Gripping her neck harder he pulled her towards him and looked in her eyes.

A single tear fell from her eyes, and she couldn’t hold back from letting the rest fall. They stayed in that position for a while just looking each other in the eye, she was too scared to turn away.

“Give me a kiss” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, she didn’t move wanting to wish that it was not really happening to her.

He pulled back seeing the tears falling from her and wondered what was wrong.

“Why you crying bruh, you know I hate when you cry.” Pulling her closer once again he kisses her cheek.

Erik didn't mean to hurt her he truly loved her. Seeing her cry made him so angry with himself for not controlling his emotions better. So he did what he did best.

“I gotta go but I’ma call you later okay.” He once again angled her face to look him in the eyes again. “Okay.”

“Yeah, Okay” she sniffled. Her body was just going through the motions, still shocked that he chocked her.

“Cay remember I love you.” He kissed her again and opened the car door exiting the car. When she saw him walk in the building she sobbed uncontrollably.

After that day Erik called and texted her everyday and she ignored his calls. She always told herself no man could touch her in an aggressive manner and get away with it. So she decided to leave him alone for good. She ignored his calls and ducked his pop-ups. He even called her mother and begged to talk with her but soon got the picture that whatever they could have would never happen now.

Her heart still aches when she thinks of him but she couldn’t let his anger destroy the both of them.

tags: @onyxvixen-writer @theunsweetenedtruth @chaneajoyyy @another-imaginesblog @dameshaemonique @iamrheaspeaks

#erik x black reader #loveaffliction

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hexdsl · 4 years ago

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Pattern Recognition (by William Gibson)

Yes, I am aware of Mr Gibson's opus.

This book was published in 2003. William Gibson wrote it (I know, Blowing your mind with FACTS!) The last time I read a new William Gibson novel was about 15 years go. Maybe more. It's odd to me that I don't seek out more of his work considering that Neuromancer is one of my favourite books ever.

I should really to a "Book Club" post about Neuromancer specifically. Also, that gives me an excuse to re-visit it, yet again. I didn't want to wite this and have people only read the opening, then tell me how I should read "The Sprawl" trilogy. I am quite familiar with the author. I "love" at least some of his work and I "like" more. So please don't read this thinking its my first ride.

Today however, we are here to talk about Pattern Recognition...

Words. So many glorious words!

William Gibson knows how to write. Fuck me. He knows how to write. He spins a novel in a way that makes it read like poetry without being so boring as to strive for rhythm. His work reads effortlessly cool. Something about the way he puts the words on the page make you "feel" the places and the moods. He does things that will have you swear he is borderline supernatural. He was good when I read The Sprawl Trilogy but now (this one was published in 2003) he's, well.. Back to "fuck me." He maybe the most elegant writer I have ever clapped eyes on. He climbs inside your damned mind with nothing but mystique and a cool that is uniquely his own.

With all that in mind, it may come as an odd redirect that I didn't really "love" this novel. I adore his writing style and the beats that keep the plot moving but ultimately I didn't give a shit about the actual plot. I was there for my fix of his style not for the resolution of the story. I know, an odd mix of feelings.

Whats it about?

Cayce Pollard (Case, I raised an eyebrow too, there is no connection) is a marketing consultant and hunter of new street fashions and movements. She is framed as being somewhat remarkable at what she does.

She lost her father in the 9/11 attack. And I do mean "lost" as in, he went missing but is assumed dead however this is a side story and emotional fuel for the character and not a real part of the narratives main thread.

She has an odd allergy like reaction to brand labels and trade marks. It is assumed that this sensitivity aids her in her job. Allowing her to see through the fake and embrace the authentic. Interesting concept that I really liked.

In her personal life she follows a series of web videos known only as "The Footage" that are around 40 seconds long and are uploaded randomly to assorted locations on the web. Remember this was 2003 so there is some period context for all this. The detailed descriptions of her logging on to the web, and using cyder cafés brought back some very nostalgic memories for me.

Eventually she is hired by "Bigend" yes... that name... The owner of a marketing organisation to "find" the "maker" of the footage.

In 2020 we would consider this whole thing an ARG and the puzzle would be solved by reddit in about an hour. But in 2003, it was a different time. The internet did not have the power and reach that it does now. I think in some ways this hurt the story. Gibson had to do things in such off ways where as now he could use GPS, wifi and global mapping to spin a much more intricate tale I think.

She then makes some logical leaps that baffle me a little. Makes some new friends. Has some out of context memories. Goes to japan to get her hair cut, and then to Russia to wait for a reply to an e-mail. Theres more narrative around this in the book. But my summery is quite accurate. I assure you.

Thoughts?

The main plot, searching for the "Maker" is almost an after thought each event on the journey seems almost an after thought. Mostly we bask in the characters perceptual tangents and indulge in the descriptive wonder that Gibson uses constantly. It's incredibly how consistently palatable the writing is given the density and verboseness of it. I would have been just as happy reading William Gibson's diary I think. Imagine how deeply he could make me feel "putting on socks" and "buying a new jacket."

The logical leaps that Cayce maker though are a little strange to say the least. At one point she really does go to Russia on the off chance some email will turn up and lies to her employer, who is an unexpectedly nice bloke, even though Cayce is convinced otherwise.

If any other writer had led me on such an ultimately pointless journey I would have thrown my Kindle at the wall and tried to forget how to read.

Also the obsessive mentioning of "Buzz Rickson" Jackets drove me mad. For a character who is obsessed with avoiding labels she banged on about her jacket like it was product placement. It actually may have been given that Rickson have a "William Gibson series" of jackets. Yeah. That rubbed me up the wrong way.

So should I read it?

If you have never read Gibson's work, start with Neuromancer. It has it all. Its just THAT good.

If you have already drank from the well of Gibson, and liked it. Yes. Read this. As I said. I loved the journey even though the points along the way fell flat for me.

Closing thoughts sir?

Gibson's effortless cool and affinity for the digital makes me wonder why he doesn't go way more sci-fi than this. It's ultimately a mystery novel with a lot of technology. I want him to dig deep into the future and show me something wonderful.

I won't be reading the next in this series but I had a wonderful time with this little dip.

#William Gibson #Pattern Recognition #books #review

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skydinzeal · 9 months ago

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✨Friday is for Goddess Freyja (also Frigg, they are the same Goddess). Her kingdom is that of nature beings, elves etc! Our English words that sound related are, in Truth! Friendship is truly magical & missed in much of the modern world! Also Freedom and Family - are gifts TO OUR REALITY from the sibling deities of Friday (her brother is Freyr!) 🔥⚡👽🌟🦋👑🌷 I hand-make talismans, paintings/sculptures for you or your loved ones!🌷All of my creations are made of 100s of ancient, powerful symbols! I've tested and taught Spiritual practices via my classes at NYCs Edgar Cayce Center for 10 years. 🌷🔥🌟💥⚡☀️✨ I have been trying to rebuild all my jewelry & art that was stolen when I was assaulted & robbed (many times). I am looking for a quality SPIRITUAL STORE or ART GALLERY to TRULY help with sales/marketing their work & mine! I am a rare, tireless entertainer, salesperson and psychic. I have huge internet reach and can work day and night continuously! I don't even need to eat. I have got by on hard work & skill alone, not cheating & it shows! If you would like to make a connection happen contact me. If it works out I will pay you! 🌟 A very modest GoFundMe here! Please spread the word! https://gofund.me/82ac1c5b Thank you!🌟💜🗽💜🎿💜❄️💜🦌 . . . . #elves #fairies #naturespirits #freyja #greenman #earthgoddess #freyr #frigg #elven #dryad #treespirits ndvaettir ights g #spiritualart agan gia rit #ingwaz . . . . . . . . . ddess witchcraft #spiritualart #runes eyr #paganism #magick #pagansofinstagram s #pagan #wicca #heathen #ingwaz #celtic #wizard #druid #mythology l #norse #shamanism #germanic http://dlvr.it/T46cVN

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bamby0304 · 7 years ago

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The Hart II: Highway

Summary: Off on her own, without the Winchesters, Bobby, Ellen or Jo, Lizzie tries to get back to what she does best… hunting. But time is running out, Dean’s soul is on the line, and now everyone knows Lizzie is psychic like Sam. Can the brothers and Lizzie work through their problems? Or will they lose everything?

Bamby’s Masterlist The Hart Masterlist The Hart II: Highway Masterlist

Part Five: No Luck

Warnings: Violence, talk of death, maybe angst?

Bamby

DPOV

"Because demon, that's why. Because the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon you go for the holy water. Don't chat."

Sam had told me about the conversation he'd had with his mystery woman. Who was named Ruby, and happened to be a demon. I just didn't understand why he hadn't sent her ass straight back to hell, where it belonged.

"No one was chatting, Dean," he insisted.

"Oh, yeah, then why didn't you send her ass back to hell?"

"Because- Because she said she might be able to help us out."

"How?" When he didn't answer, I pressed, "No, really, Sam, how? How could she possibly help up?"

"She told me she could help you, okay? Help you out of the Crossroad's deal."

I could not believe what I was hearing. "What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying. You gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is. It's me." I shook my head. "What else did she say?" But he stayed silent. "Dude?"

"Nothing," he answered. As I looked over to him, un sure, he repeated himself, "Nothing, okay? Look, I'm not an idiot, Dean. I'm not talking about trusting her. I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? We don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't even know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl know more than we will ever find out on our own. No, yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it."

I frowned, looking from the road to him and then back. "You're okay, right? I mean, you're feeling okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine!" he snapped. "Why are you always asking me that?"

Before I could answer, I was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing.

Sam sighed and checked his pockets, pulling his phone out. "It's not mine."

I checked mine. "Nope. Check the compartment. It's dad's."

"Dad's?" he asked, as he did as I said.

"Yes. I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call."

Sighing again, he answered the phone, "Hello?" There was a pause before he spoke again, "Yes, this is Edgar Cayce." Another pause. "No, no, no. Don't call the police. I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just, uh... Can you just lock it back up for me? Great. And, uh, I don't have my book in front of me." He nudged my arm and gestured for a pen.

I pulled one out of my pocket and handed it over so he could write whatever they were telling him.

"Do you have the address so I-" Another pause. "Sure. Okay. Go ahead." He wrote on a piece of paper, listening to them. "Right. Thanks a lot." He hung up and turned to me. "Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?"

"What?" That was news to me.

"Outside of Buffalo?"

"No way."

"Yeah. And someone just broke into it."

Standing in the warehouse elevator with Sam, I couldn't help but shake my head and laugh light to myself, amused. "Man."

"What?"

I looked up to see Sam looking at me with question in his eyes. I shrugged. "Just dad. You know, him and his secrets. Spend all this time with the guy, and it's like we barely even know the man."

"Well," he sighed as the elevator came to a stop on the underground floor, "we're about to learn something."

We both reached over to pull the door up before stepping out and heading over to dad's storage unit. After picking and removing the lock I pulled the door open, revealing the large space where dad had kept things that must have been important to him.

Sam lifted his torch, standing in the doorway, looking in as I did the same. The lights of our torches fell to the ground where a devil's trap had been painted.

"No demons allowed," Sam commented.

But there was more than just the trap on the ground. "Blood." I gestured to the red, drying liquid on the floor, and the foot prints that walked into the room. Crouching down, I noticed a trip wire. "Check this out." Following the wire with our lights, we found a shot gun hidden in the jaw of a boar's skull.

Sam scoffed. "Whoever broke in here got tagged."

"Dear old dad." I found my grin returning as I got to my feet. "I got two sets of boot treads here. Looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buckshot in him, looks like he kept walking."

"So, what's the deal?" Sam asked as we began to follow the footprints. "Dad would do work here or something?"

"Living the high life, as usual."

Truth be told, I had no idea. I hadn't even known this place existed. Dad had more secrets than anyone I knew. I'd spent years with him on the road, hunted by his side, and I could bet real money that I still didn't know half of who he was.

The light of my torch caught something shinny. I walked over to it, finding a small, dusty, trophy. Lifting it and wiping away the dust, I read the date on it. "1995."

Sam turned to me, seeing the trophy in my hand. "No way." He moved to grab it from me. "That's my division championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this."

"Yeah. It's probably the closest you ever came to being a boy." I grinned, walking away to follow the footsteps again. That was until I found something else. "Oh, wow." I picked up the handmade shotgun. "It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade."

Seeing Sam ignore me and wandered off, I put the gun down and followed, the two of us coming up to a cage door. Inside, we found an array of guns and weapons, including bombs.

"Holy crap." I stepped up to the small armoury. "Look at this, he had land mines. Which they didn't take. Or the guns." I noted, wondering who someone had broken in, why, and what did they take. "I guess they knew what they were after, huh?"

"Hey, Dean, check this out." Sam stood behind me, looking at a shelf on the other side of the cage, turning, I moved to take a look as well. "See these symbols?" He gestured to the assortment of boxes. "That's binding magic. These are curse boxes."

"Curse boxes. Supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal."

"Yeah, yeah. They're built to contain the power of the cursed object."

"Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, you know. Dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up."

"Yeah, well, this must be his toxic-waste dump." Sam didn't sound too approving. But before I could question him, he noticed a spot on the shelf. An empty spot. "One box is missing. Great."

"Well, maybe they didn't open it." I shrugged, hoping they hadn't opened it.

SPOV

Dean and I had figured out where the people who had robbed dad were. It was easy, really. They hadn't blacked out their plates when they were parked at the storage unit, so all we did was look up the number plate, found the address it was registered to and that was that.

Once we got to the apartment building- that looked like it was about ready to fall apart- we made our way to the right floor, found the number we were looking for, and picked the lock before sneaking, guns in our hands.

We could hear the sound of two men talking in the living room. So, moving carefully, we made our way towards them.

"Freeze!" Dean moved out from around the corner, aiming at the men. I was right behind him as he continued to yell. "Freeze! Nobody move! Don't move!"

"What is this?" one of them asked while the other went to make a run for it.

I aimed my gun at the runner. "Stop!"

Dean moved to the other guy. "All right, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't-"

Before he could finish, I spotted the box on the table, open. "Oh, they did." Great.

"You opened it?!" Dean grabbed the guy in front of him, that happened to be the one that had been shot, pushing him against the wall.

The guy grunted at the impact before looking to each of us. "Are you guys cops, huh? Are you guys cops?"

Dean ignored his question, asking his own, sounding more pissed than the other guy. "What was in the box?" There was a pause before he spoke again. "Oh, is that it, huh? It was, wasn't it?"

I looked over to the coffee table, seeing a few cards, a couple glasses, beer bottles, a rabbit's foot and a small dying plant.

Dean frowned at the table, seeming to know which one of the things was the cursed object. "What is that thing?"

Instead of answering the guy knocked the gun out of Dean's hand. As it landed on the ground a shot went off, the bullet ricocheting before hitting and knocking my gun out of my hand. It moved around the room, hitting the fan and then breaking a lamp by Dean before getting stuck in the wall.

What the hell...

The four of us got into it then, Dean and the injured guy fighting while I jumped the other. Only, despite all our experience, the fight seemed to be match. Actually, it seemed the bad guys had the upper hand.

I was knocked into Dean, who was knocked into the coffee table, which broke at the impact.

Looking to my brother, I went to offer him a hand. "Sorry."

But then someone threw themselves at me, getting me to the ground. It was the uninjured guy. He was on top of my, punching my face over and over before he wrapped his hand around my throat, choking me.

While struggling I spotted the rabbits foot on the floor, just out of reach. Taking a chance, I stretched my arm out, trying to grab it as the guy continued to choke me.

A moment later, I felt the chain of the good luck charm and dragged it closer with the tip of my finger before grasping the rabbits foot in my palm.

Lifting my arms, I knocked the guy away from me, taking a deep breath as I brought my foot up and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying across the room.

Getting to my feet I looked over to see my brother on the ground. "Dean." The injured guy turned to me. "I got it," I assured my brother right before a gun was aimed at my chest.

"No, you don't." The injured guy shrugged. But as he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. The gun was jammed. It was Dean's gun, and it was jammed. "Damn!" The guy tried to fix it, backing up from me.

He tripped on the broken pieces of the coffee table and fell, knocking himself out somehow.

Seeing his friend knocked out cold, the other guy lifted my gun- which had landed by where I'd thrown him- and went to shoot us. But as he pulled himself up he gripped onto the shelf above him which broke, all its contents falling on top of him, knocking him unconscious as well and sending my gun flying towards me.

I caught it effortlessly.

Dean and I shared a look both shocked, confused and a little scared.

He was the first to speak. "That was a lucky break." Looking down at my hand by my side, he frowned. "Is that a rabbit's foot?"

"Now, look, Bobby, we didn't know."

"You touched it? Damn it, Sam."

"Well, dad never told us about this thing." I had a good point. How were we supposed to know? "I mean, you knew about his storage place in Black Rock?"

"His lockup? Yeah, I knew. Hell, I built those curse boxes for him. Listen, you have got a serious problem."

I was listening, but my attention was caught by something shinny on the ground in the parking lot. Lifting a newspaper, I found a golden watch underneath.

"That rabbit's foot ain't no dime-store notion. It's real Hoodoo. Old world stuff."

I grabbed the watch and turned to show Dean as he stood by the hood on the Impala, scratching scratchies I'd touched- which all seemed to be winners.

Awesome, he mouthed, grinning.

"Made by a Baton Rouge conjure woman about a hundred years ago."

"It's a hell of a luck charm."

"It's not a luck charm. It's a curse. She made it to kill people, Sam. See, you touch it, you own it. You own it, sure, you get a run of good luck to beat the devil. But you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you're dead inside a week."

"So I won't lose it, Bobby."

"Everybody loses it!" he exclaimed.

"Well, then how do we break the curse?" I asked, stashing the rabbit's foot in my left pocket.

He sighed. "I don't know if you can. Let me look through my library and make some calls. Just sit tight. I'll... I'll call Lizzie, she's not too far from you boys, should be there within the hour. She's dealt with cursed objects before. She can help."

I didn't think we needed the extra help in this case, but there was no way I was going to tell Bobby not to call her. Lizzie and I were friends. I had a feeling I knew why she was off on her own, but that didn't mean I liked it. I missed her. So any chance to have her around, I was taking it.

"Okay, thanks Bobby." I nodded, before hanging up the phone.

"Dude, we're up fifteen grand," Dean called once the phone was away from my ear.

I tried to share his enthusiasm, but Bobby's words were playing on my mind. If I lost this rabbit's foot, then I'd die. As much as I believe I could keep it safe, I was beginning to feel a little worried and paranoid.

EPOV

"A cursed object?" I groaned, heading for the guys. I was about twenty minutes away from them seeing as I'd been on the road when Bobby called. "A cursed rabbit's foot, and Sam touched it?"

"He didn't know any better."

"I get it, I do, Bobby. But the boxes we keep things like that in... I haven't made one in a while," I noted, not feeling too confident. "What makes you think that'll stop the Hoodoo working on Sam once we get it locked up?"

"That's the thing, we can't lock it up. Not until we know Sam's safe."

I wasn't too sure what that meant for me... "Then why am I going to meet them?"

"Because you've dealt with stuff like this, you know how to keep someone alive, and because I told you so."

A smile crept on to my face. Bobby may not be my real father, but I hadn't had one growing up seeing my mum never dated. So when Bobby took me in at the age of fifteen and taught me how to be a hunter, he'd pretty much become my father.

Moments like this, where he used his dad voice on me- despite my age and our situation. It made me feel good. It made me feel loved. It reminded me that there were people out there that cared for me, and I cared for them. So, naturally, I couldn't say no.

"Okay, look, I'll meet them, check out the situation, and do my best. But this is weak, Bobby. I know you don't like me being on my own, but you can do better than sending me off on a babysitting job."

"Just do as you're told, Elizabeth," he told me, trying to sound serious, but I could hear his smile. "Call me if there's any problems."

DPOV

"Don't worry. Bobby will find a way to break it," I assured Sam as we walked into a fast-food restaurant. "Unit then, I say we hit Vegas, pull a Rain Man. You can be Rain Man."

But Sam had other ideas. "Look, we lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?" he told me as we stopped at the counter, turning to the man waiting to direct us to a table. "Hi," Sam offered him a polite smile, "uh, table for two, please?"

"Congratulation!" The man beamed at us as he rang a bell that had other employees rush over and hand us a giant cheque. "You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family! Congratulation!"

Looking down at the giant cheque that Sam and I held, I couldn't help but smile widely as I read what we'd one. Free food, for one whole year.

To add to the excitement, streamers and balloons fell from the ceiling as people applauded and cheered us before the staff began to sing a song.

This has got to be one of the best days, ever!

"Bobby's right. This lore goes way back," Sam noted as he read from his computer as I sat across from him enjoying my sundae. "Pure Hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. It was to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the thirteenth.

Finishing the ice-cream, I put the bowl back onto the table. "I say from now on we only go to places with Biggerson's," I told him before I was hit with a brain freeze that had me groan.

Sam laughed at me, and my pain.

"Can I freshen you up?"

We both looked up to see a waitress carrying a pot of coffee, standing by Sam. She was attractive, dark bob, pretty smile, shinning blue eyes. Suddenly, my brain freeze was gone.

Sam nodded at her, offering his mug. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Reaching over she poured some coffee into the cup but seemed to be distracted as she smiled at Sam, causing some of the coffee to spill. "Oh! Let me wipe that up," she offered, pulling a cloth from her apron.

"Uh, no worries. That's okay," Sam insisted, but she didn't listen as she wiped the table.

"It's no trouble, really." She continued to smile at him, leaning a little closer than necessary. "Sorry about that."

"It's all right." Sam looked a little confused and uncomfortable.

While I couldn't stop looking at the waitress. Once she was done, giving Sam one last look, we both watched her walk away, seeing her turn around once.

"Dude, if you were ever gonna get lucky," that's all I needed to say in order to put my point across.

"Shut up."

I shrugged, reaching for my own coffee a moment before Sam reached for his. But as he grabbed his mug he lost his grip, causing the hot liquid to spill onto him.

"Oh! Oh, jeez. Ah!" He quickly got up to clean himself, but as he did he bumped into a waiter, causing the tray they'd been holding to spill all over the place as the waiter fell to the ground.

I looked from Sam, to the waiter and then back to my brother, I didn't feel too confident about the situation. "How is that good?"

Sam gave his jacket a pat down, his face growing more and more worried by the second. When he reached into his pocket, coming up empty, I knew what that meant. The waitress had taken the rabbit's foot.

"Son of a bitch." Getting out of our booth, I hurried after the waitress, Sam right behind me. We ran out into the parking lot, but she was nowhere in sight. "Come on." I gestured to Baby, hurrying towards her.

"Whoa!"

Turning, I found Sam on the ground. "Wow, you suck." Moving to help him back to his feet, I noticed he'd ripped his jeans and scrapped his knees. "So, what, now your luck turns bad?"

"Do not tell me you lost the foot."

We both turned to see Liz walking up to us, her attention on Sam, concern and fear in her eyes.

I frowned at her, confused and surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Bobby sent her," Sam answered, dusting himself off.

I turned to him, not too impressed. "And you just forgot to mention that?"

"Can we bicker later?" Liz sighed, stopping in front of us. "If you lost the foot, we need to find who took it, and fast, or else Sam won't be around for much longer."

EPOV

Sam, Dean and I walked into an apartment, moving through until we came to the living room where a balding, middle aged man sat on a dining chair with a photo in hand, bottle of some kind of alcohol in the other and a sad look on his face.

One look at Dean and Sam, and the guy was clearly not pleased to see the brothers. "Oh, man. What do you want?"

"Heard about your friend," Dean started. "That's bad luck."

"Piss off," was the guy's only response.

Ignoring him, Dean moved to stand in the middle of the room in front of the guy. "We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because she just stole it back from us," Dean admitted, clearly embarrassed by that fact.

The man chuckled at first, before he really laughed, his face turning red.

Taking charge, Sam stepped forward. "Listen, man, this is serio-" He was cut short as he fell to the ground, tripping on a wire or something.

Dean didn't turn to look at his brother, but he was still a little concerned. "Sam, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," the younger Winchester replied.

Sighing, I moved to offer Sam a hand, lifting him to his feet as I spoke to the man on the chair. "Look, asshole, we don't have time for this. The rabbit's foot was cursed. It's why your friend died. Sam here, he's next. So just tell us the woman's name before I break your kneecaps," I warned.

As the man opened his mouth to speak, Dean beat him to it, "And before you say she's crazy, think about what you saw, what the rabbit's foot did. All the flukes, all the luck. When you lose the foot, that luck goes sour. That's what killed your friend. My brother is next. And who knows how many more innocent people after that. Now if you don't help us stop this thing, that puts those deaths on your head."

Looking at the man it was clear that fact alone terrified him. His eyes were wide as he realised what he and his friend had done when they released the cursed foot.

"Now, I can read people." Dean went on, "And I get it. You're a thief and a scumbag. That's fine. But you're not a killer. Are you?"

Looking away, the man slowly shook his head as he gave us what we wanted. "Lugosi. She said her name is Lugosi."

An annoyed groan escaped my lips. "Oh, crap."

Bamby

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