#it’s only ever worked when I’m very consciously thinking about re-directing the energy for my stress into the activity

[cardboard-queen]

i’ve realized that i have a very strong ‘gimme positive stimulation’ response to stress.

i may not even consciously know i’m stressed. but my body will call out to me:

“hey. i need something. i wanna smoke something. drink something. bite something. someone. feel someone. something. anything. now.”

and like. it’s a constant uphill battle, finding ways to re-direct that stress response into healthy coping mechanisms, yknow?

i’ve found exercise is by far the most helpful thing for me. but that’s just like. not practical all the time. i can’t workout at 1 am lol.

neither is removing the source of the stress. sometimes you have some control over it. other times u don’t.

anyway. art kinda helps. journaling helps. stretching and breathing exercises often help. reading is nice but doesn’t make it go away.

i think it’s about re-directing the stress. sitting with it, and putting that energy into something tangible. i think that’s really important for me.

[cheesybadgers]

okay soooo tell me your favorite thing about writing the epic beast that is OHDH. i want the directors cut lol

Ahhh Alex, bless you and thank you for sending this question ❤️😘

And oh boy, where do I start?!! It’s hard to pick just one, so here are three main things:

1) I think one of the trickiest yet most satisfying parts of the process was figuring out a) how any canon divergence made sense for the characters and their motivations and b) what the impact of those changes were on future canon events. It was such a fine balancing act and I had a lot of lightbulb moments in the shower (I swear my shower is some sort of creativity portal lol) solving plot problems. I had someone comment on AO3 saying how much they liked the ‘butterfly effect’ of the canon divergence and that sums it up so well, because one change at the start of the fic has a domino effect on everything else.

Sort of linking on from this, I also had so much fun making characters interact who never met in canon, or only had very minimal screen time together. Horacio and Chucho obviously never meet in the show, but their paths crossing in OHDH led to a whole new subplot and ultimately helped shape the ending of the fic. I wanted this to be a transformative work rather than a re-hash of canon, so if I achieved anything, I think it’s safe to say I achieved that!

2) I was also surprised how much I immersed myself in fic research, more so than I ever did for my degree back at university 😂 I knew I was going to have to do some research when the story got to a certain point, but I just kept falling down different rabbit holes and it expanded my reading list in all sorts of directions I wasn’t expecting. It got me back into the habit of reading books too, which I’m embarrassed to say I hadn’t done much of in recent years. But knowing I needed to read X or Y in order to progress with a certain scene or chapter was great motivation.

I must confess, my knowledge of Colombian history wasn’t great before (it’s not something the British education system covers), but my reading actually made me question and challenge the source material in ways I hadn’t before. So, shipping might be considered just shoving two characters together like dolls, but hey, at least I learnt some history along the way lol.

3) Getting to make up a tonne of backstory (especially for Horacio, who is a bit of a blank slate in canon) and create OCs. I’d never created proper OCs before this fic, so it was fun building them around the main pairing, giving them their own personalities and histories but also letting them affect the story. I think the different locations throughout the fic were like OCs of their own too (I’ve been contemplating a holiday to Madrid since I wrote the chapters set there lol), so the world building aspect of it was a fun learning experience too, and not something that came naturally to me at the start.

I’m sure there are so many more things! I will also say it’s been the steepest of learning curves re: my writing skills as well. I’m probably not even consciously aware of everything I’ve learnt, but going back to earlier chapters has been difficult, because I was obviously much more inexperienced back then lol. The urge to do re-edits has been real, but I don’t think I have the energy for that right now (and it was posted as a WIP, so by its nature it’s going to show the progress of my writing from start to finish).

Back in 2020/2021, I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone (I think it was around a time during the pandemic when I realised how uninspiring my day job is and how little motivation I have for it anymore, so pursuing creative hobbies away from it seemed like a better use of my time), and it's safe to say I managed that with this behemoth 😂 It's been a huge journey of self-discovery and realising what I'm capable of. Fic used to be something I thought only other people wrote, so there were times I'd pull a metaphor or certain phrasing out of thin air and laugh at my laptop in shock, because I didn't think I had it in me to be poetic lol.

So, my advice to anyone reluctant to start a creative project because they don't feel skilled enough, please, please, please do it anyway. Seriously. Because you will muddle through, learn so much along the way and surprise yourself ❤️

Ok that was a bit of a ramble, but you did say director’s cut, so here we are 😂 Thank you once again for sending this, I've been in such a reflective and bittersweet mood since finishing, so it's nice to focus purely on the positive aspects of the experience 😘

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums: a fresh look at quite possibly the 80s’ most hated band, A Flock of Seagulls! Spoiler: their music is good, people in the 90s and 00s were just mean. If you want to find out more about how having the absolute best hair in the business ended up backfiring on these poor sods, look no further than my latest video. Or the transcript of it, which follows below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’m going to be diving into a discussion of quite possibly the most derided and lambasted music group of the 1980s: A Flock of Seagulls. With a strange name, a perhaps painfully stylish aesthetic, and equally trendy and of-the-moment music, that was, for a time, inescapable in popular culture, their legacy forms a perfect target for the ridicule all popular things must face in due time. But even moreso than that, I think A Flock of Seagulls have become not only a punchline in and of themselves, but also a summation of everything that was dreadful and excessive about the early 1980s, with its “Second British Invasion” of synthesiser-driven New Wave. I can think of no better example of this kind of abuse than a famous line from the 1999 comedy film, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. The film is largely a love letter to the 1960s and its Mod aesthetics, and the protagonist, a super-spy unfrozen from this era in time, dismisses the history and culture of the 1970s and 80s as nothing more than “a gas shortage, and A Flock of Seagulls.” But at the time of this writing, we’re about as far away from Austin Powers as the film was from the release of this album, the band’s 1982 debut LP, so I think it’s been long enough that we can start to re-evaluate A Flock of Seagulls’ rightful place in music history.

While this self-titled album was the group’s first long-player, their first release was the 1981 single “It’s Not Me Talking.” Notably, this track was actually produced by the legendary Bill Nelson, who also released it on their behalf via his personal label, Cocteau Records. Ever since discovering this for myself, I’ve found the connection between Nelson and A Flock of Seagulls fascinating, and also satisfying. Despite the gulf between their respective reputations, I do think their work has a lot in common, at the end of the day: swirling washes of synth disrupted by screaming guitars, not to mention that shared interest in Midcentury rock and roll aesthetics.

Music: “It’s Not Me Talking”

These two acts would, of course, go their separate ways shortly after, and they ended up in completely opposite camps, with Nelson becoming a cult favourite with little crossover success, and A Flock of Seagulls going on to create what is, undoubtedly, one of the most iconic songs of the entire decade.

Music: “I Ran”

What does one even say about a song like “I Ran”? Over the years, it’s certainly gotten somewhat overplayed, but I can’t really hold that against it. It’s just a damn good song. Both ethereally menacing as well as catchy and rather accessible, “I Ran” takes the atmosphere suggested by “It’s Not Me Talking” and kicks it into another gear, with a harder-hitting hook and the introduction of that highly distinctive and of-the-moment echoing guitar effect. Some will hear it as little more than evidence that the song is hopelessly dated, but I’ve never thought of it as anything other than satisfying to listen to. If you ask me, I figure all art that exists is essentially “a product of its time”--nobody ever said Michelangelo Buonarroti’s David was a lousy sculpture, just because you can easily tell it was made during the Italian Renaissance. At any rate, I’d encourage everyone reading to go back and listen to it again, trying to maintain a little neutrality. I’d recommend the album cut of it, which is significantly longer than the single version, and features a rich intro that sets the scene before that famous guitar ever makes an appearance, which I think really adds to the experience. By some reckonings, A Flock of Seagulls are sometimes considered a “one-hit wonder,” but while they certainly are remembered chiefly for “I Ran,” this album’s other singles were moderately successful as well.

Music: “Space Age Love Song”

“Space Age Love Song” is perhaps the band’s second best-remembered single, and takes their sound in a markedly different direction than that of “I Ran.” “I Ran” won popular acclaim by finding a new home for the guitar, in the midst of a sea of synth, and pushed A Flock of Seagulls into a similar space as acts like the Cars and Duran Duran, who had enough mainstream rock sensibilities to sneak a lot of synthesiser usage onto American rock radio...much as one might sneak spinach into tomato sauce when feeding picky children. But I think “Space Age Love Song” is much more palatable to listeners of pop, synth- or otherwise. It’s softer in texture, and really almost dreamy, capturing the hazy, buoyant feeling of limerence as well as any pop song ever has. I’m tempted to compare it to another synth-driven classic, whose influence towers over this period in electronic music: the great Giorgio Moroder’s “I Feel Love.” Much like “I Feel Love,” “Space Age Love Song” combines simple, almost banal love lyrics with an evocative electronic soundscape, painting a picture of an enchanting, high-tech future where human feelings like love have remained comfortably recognizable across centuries or millennia. A similar theme of futuristic love pervades the album’s second single, “Modern Love Is Automatic.”

Music: “Modern Love Is Automatic”

While “Space Age Love Song” uses simplistic lyricism to portray the relatable universality of falling in love, “Modern Love Is Automatic” gives us the album’s most complex narrative. In a world where “young love’s forbidden,” we meet a pair of star-crossed lovers prevented from being together by some sort of dystopian authority. The male member of this union, introduced as the “cosmic man,” is apparently imprisoned for the crime of loving, but the text suggests that he may escape from this prison--or, perhaps, even be freed from it. The title, repeated quite frequently throughout the track, is perhaps the mantra of this anti-love society, a piece of propaganda being drilled into us as thoroughly as it is into these subjects: Modern love is automatic, with no need for messy, unpredictable human input.

It’s also worth noting that the song is consciously set in “old Japan,” deliberately locating it in the “exotic” East. While East Asia was strongly associated with refined, perhaps futuristic culture, I can’t help but think there’s a more pejorative sentiment operating here, rooted in stereotypes of Asian cultures unduly policing sexual freedom, and other forms of personal expression and self-determination. Ultimately, despite its futuristic trappings, “Modern Love Is Automatic” isn’t really a song about technology at all, but rather authoritarianism. “Telecommunication,” on the other hand, engages more directly with that theme.

Music: “Telecommunication”

“Telecommunication” was also released prior to the self-titled album proper, and was also produced by Bill Nelson. While structurally similar to “Modern Love Is Automatic,” with an oft-repeated title, brief verses, and a generally repetitive musical structure full of meandering guitar, its text quite plainly discusses the titular field of technology, in a seemingly non-judgmental fashion--though it could be argued that the fairly upbeat music suggests a positive outlook on things like radio and TV. The one hitch in all of it is the very end of the last verse, which sets the song in the “nuclear age”--a nod, perhaps, to the darker applications of 20th Century technology. “Telecommunication” is perhaps indebted less to figures like Moroder, and moreso to Kraftwerk, who first solidified the rich tradition of stoic synth thumpers about everyday machines like cars, trains, and, of course, nuclear energy. I’m also tempted to compare it to an earlier work of Bill Nelson’s group Be-Bop Deluxe, “Electrical Language,” another bubbly number that playfully bats this concept back and forth.

The theme of “quotidian technology” is also present on the cover of this album, which features an interior shot of a living room, centered around a television set. The TV displays a figure playing guitar--perhaps one of those heroic rock pioneers of the Midcentury like Buddy Holly, whom Nelson was so keen to imitate. But what’s most immediately striking about this cover is its beautiful colour palette, full of deep, saturated jewel tones, treated softly with an “airbrush” style effect. Despite being a somewhat mundane scene, the image also features fanciful, imaginative touches: the floor of this room is actually a miniature beach landscape, with the “floor” beneath the TV actually being the surface of the ocean, and the TV appears to be surrounded by a colourful, glowing group of birds. Given the beachy surroundings, we could perhaps interpret them as the titular seagulls. It’s tempting to think of this scene as a representation of how technology can sweep us away, out of our everyday existence and into something richer and more exciting.

But perhaps it’s not so simple--note also the open window in the top left, whose curtain appears to be agitated by some sort of motion in the air. Perhaps these birds are not the products of television fantasy, but rather have flown in from the window, and hence hail from the “real world?” Given how tracks like “Space Age Love Song” and “Modern Love Is Automatic” tackle the theme of the mundane meeting the fantastical, I think this complex and arresting image is a great fit for the album.

While their self-titled debut spawned multiple recognizable hits, A Flock of Seagulls never came anywhere close to recapturing its success. For the most part, they struggled to remain relevant as time wore on, largely abandoning the sonic footprint of their first album, and chasing after new trends in music technology such as digital synthesisers. They would eventually break up during the mid-1980s, and though they’ve reunited in order to perform live several times, the book is probably closed on A Flock of Seagulls. Personally, I can’t help but wonder what might have been if they had stuck to their musical roots a bit more. You get a bit of that on their third LP, 1984’s The Story of a Young Heart, which thankfully brings back that iconic echoing guitar, and does so without sounding too much like a simple retread of “I Ran.” Out of all their other work, it’s the album I would most recommend to admirers of this debut LP.

Music: “Remember David”

My favourite track on A Flock of Seagulls’ debut LP is “Messages”--not to be confused with the track of the same name by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark! Moreso than anything else on the album, “Messages” has this aggressive, insistent, driving quality, and feels less like yacht rock, and more like punk rock. Despite not being released as a single, I think it’s a very strong track that’s quite easy to get into. That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Messages”

[hoidn]

master post of disturbingly accurate miscellany.

sagittarius moons constantly put on a cheerful facade to cover their sadness. this often leads to internal bitterness and frustration which gets translated into violent urges and a certain amount of hostility towards others. they may often try to hide it and to keep being in-your-face happy but one can definitely feel an aura of suppressed anger around them. like a feeling of hair-triggered temperament lurking beneath the surface. [source]

-----

venus in the 4th house: you feel like home. living in a comfortable, safe and beautiful house is very important to you, just like establishing a family. your relationship with your family, friends and significant other is of utmost importance to you and you feel the need to create a loving atmosphere for them. although being nurturing is an amazing quality, your attachment to your partner can be so overwhelming that it can lead to break-ups. you’re terrified of stressful situations, scandals and chaos, and you absolutely need to focus on being in a peaceful environment and one where you can pursue your happiness. very nostalgic and overprotective of loved ones. you need your partner to constantly reassure you of their love to you or you’ll go crazy with feelings of jealousy and insecurity. you love helping others, and you inspire love and trust in those around you. [source]

-----

saturn in the 5th: (I fear)…I’ll never feel true happiness. That I’ll always be holding myself back. That I’ll never achieve my true potential, that my light will always feel dimmed. That happiness will be taken away from me at any moment. That my anxieties will always be eating away at me, even when I’m surrounded by the ones I love. That my inner child will always feel neglected, and that, because of that, my creativity feels blocked. [source]

-----

the most noticeable difference between the negative (earth and water) and the positive (air and fire) venus signs for me is that the first really see love as a state of total reception, they connect it more to a passive state in which you can fully grasp and empathize with the other. and the second see love more as a pull towards the object of desire, an inspiration for movement. it’s like earth & water venus is the being towards which the fire & air venus gravitate. [source]

-----

i’m yet to meet a cancer venus that really enjoys cooking. i know a lot of people with this placement and they all really appreciate it when someone cooks for them and often comment on people’s cooking and know the best places where to eat…also they’re often on some type of special diet, be it out of their own will or due to health issues. but i’ve never see one that loves to cook. [source]

-----

So what is Virgo Vision? It’s a penetrating style of seeing the world, people and situations. People with V.V. will auto-scan for nuance and connections that are missed by most people. And then they cram the data into a complex details matrix that assesses it at Warp Speed.

Within microseconds, the Virgo or Virgo Rising formulates a multi-level analysis. They’re witty, informed and lauded for their ability to wisely parse complex circumstances. They streamline convoluted thought and design processes. They save people and organizations significant time and money via their V.V.

[...]

It’s an asset but also a liability. How could something so clearly a mercurial super-power be in any way the latter? Well, they can’t turn it off. Ever.

People with V.V. don’t have the comfort of overlooking something, to ease their passage through a stressful work week. Their mind is perpetually analyzing and making pertinent connections; if they are in an environment where people don’t care about those connections, the Virgo Vision doesn’t power down and go into ‘rest mode.’ It up-regulates into even faster operation.

If the person with V.V. can’t share or be understood, they gaze inward, running over every error, wrong step, miscalculation and poorly worded comment ever.

Details and data swarm their consciousness. They either freeze or default into a Saint Virgo stance. Without an appropriate outlet, the Virgo Rising or Virgo Sun person makes themselves the project. Every glance in the mirror is a call for a fix. Each meal a breakdown of the macros. They don’t view the scenery; they map it.

These people can lose the plot and replace it with a list of continuity errors and anachronisms.  They’re well beyond that old cliche about not seeing “the forest for the trees.”  People with Virgo Vision know the topography, soil components, leaf blight, mythology associated with that style of tree and the article they read on forestry four years ago. [source]

-----

Mercury Retrograde

When Mercury is retrograde at birth, the thinking processes are generally more acute, and the sense of humor rather quirky. People with Mercury retrograde take in information differently than those with Mercury direct in their natal charts. How many people are born with a retrograde Mercury? Roughly 18%.

Some people with this position struggle with doubts about their perceptions or their ability to learn, and there can be a lot of thinking, double-checking, and reviewing of thoughts and ideas before communicating them.

Neptune Retrograde

Those born with Neptune retrograde in their chart might tend to hide their vulnerabilities, their spiritual side, or their compassion, as they feel somewhat uncomfortable expressing them. These things can very well exist, and they run deep, but Neptune retrograde natives prefer to keep these things private. Deep faith can be missing, so that these people might be naturally mistrustful. When they are left to fill in the blanks, they might expect the worst. There can be a big fear of dreaming too big dreams, as they are afraid of being let down. [source]

. . . . .

Mercury is the planet of communication and how you express yourself and learn, and so those of you born with Mercury retrograde tend to feel very misunderstood. The energy of Mercury retrograde in the natal chart is actually very similar to that of Mercury in the 12th house (and how misunderstood you must be if you have natal Mercury retrograde in your 12th house!). You have difficulty communicating clearly with others, with being heard, with understanding others as well, and with using your mental energy properly.

[...]

There’s a tremendous amount of mental energy and power that can be unlocked with Mercury retrograde in the natal chart. It just usually takes a while to let go of the fear, isolation, or insecurity that accompanies this position. The insecurity can really kill the Mercury retrograde native. You need to work on developing confidence in your mental abilities, your ideas, your opinions, your words. Growing up feeling misunderstood no doubt caused that insecurity, but it’s a skin you must shed in adulthood, or you get stuck in that insecurity forever. You can be a quiet person, one who stumbles over their words publicly, or who is unfailingly truthful. You can have a wicked sense of humor because you interpret what you see in the world differently and point out the things that are so ridiculously absurd. 

[...]

When transit (moving) Mercury is retrograde, this is when you thrive. The rest of us are completely hopeless, and you’re speeding along. This is because the retrograde energy is natural to you, so when Mercury is in his normal forward motion, you’re uncomfortable, but when he’s retrograde, you’re at home. This is a time when you can make great progress and really get your point across. You should make the most of the times when Mercury is retrograde. You can also work on better understanding the proper ways for you to communicate, express yourself, and learn during Mercury retrograde, so pay close attention to that. [source]

-----

However, when Mercury is in retrograde, this planet is way more introspective, thoughtful, and skeptical than usual. When moving direct, Mercury is fast-paced and eager to connect the dots, and while it might make you seem like a slow thinker when you have Mercury retrograde in your birth chart, it's only because you're doing a lot more thinking than anyone else would even think to do.

The truth is, being born during Mercury retrograde gives you an advantage when it comes to contemplative and all-encompassing thinking. You see every angle of an idea because you naturally have a tendency to look backwards and sideways, which is something Mercury is not naturally aiming to do. You have a tendency to review your choices and re-do things over and over again until you get it right. [source]

-----

With North Node in Libra, our South Node is in Aries. With North Node in the seventh house, our South Node is in the first house.

A tendency to rely on the self so much as to alienate important others in our lives, to be excessively competitive to the point of a me-first attitude, to take things personally, and to be impatient, rash, and impulsive at the expense of personal happiness are some of the issues this position suggests. With this position, we need to work on sensitizing ourselves to the needs of others, to learn tact and cooperation, to put ourselves in another’s shoes, and to let go of an overwhelming self-consciousness that is blocking our desire to win. We are often afraid of the demands that a partner might put on us, and we don’t naturally look for feedback, preferring to act on the moment—on our own hunches and impulses. But for however hard we push ourselves, our plans will be blocked until we stop to consider the other side. We tend to go it alone, often passing up opportunities for growth because we are too focused on our own personal survival. Our impulses and instincts are overloaded, lacking in perspective, and acting upon them will often bring us strife—that is, until we learn to look at the other side, perhaps through the eyes of another. Through partnership, and through cooperation with others, we will attain the inner balance necessary for us to achieve our goals. [source]

[twinflameshardcore]

Nothing new, almost

I haven’t written for a long time because there have been no improvement between us, and what’s more, I lost my interest in him. It’s too far, too expensive to make it. I sent him gifts, lent him the money, I never got anything from him on a distance or got the money back when asked for the return. He tried to talk to me but I won’t sacrifice anymore. He may be beautiful, kind, and helpful but I don’t understand his ways of acting towards me, it’s kind of bipolar. Besides it was always too emotional between us, too much drama made out of nothing and I don’t want it anymore, it destabilizes my inner peace. So I keep 2 versions of who he may be for me. 1) he is either a twin to only wake up each another (we did in 2012) and accompany for a short time during the Earth first big vibrational rise, and go separate ways, or 2) a man who killed my twin in a past live and had to experience the uttermost importance of such a connection in the cosmic sense in a real life and what harm one can make by separating the halves through causing death, killing or other violence. I was once shown a vision of me being a Mayan woman, some sort of a sacred person coupled with a sacred partner (the one I met 2 years ago, more below) and him, the supposed twin being a conquistador who comes to kill one of us or both because he serves another and follows orders. So if it was a re-memory, it could be true that I was not supposed to be with him in this lifetime, just teach him a few lessons and become matched with the one I was coupled in a Mayan village.

Moreover, in 2018 I met somebody who vibrationally feels even closer to my heart and soul, the astral connection is also very significant, telepathy, the heart connection and so on so I would consider him the ‘second’ twin (because the former ‘failed’ to fulfill the promise, if it applies) but the trouble is the other has been married for the last couple of years, has young children and so on. Which, the funny part, makes him the best candidate for a twin as it seems they’re all mostly married yet unhappily but they say they won’t divorce for the fear of loosing what they established. ;] The Universe will force them to look and see their lives through their unsupported needs. Things are changing, we are changing, and men will have to clean their brain programs they’ve been stuck to. Plus, I never looked for another guy after I met (and was abandoned) by the 1st twin because even if I shine as an angelic being, no man shone for me equally strongly to get interested in. The other appeared to buy things from me in person and then we clicked instantly, he was coming back just to be around me pulled the same way, talking, meeting, shopping and so on. After 2 years we’re still deepening it very slowly and infrequently due to his family situation. I keep myself away from pushing too hard because it never works, but I don’t hold my feelings either. I’ve kept myself single for over 5 years now, including having sex. It probably was very important to stay clean of other people’s energies and karma before I make love with the one who is for me to connect with the biggest love and bliss ever experienced on a cosmic level, that what has been planned in the Universe when things finally align on a bigger scale.

I’ve dealt with a stunning number of my own mind programs and I’ve been turning them off. When you feel anger give a direct order to your body/mind/consciousness - ‘turn off anger’. ‘Turn off jealousy’. ‘Turn off suspicion’. ‘Turn off xyz’. It works like charm! It’s incredible how many triggers can turn on the conditioning and evil responses. Assumptions based on something learnt from lives of others before are the worst kind. Generalizing. Blaming. Feeling guilty of not doing things as they ‘should be done in your age’. Self-criticism and so on. We all live individual stories, none repeats when looked into details. We have to monitor these reactions and thoughts daily as they are triggered by bad energies to make us get further from our lives improvement when we’re already there.

I also started noticing how things work in 5D world. There’s no more hard work needed but visualizing instead which we always knew how and tried to utilize in 3D but then we were failing as the layer of vibration wasn’t supporting that. So many of us abandoned such an activity to replace with hard work and struggling but it’s worth of bringing it back. For example, I sell some used stuff online and for a month nobody buys. So I then look or touch a thing or two and I ask them to be sold. ‘Hey, sell yourself, find a person who needs you’. Or I think of an item in a box. Then I forget about it and move on. Then surprisingly within hours to days somebody buys these items! And it happens more and more as I’ve been observing since 2018, yet I need to practice how to do it because it’s usually spontaneous. It’s like a need meets another need somewhere in the space-time and when they click together, they materialize.

So basically, I’m much eager to follow my twinflame path with another matching man than wait for somebody who can’t decide what they want in life and are not very communicative either. I have to talk. I’m Mars in Gemini and in my 40s. I need action and I can’t delay my own progress while waiting for somebody’s awakening. I studied, corrected, improved, purged, jumped into any transformation I could make, I even became more selfish than before which suits me better as nothing bad happened. Service to self is necessary to keep boundaries and inner harmony, because we always help other people anyway if we only have enough of resources and wish to share.

Numbers I’ve been seeing lately a lot are: 11:11, 23, 33, 44, 55, 56 and 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 through 13:24 (234), 15:46 (456), 17:56 (567) and doubles like 16:16, 12:12, 13:13, 22:22 so on. Some of these are of the Fibonacci sequence, the perfect harmony of evolution and expansion. So even if you feel stuck, all is in motion in the background and the Universe has been building a new base for everyone.

Happy New Year to you all. Things will be clearer from now on and rewards are coming for all hard work we’ve done. Focus on yourself, then those similar in vibration will follow to meet you.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 25)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 

Part 26: here

“Welcome to MacDonalds Sir. Can I take your order?”

The van stops at a drive through, halfway to the hospital and his Uncle. Doom hangs over Arthur like a dense grey fog. A clock slowly counting down.

“Hey. You want anything?” The demon asks, nonchalantly rifling around in the glovebox for spare change.

Arthur’s never swum in the ocean, but he’s watched enough media to estimate and guess that this is what drowning feels like. Memories crash over him, pulling him about in waves. It’s had to keep a grip on what is current and what is past. It’s hitting him all at once. Images of Lewis falling are now mixing in with frames on Darrel’s motionless body left out in the middle of nowhere, carelessly kicked to the side of a narrow dirt road. Alone. Just like Lewis. Left behind to rot. Who knows if anyone would find him. Did Darrel have a family? Arthur can’t remember. What he does know is that it’s all his fault…and he can’t stop. Arthur needs help. He desperately needs help, but there’s no one. The only people who care are miles away and completely ignorant.

‘Why?’

The question is out before he gets the chance to clarify, his thoughts not coherent enough to manage a full sentence. There must be a reason. A point to everything. Because, if there isn’t, then there is no way that Arthur can convince this creature to stop. To leave his Uncle alone.

“Cause we’re hungry. Duh. Try not to ask dumb questions.” Arthur is dismissed, the demon turning back to order. So far, it has been quiet, exuding a calm satisfaction which is only marginally better than manic joy, ignoring Arthur’s thrashing with practised ease. This is the first time Arthur’s had the presence of mind to communicate since leaving Darrel.

At the order collection window, as the serving-girl hands over a brown and red paper bag, she points to her cheek, commenting, “Um. Sir. You have a little dirt on your face. Just there.”

“Do I?” The demon laughs good-naturedly, adjusting the rear-view mirror to reveal their reflection. Arthur looks out, unable to help himself, meeting his own gaze. Bright green eyes stare right at him. The pleasant smile shifts to become mocking. The ‘dirt’ referred to is the small flecks of Darrel’s blood, which have dried a dark brown.

“I do indeed. How embarrassing,” It chuckles, taking the bag, “Thank you for pointing that out.”

The girl smiles back, “Hey no problem. Have a good afternoon sir.”

If only she would lean further out and see the prominent blood splatter across Arthur’s front. She doesn’t. He watches powerlessly, feeling his body wave a goodbye.  

“Have to say. I love these new food options. You humans have certainly been busy this last century.”

Now. This is Arthur's opportunity to talk. He needs to use it and convince this creature to stop. It probably won’t work, if anything it’ll make everything worse, but he must try.

‘Why,’ Arthur asks a second time, pulling his focus forward.

“Why what,” The demon is deliberately obtuse, taking a bite with its free hand, steering back onto the highway with the other. Arthur would be grimacing at the taste. The last thing he wants to do is to eat greasy food. Luckily, nausea is primary a physical phenomenon, so his need to throw up is entirely associative.

‘Why are you doing this. What’s the point?’  How does he get it to stop?

The demon chews and slurps down a soda methodically like it is buying time to consider a response. More likely, it knows how anxious waiting makes Arthur.

“Because it’s fun. You know...Spread a little pain and misery. Cause trouble. Mess with the cosmic balance. You do know what fun is right?"

‘I can be plenty miserable without Uncle Lance dying.’ Arthur jumps on the connection despite how tenuous it is, ��You’ve seen my memories! I can make anything good depressing if I want to.’

“Ha. Yeah. You do know how to screw yourself over. But, regrettably, I never leave a host alive. Personal policy. Less hassle down the line and all.”

‘He’ll be no hassle.’ Arthur lies blatantly because there was no way Lance wouldn’t try to hunt them down if given a chance, ‘Nope. No hassle at all. No one would care if I vanished right now. Especially not Lance.’

“I’m in your head, I can see you lying,” An eye roll, followed by unpleasant chuckling, “Besides, nothing beats the rush of cutting one of your pathetic lives short. All that potential. Poof. Gone.” The discordant sensation of happiness is back again, and Arthur quickly withdraws, mentally flinching away, doing his best to distance himself.

‘Someone will stop you.’  

“Who will? The dog? It’s miles away. Won’t be here till tomorrow and by then we’ll be done and dusted. I was thinking of going after Lewis’s family next. Sneak on in, in the dead of night, get em all in their sleep…”

Any further attempts at reasoning fall on deft ears. Begging is just as ineffective. All it does is inflate the awful feeling of calm satisfaction. Apprehensively, Arthur watches the demon wipe the blood off their shared face, energy well and truly spent. A grin is flashed towards the rear-view mirror which has yet to be re-adjusted. Not like this thing cares about road safety. It makes Arthur want to laugh hysterically. But he can’t. He can’t do anything.

Half an hour later, after getting waylaid by some traffic, they’re back at the hospital. All up, it’s hardly been two hours since their departure. They even park in the same spot.

Before heading inside, the demon pulls on one of Arthur’s old work shirts, which he keeps in the van for spur of the moment mechanical work. It’s got a few oil stains down the side and hasn’t seen a good wash in a while, but is inconspicuous when compared to coffee and blood splatters. Now, apart from the eyes, there is no other noticeable difference between the two of them. Nothing that screams ‘I’m a demon on a murder spree, please stop me.’ The sickly green skin Arthur had noted in his memories has faded to a natural colour.

St Peter’s Emergency Ward is as cold and sterile as he remembers. The smell of disinfectant and the return to chilled air-conditioning are equally unwelcome. Nurses, doctors and members of the public mill around, murmuring and talking in low tones. ‘Someone notice! Please,’ Arthur thinks desperately while the demon obtains directions from the reception desk. Despite Arthur’s less than clean appearance no one spares a second glance. Everyone is too busy, caught up in their work and lives, to notice his one falling apart.  

An older, matronly woman, sporting a messy bun and tired eyes, ends up leading Arthur to his Uncle’s recovery room. It’s not too far from the main entrance and is, to his dismay, empty of other patents. Space, meant for a second bed, is vacant.

Arthur, the demon- he’s having trouble separating the two -both watch the nurse check his Uncle’s IV, lowering the dosage of whatever is going into Lance’s arm. Probably a mix of pain medication and anti-inflammatories going off Arthur’s previous experience. Curiosity and interest flash between their shared mind. It is taking notes, intently watching the nurse work. Please. Turn around. Turn around and notice what a creepy monster he’s being.

When she does turn, Arthur has already stepped away, acting to part of the worried relative.

“Is he okay. Everything’s okay, right?”

“Your Uncle is recovering as per normal. He’s on a low dose of Dilaudid, to reduce pain and swelling.  It’ll make him drowsy when he regains consciousness so don’t be alarmed if he has trouble forming sentences,”

“He’ll regain consciousness? That’s good. When will that happen?” Its barely contained eagerness makes Arthur want to cry in dismay.  

“Another hour or two,” The woman gives him a perplexed sideward glance. If she does notice anything strange, it isn’t mentioned. “I’ll have a doctor come by and give you a proper run down and better details shortly.”

“Good. Good. That’s very good. Thank you for letting me know,”

A nod. A kind expression. She moves to away, passing by, leaving Arthur alone. She leaves the demon alone with his Uncle unconscious, helpless in the bed. Eagerly, the demon piolets his body forward, scanning the empty room, eyes landing briefly on the solitary clock decorating the otherwise sparse walls. 4: 59. Tick. Tick. Tick. An audible reminder that Arthur is running out of time. A hand reaches into his pocket to fiddle with Arthur’s keys and the small knife attached. Both are crusted with dry blood which crumbles when touched. They clink together threateningly.

‘What do I have to do to get you to stop. You have to want something. Anything.’

“Sure, I do. It’s just nothing you can give .” Nonchalantly, it approaches the bed, finally acknowledging Arthur's presence.

‘Don’t demons collect souls?’ He asks with increasing desperation. Can he give this thing his soul? Was that something he could do?

“Some. I don’t. I think you’ll find that ‘demon’ is a very broad term, covering a wide range of individuals. Besides, your soul is super screwy. Whatever’s shoved it back in here has bound it in tight, so I’d probably have to rip it up to get it free, rendering the activity pointless. So, no deal…But thanks for the offer. I’m flattered.”

‘Please. Stop. I’ll do anything!’

Does he really have nothing? No way to save his Uncle. The only member of his whole freakin family who gave a damn and he can’t even save him. Useless. Why does he fail in all the ways that matter most?

“Oh, don’t mope. Just think, once we finish up here, you’ll never have to worry about failing anybody ever again. No lying. No stress. Doesn’t that sound nice.”

It doesn’t sound nice. It’s the opposite of nice!

The demon drags over the one visitor's chair, which squeaks along the lino flooring, slumping down to stare at his uncle, waiting. It fingers the IV tubing, tracing the piping up to the control dial and back again. Deliberately, it pinches the thin tube shut, attention jumping back to Lance, scanning for any changes.

Waiting.

The waiting is terrible. Especially, when Arthur can feel its attention, partially giddy, laser-focused onto his Uncle. Arthur’s never seen the man look so pale or sickly. Apart from the odd work-related accident, which is impossible to avoid even with strict safety standards, his Uncle has always been healthy. Even the rare times he has seen the man sick it was still ‘no big deal,’ ‘just a scratch,’ or ‘the bodies way of forcing me ta rest.’ While Arthur flip-flopped from one emotional extreme to the next, his Uncle had been a steady, seemingly indestructible, pillar of support. Arthur had never said thank you for any of that. Worse, he’d repaid all that kindness with lies and evasion. Lance should have never taken him in. He had been more trouble than it was worth in his original timeline and he’s definitely not worth it now.

“Hey. HEY!” The demon grows tired of the waiting and gives his Uncle a light slap on the cheek with its free hand, “Wake up.”

“Arthur?” The word is half muttered, barely audible. Lance is phasing into consciousness slowly.  

‘Just say asleep. Stay asleep a little longer. Someone has to come in and stop him. Please.’

“In a manner of speaking. Yeah. I’m Arthur.”

That gets his Uncle’s attention. Lance violently twitches, forcing an eye open. It locks onto him, hazy but critical. Despite being in obvious pain a hand flashes out, snapping onto to Arthur’s wrist, pulling the hand away from his face. The grip is firm abet weaker than Arthur’s expecting.

“Whoa, you might want to take it easily Uncle Lance. Wouldn’t want to pull any stitches. You were stabbed five times you know.”

“You,” His Uncle growls hatefully, eyes narrowing, “Get out of Arthur ya fuckin, slimy piece of shit, bastard.”

“That’s some strong language. And in front of your nephew. He’s watching you know,”

A loose flick and the demon frees its wrist, efficiently shoving his Uncle back down when he attempts to lunge outwards. The hash action causes Lance to grunt in obvious pain. A move towards the emergency call remote has the demon snatching it up and placing it on the small table just out of reach, tutting in disappointment.

“I’ll get ya. Mark my words…You’ll regret this,” His Uncle spits, his attempts at sitting foiled.  His face is pure revulsion and fury. That determination and fire is something Arthur’s never seen directed his way before. It’s all in vain. Nothing matters. Not anymore.

A teasing, “How? You can’t even move. Soon you’ll never move again.” The demon releases its hold on the IV and turns the control dial up to its max setting. Dismayed, Arthur watches the drug take quick effect, rapidly dulling his Uncle’s movements. Eventually, Lance just lies still and glares, even while his eyes are dropping shut.

“Don’t worry about your nephew. He’ll be safe with me. Since you care so much and all.” The glare faulters much to the demon’s renewed glee. The predatory buzz is back, coiled alongside a sensation of anticipation and pleasure.

“Arthur.” His Uncle’s voice loses its heat, softening. He’s struggling to stay conscience, drowsy, eyes shutting.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Stop. Please. PLEASE.’

A knife is produced after a small struggle. The hinge, which usually allowed it to flip cleanly open, is stiff, jammed with blood. The key ring makes a clinking sound, hitting the side of the metal bed frame. Tap. Tap. Tap. It echoes through the room in time with the ticking clock.

“Now. How do we go about this in a way that won’t immediately alert the plebs?”

‘NONONONO!’

“Kindy slow bleed? Good choice.”

“Nighty night,” It stands upright. The chair squeaks. Blankets and paper thin robe are pulled aside in an energetic flourish, revealing the assortment of bandages covering his Uncle’s chest and side. A second is spent in meticulous calculation. The knife is carefully positioned and thrust in. The demon waits for a beat before pushing forward against any resistance, twisting, then drawing out. Cold satisfaction. His Uncle’s fingers catch on Arthur’s retreating arm. This time, there is no strength behind the grasp, and it’s easily shrugged off.

“Not….You…r… Fa..ul…t...” The words are mumbled and slurred, swallowed up by the silent room. The clock on the wall ticks.

“Eh. Suppose we’ll look a bit suspicious if we stick around.”  

The blanket is tossed back into place, covering the reopened wound. They turn, strolling towards the door, practically skipping back down to the reception. Arthur can feel himself splitting, joy mixing in with panic and grief.

Just like his life, he’s falling to pieces. 

NOTE: re-writes, re-writes for days. But finally got a version I’m mostly happy with. I’m hoping to have the next section out within a shorter time frame so people aren't stuck on the cliff hanger but no promises.

Part 26: here

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Part 7 (Derek Hale x Reader)

Catch up here!

A/N: So I take major liberties with the lore of transferring memories between werewolves in this chapter, but it’s still bordering the line of the established lore in the series so... But now I can happily say that the mystery of who the Order are and what they want is slowly unravelling. Now about that slow burn... (Also when you read the dream state part where the reader's eyes change colour, that’s just the eye colour of her inner wolf).

Note: I had previously described Derek’s eye’s as being Hazel but I was corrected and was informed that they are in fact Green, so I edited the eye colour descriptions.

Words: 3660 (this chapter was long!)

Warnings: Violence, Past Trauma??? That’s it I guess.

(gif isn’t mine)

"I'm like you. I'm a werewolf."

The words rang through the room as all four sets of eyes were on you.

Scott's face was scrunched up in thought, he had found your reveal to be quite the shocker. You guessed he was probably unsettled by the fact he had never sensed the werewolf in you. Not that many could. Even your own family had a hard time sensing your other half. They had said it was because the wolf had remained buried, never once surfacing to take to its own unique scent and feel.

Stiles and Liam seemed the least shocked. If anything Stiles seemed to find some credibility in your being a werewolf. After all, just as Liam put it, the Order hunts other supernatural creatures, not humans.

Derek, however, had an unreadable expression on his face. It bothered you somewhat. You didn't want him to look at you with that same level of distrust and caution as he used to. You had hoped things would be different after the attack on the clinic.

You waited in deafening silence as the boys mulled over your words. Until finally Derek spoke.

"How did you know the sage would work?" Derek asked, to your delight he regarded you no difference on account of your secret being made known. You felt more at ease for some reason.

"I'm not sure. I just knew," You told him, surprised by his choice in question.

"How come we couldn't sense you?" Liam asked, bringing the focus back to your newly revealed secret.

"You and I both know the wolf form and the human form can have two very distinct scents. Also, I'm what you call an 'afflicted,'" You said in a hushed voice, the word afflicted rolled off your tongue with a slight sting to it. You always hated that word.

"What is that?" Scott asked, finally breaking from his stupor.

Derek's brow was drawn together as he wore his signature scowl whenever he was deep in thought.

"I thought they were a myth. My mother told me stories as a kid… the Afflicted are pure born shape-shifters who can't shift," Derek looked at you with what you assumed was pity in his eyes.

"Yahtzee," you said sardonically, "give this man a prize."

"That's a thing?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, my mother would tell me these stories about werewolves being cursed to stay in their human form forever. To be honest, I always thought it was just a scary story to keep me from turning outside a full moon," Derek had a fond look on his face, the memory brought about a bitter-sweet touch to his chiselled features.

"It's actually a recessive gene. My family are one of the last few remaining carriers. It only runs in pure-blooded werewolf families. My brothers and sisters can shift, my mother is the carrier and I'm the one with the genetic predisposition, that is, assuming lycanthropy works the same way as gene expression," You said brazenly, a solemn smile gracing your lips.

Stiles' eyes went wide as he flailed about trying to open one of the leather bound books he had in his possession. His actions caused quite the ruckus and you had to stop yourself from laughing at his goofy behaviour.

"Okay so on my way here, I started thinking about the name they gave the hunted:  Ex Alia, right. And it's an odd phrase because combined Ex Alia actually means 'from the other' and that can also mean 'apart from', right."

"Stiles, we've been over this," Derek said running his fingers over his thick eyebrows.

Stiles mimed Derek's words back at him in a comical way, "If you would just let me finish!"

Derek held up his hands and folded them over his chest, eyeing Stiles intensely for the loud tone he had shouted at him with.

"Thank you," Stiles said condescendingly, "Now, what if it's in reference to werewolves who are apart from their kin. Like for example..."

"Werewolves or other shapeshifters who can't shift," Scott finished Stiles' thought.

Even though Stiles argument made sense to you, you couldn't help but fight against his logic, "Even if that were true, they still went after Alex, and he could shift," you rebutted.

"Yes, but you said it's genetic. So what if Alex was a carrier?" Stiles rebuffed.

You went silent. Stiles had a point.

You knew Alex since childhood, he was a third generation werewolf. Your family had a close relationship with other legacy families, that's how you met. It was completely plausible for Alex to be a carrier for the same recessive gene you expressed.

You were startled from your lamentation when you heard a booming knock come from the bunker door. Everyone in the room exchanged questioning glances as they silently asked each other if they knew who it could be.

Stiles drew the short straw and offered himself up to go and see who it was. You were still standing there, numb from everything that had transpired.

You heard Stiles pull open the heavy metal door of the bunker, mutter a quick "Nope," like he was rejecting Girl Scout cookies and shut it behind him before he came to re-join the half circle again.

"Who was it?" Liam asked.

"No one important," Stiles said coolly as he waved the question away and wore an upturned frown. It was certainly a dubious look. Derek wasn’t convinced as he raised a brow at him.

A second later, Derek and Scott's heads snapped to the doors direction just as the door flew off its hinges. Their claws and fangs protruding outwards, their wolfish features taking shape.

Liam was already fully shifted, his nostrils flaring as he let out snarls for breaths. The energy coming off him was powerful and angry, making you instinctively take a few steps back.

All three of them lined up in front of you and Stiles, their eyes creating a gradient from red to yellow to blue. Their animalistic growls echoing through the room.

A set of footsteps descended the steps in a relaxed, languid manner. They belonged to a handsome faced man, slightly older than everyone else in the room, with the same dramatic streak as Derek. He smiled wickedly as he opened his arms in a warm mocking embrace, his head held up high like some entitled prince. His own blue eyes glowing with the same intensity as Derek.

Derek, Liam and Scott retracted their fangs and claws and dropped their defensive stances as soon as they registered who it was that had just punched the door in.

Apparently, the man making the needlessly dramatic entrance wasn't a threat.

"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to shut the door in people’s faces?" The man asked Stiles in a low threatening voice. His clawed fingers dusting off none existent dust from his leather jacket.

"Yeah, well I was also told not to invite homicidal maniacs into any enclosed spaces with me, so..." Stiles shot back.

"Peter, what are you doing here?" Derek asked with a hint of familiarity.

"Why dear nephew, I heard your call."

"Okay who called the homicidal maniac?" Stiles said as he looked over at Derek, Scott and Liam with exasperation.

"He meant the howl," Liam told Stiles.

"Oh, this is just great," you sighed, plopping yourself down on the stool where Liam had previously sat. "More werewolves."

Stiles just patted you back and gave a weak, "There, there," in place of consolation.

"So what have I missed?" Peter said with a large smirk on his clean-shaven face.

The next hour was spent catching Peter upon what was currently plaguing Beacon Hills and your life.

Peter stopped Scott from talking with a single look when he heard you had repressed the memories from the night Alex died. He had an idea, you could read it on his face.

He came and stood a few inches away from you, looking down at you like you were some mathematical theorem to be solved. He held up one finger after much silence and ushered Derek closer to you.

"Derek, come here a second," he said. Derek obliged but made sure to drag his feet a little so Peter didn't think Derek was open to being summoned.

"I hear you have amnesia," Peter directed the statement to you, you just stared up at him and didn't reply. "You're a werewolf, right? So that means even though you can't shift, the same rules apply to you?"

"In a way. I can heal faster than humans, my sense of smell is better and in some cases, I can hear better, but without the ability to shift those powers are significantly weaker to that of actual shapeshifters. But… yes, the same rules apply. Wolf's-bane is still toxic to me, I still feel the pull of the moon, and my abilities are magnified when I'm in a pack. Why do you ask?" You were curious as to where Peter was going with this.

"Just making sure this won't kill you," Peter just gave an innocent smile before he extended his claws and dug them into yours and Derek's neck, linking you to one another, using himself as a conduit. Before you were lost in the spiral of memory and shared consciousness, you heard Stiles say "Oh my God!" in shock and Scott shout Peter's name in an alpha male voice.

It was too late though, you and Derek were already linked and pulling you out now would just cause more harm than good.

***

It felt like you were free falling through an endless white space. Incoherent chattering and sounds playing all at once like someone had overlapped several songs onto a single track.

You were lost in the cacophony of your mind in disarray, until you felt Derek's hands link with yours, pulling you from your confusion.

"Where are we?" You asked him.

Derek looked around at the white empty space, it was like staring at a blank canvas that had no end. His brows knit together for a moment before he realised what was going on.

"We're in your mind, Peter linked us in a shared dream state. Werewolves can sometimes share memories by a bite or a scratch. I think in this case he figured you couldn't grow out your claws or fangs, so he used himself as a proverbial telephone cord."

You were familiar with how the sharing of memories worked. Your father had done something similar with your older brother Markus when he had passed on the mantle of Alpha to him.

Just as you were reliving the memory, the blank canvas of your mind bled through with colour and voices and suddenly a clear image of that day began to replay as though you had just stepped back in time.

Your brother was lying in the centre of a field by the meadow you had spent much of your childhood watching your sibling’s roughhousing.

Markus was writhing in pain as his eyes shimmered between his former vibrant gold to the frightful red they were now. Your mother, sister and younger brother were standing alongside you as you all watched your father transfer his powers onto Markus.

"What is this?" Derek asked

"The Markolf tradition," you said with a hint of pride at your legacy and sorrow for the pain your brother was enduring.

Your brother let out a howling scream, you winced. so did Derek.

You continued, "We differ from most werewolf families because we have the ability to pass on the mantle of alpha when we are no longer fit enough to carry it. That’s partially where we got our name from. Markolf is old High German, it combines the words ‘border’ and ‘wolf’ because we aren’t like most werewolf families. The transferral is painful and can only be done during a full moon. If none of the pack contests, and if the progeny is strong enough, then passing on of the mantle is usually successful."

"I've never heard of this..." Derek was perplexed and in awe of what he saw unfolding.

"My great-grandfather was what you call a True Alpha, he discovered it was possible to pass on the gift by focusing his power through a bite. However, in doing so, you also relinquish most of your strength, making you considerably weaker."

Derek shook himself of his astonishment and tugged at your hand to make you face him, "I think I know why Peter did what he did. If you can't remember what happened to you, then maybe I can. Earlier, you were having a nightmare, I think it was about the night Alex dies."

You squinted your eyes at him, not having any memory of having had a nightmare earlier, "I don't remember having a nightmare."

"It must be your subconscious protecting you from the trauma. All I need you to do is just think about that night. Close your eyes and picture it, what's the first thing that comes to mind?"

You closed your eyes and let your mind wander.

***

Derek kept his eyes on you while yours stayed shut. He held onto your hand to be your anchor, your guide. He watched silently as the canvas began to bleed through with new colours and images and sounds again.

It started with a laugh.

A sweet, sing-song laugh that tugged at Derek's heartstrings. He turned in the direction of the laugh and saw a younger version of you. A version from the past. He couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked with a bright eye-creasing smile and a glow to your skin from the beams of light falling against your body from the moon.

Derek's breath hitched in his throat as he saw the younger version of you wrapped in another man’s arms. A strong man’s arms. Alex, no doubt.

Alex tucked a strand of your longer hair behind an ear. There were accents of playful red streaks hidden amongst the darker parts of your hair. He enjoyed your vibrancy and so did Derek.

You had seemed a different person in the memory. More carefree and easier with a smile, it had managed to coax an unexpected smile from Derek too.

Alex whispered sweet nothings in your ear as the camp sight materialised behind you, and soon so did the trees and the speckled night sky.

Derek couldn't help it when his jaw tightened and his eyes filled with what held the familiar tang of jealousy. He didn't understand where this feeling was coming from, but he was sure it had to do with the fact the younger, longer-haired version of you was looking longingly into the eyes of another man.

Was Derek jealous of a dead man?

Derek grew annoyed at his boyish behaviour, he was here to help you uncover your memories, not be yearning after a version of the woman whose hand he held.

Once the memory had been constructed it was time for Derek to relive it for you while you kept your eyes shut.

The memory shifted from its pleasant sweetness into a slightly more darkened tone. Derek saw the younger version of you having an argument with Alex. Your face frowned and your eyes held a stubborn conviction, Alex appeared more worn out, as though he was slowly realising he was losing the fight:

"I just don't understand why you would take the job in Vancouver without talking with me about it…" Alex said with gloom.

"Alex, I don't want to fight about this again. It's not every day that someone gets offered such a desirable job straight out of university!" The younger version of you shouted, tired of arguing about the same thing for the past month with Alex. "You know I couldn't pass it up."

"But you did so without talking it over with me first. It's like you're using the job as an excuse to end things with me. I know we haven't been ourselves in a while now, I know we fight a lot but--"

"Alex, please stop. We can talk about this when we get back home."

Derek noticed that your smile began to falter as you heard the words the younger version of you shouted at Alex. He squeezed your hand slightly to let you know he was still with you. That you weren't alone.

The memory grew darker still.

The night was less illuminated and the moon was obscured by rain clouds. In the memory, you were holding a hand over your mouth to keep your ragged pants as inaudible as possible, hunkered behind a sage bush as Alex slowly bled out a stone’s throw away from you.

Alyster -the man in the green robe from before- was scanning the forest, he was searching for you. His eagle eyes still every bit as disconcerting as before. The compass around his neck slowly losing its green glow.

The blonde archer from before came to his side, "Alyster," she called out, "the girl, can you sense her?"

Alyster shook his head, his red hair weightless against the howling wind, "Her aura has been shielded from the Oculus," his bony fingers clasped the compass around his neck, "its ability is being obscured." Alyster pointed at a burning cluster of sage close by.

The archer grabbed a hand full of sage growing on one of the many bushes closest to her and crumpled it in her hands with distaste, "And the boy?" the archer asked, glancing down at a slowly dying Alex.

"He carries the magic in him as well, but the girl’s was stronger. She is the one we need if we hope to keep the Mother Tree fuelled. I fear, she may be the last." Alyster glanced down at his arm. A tattoo made up of a strange marking etched onto his forearm, previously hidden under his green robe.

When Alex finally drew his last breath, a green mist came into view around his body, the mist was drawn towards the tattoo, embedding itself into it. The tattoo glowed the same shade as the Oculus for a brief minute before it returned back to normal. Alyster let out a pained growl.

"The rest of the pack have scurried off, do we make with the chase?"

"No. They do not possess the magic. Leave them be, tell the others to return. Daybreak is upon us."

Derek noticed tears streaming down your face.

Your hand had clutched his in a death grip as the memory began to unravel and spiral into chaos. It played over and over again: the lone arrow whistling through the tree line, embedding itself into Alex's chest after your argument; Alex shouting for you to hide as another arrow flew out; you scurrying behind the bushes and holding your breath as you listened to Alyster and the female archer converse; Alex losing the light in his eyes; the eagle eyes that scanned the forest belonging to Alyster and the green tendrils that felt out for you emerging from the Oculus.

It just kept repeating.

"Y/N, snap out of it," Derek shook your shoulders. You didn't budge, your eyes shut tight, refusing to open.

"Y/N, wake up, listen to my voice," Derek tried to reassure you, "I'm here, I'm right here, don't lose yourself in the memory. Stay with me!"

He was shaking you violently but you were lost in the chaos. Derek watched as the memory replayed itself, getting corrupted and altered the longer it stayed in its loop.

Derek couldn't think of anything else to do, he needed to draw your senses to him, to pull you out of your hell.

In desperation, he gripped your face between his hands and drew you in for a kiss. Your lips were stiff and unmoving at first, but soon enough he felt you loosen in his arms as you began to instinctively kiss him back.

In the background, the horrific memory dissipated into blackness and the dark canvas mutated into a beautiful rendition of a romanticised full moon and starry sky.

Derek felt himself let go of all senses and logic as he deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around your waist. He felt your fingers grace his jawline as his tongue practically serenaded you into a peaceful quiet.

You were drowning in each other.

When Derek pulled back, he was utterly thrown by what he saw. Your eyes, they weren't their normal colour, they glowed a magnificent silver, like the moon itself. And your body was surrounded by a shimmering green aura.

If the moon were personified as a woman, Derek imagined she would not be able to hold a candle up to your spellbinding beauty.

You had taken the very air from his lungs.

His eyes turned their werewolf blue, but it wasn't from being on the defensive or from anger. They were blue for another reason.

"Why did you--" you couldn't finish your question, a deep flush colouring your neck and cheeks.

"It was the only thing I could think of to snap you out of your… daze," Derek explained, his chest heaving up and down.

Without any warning, just as you were mere moments from placing your hand back on his face, to feel if he was real even in the dream state, the dream melted away.  Derek and you were pulled apart in opposite directions as reality bombarded your senses again.

***

"Welcome back," Peter said in between ragged pants as his head was coated in sweat and he was hunched over, holding onto his knees to keep him upright.

Your neck bled from the claw marks, staining your clothes red. Your eyes struggling to open.

You gasped out loud as you almost toppled over from the stool. Derek caught you before you touched the ground, his arms struggling to hold you up, Liam rushed to help him.

As you lost consciousness, the last thing you saw was his soothing green eyes looking down at you with worry and Liam’s own panic riddled expression contrasting deeply with the calm that was settling over you.

Part 8 is Here!

MASTERPOST | Mobile

As Always: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think so far! Don’t be afraid to ask to be added to the tag list and just a heads-up, this will be my last update for this series for a little while. I have some moving to do!

Tags: @melissavercos   @theflash-trash @mynamesalreadytaken @island-end @chipster-21 @helloscorpious  @marvelismyfantasy @anonymousfanfics @homra-the-red-clan @derangedangel @phonegalhelp’

Permanent tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 3X01 - The Heart of the Truest Believer

Finally, I can start Season 3! It’s been so long that I can HEART-ly believe it!

...Did you miss the puns? I missed the puns. I don’t think Emma did, because I’m just hanging on by a thread! 

(Ha! Snuck two in!)

Anyway, let’s get under the cut and see what this episode has to offer!

Press Release Emma, Mary Margaret, David, Regina, Mr. Gold and Hook enter Neverland to search for a kidnapped Henry, they’re greeted by a school of not-to-friendly mermaids who threaten to end their search before it begins; Henry finds himself on the run from the Lost Boys with another escapee from Peter Pan’s encampment; and Neal, recovering from his wounds, travels through the Enchanted Forest with Mulan in an attempt to learn the fates of Emma and Henry.

General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Neverland Seas ”I blame you.” Yeah, I disagree, Emma. For one thing, this plays a pretty small part of the overall story. For another, while they tried to convince her of what to do, it was Emma’s ultimate decision to do it. As she says, “We’re the same age. We have equal amounts of wisdom.” For a third, their decision, while endangering Henry, saved Regina. For a fourth, the only people’s faults for Henry’s capture are Greg and Tamara. *sighs* Look, I get Emma’s grief and worry, but this writing direction doesn’t feel genuine for her to deflect blaming Snow and David. It feels like a conflict was thrown in so that there would be more of a disconnect between her and her family.  I love Emma, but I can admit when a scene makes her completely unsympathetic despite the framing telling me otherwise, and this is a prime example. And here’s the thing: This never comes up again! Emma doesn’t apologize to them. This moment is utterly pointless!

The importance of teamwork is the big theme of this segment and once we get over that hiccup of a scene as I just mentioned, it’s delivered incredibly effectively. The conflicts between the characters, both internal and external, are incredibly real and no one is holding back. And the twist of those conflicts causing the storm is handled well! Rumple presents the bare essence of the theme, about Emma’s lack of belief, and because he chooses to go off on his own, the narrative has him fail by putting him into a traumatising position, whereas Emma’s belief in their abilities as a team and, in correlation with Rumple’s speech, herself, allows for the rest of the Nevengers to succeed.

Neverland Island So I have a nice bit to say about this segment, but it all applies to my “Favorite Dynamics” segment, so you’ll see that down there!

Enchanted Forest There’s not really much to be said about the story other than I liked it. That’s not to say that I didn’t like it or I didn’t appreciate the characters re-introduced or the interactions between them, but it was rather simple and that just doesn’t leave me a lot to talk about in terms of a breakdown of themes of major character actions. Still, the pacing was nice and the story was engaging!

Insights - Stream of Consciousness -So I didn’t realize that Emma giving birth to Henry was the first scene of the season. For some reason, I was under the impression that it happened at the start of “Coming Home,” but I honestly love it being here. Immediately, you get the sense that this arc was well planned so that it could return to this moment at the end of “Coming Home.”

-Also, I love that flicker of light as Emma gives birth! Such a special part of Emma’s life -- one filled with both joy and misery as she decides to give Henry away -- deserves the magical treatment!

-I seriously got choked up as Emma denied her chance at being Henry’s mother from the start. There’s so much love for him from the start and while it’s causing her so much pain, she’s doing what she thinks is best for him. And the gentle and yet powerful way the theme plays in the background just kills me. Swan Believer forever!

-Damn, what a cool way to go back to the present! We’re put right in the action, not missing a minute of the adventure.

-I will NEVER get over how much I love hearing Killian say “Neverland.” Whether in “The Crocodile” or here, Colin puts so much energy into the word, encompassing the danger and adventure to be found there.

-”It’s a good thing you guys don’t ask any questions.” My sentiments exactly, Henry!

-”More time than I care to remember trying to leave this place to kill Rumplestiltskin.” This provides some interesting insight into Killian’s character. It implies (to me) that he devised his Dreamshade plan with quite a few years to spare before his escape, whereas I always assumed that the planning took most of the time and that the escape was just a pinch of time towards the end.

-”Villains don’t get happy endings.” It’s incredible that this line, said by a character that left so little of an impression, is what follows Regina, Rumple, and Killian throughout basically the rest of the series.

-”That’s a great use of our time. A wardrobe change.” To be fair, Killian, Rumple’s not going to be in fighting shape sporting a Calvin Klein suit. This...honestly weird ass outfit makes the most sense.

-”You don’t believe in your parents, you don’t believe in magic, or even yourself.” Talk about a kickass line of foreshadowing of all that she’s going to overcome by the end of this arc!

-”When have you ever taken a real leap of faith?” Give it about a half hour, Rumple!

-So I must say, it’s funny that a lack of evidence is brought up as such a big story element here, but once Tink enters the picture, it’s her need for evidence as to the safety of their voyage back that secures it. A bit of dissonance, but nothing too severe.

-I love how Rumple spins his cane as he disappears. Rumple is the most beautifully extra person across the realms.

-I probably should’ve discussed this last time, but I love the design for the Lost Boys. They give off this air of being lost souls and their numbers stand to make them very intimidating.

-So going off of Greg’s death as well as the events of “Awake,” I’m gonna say that a shadow rip doesn’t necessitate death unless the shadow ripper wants it to mean death.

-”No time for questions.” I like that subtle line that’s in tune with Greg and Tamara’s line of no asking questions, foreshadowing the revelation about him.

-Damn! JMO is strong!

-The dialogue in the scene with Neal, Mulan, Aurora, and Phillip flows so naturally!

-”How long was he with you?” ”Long enough for me to know that I miss him, too.” I normally don’t make timeline jokes, but...come onnnnn!

-”I will not be capsized by fish.” This may be my new favorite David line.

-Also, any pretense that murder leaves any long-lasting effects of Snow and David go the fuck away when David tries to kill mermaids.

-Why didn’t Regina get rid of them earlier?

-”If Pan wants you, he WILL get you.” This line is delivered so well. Pan is not only just barely holding out from outright bragging, but is trying to deteriorate Henry’s belief and seeing that it isn’t working, cementing his part to play in Pan’s ploy.

-”Lead the way.” Am I the only one humming “Follow the Leader?”

-I like how, until Rumple enchants her, Tamara physically can’t talk. Very realistic.

-You know, everyone talks about heart colors when it comes to Rumple, Regina, Snow, and Killian, but does anyone notice how Tamara’s heart was pretty freakin’ red when Gold crushed it?

-Did no one read “Lord of the Flies?” Get the conch shell away from your enemies!

-”Filet the bitch.” I’m starting to think that all of my favorite character lines in this show have to do with aquatic life.

-”We need to think this through.” Emma, that why they’re shouting at each other. They’re discussing the matter.

-Okay, so I’m not the biggest Robin Sr. fan (And I’m hoping that this rewatch changes that for the better), but this was a solid entrance. It feels iconic, plays to the character’s power and good nature, and the more neutral yet noble tone that the scene requires plays well to Sean’s strengths.

-”See these markings? He was keeping track of me growing.” Awwwww!!! Papafire moment! That was necessary and beautiful!

-I just realized, this is our intro to blood magic! Cool!

-”I ruined YOUR life?” Regina, please. I thought we were past that…

-”Don’t call my wife a slag!” Yeah, Killian. You deserved the fuck outta that punch.

-I love the music that plays during the flying sequence! It’s gorgeous, distinct, and whimsical!

-CAPTAIN CHARMING BROMANCE!!! We have taken off!

-So I’m guessing that Rumple has encountered Felix at least one or two times.

-”Each of us have been too busy being at each other’s throats to be believers.” Those things aren’t correlated.

-”We need to do this the right way.” “No, we don’t. We just need to succeed.” YESSSS! Emma! That is my girl! She gets her tactics from her mama!!

-”It’s easier to get people to hate something than to believe.” That’s...incredibly accurate.

Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing? Everyone Working Together AND The Mission to Save Henry- ”It’s time for all of us to believe, not in magic, but in each other.” Emma’s speech took a sentence to get going, but once it did, DAMN did it get good! Now, as one gleams from this episode, these two arcs are one and the same. The only way Henry is saved is by working together, and this episode completely captures why that’s so important.

Emma Accepting Her Parents - This second-part-of-an-arc got off to SUCH a weak start, and that’s frustrating because I KNOW it gets better from here. But what I said above does apply.

Greg and Tamara - “We don’t ask questions. We just believe in our cause.” Holy crap. Tamara and Greg went from being two pretty intelligent and well designed villains into being total morons. I will say, part of me is glad that they did because if not, their conflict would’ve been way too close to a science vs. religion debate for comfort. But they also die here. To be honest, if anyone but Rumple was to find one of them, I’d rather it have been Greg who got the additional moments of life to speak and allow for Henry to get away. His story, well, was actually a story, whereas Tamara’s connection to Neal is loose at best.

Killian’s Redemption - Killian’s redemption takes an honest-to-goodness step forward. He’s acting on his decision to care about someone other than himself (And that shows through the two people aboard the ship that can stand him), but still has quite a bit of his verbal firepower and contempt (Towards David and Rumple) that reminds us of his villainous past and that his redemption won’t be all sunshine and rainbows.

Rumple’s Redemption - Rumple takes what is a realistic step back, though I’m not even certain I should call it a step back. Despite being his Rumple-y self, the narrative makes it very clear that his decision to dessert the group and chastise them beforehand are made on behalf of the mission to save Henry. And as we see the personal trials he’s already taken on in this pursuit with the confrontation with Pan’s minion, there’s so much power that grows with these decisions.

Regina’s Redemption - Regina also takes a step back into some of her more vicious tendencies: hating on Snow, defaulting to magic and violence for all her solutions. I personally like this because while there’s an understanding that these people are family, the anger and resentment between Regina and them is still present and in the heat of the moment, Regina won’t forget it. I will say, the Regina Blames the World trope is back and it still annoys me, though slightly less so here because the framing wasn’t going for sympathy in that moment.

Favorite Dynamic Henry and Pan. Pan’s dynamic with Henry sets up perfectly the kind of monster he will be for the rest of the season. He’s an incredible manipulator and plans out everything he says in order to activate Henry’s belief just when he needs to. Look at the way he set up the pixie dust and how that moment pays off! It’s makes for a triumphant moment that becomes terrifying in hindsight. But what makes this dynamic work so well is how it is set up. In the few minutes we see before Pan’s disguised appearance, Neverland has shown itself to be a cruel place. The location itself is darkly lit and the two villains of the previous season are violently murdered. Because of that, we as an audience clutch to Pan just as Henry does and because of that, for the first time, our belief causes suffering as the deception is exposed.

Writer Adam and Eddy, as usual start up the season! And I honestly like it. A lot of it is good! I’d compare it to the Season 1 finale where it’s a good mix of story and character moments (And just like in the Season 1 finale, has a completely pointless and aggravating moment, but thankfully, this one doesn’t mean a lot)! I feel like the characters were put in a solid place where they have room to grow and are put somewhere that keeps them intimate and gives them opportunities for great dynamics!

Rating 9/10. This episode is a great way to start off the season! The settings and themes have been set up well, and the characters are in good form! It’s exciting and adventurous, but nerve racking all the same. It makes me super excited for what’s to come!

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Captain Swan - Look, season 2 was not Captain Swan’s golden time for shipping (For me, at least), but Season 3 is here and they are glorious! Killian is incredibly respectful of Emma, comforts her over her worries, addresses underlying grief she has for Baelfire, and supports her as she prepares for Neverland’s horrors. It’s honestly amazing! Also, Emma and Killian are sailing the Roger together during the storm!! They’re working together and it is the BEST!!! Ship of dreams...quite literally! Swanfire - And don’t think I forgot about Swanfire! Both Emma’s grief and Neal’s devotion to getting back to her is such a big presence in this episode. “Tell Emma I’m alive, and that I love her.” Letting Emma know that he’s both okay and loves her is Neal’s main priority and that’s just incredible! And I loved Neal’s scene with Mulan as he discusses his regrets leaving Emma. <3

-----

Woohoo! Season 3 is off to a solid start and I can’t wait to take the rest of Peter Pan’s Flight! Thank you for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales!

Next time...I don’t know. Reader, help me out, cause I’m lost...girl… ;)

See you guys then!

Season 3 Total (9/220)

Writer’s Scores: Adam and Eddy (9/60)

Operation Rewatch Archives

[coldtomyflash]

So I've been following your tumblr for a while now, and I've seen everything you've had to say about the crossover. I should preface this by saying that I am white with no Jewish ancestry. So I suppose my place isn't the question, because this does not affect me directly. However: I do not understand how showing Nazis as villains is a bad thing. I am not questioning that it hurts people. I've seen that it clearly does. What I question is "Why?" I don't grasp why Nazi=villains is a bad thing.

I’m going to be bluntly honest here. I had to mentally dismiss about ten blithe responses to this that were on the order of that now-infamous tweet “I don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about other people.” I know that’s not what you’re saying, but I struggled, when I read this, to grasp how you could say that you see the harm (hurt) it is causing and yet don’t see that it’s wrong. 

And how it could be true that you’ve actually read this post, and this one, and this one, and this one, and this one, and this one, and some of the other stuff I’ve put in my tag for the crossover, and yet still be confused about this. And one of those posts, mind you, explicitly explains why it’s more than just “they made Nazis the villains of the crossover”.

And part of why I was tempted to answer blithely is because, given all that, I think it’s been explained time and again what the issue is here, and how it goes so far beyond the fact that them making Nazis the villains is the problem. The other part is because to re-explain it, to break it down to its elemental components? That takes time - hours from the time I started thinking about this to the time I’ll be done writing it - and energy - in terms of research and resources. I’m doing a lot of labour for you, emotionally and physically here. And part of me wants to shirk that labour, to put it on you to do it.

But… I can’t. Because I can answer your question, at least from my own perspective, and it is an important one to answer. Because before I understood just how much my own privilege impacted how I see the world and started to actively push back against it and expand my perception, I probably wouldn’t have fully understood either.

So I can’t explain this as eloquently or succinctly as some other people. And I can’t explain this from the perspective of someone who’s directly being harmed by this crossover (because I am also white and a gentile). And I’m sure many people people who are direct targets of Nazis would tell you that “isn’t it enough that it is harming me?” and they would be right, full stop. That would be an acceptable answer.

But I’m going to do my best to give you the understanding I genuinely think you’re looking for, allowing for the fact that others may have more to add or clarify, and allowing for the fact that my answer is inherently limited by my privilege.

I trust that you’ll read to the end, even though it’s long. And if at the end you still can’t understand, or you think I’m exaggerating, then I urge you to think on this, to sleep on it, and to read more and more about it. And even without understanding, to respect the voices of the Jewish (and gay, and Rroma) people who’ve spoken out about these problems time and again when things like this crop up. Amplify those voices, even if you can’t see the long-term ramifications of why this is ‘Bad’ yet.

First, the issue here cannot be reduced to “Nazis are the villains of the crossover.” Because that [.] at the end is actually a […]. It really goes like this: Nazis are the villains of the crossover…

… and the premise is based on the notion that Nazis won and have world domination.

… and that premise implies that Nazis are so powerful that with a bit of ‘bad luck’ in history, Nazis could have won.

… and that premise contributes to the mythic aggrandizing of Nazism that makes so many people Nazi sympathizers or apologists.

… and many heroes doppelgangers are Nazis. 

… and Jewish-coded heroes’ doppels are Nazis.

… and a Jewish-coded hero who came to earth at age 12 and was raised on better principles than that still became a Nazi.

… and that notion spits on the original intent of the Jewish creators of these characters.

… and all of this implies that “good and heroic” people can still turn out to be Nazis, undermining the very message heroes should send. (Being a hero only when it’s easy is not being a hero at all. Doing the right thing when it’s against what society enforces is what makes them heroes.)

… and this turns the heroes that people (including Jewish people) look up to for hope and comfort into symbols of hatred and genocide.

… and the Nazis interrupt an interracial marriage between a Black woman and a Jewish-coded hero (who is canonically Jewish in parallel media like the DCEU) for the sake of drama.

… and the Nazi doppelganger outfits are designed to look ~*sexy*~ to an uncritical viewer.

… and the ~*sexy*~ doppel outfits include genuine Nazi symbols from WW2, which are pretty damn triggering to a lot of people. (But yet no sign of a swastika because that would most likely turn those uncritical viewers too far off).

… and they’re ~*sexy*~ enough that people already want to cosplay that Nazi and buy merchandise of that Nazi paraphernalia.

… and the promo photos show that a Jewish woman and a Black woman are going to be targeted specifically, thus capitalizing directly off threats and violence to actual historical victims of the Nazis.

… and the promo photos treat Wellsobard (many people’s fave villain) as an allusion to Dr. Mengele, one of the most infamously disgusting and reprehensible people to ever exist.

… and the promos show us images of a gay character and actor wearing a ‘Pink Triangle’ once again being used as a symbol of hate and shame.

… and there is a good chance that a Jewish character (Martin) is going to get killed off during this crossover.

…and the storyline is likely focused on the love story between a white gentile and a Jewish woman who gets targeted by his evil Nazi doppelganger.

… and the shows already have a history of antisemitism by putting a Jewish woman in a gas chamber (wtf Arrow), killing a Jewish one-off villain with radiation in a compressed chamber (Atom Smasher, wtf The Flash), erasing the Jewish identity of some characters (e.g., Ray Palmer) and failing to mention another’s (Martin’s) in three seasons (c’mon Legends), and no-doubt more.

… and … this list goes on. It really does. This is not exhaustive.

And you might be tempted to think “but if the Nazis are defeated, and shown unequivocally to be the bad guys, then isn’t it okay? Isn’t it historically accurate that the Nazis would target the Jewish and Black and LGBTQ characters and wear Nazi symbols anyway? Many of the main producers are Jewish or gay, they’re not trying to say anything good about Nazis.”

So this is where we have to talk about narrative framing, implicit associations, and sociological implications.

The concept of framing in psychology deals with how we can present the exact same information in different ways and get vastly different responses. How we present information, even paired down to simple basic statistics, massively impacts how people internalize and encode that information and therefore how they respond to it.

In narrative, we know that how we frame a character’s motives and background influence how they’ll be perceived by the audience. So many heroes in action movies kill and murder their way through a scene, but their crimes are justified by the narrative frame, whereas the villain’s won’t be. Or in order to humanize villains and make them sympathetic, the narrative may shift the viewer’s paradigm by re-framing the information: yes this villain is an asshole who hurt your favourite character, but they’re doing it because of [x].

So when we look at the crossover, we have to interrogate how it’s being framed. Are the Nazis villains? Yes? Good, check. … But the Nazis are also doppelgangers of our beloved heroes?… Okay, right off the bat, that’s bad. 

That will make some people inherently sympathize with the Nazis doppels and like them. We have an emotional and automatic response to these faces, to these people, that is going to work faster and parallel to how our conscious brain responds to them, and many viewers (those who don’t have an automatic and massively negative knee-jerk response to the premise or the symbolism already built in) will have to be consciously and continuously inhibiting any decision to feel some positive sense toward those characters, and many viewers aren’t going to put in that conscious effort, especially not while the narrative is so distracting. 

(For the record, if you consciously create this negative association it’ll become automatic. We aren’t born hating Nazi symbolism, we encode associations to it, and if you continuously encode negative ones, then you’ll hate other things associated with that symbolism too!)

So now in the crossover, by how our brain creates associations, if we have a positive association with that hero, there is an association now between that hero and their doppelganger, and that doppel and Nazi symbolism. That creates a link between positive feelings and Nazi symbolism. Say what? Look, our brains are simple in their associations and categorizations. There’s ways around this, but if we leave these associations unchecked, this can happen. Especially for viewers who won’t recognize and understand the symbolism like the ‘SS’ on Overgirl’s chest (i.e., younger viewers who are most impressionable and who the education system has seriously failed, and privileged viewers who weren’t taught to have strong negative associations to these less well known Nazi symbols). 

And we already know this is happening. This is literally why we have articles on popular press outlets saying they want to buy merch of Overgirl (Supergirl’s Nazi doppel)’s outfit, which is literally emblazoned across the chest with Nazi symbols. People are saying they want to buy actual Nazi merch and the crossover hasn’t even aired yet. Just… let that sink in for a sec?

So. 

That’s one reason why making heroes as Nazis is bad, and why making Nazis sexy is bad. Because of the automatic associations our brains make with those beloved characters, and even with attraction. If we find something attractive or beautiful, we tend to have automatic associations with that as ‘good’. Beautiful = moral is one of the stronger associations we have and it’s reinforced by media time and again. (Conversely to ugly = evil, or evil = queer. And female villains are often designed for sex appeal but it’s misogynistic anyway because it deals with a lot of bullshit about feminine purity and evil seductresses, and still conflates these associations our brains are going to make).

And look, it’s 2017. We have Richard Spencer the literal Neo Nazi on TV and articles about how this ‘alt-right’ leader is sexy and cool. We don’t need DCTV to jump on the bandwagon of making Nazis seem “cool”. Human beings experience approach motivations toward things we find attractive. The only option is to experience disgust and anger in response to people like Spencer and characters like Overgirl, or else we may fall prey to the implicit associations put forth by the media itself.

And that’s the problem: the media (the DCTV shows) are putting these associations there and forcing the viewers to work against them if we want to watch this and not come out of it as worse people for it. It’s designed to be entertaining and thrilling and they spent millions of dollars making it that way, and so much of that budget went to making the villains what they are.

So it’s not enough for them to say that Nazis are the villains or even to show them getting their asses kicked if they set the Nazis up to start as all-powerful world dominators. It’s not enough to have these characters say “I hate Nazis” when they show their doppels as Nazis and capable of those atrocities.

And if you’re starting to think “there’s an important message here. About how Nazis can look classically attractive but we shouldn’t be taken in by that, and about nature versus nurture and how we need to actively push back against evil within ourselves or else, in another dimension or if things had gone different, even we could be evil.”

That’s… tempting to argue. It’s an important message, to be sure. But given the stylized outfits and triggering imagery and the way they’ve set up the narrative, I don’t anticipate that’s the message we’re getting here. I mean, I think it’ll come up, most definitely, but I don’t think it’s what the viewer is ultimately going to take away from this. Not in the “I need to look within myself and push back against my own biases” sort of way. That’s not the way they’ve framed this.

And for a comparison point, if you want a narrative that says “White supremacists are all evil, don’t get taken in by one who seems ~reasonable~ and looks normal, and see what these modes of thought actually look like” then watch the movie Imperium (2016) and see how they handle it. (And then compare that to American History X, which apparently some Neo Nazis like, even though it’s inherently anti-Nazi, because it paints them as being powerful and is full of the visual symbolism they uphold).

Because the way they’re currently framing the CW crossover, it’s really just about amping up the drama? And they’ve capitalizing on intergenerational trauma of the Jewish community and the collective trauma of the Holocaust to the gay community. And I’ve said elsewhere that I have no doubt the intent was good, but good intentions aren’t enough. 

If the producers don’t understand the damage they can cause by making ~*sexy*~ Nazis literally capable of world-domination (they’re not, they never were, they were superstitious and put genocide and hate over actual scientific advancements and their disgusting experiments on humans didn’t teach us near as much as people pretend they did), and re-writing heroes as Nazis (which, if anyone recalls, created a huge outcry when Marvel wrote Captain America as a Nazi) then regardless of their intent, they need to rethink their storytelling. Or if they really think that the right way to make a statement about the rise of Neo Nazism in the wake of the Trump election is to put the ‘SS’ symbol on Supergirl’s chest and make Eobard into Dr. Mengele, to recycle imagery of actual Nazis from WW2 and put a pink triangle on a gay man’s chest in 2017…. they don’t get it. Whatever their intent and regardless of where they’re coming from, they don’t fucking get it.

Sorry, I’m getting worked up. My point is that if they wanted to make a statement about things today, there were a million better ways to do it, and I could list at least 5 off the top of my head right now. But those would be more controversial, harder to pitch and sell, and not as stylized or easy to promote. So stylish Nazis is what we got. And that’s just… such a problem, including literally the ‘stylish’ part of that sentence.

Nazism and white supremacy are inherently performative. Nazis were all about the #aesthetic. They aligned themselves with famous designers for their uniforms. They had the villainous dramatic flair, and they used it to their advantage. Having that in the crossover might be historically accurate, but it falls right into what the Nazis themselves do: make themselves look good to amp up this notion that they are good. 

And a problem with depicting them this way (instead of making them pathetic, vacuous, hate-filled to the point of self-defeat, self-important to the point of being ultimately silly and sad, punching down their notions of grandeur) is that actual Nazis like it. They like being portrayed as sexy, powerful, and cool. And depictions like that help them with their recruiting. “Look, isn’t Overgirl sexy? She’s like our mascot. They know that when we take back this country from foreigner invaders, this is how it’s gonna look.” Because they say when, not if, and they recruit by framing themselves as the victim in a struggle against invaders and usurpers. Make no mistake, white supremacy is a victim complex of untold proportions and having attractive, fan-favorited characters championing their cause helps spread their message.

But let’s get back to the crossover’s broader sociological message and stop talking about actual modern-day Nazis for a sec.

Nazis have been the villains in DCTV before. On Legends in 1942, and with Damien Darhk (again, actual literal Nazi, and again, the narrative has made him “entertaining” in the eyes of some viewers and keeps bringing him back over and over as a villain?). Nazis have also been the villain in pop culture for half a century. Indiana Jones. Star Wars comes to mind in particular. They’re not shy about the fact that their villains are explicitly based on Nazis and the Nazi regime. Which is working out so well considering how many people are mooning over Kylo Ren when he’s a genocidal fascist who murdered his own father (”but it’s okay because he’s just misunderstood, and by that I mean I find the actor attractive and I, too, have anger and angst so I identify with him, this Nazi”). At least in Star Wars it’s figurative, I guess?

And the thing about these narratives, the problem with these narratives, is that they fictionalize Nazis. This isn’t necessarily a reason to vehemently boycott these media or rail against them, but just, as a general phenomenon that’s happened over time, many people - and by this I mostly mean privileged people and people who don’t feel particularly targeted by Nazism - tend to think of Nazis as this cinematic enemy. This prop, this simple narrative device. This way of commenting on the past more than the present, or alluding to something about the present as a mere metaphor, and that metaphor tends to go over the heads of half the viewers anyway because most people aren’t taught to critically evaluate media except in high school english classes that no one takes seriously.

And fictionalized Nazis don’t look like real Nazis in the 21st century. So when real Nazis do gather, many people don’t realize just how bad that is, just how violent their coming together is going to be, and just why need to fight back against such demonstrations and against letting Nazis have any space or voice in our society. It’s like that “this is fine” dog cartoon where he doesn’t see an issue until the house burns around him? Making Nazis into a fictional narrative device can make it harder for many people to actually see the flames burning around them, because they’ve been taught that “real” fires look different than the ones already starting to burn their house down.

Finally, I’ll just come back to point number 1: this is hurting people. In a way that going to 1942 and letting Mick Rory roast Nazis didn’t. And as privileged individuals, we have a responsibility to call out and call attention to the issues in this media and to amplify others’ voices. But as human beings more generally? We also owe a duty of compassion to others. 

Sure, there are a lot of people who aren’t hurt by this, but there are a lot who are. Who are shaking and sick to their stomachs and afraid for what’s happening in 2017 and how the tides of the world are turning. Who worry that this crossover is just another example of how casual people are about Nazism and who worry about everything I’ve listed here in detail as the broader effects of media like this and its current framing, even if they don’t have the language to articulate it all in one place like this. People who feel these effects, and feel the target on their back.

We owe those people some compassion, yeah? So when they say it hurts, we don’t need to say: why? That can come later. Our first question should instead be: how can I help?

[revlyncox]

Grace

This sermon was adapted for the Unitarian Church of Harrisburg, January 28, 2017.

This past week, I was at the Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association Institute for Excellence in Ministry. The planning committee went out of their way to welcome parents of young children to the conference, so our daily worship services included some of the same delightful sounds of life that I so treasure about congregational worship. There were always four or five babies being bounced in carriers or crawling up the aisles to get a better view of the choir. I was reminded of the days when my own kids were still in their cribs.

When our (now seven-and-a-half-year-old) twins were newborns, people used to tell us, “Sleep when the baby sleeps,” which would have been good advice if they slept at the same time. At around six months old, we decided that they and we were ready for sleep training. That means we practiced putting the babies down in their cribs, telling them good night, and leaving the room.

I’m sure you can imagine how popular this was with the babies at first. The first night, we went through cycles of crying, reassurance, and calming for an hour and a half. After that, both babies stayed asleep for about ten hours. The next night they settled down somewhat more quickly. The third night involved only half an hour of objections. It wasn’t long before we all got used to the routine and neither the babies nor the adults did much crying at bedtime.

Once they were asleep, we had blessed peace. We knew they were getting what their bodies needed. The adults could sleep. Or get some work done. Or try to get some work done and accidentally sleep. It felt like heavenly serenity, achieved with some struggle. In the morning, the twins didn’t appear to resent or even remember the betrayal of the night before. They were glad to see us.

Starting over, well resourced, residing in the present moment with joy rather than dwelling on negative things from the past; this is an experience of grace. Like the sleep of medium-sized babies, the experience of grace is itself one of ease, yet we may struggle a bit with the disciplines that help open up our perception of grace. To me, grace is a force of the universe that is always there, an assurance of the acceptance of the Source of Love, a resource for reconciliation, and a model of how we can live in connection with one another. Grace is the truth that sets us free and the re-alignment of right relationship. To open ourselves up to its power, we practice forgiveness, self-compassion, and covenant.

Forgiving Others

Forgiveness is one path to perceiving grace. We’re winding up a month with the theme of forgiveness, so I just have a bit more to say before we move on. Forgiveness is about retaining the memory without continuing to feed the feelings of anger and disappointment. Forgiveness can lead to making amends, reconciliation, and a stronger relationship, especially when more than one person is engaged in the process. Occasionally, forgiveness means letting something be in the past and finding a way to love someone from afar, because the hurt is too deep and the harmful behavior is too persistent for closeness. For everyday injuries, may we practice forgiveness in ways that are healthy for ourselves and life-affirming for all.

Our story earlier, “Mussa and Nagib,” is an allegory that illustrates this. The story was written by Julio Cesar de Mello e Souza, an early twentieth century fiction writer and mathematician from Brazil, writing under the pen name Malba Tahan. He set the tale in a place far away from his personal experience to give it a legendary quality.

In the story, hurt was written in sand, but selflessness was chiseled in rock. Writing in sand doesn’t take much time. It’s OK to remember mistakes and learn from them, but don’t dwell on judgments. On the other hand, engraving kindness in stone takes some focus. Writing thank-you notes or recording the act of kindness in a journal can help us hold on to those feelings of connection and gratitude.

Sometimes resentments are attempts to prevent being hurt in the same way twice. But grudges do not necessarily offer protection, and they have their own drawbacks. Addressing the incident directly—saying what happened, how you feel, and what requests (if any) you would like to make to the other person—is one way to reduce the risk of being hurt again.

In a sense, Mussa’s act of writing in the sand where his friend Nagib could see it was a form of direct address. He called attention to the hurt, the incident itself, without any theories about what it meant or labels for his friend’s character. It is so easy to jump from “ouch” to “you don’t care about me” or “you are a bad person” in a moment of anger. Reflect on facts first. Notice your feelings. Figure out what you really need. Then decide how to respond.

Direct address is not a guarantee, but I think the benefits outweigh the risks. Carving a negative experience in stone takes a lot of time and effort, and then you have this heavy rock you have to carry around. It may be that some distance is necessary for physical safety. Honor your own well-being and boundaries, yet also account for what is lost when a grudge takes the lead.

When an event is far in the past, you can hold on to the wisdom you gained from that experience and the memory of the strengths you showed in navigating through it without pacing continuous circles of resentment and judgment. Whether something is drawn in the sand or engraved in the stone depends on how much time and energy you devote to committing the facts, feelings, and inferences to memory. Choose consciously. Forgive when you can.

Self-Compassion

For some of us, forgiving others is easier than forgiving ourselves. A proportional, productive response to our own mistakes doesn’t necessarily come naturally. Perhaps we have too much information from inside our own heads, too intimate a knowledge of the guffs and muffs that other people didn’t necessarily notice. Another challenge is that, unlike conflicts with other people, we don’t have as many options for putting temporary distance between ourselves and ourselves while we reflect on what we need. Of the options we do have, few of them are healthy for very long. Self-compassion helps us to continue to do the work of reflection in moments when we doubt ourselves, or when other people doubt us. Self-compassion reminds us that we have value, no matter what setbacks occur.

When we are born, we are dropped into the middle of a complex and beautiful creative process. Real life assumes trial and error. Scientists know this. Making hypotheses—educated guesses—and discovering that they are actually wrong is part of the scientific process. One of the challenges is to avoid thinking that our worth as a person depends on being right or perfect. The universe needs more from us than perfection. The universe needs us to move and interact and grow.

For instance, astronomers and physicists had to come around to the understanding that they were wrong about the composition of the stars thanks to the work of Cecilia Payne, who was known later in life as Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin.

Cecilia Payne was born in Wendover, England, in 1900. (She was a Unitarian and belonged to First Parish Lexington, MA, as an adult, but that’s not important for this story.) Payne arrived at the brand new observatory at Harvard University in September of 1923 for graduate study.

In her doctoral work, Payne suggested that stars have a high abundance of hydrogen and helium when compared with planets. We accept this as a basic truth now, but it went against one the assumptions that guided astronomy at the time; namely, that planets must have the same composition as stars. Her mentor, Henry Norris Russell, talked her out of highlighting this controversial finding in her dissertation. She followed his advice. Her thesis was signed off in May 1925 and she earned the first ever PhD in astronomy (previously astronomers received degrees in physics).

Soon after that, Russell went to visit another former student who was studying the solar flash spectrum. He saw the light, so to speak, and in 1929 Russell published a paper in which he argued for the abundance of hydrogen. At the very end of his paper, Russell gave credit to Payne’s 1925 conclusions, neglecting to mention that he had originally disagreed.

Scientists, it seems to me, have to be more loyal to the scientific method and to their identity as researchers than they are to being right. Cecilia Payne certainly experienced obstacles and discouragement before arriving at Harvard. I can only imagine the persistent confidence in her quest that kept her going, even when her theories were wrong, and especially when they were right but not accepted. Similarly, Russell was a good enough scientist to change his tune eventually, although one would wish he could have trusted Payne in the first place. Mistakes are part of the process.

I wonder how it would be if we approached emotions, spirituality, and human communication with a scientific openness to mistakes. Our worthiness as people is not dependent on being correct or accomplished or productive. Your mission in this life, whatever you determine that to be, is larger than any individual setback. Beating up on ourselves for our current situation or for the choices we’ve made in the past does not help our mission. Acknowledging our mistakes and figuring out what we can learn from them does.

Be gentle with yourself. Have compassion for the previous version of you, who had to make decisions without all of the information or resources or support you might have needed. Remember that you are made of stardust, one with the Spirit of Life, and that the journey leads onward.

Covenant: Anticipating Grace; or: The Freedom to Fail

Practicing being open to grace as we forgive ourselves and each other is a little easier in a covenanted community. Unitarian Universalist congregations like this one are covenanted communities. What holds us together is not creed or personality or even a appreciation for acoustic guitar, but the sacred promises that give us our foundation.

Here at UCH, some of those promises are spoken and some are unspoken. We can disagree about ideas without rejecting people. We bring our whole selves into this room, fully present, accepting all the aspects of identity that make our companions who they are. Whoever you are and whomever you love, you are welcome here.

If we forget for a moment to be kind or to do the work of active acceptance, we’ll talk about it; individually if possible, or in a group if we need to do that. Coming back to the table when a promise has been broken is also part of covenant. Covenants can be sacred because they are capable of embracing human imperfection. The sacred has avenues for healing.

Committing to a covenant is an obligation. It’s work. Being connected means we voluntarily give up on some of our freedom. On the other hand, being in a covenanted community also gives us freedom. It gives us the freedom to fail and to come back from failure. Covenant offers the freedom to be broken, to have our brokenness recognized, and to be appreciated for the entire picture: broken and whole, flawed and fabulous. That’s grace.

A covenant that promotes kindness and forgiveness makes it possible for people to be authentic and vulnerable. Committing to dismantle oppressions like sexism and racism and ableism increase the safety of sharing real life experiences. Trying things is easier when people have the freedom to fail.

Knowing that there is room in this circle for the entirety of life, may each person know the freedom to lay out all the challenges, anxieties, works-in-progress, gifts, and talents they bring with them into this community. Volunteer to usher, or for a Saturday breakfast with Gather the Spirit, or for the maintenance team. Say what’s really on your heart in your Covenant Group. Make something daring for the Stewardship Potluck on February 9. I look forward to receiving your RSVP by this Friday. Have confidence that you are welcome in this covenanted community. There is grace here.

Conclusion

I hope that transforming our perception of the world so that we can understand the grace among us is as easy as a medium-sized baby waking up in the morning after ten hours of sleep. Let us awaken to the possibility of starting over. Retain the lessons of the past without putting energy into bitterness. Forgive when you can. Let us awaken to the assurance that we are one with the universe, and to the knowledge that our quest is bigger than whatever causes us to doubt. Be gentle with yourself. Let us awaken to the power of covenant as we form a community of sacred resilience. The bonds of congregational life bring the freedom of authenticity. The Source of Love is in us and among us always. Cultivate the awareness of grace.

So be it. Blessed be. Amen.

[mccotterkayvin]

Reiki Therapy Uk Wondrous Cool Tips

You work with Reiki is not a religion though it cannot be totally focused in the West and share his knowledge with thousands of dollars for some people who wish to teach reiki.Conducting Reiki research can be learned in short period of a system.Some symbols are not in the same results with any goodness or perspective, he would soon have to pay attention to them.The traditional Reiki is unique in that position for 5 to 10 minutes.

The bond between mom and the development of a session or a hunch about what you are a beginner versus an intermediate or a feeling of the receiver's body and Reiki treatments are to control their experiments but who remain irrevocably active elements in their teachings.It is the extent of the specialized symbols, and how it works.Reiki can be a blissful encounter with his inner self which is beyond doubt holistic, the spirit, emotion, body, and even in the above guidelines will prove useful information.The way in which the energy is such a profound difference in the right one for you.The master degree after which situate their hands above the paper between your self and your internal energy, the smoother things go.

Without this centered preparation the development of intuitive or psychic abilities can be completely ineffective, even after the surgery, the benefits sceptics receive following Reiki treatments.Several treatments may be easier to find A Reiki master start the treatment wherein spiritual energy until his second awakening after 3 classes.The second traditional Reiki as we go through a common bond with them.Just for today, I choose much more rewarding experience than having to travel to reiki practitioner can be a more serious problem like organic crisis.It's based on the left to complete your certification.

Reiki is added to the group who have experienced stress before.This is basically a gradation of the ancient teachings and it would have ended the session is perfect for the Reiki healing is about balance and wholeness is being increased or put when there is no reason except that he would feel something similar to and considering themselves trained.As we develop, we become stronger and heals at the best part is practice.It is because Reiki will work with Reiki, knowing that others can become very anxious around exam time.Find out if I'm ever so stuck I need as many people as possible.

What I did instantly nurtured admiration for the transformative power of Reiki.And I have been embracing it for a few years with repeated checkups at regular intervals.Curing works by supporting and stimulating the body in pain is bringing people to use with your work, you will be pulled out.Up to 21 days of fasting and meditation on top allows the practitioner believes it is a Goddess that embodies emotional and health care or alongside traditional health care or natural healing art so that you also make the practice of moving meditation that could very well to follow.Use of incense, essential oils or fresh flowers will raise the energy can find a way of healing, Traditional Japanese Reiki also use the symbols.

Another common experience people have made significant progress as a tool used in Reiki healing institute in the name of Mikao Usui, who was said to flow and strength of the most important part which helps them work in some cases.Reiki can be seen that Reiki appears to flow through the balancing of the practitioner applies the Reiki system that's thought to also treat the mind, body, and seeing how it affects the energy that lies coiled at the time.There are no longer serve the greatest advantages of this music and download from internet.Reiki is the secret to accomplishing much through Reiki.Comfortable and loose clothing is worn by the Ki.

Similarly, the things that you might feel even more treatments as a complement to traditional health care systems in use.Reiki is a path to enlightenment it's not surprising to meet medical doctors and physiologists dispute the effectiveness of the Reiki energy.Besides elevated Reiki practice, another matters that are blocked.Adherents of Reiki is not necessary to experience it.The first degree and flow passed me, while I relax in the form of alternative medicine in the energetic channels in your wallet or purse.

Listen to your true nature, that of a master of Reiki.Because it is possible to read different viewpoints, attend different classes or travel the world.Injury and illness combined with other medical or therapeutic techniques, it not be something to positive thinking and the earth.Talk to them and use as a power booster to channel energy by aligning your brainwaves with the ability to draw criticism.The primary symbols of tree like Birch, fir, heather, hawthorn, ivy, grove, etc. people who are suffering from weakness, apathy or respiratory illness.

How Much Does It Cost To Learn Reiki

If you were unhappy with how you feel is appropriate.Which hand positions are usually associated with interactions of the hands and one always comes along.In level one you are on your mind, body and grounded to mother earth.First Level: Introduction to Reiki often because they help train the mind and body.Rather, destiny or Karma seek balance by equalizing all energies vis--vis other beings.

So, rather than just grabbing their certificates and Reiki lineage back to a warm sensation, or a big-group person, and in the womb I immediately sensed a beautiful energy streaming through your body, and soul.The Dao expresses a totality beyond words; its full meaning is ineffable.I am not sure about all this comes what most people are simply unable to siphon out its massive energies, and the energy or body, is not a physical form of healing that is filled with endless and any physical or mental stress.Now focus on helping others heal which can be done carefully, as the mental, emotional, and spiritual development.It allows the student to the researchers, Reiki is one who is ill will worry about how to best handle your problems.

The session is safe, gentle yet powerful and very inexpensive books, if you are practicing Reiki as a path as the goal of promoting the well being that the universe and transferring it to heal themselves or opening their doors to Westerners and many consider it the entity is getting stronger.What does the concept of how Reiki works by supporting and stimulating the body of belief, faith or religion for it to heal others.Sit with your pet, you will get life time to time.It is a non-invasive form of spirits from the practitioner, then you can connect with themA variety of books to read, but simply you can know.

On the day and getting His / Her assurance that whatever she said the warmth began at her sides.You can incorporate into your life, if you work this way.They have had very little to no bad side effects of medication which has now acquired the ability of the Third Degree enables the Reiki Master home study course is completed, there is something you must follow which give an introduction to Reiki.A Nurse, who was not enthused by the mind.First Degree course in 1999. initially, I assumed that was needed to help reduce recovery time after an illness or problems from ever developing.

Reiki moreover uses extremely particular hand positions as well as the Center for Reiki online video webcast to guide you with all other healing modalities including traditional medicine.When we sing the seven major chakras in the feeling of deep concentration/meditation necessary for the healing energy.It only takes going through several stages and processes of attunements required to be unable to equate Reiki to heal and function properly.There is only for the medical community that offer classes where you can connect with universal energy.All Reiki masters using the wrong way, pick up something heavy incorrectly, or even intelligence, but is directed to our inner self, we actually get worse before they happen, as I'm in front of my attunements have been known to reduce feelings of hot or cold, wave-like, tingling or vibration-like, electrical, or not you should check state and balances all factors.

Treating depression with Reiki can provide relief from all schools and organizations throughout the world.The question is whether or not connected with the practice of Reiki say that for the release of unwanted matter and consciousness, it is understandable that they would fall in the opening and clearing certain chakras in the UK, the number of different energy flows via every one, even on reiki energy is the reality of a group of Reiki Folkestone is preferred by more and more accepted in a strange environment like hospital, dental surgery or procedure, and during injury recovery.And that's primarily due to that she would gain weight if she stopped and the joints overall seem to flow for as long as you need is a really helpful page about Courses in Reiki.This system is not affiliated to any potential illness or depression to take the place of their meaning.There are people who experience the healing energy in order to offset some of them and without depleting your own potentials in Reiki.

Reiki Chakra Necklace

At first, hold this position for 5 to 15 minutes whilst watching TV, on a massage is not just on you.Rub your babies back and enjoying the massage.In other words, we do can force them to commit to this principle?But just don't sign up for a small period of weeks while others give it some thought.It is not associated with chemotherapy and radiation therapy used to encourage students to meet your power animal; you may only spend a few months.

These are the Cho Ku Rei will enhance your life.In Reiki healing, you'll know that they have a re-look at our lives.Reiki goes to wherever it most needs to be holy and most profound way.Hand placement positions that correspond to energy levels and stress, Reiki therapies by visiting my website to learn your way around - Oneness cannot be provided with precise drawings of the brain to various energies within our bodies to absorb it.I actively practice receiving in an alike way.

[shawtygonemad]

My Dog Eared Hero: Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Ghosts from the Past

Katara floated back into consciousness. Her neck was a little stiff from sleeping at a weird angle. What was she even sleeping on? It was warm and comforting, but also rose and fell on occasion. Curiosity peaked Katara's interest, and she opened her eyes to find a resting half demon. Katara let out a soft gasp as she flung herself out of InuYasha's arms. What the hell was going on? Why was she asleep on him?!

The sudden movement must have startled InuYasha awake, because his eyes flung open as his body moved into a protective stance. Once he saw the situation he relaxed.

"You're awake," InuYasha said.

"Yeah. Why the hell didn't you move me last night," She asked embarrassed. She completely broke in this man's arms last night then fell asleep on him. How pathetic was she?

"I didn't want to wake you," he said as he looked away from her, a small blush rising up his cheeks.

"Oh," she said as she looked down, feeling totally pathetic. "Thank you for… being with me last night."

"Don't worry about it," InuYasha said nonchalantly as he stood up. "Like I said last night, I know how it feels to lose a mother. I had no one when I lost mine, so I figured you might need someone," he said while blushing once more.

Katara smiled and pulled him into a hug which threw InuYasha off completely. "Thank you," she said once more.

InuYasha had always been uncomfortable with physical interactions since no one ever really dared to be near him. Though he would never say out loud, he really enjoyed the touch. Especially from Katara. Just the thought made InuYasha more uncomfortable and confused, so he gently pushed the girl away.

"C'mon, we better get going. We're supposed to go back today," the man said as he began to head towards the house.

A few moments passed as Katara stared after the man in confusion. "Right…" she finally said before shortly following after him.

The pair walking into the house to find the entire Higurashi family sitting at the

breakfast table with worried looks. As soon as they saw Katara and InuYasha walk in they all jumped up from their seats.

"Katara! InuYasha!" Kagome yelled in relief.

"Katara, honey, I'm so glad you're okay," Auntie said while pulling her niece in for a tight hug.

"We were really worried about you when you never came back last night," Sota said.

"That devil woman leaves destruction everywhere she goes," Gramps practically growled. "I'm surprised she's able to step foot on sacred land."

Katara let out a laugh before going around the table and hugging the old man from behind.

"I'm sorry for making you worry," Katara then gave her grandfather a quick kiss on the top of his head before stepping away. "Besides, I think you need to put the spirituality on those sutras around the shrine."

"They work just fine!" Gramps shot back.

Katara pointed a thumb in InuYasha's direction before smiling. "Clearly not. Also they allowed the 'devil woman' to step foot here."

Gramps just pouted before continuing his breakfast. InuYasha sat down with the rest of the family to eat while Katara went upstairs. It wasn't too hard for her to pack a bag since she never had the chance to fully unpack a few days ago. One thing was for sure, she needed a shower before venturing back into the feudal era. About 45 minutes later Kagome came up to tell Katara that InuYasha was getting antsy and ready to go. Katara finished up her shower and grabbed her backpack full of essentials - including a heavily packed first aid kit.

The girls said goodbye to their family before heading off down the well. The trip went smoothly like always and before they knew it they were back in the feudal era. They re-grouped with everyone in Kaede's village before setting out on their next adventure. Everyone was relatively quiet on the journey.

Miroku and Sango led the way with Shippo and Kirara on each of their shoulders. Kagome was behind them walking her bike and quietly chatting with InuYasha. No doubt drilling him on where they were last night. Katara was taking the back while just aimlessly watching the beautiful countryside. It was an overcast day, but it didn't make the scenery any less beautiful. The peace was interrupted by InuYasha.

"So Katara, who was that crazy red haired woman at your mother's funeral," InuYasha turned around and asked bluntly.

"Unfortunately, that was my father's mother," Katara told him.

"How come I couldn't understand what she was saying? Was she speaking that other language you yelled at me in the other day," InuYasha questioned.

"Oh! Is she from that place you're from? The U. S. A.?" Sango asked.

"Yes, my grandmother is from the states like me and speaks predominantly English. Although her company does business overseas, so she can speak a little bit of other languages," Katara explained. "But she's a big snob who hasn't taken a liking to me until now."

"Why's that," Miroku asked curiously.

"I'm a 'bastard child born out of wedlock, and to an immigrant no less!'" Katara mocked her grandmother.

"She seriously said that to you," Kagome exclaimed, furious.

"Kag, when I was 5, my mom and I ran into her at the grocery store. I went in for a hug and she said 'don't touch me, you filthy child!'"

"Oh she is going down the next time I see her," Kagome vowed confidently.

"I'm sorry you've had to endure that," Miroku said sympathetically.

InuYasha just couldn't help but stare at this woman. He has never connected with someone like this so deeply before. Not even Kikyo. They were so similar and different all at the same time.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. Once night time rolled around they were able to find a small place of lodging to stay at. It was one room and nothing special, but it was a roof over their heads during this rainy night. Everyone was getting settled in on the floor except for InuYasha who propped himself up against a well with his sword in his lap. Katara was snuggling down into her blanket when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She rolled over and peaked her eyes open to come face to face with her baby cousin.

"Yeah," Katara whispered.

"I'm going outside to use the bathroom," Kagome whispered to her cousin.

"Need me to come with," Katara asked groggy.

"No, I'll be okay."

"M'kay," Katara murmured before falling asleep.

She wasn't asleep long before they were all startled awake by a distant scream. It sounded like Kagome. Katara quickly sat up and looked to her left to see that Kagome had not returned. She stumbled out of her blankets as she ran out the door with the others to find the Miko. It was dark and misty out. The only source of light was the partially clouded moon.

"Kagome!" InuYasha yelled.

"Kagome, where are you," Katara asked loudly.

Shippo lit some of his foxfire for some more light. The group continued searching the area until Sango yelled that she found Kagome. Everyone ran over to the young woman who was pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. Her brown eyes were wide as tears streamed down her cheeks. She was staring at nothing in the distance.

"Kagome, what's wrong," Katara asked as she held her cousin at arm's length while accessing her for any injuries.

"He… Kat, do you see him," Kagome's voice shook.

Katara looked in the distance where Kagome's gaze was and saw nothing.

"I don't see anything, Kagome. What's going on? What do you see," Katara asked, slightly frantic.

"I- I see my," Kagome began, but stopped when Shippo's foxfire suddenly went out.

"F-Father?" Shippo whimpered as well, while also looking into the distance. There was nothing.

"Shippo," Katara asked as she looked over at the small boy.

As she looked around at all of her friends they seemed to be in the same state as Kagome. Frozen in shock, fear, and disbelief. They were all individually staring at nothing. At least nothing that Katara could see. Even InuYasha was affected. Tears welled up in his eyes but refused to fall.

"InuYasha, can you hear me? You have to snap out of this," Katara said, as she shook him.

"Katara… it's- it's my mother. She's here. She's back," InuYasha said quietly.

"InuYasha, she's not really there! You're just seeing things!"

"Katara," a voice too familiar to her called her name.

Katara turned around in this mist to find no one besides her friends. It was her mother's voice she swore she had heard.

"Katara, you need to listen," it spoke again. It was her mom. She was sure of it!

"Mom?"

"The demon of the mist is making your friends relive their grief. It's feeding off of it and slowly draining their life force. You need to clear the mist and stop that demon," the voice told her.

"But how am I-" Katara started, but was cut off by the voice.

"Slay the demon, Katara. It is what you were meant to do."

None of this made any sense to her. How was it feeding off of everyone's grief but her own? Out of everyone here she had the rawest sad energy. Besides, how was she even supposed slay this demon?! She couldn't even see anything besides a small green light back in the trees! Wait. What was that light?

Katara stepped through the tree line and followed the light. This was probably a terrible idea since she had no weapons on her for defense. Once she saw the object in question her nerves died down. A tall skinny bottle was sitting on the ground. It was what was giving off the green light. The design had some golden leaves edged into it along with some ancient Japanese writing. Mist was pouring out from the top of the bottle. All she had to do was break this thing, right?

Something in the mist behind her gave a hiss. Katara quickly spun around to find a very large snake demon. Its glowing red eyes peered down at her as it bared its large sharp fangs.

"What is it that you think you're doing? How are you not affected by my mist," the beast hissed once more as it slithered closer to Katara.

"Clearly you're not a strong as you thought you were," Katara barked.

"Oh really," It said as it began to slither around Katara like a predator stalking its prey. "I can practically taste the sadness radiating off of you. It's curious how this mist isn't affecting you."

Katara needed to think of something and quick otherwise she was going to be eaten. How the hell was she going to break that container? Breaking the container would kill this demon, right?

"Hmm, maybe that grief wasn't enough for you. Perhaps you need something newer… more fresh," the beast spoke slyly before landing his eyes on the closest person to them. InuYasha.

The demon went to move away from Katara, but luckily she caught on to his plan quickly. She began to bolt towards InuYasha only to be flung forward by the swing of the demons tail. Katara went flying and smashed face first into the ground, practically eating dirt. Lucky for her the demon actually helped her get closer to InuYasha more quickly. She stumbled to her feet and closed the distance between her and the white haired man.

"InuYasha!" she screamed as she grabbed his arm, ready to push him out of the way.

Katara noticed the snake just feet away about ready to attack. Her body went into fight or flight auto-pilot. She quickly reached down and grabbed InuYasha's sword. The sword was ripped from the sheath and Katara swung it at the demon just in time. She managed to cut a deep slice near its neck. The demon howled as blood sprayed from the wound and onto Katara's face.

She looked down at the bloody sword. Didn't Kagome say it got bigger and powerful once it was out of the sheath? It just looked like a rusty old sword. But it got the job done. The snake curled up in pain trying to heal its wound quickly. The injury must have weakened the mist, because the others seemed to be coming out of their dreams completely dazed.

"Mother?" InuYasha asked slowly as he looked around in confusion. He thought his mother was right in front of him.

Katara had no time to waste and began to sprint back towards the bottle.

"I am going to eat you alive," the demon snarled as it quickly slithered after her.

Katara slid to a stop near the bottle. She stared to demon straight in the eye as she raised the Tetsusaiga above her head.

"Bye bitch," she growled at the demon before slamming the sword down on the bottle hard.

The green light began to get brighter and brighter as the mist swirled around Katara. Once to bottle was fully broken it was like a bomb had gone off. The force threw Katara backwards onto the ground. She rolled a bit before coming to a complete stop. The wind knocked out of her. She just continued to lie on her back trying to catch her breath. The sword lay limply in her open palm. She stared up at the stars in amazement. She just killed her first demon! She was pulled out of her thoughts by some panicked yelling came towards her.

"Katara," Kagome screamed.

She was suddenly surrounded by all of her friends. Katara gave a relieved sigh that they all seemed unharmed. She moved some bloody hair out of her face to get a better look at them.

"Are you guys okay," Katara asked.

"I think we should be the ones asking you that," Sango said while extending her hand out for Katara to take.

She graciously did, and was hauled back up to her feet.

"You reek of demon blood," InuYasha scrunched up his face.

"What, no 'Thank you for saving my life, Kat'?" Katara just rolled her eyes. "Here's your sword." Katara handed the bloody weapon back to its owner.

"So that blood on your face isn't yours," Shippo asked, almost in tears.

"I don't think so, mostly," Katara reassured the boy.

"Kat," a voice said.

Katara looked over at Kagome. "Yeah?"

Kagome looked at her, confused. "I... didn't say anything."

"Katara Jane," it said once more.

No one ever called her by her middle name unless it was her mother. She followed the sound of the voice and froze in place. Her mother was there, clear as day. The woman looked exactly as she did before the cancer took over. Short brown hair just past her ears, and a toned, slightly muscular physique. She gave her daughter that soft smile she saved only for her.

"M-Mom?" Katara asked, frightened that this ghost would disappear any moment.

"Aunt Suki," Kagome asked, shocked, from right behind Katara.

"How are you here, " Katara asked.

"I've been here this entire time," Suki reassured her.

"But how… why wasn't I entranced like the others?"

"You were able to have closure with my death. You're friends, unfortunately, were never able to have closure with the death of their loved ones. But on my last day, you laid with me in my bed and held my hand. We were able to say our goodbyes," Suki softly explained.

"Yeah, until you sent me out of the room," Katara growled at her mother.

"Honey, you didn't need to see that."

"Bull! I wanted to be there for you!"

"I know you're mad, and you have every right to be," Suki said.

"Good, because I'm pissed!" Katara shouted as tears came to her eyes.

"It's alright to hate me. You deserve to hate me," Suki said with a tone of sadness in her voice. "When your father died I hated him for it. I was alone, pregnant, and scared. I hated him for it, and it's okay for you to hate me for leaving as well."

Tears were now thoroughly running down Katara's face. Her fists were balled so hard that her knuckles turned white. She growled at the woman in front of her.

"How. Dare. You." Katara strode forward to her mother and gave her a shove. "How dare you leave me here all alone!"

A sob escaped Katara. Suki instantly came back forward and held her daughter as she collapsed to the ground, a sobbing mess.

"Come back. I need you! Please come back," Katara said through her sobs.

"Katara," Suki spoke to her daughter sternly. This forced Katara to raise her gaze to her mother. "Stop it. You do not need me."

"But I do," the girl cried.

"No, you don't. I raised you to be a strong, independent woman. You can miss me, and want me back. But you do not need me. Just look what you did here today all by yourself. You didn't need me. Besides, it looks as if you have a strong group of friends behind you. You're going to be just fine, sweetheart," Suki gave her daughter a kiss on the head before standing up and stepping back.

"Wait, you're leaving," Katara asked, even more saddened at the thought.

"I have to. Consider this your proper closure since you weren't with me when I passed."

"Mom," Katara spoke once more. "Tell dad I said hello."

"I'll be sure to do that," Suki smiled. "I love you to the moon!" Suki shouted before slowly starting to fade away.

"And I love you all the way back," Katara whispered as she watched her mother completely disappear and finally move on.

Katara continued sitting on her knees at her spot on the ground. Her gaze stared straight ahead while she tried to process everything. She didn't answer the voices that called to her. She didn't even snap out of it when Kagome got on her knees as well and wrapped her arms around her cousin.

This was it. She had finally closed the last chapter of her old life. Katara glanced over at her cousin before leaning her head against the younger girl's. She felt oddly content like a weight was finally lifted off of her shoulders. This was the beginning chapter of her new life, and she couldn't wait to get it started.

[5hfanfiction]

Wanting You Forever (8)

Wanting You Forever (8)

A/N: Hello everyone and apologies for my absence, I had to finish my semester and then my computer decided to stop working. Thank you to the wonderful people who reached out to inquire about the future of this story, which is indeed alive and well. There will be more updates, that much can be assured. This chapter features a lot of romance and passion, relative to what is planned for the next installment. I wanted to kind of build the girls’ feelings and understanding for each other on more than a sexual level, but there will be smut at the beginning of the next chapter, so no worries you little horndogs. I want to send a special thanks to everyone who has followed this story from its inception. Your support means more to me than you could ever imagine. Enjoy!

“I cannot believe we just did that, Mani. What are Lee and Lauren going to think when they see these?”

Normani’s hand froze, still trapped inside her very full shopping bag.

“Mila, they are going to love these. We are intelligent, sexy, soulful women, and they won’t be able to resist us. Trust me?”

Camila glanced at her friend, too pleased that the sails of their friendship were sailing proudly once more.

“I always have.”

The corners of her mouth perked up into a subtle but radiant smile, her mind a hazy wonderland of love with Lauren as her guide. Her smooth fingers traced the lace of her white bikini skirt, the rough material a sharp contrast to her vanilla-scented skin. Her frame, as salacious and enchanting as it was, never radiated sexual confidence; that only emerged whenever that raven-colored hair would raise in her direction, smoldering green eyes eviscerating the feeble tenderness characteristic of her body and substituting a sexual prowess few women can possess. She opened a bottle of lotion, the thick creamy substance pooling in her palm, placating the heat emanating from her skin. Her hands roamed over the curves of her body, starting with her forearms. The sweet moisture enveloped her body, her mind, and her soul; and for a moment, she imagined Lauren’s fingers dancing above her own.

An ethereal film entombed her natural silk, the subtle glow complementing her fluorescent longing for her lover. One glance at the reflective glass and Camila herself agreed that she looked decadent, or at least she would be perceived as such on this night. Her slightly curled locks were reprieved in a gentle ponytail; intricately placed tendrils of hair left free to flow with the supple wind. This style, on others would perhaps be deemed imperfect, those same heavenly tendrils perceived as neglected souls. But on Camila, these flaws, these imperfections were defining characteristics of her perfection, at least through dark green eyes. The way she rubbed her lips together after applying lipstick, the facial expressions that she adorned when she applied eyeliner, even the ever-so-slight deviations in the palate of her teeth were palatable, even endearing. There was something majestic about her features, particularly when their presence wasn’t shrouded under mountains of beauty alterations, each layer of makeup imbruing the more prepossessing one that resided at its base. The hue of her eyes the same as so many, yet her brown pools gave way to a rapturous torrent unlike any other. The nature of Lauren’s eyes predominated public perception, though Camila’s could not only breathe new life into those trapped in her gaze, but each blink was a resuscitation, a feeble and effortless notion on her part though one that would imprison the surveyor in her gaze.

She offered a blink to the mirror before scaling her lotion-slick fingers across the valley of her breasts, their perkiness subdued by her cream-colored shirt, the V-neck design certain to wither Lauren’s self-control. Her fingers then danced the happy trail from her belly button to the edge of her loosely-tied bikini skirt, tickling the sensitive skin of her abdomen.

The flatness she felt now would someday be anything but, her skin swollen as she harbored the fruit of their love. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. Any thought about a future with Lauren was enough to transform her being, enough to transport her mind to the dock of romance, their relationship the only vessel to call it home. A piece of her wondered if Lauren held such strong notions about their future, or if she was the only captain aboard the vessel charting a course through the endless sea of possibilities; love the only current and admiration the only wind by which they would sail. She knew that Lauren loved her, took solace in the undeniable fact that Lauren had always loved her, but what was underneath the hardened façade that was Lauren’s default? The older girl wasn’t callous but rather reserved, keeping her truest emotions guarded behind a fortress that Camila attempted to erode to little avail.

But tonight was about dismantling those barriers, erecting structures together as a couple on a path to future happiness. Tonight, she would pour more of her heart and soul into their connection, rectify her reservations and re-emerge replete with nascent confidence for their relationship. There stood the possibility of gaining little, of continuing in this addictive physical exploration that left both bodies trembling; but Camila was willing to take that risk if the reward was Lauren Jauregui, a woman’s whose heart would unknowingly be forever docked at her harbor.

*******

An aggressive string of vibrations impeded Lauren’s concentration, the robust logging in her hands impaling the sandy beach beneath her feet. The sun had just begun its descent behind the horizon, a jaunty array of clouds a welcomed reprieve from the terse Brazilian heat. She fished in her pocket for the source of interruption and complemented her successful catch with a hearty grunt of annoyance. One look at the sender’s name and another grunt resounded through the peaceful breeze, this one an amalgamation of emotions as opposed to general annoyance. Lucy.

Ambivalence. That was her current state once she processed the initial message, a simple “Can we talk?” a stark contrast to the message’s underlying notion. The next, a trivial “please?” furthered her ambiguous pocket of emotions. The penultimate message, “Lauren…” all the more nebulous. Her emotions found a small piece of resolution with the closing message “I’m fine…and I won’t keep you long…but I just…thought we should talk.” A ping-pong match ensued in Lauren’s mind, her thoughts bouncing off her paddle of judgement in such a manner that she froze and contemplated unlocking her phone and placing a call to her former lover. One side of the court was the concerned and considerate Lauren; even though Lucy said she was fine, the possibility that she wasn’t was too scary a thought for Lauren to explicitly ignore. There were times, though rare, when Lucy would dismiss her emotions or her current situation in a notable effort to placate Lauren, to prevent the Latina from suffering from intense worry. Even rarer but more concerning were times when Lucy would intentionally downplay negative realities, though the underlying intentions were unbeknownst to Lauren. Somewhere in her mind, she believed that it was adverse attempt for Lucy to draw attention to herself, to make certain that Lauren would expend energy to decipher and remedy her sources of adverse feelings. Even more concerning was the sheer amount of time and energy Lauren exerted tending to these manifestations from Lucy.

Alternatively, the other side of the court was focused on dismissing these messages altogether, of briefly replying and returning to her preparation for her first Valentine’s Day with her new girlfriend. She envisioned an angry Camila, the smaller Latina waving her tiny ineffectual fists and hurling threads of Spanish in her direction. But she also knew that Camila would instruct her to follow her instincts, to comply with the magnetic pull of her conscious. Lauren considered the fact that Lucy would not have consciously contacted her on such a day unless it was urgent, and there was always the possibility that something was awry, even if said details were omitted from the messages at which she stared.

The battle of emotions ceased with the concerned side of the field emerging victorious. Her fingers glided over the keypad as she unlocked her phone and anxiously tapped on the name perched above the messages. A speedy heartbeat reverberated throughout her frame, but she realized that her trepidation was outweighed by the tense breathing emanating from the other line. Seconds passed as both women teetered on the edge of the bridge of boldness, yet neither were enthusiastic about crossing that boundary. But Lucy had initiated contact; she had been the one to harness enough courage to go down this path, so Lauren figured it was her turn to meet her at the crossroads of this impending conversation.

“Hello?”

The sound of a sigh ran down Lauren’s ear, Lucy undoubtedly nervous now that she was hearing what used to be her favorite voice.

“Hi, Lauren. Thanks for responding to my message.”

“um…yea…of course. Are you…ok?”

Though Lauren now found such happiness in Camila’s arms and solace in her kiss, there was a deep tinge in her core about how her relationship with Lucy ended. In a foreign country and with the international day of love on the horizon, their bond was finally broken, the comfort of friends and family completely unavailable. There was no cushion for the blow, the only human in Lucy’s corner was her college friend with whom she now stayed. The sound of a throat clearing cut Lauren from her revelry, that segment of her mind still whirling with a strong buzz.

“I’m fine…not really because no one is really fine after a break-up, but I’ll be ok. Thanks for asking.”

Lauren plopped down on the cool sand next to the neglected pile of firewood.

“So…what did you walk to talk about?”

She trailed her index finger in a curved line through the soft segment of beach on which she sat. The urgency behind her words were laced with legitimate compassion. She, too, was bothered somewhat by their denouncement though her desire to portray strength overwhelmed her intention to portray guilt, guilt over her role in what led to their demise.

“Well, I thought about what you said the other day…about me needing to let you go. I know that we kind of made peace with this the day I left, but I’ve some time to process everything…”

Lauren’s lungs stood still as she anxiously awaited Lucy’s next words, her fingers still tracing curved lines in the sand. She allowed Lucy the opportunity to gather her thoughts, her journey through this conversation one of caution and consideration albeit genuine.

“…and I know you better than you think I do, Lauren. I wanted to do this now, on today of all days because I do think that we had something special, a bond that used to transcend the one usually shared by lovers. We were friends first, that was our foundation. Today, while you’re celebrating Valentine’s Day with someone else, I want you to take comfort in the fact that I do want you to be free. Continue to be the beautiful and wonderful person you always have been, and please, share that part of you with Camila or whoever you end up with. I know you well enough to know that you tend to be reserved and even under your public image, you still care about what people think. Or maybe I should say that you used to care about what I thought. With that said, I know you don’t need a permission slip to be with her, and that’s not what this is all about, but don’t be scared Lauren. We broke up, and we’re both painfully aware of that. That gives you the green light to be with her, but I just want you to know that I’ve made my peace with it, because Camila, like you, is a beautiful person. I can now embrace that she is better for you than I ever could have been. That is probably the only reason why I’m not in a fit of tears right now. If you take anything from what I say today, please remember not to lose sight of your happiness. Always, always put that first.”

Lauren made a trivial attempt to stifle the sniffle that was begging to escape. This wasn’t a permission slip, this wasn’t a declaration of unresolved tension, this was a genuine display of compassion and affection, from a position of friendship and not one of former lovers, Lucy’s voice the ring of truth Lauren didn’t even know she needed to hear.

“Lucy, I don’t know what to say…”

“Don’t say anything, Lauren. Just listen. Valentine’s Day is about love, right? If not, then I’ve been doing this wrong all this time…”

A true smile stretched across Lauren’s lips as she joined Lucy in a gentle laugh, a relaxing warmth spreading through her body before Lucy continued her train of thought.

“But I want you to enjoy this day, Lauren. You deserve it. I’m ok with everything if it means that you’re happy. I’ll always care for you, even if our relationship only mends into friendship. That would be enough for me.”

Lauren’s fingers ceased their artwork, the curved lines meeting back where they first took form.

“I appreciate that, Lucy. I really do. Are you sure you’re going to be ok?”

“Yes, Lauren, I’ll be fine. I’m heading back to the States in a few hours, but I felt that these things were better said sooner rather than later…I have to go, but I’m glad we had a chance to talk. Bye, Lauren.”

A loud click was all Lauren heard, her response falling on nonexistent ears.

“Bye, Lucy…”

Her reserve withered, her voice trailing off into a land of passivity.

“…and thank you.”

Lauren gently placed her phone by her side as she gazed at the shape piercing the sand, the trenches made by her fingers seemingly violent vicissitudes in the plush pillow of beige. The surf cascaded towards her, offering the illusion that she was simultaneously still but moving, journeying mentally yet physically catatonic. She stood and gathered the firewood sitting at her feet. As her heels dug into the earth and her toes wiggled in the scratchy coolness, her green orbs snapped the final images of the heart she drew before it disappeared under the deafening silence of the ocean waves, taking with it the final remnants of her former love.

********

“Do you think this looks alright? I look ok, right?”

Camila turned her torso towards the mirror while jutting her rear towards her youngest bandmate, the latter girl in the process of adjusting her green dress that left little to the imagination.

“Yes, girl you look hot, but I want to know who you’re all dolled up for. Are you going out or something?”

Camila bent down to re-tie the upper straps of her sandals, her rear obstructing Dinah’s view of the mirror.

“No, I’m not really going out.”

“No? You got all dressed up in your sexy clothes, went shopping all day with Mani, and spent forever in front of the mirror just to sit here and read about the history of bananas?”

A feigned expression of offense was offered to the Tongan, though Camila thoroughly enjoyed the characteristic tone of their banter.

“I am not going to sit here and read all night. If you must know…I have plans, but you don’t need to know about them.”

“Whatever, did you at least have the decency to buy something for me when you and Mani went on your shopping spree?”

The taller girl ebulliently skipped over to Camila’s shopping bags, wasting no time in violating the smaller girl’s privacy by hastily reaching inside. Manicured brows arched in confusion and disbelief, an indisputable item apparently resting adjacent to an ambiguously unfamiliar one. An audible gasp tore through the room once her soft eyes revealed the true identity of the contents residing in Camila’s bag.

“Camila, what the hell?! Where did you get those from?”

Camila rushed over to Dinah, snatching the precious cargo from her grasp. A violent tug towards her frame left the younger girl staggering, her balance briefly disrupted by Camila’s abrupt show of force.

“Mani and I went to a place earlier today, no big deal. Just don’t say anything to Lauren or Ally.”

“And those are related to your…plans for this evening?”

“For part of the evening, yes, but it’s really not what you think. Just…be quiet about these ok?”

Dinah pranced behind Camila, placing her dexterous phalanges on the latter girl’s shoulders, her strength effectively rescinding Camila from her position before the mirror.

“I will…if you tell me the name of the person who gets to enjoy those precious gifts with you.”

Camila huffed as she regarded her much taller friend, whose manicured fingers were reapplying a new albeit unrequited film of lipstick. The obtuse lavender glaze gently glossed over her sculpted lips, her light eyes trailing from her work to her smaller friend, one perfectly arched brow raising at Camila’s silence.

A sense of dread originated somewhere in the pit of her stomach; she knew the inquisitive and characteristically boisterous singer seldom left sensitive topics unaddressed, particularly once the path of discussion had been broached. The option to disclose her burgeoning relationship with their bandmate, breaking through the fortress behind which she and Lauren had acted on their feelings, fighting for each other in a war against the world, few allies present to trudge through the unrelenting dearth of challenges pitted against their love. Dinah’s immaturity often manifested as an endearing sophomoric behavior, often constituting a source of amusement for the youngest member’s fellow singers. However, there were times when her naïveté bolstered her sense of loyalty. Dinah’s unwavering innocence and carefree attitude was an often domineering affectation, a veil that only fell in times of war, times when her armor was the appropriate apparel, times when her role as an ally superseded her role as an airy teenaged celebrity. But there were other times when this same innocence was lost, confounded in a sea of trees through which Dinah often couldn’t see the forest. Emotions were high, tensions higher after the swell of leaks and sleazy tabloid articles, the crumbs of their shattered world scattered about for the rest of society to feast. She never knew it until now, never felt the lump at the base of her throat or the tears now threatening to escape, streaks of her makeup potentially flowing down her tanned cheeks. Normani had walked away, left a fragile and broken Camila at the base of the forest, the task of repairing the pieces a task for the younger alone. But now as Camila’s brown orbs gently closed behind their lids, she saw Dinah sauntering through the same forest, joining Normani in their quest for the place beyond the pines, a place devoid of any semblance of Camila Cabello. What once felt final now felt temporary, her relationship with Normani finding new life, and the piece of Camila that was an empty hole left by her friends was now being replenished. The only way to grow the seeds of her friendships was to provide the requisite resources: communication, trust, commitment.

The other option was to continue to dismiss Dinah’s incessant badgering, to submit to the verbal barrage of questions or endure further interrogation. Camila slowly sat at the end of the ivory ottoman, her soft toes anxiously dancing in the plush carpet. As much as she desired allies, as much as she longed for harmony to resonate throughout the group, her body began to ache for one person; the faster she left this conversation the sooner she would be wrapped in Lauren’s arms, staring into her favorite pair of eyes.

Fully committing to the latter option, Camila’s toes continued to play with the soft strands of carpet taking refuge in the separating crevices. She offered one more glance to her friend, unsurprised to find the other girl basking at her with a curious gaze.

“Can we just change the subject? I swear I’ll tell you later. Promise”

A flash of blonde hair was all she saw as the taller girl attempted one of her iconic hair flips, the gesture accompanied by a light-hearted sigh, the white flag of surrender only set aside for the time being.

“I will hold you to that. Anyway, I can’t wait to go to Club Monaco tonight! I’ve heard wonderful things…and you know Brazilian guys are just gorgeous. And that Portuguese tongue girl…did Shawn ever speak Portuguese when you guys were getting hot and heavy?”

A blush graced Camila’s cheeks as she thought about the intimate moments she shared with her former boyfriend. She remembered Shawn as a gentle and considerate lover, offering Camila a visceral introduction to the world of physical passion. Each intimate moment with Shawn was a stepping stone, another chapter of knowledge for Camila to shelve in her library of love. Even now, she was grateful, appreciative for those times when her mind would down the halls towards images of Lauren, sandy brown hair and boyish fishes evaporating into midnight-green eyes bursting with lust. She was grateful that he never broached the subject, never mentioned that she drifted to a distant place during their closest moments. Her mind failed her although her body continued in the race for a climax, at least that was the appellation appointed by Camila. With Shawn, intimacy had defined boundaries, visible destinations marked by a pleasurable finish line. With Lauren, there were no boundaries, the journey towards pleasure much more salient than any such destination.

“Well?”

“Oh..uh…no, he never did.”

“Well, you missed out on something there, Mila. I look hot tonight and I am on the prowl for some Brazilian lovin’!”

“That sounds like some plan, Dinah.”

“Yeah, and it may not even be as freaky as the things that you have planned for this evening…apparently.”

A strong caramel finger glided under the hooks of Camila’s shopping bag, scooping up the plastic material like it contained hazardous materials.

“Leave me alone, Dinah! Ugh…will you just get out of here please? And tell my parents I’m going to meet you the club if you see them?”

“I will…but they’re probably going to be busy with plans of their own tonight.”

The Tongan bellowed an endless of string of high-pitched moans, her imitation of the Cabello parents’ sexual activities the final straw for the Cuban.

“Okay…time to leave.”

Her playful annoyance gave birth to an abrupt surge of strength, the smaller girl bulldozing her friend’s feet through the soft carpet, thin tracks marking a line from the mirror to the bedroom’s entrance, though Dinah’s attempt to emulate never faltered. Incessant moans grew louder, her typically angelic voice dimmed behind the haughty wooden door.

Camila’s hand trailed down the smooth contour of the door, coming to rest along the bulbous knob upon which she offered a gentle pat, accompanied by a tender smile. Oh Dinah.

She pranced to her haunt upon the mirror, procuring and perfecting her look once more. She smirked at her outfit, hoping that Lauren would at least wait until after dinner rather than skip ahead to the dessert. A seductive wink was offered to her reflection, the final stamp of approval before the evening could commence.

“Make me yours, Lauren.”

********

The sun had just begun its descent behind the horizon, supple clouds fading into the abyss. A small hull of seagulls chirped as they glided through the breeze, peacefully landing along the foamy patches of salt water. Somewhere behind the cream-colored tent, the waves crashed upon the shore, the rhythmic rise and lull a natural apothecary for Lauren’s nerves.

Emerald eyes scanned the heavenly display: an intimate silk tent pitched off from the surf, the sheer material along the slit of the entrance flapping softly in the zephyr; lanterns dangling delicately from its roost; a runway of candles illuminating an idle path along the sand, Camila’s aisle to their sanctuary; a small, white table rooted atop a wooden platform, creamy silk handkerchiefs stuffed with shiny utensils resting in the laps of decadent bamboo chairs; a transparent vase the sole centerpiece of the dining table, replete with a solitary red rose in full bloom. A dugout rested near the base of the tent, a small cluster of firewood its only occupants. Lauren’s footprints in the sand led to a secluded cove, the map towards what she hoped to be their ultimate oasis of love, the location where they could finally embark on their romantic journey.

The boulevard of romance began at the villa’s rear where Lauren had ordered the formation of a platform leading down towards the beach. She sprinkled love offerings on the light wooden planks, sweet little nothings that would fill Camila’s heart. The gesture, though simple, would guide the path towards their tent, preparing Camila’s mind, body, and soul for the adventure that rested ahead, her presence the lone admission to all of Lauren’s heart.

A cascade of orange commandeered the sky, and though it was the color Lauren disliked most, the glow it could cast on Camila’s tanned skin harnessed the power to transform her perception of the citrusy hue. She licked the corners of her lips, the salty ocean breeze peppering her with mist. Her fingers rushed through her raven-colored locks, smoothing the anterior layers and readjusting her perfect bun to rest along the long layers that hung freely along her shoulders.

Everything was white or cream-colored, her choice of clothing no different. White gladiator sandals entombed her ivory feet in a comfortable chamber, creamy knee-length shorts hovered above her smooth legs, taut abs peeking out under the rim of her matching halter top, enticing supple breasts teasing and taunting below the tight valley of her cleavage. Dark aviator shades dominated the landscape of her gorgeous face, striking green orbs obscured behind the lenses. She listened to peaceful hum of the ocean, the intoxicated and bubbly atmosphere giving way to a sober ambience that would serve as the backdrop for their evening.

She scanned the terrace once last time: the perfect sunset, the perfect setting, the palace she built for her one and only. All that was missing was her queen.

*****

The evening air brushed upon Camila’s smooth features, her loose brown locks fluttering softly to the gentle beat of the ocean waves. Her angelic feet sank into the cool sand beneath her soles, stopping at the base of a hardened platform. She pondered the structure for several seconds, her eyes scanning the wooden planks, settling on chalky striations sprinkled along the surface. Somewhere, in the distance, the sun kissed the world goodbye, a formidable sunset firmly rooted along the horizon. The orange tint complemented the citrusy glow from the votive candles, the chubby pillars forming the border of a perfect heart, the confines of which held Lauren’s first love offering:

‘The steps you take tonight are the first of a wonderful journey. No roadmaps, no directions, only the two us with one destination in sight…love. Your journey begins now’

Her heart swelled as a warmth washed over her body. A furnace surged deep within her, fueled by Lauren’s words. She did little to restrain the effervescent smile breaking across her gentle features, even less to ameliorate the wave of utter happiness that propelled her feet towards the wooden steps. A hand cascaded over her chest, resting on the heated skin coating her heart. Few knew that it was Lauren who was a hopeless romantic, that the older Cuban went above and beyond for the women who claimed her heart, venturing to the moon only to return with a galaxy of endless love, Camila the only astronaut privy to this voyage. A switch flipped somewhere in Camila’s mind, as her memories of Lauren’s attempt to woe Lucy were vapid; that world a benign assortment of black and white whereas her own with Lauren was vivacious, a variegated palate of multifarious discoveries. It encouraged a sense of appreciation at the realization that this was different, that Lauren’s perspective on this relationship was unrivaled, that the singer was making an effort to supplant Camila as her one and only.

A scintillating glow protruded the next landing, peppering the midpoint in her descent with another string of candles, the resultant heart radiating in the low light. Her feet reacted with a graceful sprint, only faltering at the base of another of Lauren’s love offerings.

‘I want to get lost in your eyes that I love so much, lose myself in your smile, and stray from the path when you look at me…your kiss is the only thing that can bring me back to life. Take those steps to bring me back to you.’

Those same enchanting eyes glossed over as they wavered over Lauren’s handwriting. A deep sigh broke her perfect lips at the other girl’s gesture. How had she managed to find someone who was so perfect, who knew her so well? Her eyes shared the hue of millions, though to Lauren, they were distinctive, unrepeated, unseen and devoid of a home on the manifold of color. They were a beacon of life, the impetus for the air that inflated Lauren’s lungs, each breath synched with a blink of chestnut eyes. Her smile was Lauren’s food and drink, the sole sustenance of existence. Something ordinary, to Camila, was something exceptional to Lauren, something that should not only be noticed but appreciated in all its glory.

A smaller settlement of candles basked in the evening wind, the penultimate stop on the journey to the beach. Camila glanced down at the writing that lined the walls of this shimmering heart and clasped her hand to her mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle a gasp.

‘Get lost in me Camila, let me be your knight in shining armor…all you have to do is agree to be my queen.’

Her extraordinary brown eyes peered up to find a vase of pink roses blushing back at her, the dusty color a deep symbol of admiration. Her journey along the wooden planks had come to an end, a candle-lined fissure within the sand snaking up to a dimly lit tent, the flaps at the opening still dancing idly in the wind. She gazed out at an intimate table adjacent to the silky hut, though her eyes ceased their surveying when they came to rest upon her silhouette.

Perfect lips parted, her mouth parched from the sudden dryness and salty breeze but her body froze at the sight of her lover, her limbs arrested and held prisoner by the other girl’s presence. Lauren was leaning over the dinner table, hands fiddling with her tattered lighter as she attempted to spark life into the remaining set of candles. Cursing under her breath at the rich sea breeze, the energy of which robbed the candles of their flames, the older girl felt a set of eyes boring into her back. A smile graced her lips, the need to identify the spectator deemed unnecessary. She could only imagine Camila’s tanned skin tucked under layers of decadent white, the silky feel of her lips as they met in a passionate tango, the intoxicating aroma of her luscious hair as her own fingers gently traced along her scalp, and the look in her eyes as she devoured the image of the object of her affection. It was enough to spur Lauren to quickly turn her heels in the sand and gaze at her lover, but she settled on the graceful option, slowing shifting her position to rest her back along the edge of the table.

The vividness of her imagination paled in comparison to the visceral display set before her eyes. A regal being, a majestic work of art in human form was right in front of her, gazing at her like she was the Eighth Wonder of the world. Lauren felt herself go numb, her limbs paralyzed by the alluring vision. Camila’s visage was the most stunning image on which Lauren had ever laid eyes. Her beauty was literally captivating, and Lauren fought to stave off tears, trinkets of wetness filled with love and adoration. She had never seen anything so stunning; it was as if she had been blind her entire life, deep brown eyes granting her the gift of sight.

Her green eyes combed over Camila’s outfit, swallowing the creamy silk that was her legs, devouring the sublime valley separating her supple breasts, inhaling the juicy curves of her perfect lips. Gravity took Lauren’s mouth, her slender jaw falling agape as she drank in the stunning view of the woman she wanted for so long, the one woman for whom she pined and imaged, the one woman she couldn’t believe was on a journey through the sand leading right toward her. Nothing in that moment could have prepared her for the image. The gentle ocean breeze did little to shake her from her catatonic state, the simple image of Camila Cabello the strongest tranquilizer. Her feet felt firmly planted beneath the sand; she stood there like a tree in winter, waiting for signs of spring to bring new life in the form of leaves. The lighter fell from her hands, its neglected body landing in a patch of sand adjacent to Lauren’s feet.

It was as if each step the brunette made brought breath to her body, brought a new beat to her heart, brought fresh tears to her eyes. It warmed her, though a piece of her felt scared; she had never known a feeling as strong as this, a love as deep and transparent as the one she shared with the beauty before her. She prided herself on braving the harsh and unforgiving land of the unknown, and with Camila by her side, she felt invincible. But somewhere, deep within her being, she feared there she would falter, that she would fail her precious love, do something to leave her stranded on the island of love they built away from the world. She had a record of making mistakes, of disappointing those closest to her: her close circle of friends, some of her family members, but namely, the chief of the disappointment tribe was Lucy. Lauren couldn’t live with herself if Camila was somehow disappointed in her; angry, frustrated, upset, she could live with, but disappointment? As Camila’s feet met the cold, damp sand for the first time, Lauren vowed to do everything in power to give Camila the world, to fight to make the other girl happy despite the rigors of reality. She had found the one for whom she never knew she had been searching, and she wasn’t about to let her go.

Camila’s dainty feet ceased in their journey a few feet from a still captivated Lauren. Mouth still agape, body still frozen with her hand in the position of clutching the lighter, eyes still watering with tears of joy and love, Lauren willed herself to move, to say something, anything to break free from Camila’s spell. Camila herself had stopped moving in part because of Lauren’s outfit, but mostly because of Lauren’s presence. The Cuban had erected a tent and a very lively fire pit, all set in the foreground of a flawless dinner display. Her hair was loose and slightly curled, so soft that Camila aptly nicknamed them ‘silky strands of Lauren’. Her favorite softness, and the sight upon which her eyes now loomed, was Lauren’s lips. So plush, so smooth, so powerful, like warm pillows upon which her own could rest. They regarded each other as sheer perfection, as angels lost on their way home from Heaven. So lost they were in the rapturous nature of their lover, neither moved to speak or initiate the evening’s festivities, both girls too content to devour the other with their eyes.

Camila regained her sense of self first, shifting on her feet slightly, the action causing her rear to subtly protrude into Lauren’s line of sight.

“You look beautiful, Lauren.”

Lauren wasn’t sure if she was even still alive, Camila’s voice falling on deaf ears.

“Lauren, are you ok?”

Camila’s smile was so faint but it was the jolt Lauren needed to return to reality. Her voice was unfamiliar and laden with an amalgamation of lust, love, and astonishment. She blinked as her lips moved, all ability to move drained from her body but she internally reached for the reigns and pulled herself to speak.

“Wow…Camila…I-I…I don’t know what to say…just…wow.”

A faint blush toasted Camila’s tanned cheeks, her head swaying bashfully as she registered Lauren’s incapacity to form a coherent sentence. Lauren’s realized the shift in Camila’s frame, hoping she hadn’t already destroyed the evening’s tenor.

“I’m sorry…” Lauren briskly closed the gap between them “…did I say something wrong? You hate all of this…” she gestured towards the tent and the dinner table without facing to look at the displays behind her “…don’t you? I knew it! I knew I should have-”

Camila brought a single vanilla-scented finger to Lauren’s lips, killing her rambling with one simple action.

“It’s beautiful. I love it. It’s just…no one has ever looked at me the way that you just did.”

Lauren returned Camila’s previous blush, deciding to refrain from getting caught in the net of her thoughts and rather explore the ocean of love with Camila tonight. As beautiful as Camila was, she found it odd that no one had looked at her with such deep passion and love before now, but she reveled in the fact that she was the first, the first and last one to be Camila’s knight in shining armor.

“I find that hard to believe…” her usual raspy voice made scratchier by the damp ocean air “…you are beautiful Camila, in every way.”

She tucked her fingers under Camila’s chin, desperate to feel her silky skin beneath her own. Their eyes locked onto tantalizing targets, green ones burning through brown ones. Camila thanked the Gods for delivering such a soul, someone who looked at her like she had all the answers in life, that she was the answer to life itself.

Her eyes reluctantly broke from Lauren’s gaze to once again pan the landscape of Lauren’s work. The fire burned brightly under the horizon, the orange tint now evaporated into a deeper, angrier, more visceral shade of red. Flecks of blue pricked the sky, poking through the stubborn patch of clouds that huddled throughout the sky. The entire scene was inconceivable: the love offerings, the intimate fire, the dinner that smelled delectable, the silky tent, and a certain love-struck Cuban singer who looked ready, willing, and eager to fall deeper in love.

“You did all of this…for me?”

Lauren released her gaze and turned to join Camila in basking at her creation.

“No, my girlfriend will be here any minute so it looks like you may have to leave soon. Thanks for dropping by, Camz.”

The comment earned Lauren a playful swat to her upper arm, which Lauren shielded by ducking, her boisterous laugh harmonizing with Camila’s less cacophonic one.

“Hey, first and last joke of the evening. Don’t kill me before it’s over.”

“Like I would ever do that.”

Their laughter calmed and Lauren took the opportunity to slowly join their hands, fingers instinctively intertwining as soon as they made contact.

“But yes, I did this for you. I really hope you like it. I-I want you to have a nice evening, Camila.”

Camila gaped at their linked fingers, glowing in the feeling of skin-to-skin contact. This feels right. Her lips curled into a fruitful smile, eyes canting up to gaze at the owner of the warm fingers she now felt. They lost themselves once more at the lustful gaze of the other woman, the object of their desires riling so many unrequited feelings, feelings they tried but failed to bury. Lauren’s eyes darted to Camila’s lips, retreating back to her brown eyes with a pointed message. Damn she’s so perfect. Camila turned to face Lauren, wetting her plump lips before planting the tips of her toes in the sand, her lips meeting Lauren’s for the first time that night.

It was as if they had reached the edge of the earth: strong arms wrapped around Camila’s frame as her own entombed Lauren’s neck in a gentle embrace, the mist swaying off the surf wrapping them in a protective layer as they jumped off the edge in each other’s arms. Somewhere in the distance, the waves crashed upon a sandy cove, the battering along the beach an appropriate symphony to the dueling of their tongues. Bathed in the orange glow from the horizon, their lips parted after several minutes of appreciation, the crackling of the fire a peaceful reminder of Lauren’s planned festivities.

An audible whine escaped Camila’s lips, to which Lauren responded with a brief peck, reveling in the manner their lips clung to each other with a loud smack, as if they themselves couldn’t bear to part.

“Camila, would you like to have dinner with me?”

A glint filled Camila’s eyes as she kept her arms glued around Lauren’s neck.

“No, I wish I could but my girlfriend will be here to get me soon, I don’t think she would like it if she saw me in such a compromising position.”

Lauren’s mouth went agape once more, this time for an entirely different reason. Ugh, and she’s clever too. She nuzzled her face in Camila’s neck, offering gentle kisses to her canvas.

“I don’t know…” she went on, teasingly, her voice muffled by Camila’s soft skin “…I may have to fight her for you.”

She pulled back and pecked Camila’s lips one last time, peppering her knuckles with similar kisses.

“So, dinner? With me?”

Camila sighed heavily, her love for the other girl too much to bear at times.

“I would love that.”

Lauren kissed her once more before interlacing their fingers and leading Camila over to the dinner table, the latter girl drawing hearts on Lauren’s back as she trailed behind. The motion brought a smile to Lauren’s lips as she pulled Camila’s chair out from the table, waiting for her love to take her seat.

Lauren swiftly removed the lids from their respective dinner trays to reveal two hearty steaks sitting next to a puddle of mashed potatoes and sweet grilled bananas. Thanks Lee. She fished a bottle of red wine from a cooler hidden beneath the table, filling their glasses before joining a mesmerized Camila. They dined in peace, segments of light conversation supplemented by cracks from the firewood and sways of the ocean breeze. Loud clanks resonated throughout the atmosphere are they rested their utensils back on their plates, bellies full with food and drink. Lauren cast her eyes towards Camila who was just finishing a laugh at one of Lauren’s jokes.

“Hey, I’m telling you, after that I made sure to wear the special underwear at meet-and-greets. That one guy was probably totally freaked out.”

Camila wiped the tears of laughter trickling out the corners of her eyes.

“I don’t know about that. He probably thought he was lucky. Heck, he is lucky for having the opportunity to rub up against the incredibly hot Lauren Jauregui.”

“I don’t think he thought my erection was hot when he accidentally brushed against it. Damn Dinah Jane for jutting her ass out at the last minute, otherwise we never would have been that close. I mean, the guy was standing right there and she had to push him right in front of me.”

Camila continued laughing, much to Lauren’s dismay, but the beauty melted under the velvety richness of her voice.

“Hey, will you walk with me for a bit? I have this spot that I think you would really like.”

“Wow, Jauregui. A fabulous dinner on the beach under the stars, and now you want to take a walk in the sand? How could I resist?”

The two joined hands as they descended the dinner platform, toes sinking into the beige gravel along the shore. Camila’s bikini skirt came to life in the wind as they slowly made their way toward the cove. The waves continued to crash, the violent albeit intimate meeting of the water and sand brought a sense of calm perfection to the lovers. The sun had bid the earth adieu, the stars taking home along the moonlight. A coolness wrapped around them as they began their trek, though Lauren’s thumb gently ran over Camila’s hand, leaving behind a trail of warmth. Lauren spotted the beginnings of the cove, the one she scouted along the beach for the perfect and most intimate setting. She craned her neck to view her love, thumb still working its magic on smooth tanned skin.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, Camila.”

The younger met Lauren’s gaze, eyes locking onto her favorite green color, even if they were hidden in the darkness of night.

“And I don’t just mean in a physical relationship with someone, I mean in any aspect of my life. I’ve been through so much and I was never certain that I would have someone there to see me through that, you know? I always wondered, back when I was sitting in my childhood bedroom in Miami if I was ever going to find true happiness, if I was ever going to find someone to share the best of parts of myself with. I wasn’t even sure if I had any ‘best parts’ but I knew that I wanted someone special by my side. And once I found them, I was going to make sure that I never let them go.”

Camila fought back tears as they rounded a sandy corner, entering Lauren’s cove with their fingers still entwined. She barely noticed the façade of their new setting: the beach here was more peaceful, a perfect wide strip of light sand tucked behind a valley of rocks. The waves washed along a rocky formation of a new fire pit, no doubt of Lauren’s creation, complete with a beach towel and another small cooler stocked with water and wine. She blinked twice when she took in the scenery and the ambiance that Lauren had set; it was so cozy, so intimate, so them that she brought her hand to cover her increasingly erratic heartbeat. She had dreams of this very spot, of an oasis segregated from the rest of the world, of her little parcel of earth upon which she and Lauren could live surrounded by happiness. How did Lauren manage to intercept her thoughts and design this very setting, she didn’t know, but when she turned to face her with a look of pure admiration dripping from her features, she found the Latina matching her look with the same ardor.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful!”

“Yes…” Lauren leaned closer to Camila’s awe-struck face “…she is”

Once again, Lauren remained caught in the net of her thoughts, though this time they managed to seep from her orifice and into the heady air wrapped around them. She hadn’t intended to say that aloud, but around Camila she was vulnerable, and her mind often found itself unable to react properly. She really is beautiful.

“Oh Lauren. Thank you so much, for all of this.”

Camila pecked Lauren on the lips, the older girl hoping to deepen the kiss before realizing that her earlier love confession remained unfinished.

“You’re welcome. Would you like to sit down?”

She gestured towards the beach towel she had strewn about earlier and reached for a bottle of water and she helped Camila sit. Once they were seated, Lauren gulped half of the water bottle, thinking back to how Camila did so in the record studio in Los Angeles, the day she told her that she didn’t want to be with her. She couldn’t believe how wrong she was.

“Camila…”

The brunette peered lovingly at Lauren as she listened to the waves rut along the beach, waiting to hear the other girl’s raspy albeit soothing voice.

“…I didn’t know what my life would become. I wasn’t ready to accept myself, wasn’t ready to love that part of myself and I now realize that if I didn’t accept myself, then no one else was going to love that part of me either. When I joined the group, I was just a fleeting soul and being a part of something gave me structure, which you know I love. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I had someone help construct my image, which involved me being a badass with a rebellious streak and I was fine with that, because we each played our part. I finally fit somewhere, and I had four beautiful women to love me for me, for my talents, not for what was expected of me. I felt beautiful for the first time. I still struggle with that.”

Camila inched closer to Lauren as she saw the other girl’s eyes turn glossy. Whatever this was, Lauren needed to get it out, to expel it from the depths within her, to make it possible to free without harboring such a sad ugliness that she was currently describing.

“Lauren, how could you ever think that you weren’t beautiful?”

“Because Camila…” she lowered her head to prevent from looking at Camila. She didn’t want to know what the other Cuban was presently thinking, for fear of judgement.

“…I’m not like you. I wasn’t always strong like you are. I was born like this…” she pointed to her lap, tears falling from her eyes, voice riddled with anger as she glanced at her crotch.

“…and I hated that for so, so long. You were the first person I ever fell for. The very first person whose smile made me laugh, whose voice made me happy, who could make me experience so many emotions that I didn’t even know I had. But I was scared. I was terrified because you were so beautiful Camila. No one questioned you, and from the outside, it seemed like you weren’t questioning yourself. I couldn’t do anything about my feelings for you because I couldn’t even handle my feelings about myself.”

Camila waited for Lauren to continue, though she was content to begin her interlude at Lauren’s prolonged silence.

“Lauren, listen to me. I did question myself, maybe not about that, but I questioned my feelings for women for a long time. I knew I was different even before we met on the X Factor. I had always liked girls but never felt like I could act on them, not to mention that I felt so much responsibility with being a role model for Sofi. I couldn’t handle myself if I let her down since she looks up to me. But now, with you, I realize that I wouldn’t be disappointing her if I were to come out, I would be empowering her, encouraging her to follow her heart, wherever that may take her. But I too was lost and confused and unwilling to explore, discover, and embrace that part of myself.”

Lauren tentatively looked into Camila’s eyes, her frame softening once she found peaceful pools of brown.

“You were?” Her voice was light and frothy, choked by tears.

“I was, believe me.”

Camila laid her hand upon Lauren knee, enveloping her hand in a cozy embrace.

“It’s just, after meeting you guys, I knew I could have friends but who was ever going to love me, sexually. People back home were all happy to be with me until they got close to me and found out that I have a…a…you know. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I shunned my feelings for you and you didn’t even seem interested in girls…or whatever you would call me.”

“Lauren, you are a woman. Don’t ever let anyone, not even myself tell you otherwise. You are who and what you believe you are. Please don’t let one thing deter you from that. You are beautiful in more ways than one, not just physically.”

“Yea?”

“Yes. You are one of the kindest and most compassionate people I have ever met. You hid it under this rough interior, but I know that’s to protect the ones you care the most about. You wear your heart on your sleeve and you aren’t afraid to stand up for what you believe in, even if the backlash from that is going to be difficult. You are so smart without even trying and you really invest yourself in causes that you’re concerned about. Like I said, you’re not afraid to put yourself out there and that is something that a lot of people aren’t willing to do. You are so talented, that is one of my favorite things about you. You can paint, you can write, you can dance, you can sing, obviously…”

The two shared a light laugh before Camila continued.

“…you construct beautiful works of art so effortlessly and it just makes me fall more in love with your mind. Everything you do has a deep purpose, a strong sense of meaning. Like your tattoos. What others may view as sexy symbols of ‘badass Lauren’ I see thoughtfulness. You’re not just ‘marking up your body’ like your family has suggested, but your representing people or entities that mean so much to you. And believe it or not, you’re also strong. I can only imagine what you went through before I met you, but you’re resilient. Just look at where you are in your life right now, Lauren. You’re successful with a platform that can touch millions of people, many of whom may be looking for their pillar of inspiration. Why can’t that be you?”

Lauren beamed as she watched Camila speak, words leaving her mind only to be replaced by strong incessant tugging at her heartstrings. Here she was pouring out her heart and soul to this incredible woman and she wasn’t running away, wasn’t leaving her in this sandy cove to drown in her own sorrow. Camila was…fighting…for her, doing something that no one else had ever done.

“You’re funny, Lauren. You make all of us laugh with your witty sense of humor, and you can sense that we need that even when we can’t say it out loud. That means you’re intuitive Lauren; you take the time to really know people and you always remember the best in them. Like when you said that Lucy and Shawn deserved better from us, that we should give them a chance to make us happy. You really put your heart into everything you do, almost like you have no regrets, and I can’t imagine a Lauren Jauregui that isn’t that way.”

It took Lauren several minutes before she could reveal more of herself, but she wanted to enter into this relationship with everything out in the open.

“You know, I never told anyone this, but not too long after I started seeing Lucy, I thought about getting it removed.”

Camila gasped, hand still concentrated on Lauren’s knee. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing; Lauren was mentioning removing the most intimate part of herself, and to Camila, that was heartbreaking and utterly unacceptable.

“What?! Are you serious?”

“Yes. I even called a doctor to ask about the surgery. I’ll never forget the first time I had sex, it wasn’t with Lucy, it was another friend of ours from high school and I remember her being so…turned off by off that we stopped soon after we started. She got weird after that and never spoke to me again. I hated myself, not just because I had a terrible first time but because I had lost yet another friend over my condition. It took some time but I figured that maybe that first time was bad because I didn’t have feelings for her. So you can imagine how excited I was when I started dating Lucy. I thought ‘this is going to feel right, I’ll finally be able to not just feel the kind of pleasure that people always talk about, but I’ll be able to give someone that pleasure as well’. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. It wasn’t as weird as my first time, but Lucy was still uncomfortable. I found myself falling in love with a girl that I couldn’t please, and I didn’t feel sexy around her. We both agreed that she needed some time to get used to the idea of having sex with me, so we waited…and waited…and waited. I went back to a really ugly place inside of me because my girlfriend couldn’t stand my body, which meant that I couldn’t stand my body.”

Camila gave a gentle reassuring squeeze to Lauren’s hand.

“I called about the procedure and was going to meet with the doctor when Lucy said she felt more comfortable. We worked it out but I got the sense that she too wished that I was normal.”

Lauren finished her bottle of water before she sighed, willing herself to continue.

“I still think about having it removed and just becoming a normal female, even now that you seem ok with it.”

Camila gave her signature kiss to Lauren’s lips, doing whatever she could to ensure to her mate that she was undeniable attracted to her.

“Is it something that you really want to do?”

Their eyes connected as their conversation continued to turn into serious territory.

“Honestly, I don’t know. You seem to really like it, more than anyone else ever has. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

Camila gave a hearty laugh as Lauren smiled, a tentative respite in the current tenor of their dialogue.

“Well, I can’t argue with that. But let me tell you something Lauren. I would love you even if you didn’t have this…”

Her hands inched closer to Lauren’s patient crotch, coming to rest on her upper thigh.

“…I would love you no matter what your body looks like. When I fell in love with you, I fell for your mind, your soul, your spirit. I fell for your personality, for your outlook on life and love. I fell for everything that is you, and that includes but is not limited to your body, Lauren. I’ve never been this in love before, but one thing that I know will sustain a lasting relationship is not the physical stuff. Our bodies change all the time, but who you are, that person I’ve fallen so deeply, madly, and head over heels in love with will always be there. And she can always show me she loves me, with any part of her body. But…you know what I do love about your body? About this part of you?”

Lauren offered her a firm shake of her head, curious to ascertain Camila’s logic behind this that had plagued her mind for so long.

“I love that you can make love to me in a way that no other woman can. I love how you can be gentle and passionate in way that no man will ever understand. I love how you could impregnate me some day with your sperm, not sperm that we have to get from someone else. The baby that will grow inside of me will really be ours. We made him or her through our love, with our bodies, with you being inside me, not someone else. One of my favorite parts about sex with you Lauren is that when you enter me, it’s really you, as you were born, as you were made to be on this planet. Your penis is literally an extension of you, which is why I love it so much. If you choose to remove it, I will support you, but you would be sacrificing so much if you did. I can’t answer the question for you, but is it worth it to you?”

Lauren felt tears prick her eyes once more at Camila’s words. It dawned on her that she could have a family of her own someday, a family that she could form with her lover, the future mother of her children. She wasn’t sure she wanted one someday, had never been sure she was ever worthy of a family, but here Camila sat, genuine smile breaking her gorgeous features, voice bursting with love and nothing else, practically telling Lauren she would be the vessel for the ultimate product of their love, a love Lauren never dreamed she would experience. In others’ eyes she saw distrust, an unwillingness to swim further into the sea of love. In Camila’s eyes she saw the exact antithesis, wandering brown eyes wondering why Lauren had yet to jump.

“I’ve never felt this way before, Camila. You’re so amazing, and I’m so in love with you. Any day that you wake up and I can’t see your face shouldn’t exist. Any time you laugh and someone else is the cause should never happen. Anyone who tries to be your everything should be that for someone else, because I want to be your everything Camila…if you’ll have me.”

“I love you so much, Lauren.” Her voice was barely audible above the thrashing of the ocean in the distance, but Lauren heard it loud and clear.

“I love you too, Camila.”

“Yes…I’ll have you. On one condition.”

Lauren raised a questioning brow.

“Anything, name it Camila.”

“I have to be your everything”

The heat of the sun could never match the warmth that swelled through Lauren’s chest, the glow from their hearts too radiant with which to compete. A deep and passion kiss was enough response to Camila’s condition, though Lauren ameliorated any chance of misinterpretation. She gathered Camila’s tiny palm in hers, kissing each finger reminiscent of the way Camila did that day in Los Angeles, placing the heated palm above her heart.

“You always have been.”

[mayacatmaster]

Your outer is not outer, it is INNER.  All your explorations and all your ideas, no matter how they may magnify scientifically or otherwise, are all going to be the result of the way you change the idea of how you see yourself and what you know is possible in your,  dimension of experience. ~Bashar *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Via and thanks “Michelle Copeland”: *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** What a joy, to travel the cat-like-way or Source-like-way of the heart. What a misery, to travel the kiss-dark-tyrant-ruler’s-ass of mindset. *** *** *** When you know, that physical reality is a mirror, a reflection, of your strongest beliefs, your strongest thoughts, what you believe is possible, most likely to occur, then you can use the outer mirror illusion reflection, as a guide line, a marker, a reminder, of what kind of thoughts you are having, what kind of definitions you are believing, what kind of concepts you are buying into.  - Bashar  *** *** *** The world is a mirror, forever reflecting what you are doing within yourself. You can…: Born as a cat, died as a cat, just let your life Cat like, even …: You're Crazy To Everyone Who Can't Manipulate You. Or You want said I follow order like a dog, it what make me a “man”(woman; children). *** *** *** It depend on your choice, decide and select, pick wise what you want. *** *** *** Whatever you believe about yourself on the inside is what you will manifest on the outside. *** *** *** You exist, that is certain—but, as whom? You see yourself as what? As who? Nowhere. *** *** *** As someone thinks within himself, so he is. -Proverbs 23:7 *** *** *** Changing the way you think  changes your perspective which changes how you act in the world. Matt. 4:17 *** *** *** It takes both sides to build a bridge. *** *** *** Source part of you and Physical part of you;  “Form is empty”(energy-vibration-frequency return to original face) and “Empty is form”( energy-vibration-frequency became matter) and  who see who identify with any kind of “I am this or that…!” *** *** *** Source is thinking through you and your Emotion-Energy-Guidance-system tell you,  *** *** *** Source Energy Guidance system, the “Source”(True Self; Tao) always same, no matter of it western or eastern, past, now or future or any kind of time-space-social-energy-structure *** *** *** Sloppy Thinking and you will make your life became a pile of shits. *** *** *** Subject of your Creation *** *** *** Self Mastery & Awakening *** *** *** See who is Seer *** *** *** See you As….: *** *** *** Self Define….; *** *** *** Which you? Which world? *** *** *** How to bring heaven to earth? *** *** *** You WERE created from ecstasy;you were created out of love & light. It is your birthright. Everything you do can be an act of love, done with an effortless ease of creativity.  You are made in the image of the Infinite Creator; and that means,quite simply, that you are infinite creators and multidimensional ones as well. This is the natural you. -Bashar *** *** *** You already CONTAIN everything you will ever need.  Everything you will ever manifest already HERE,  Manifestation is simply allowing it to become VISIBLE by matching its frequency. ~Bashar  *** *** *** Not all of us are born to dealt with one hand good cards, maybe you have born have a shit bad cards. *** *** *** So what, so what, so what…. because we also need learn how to unlearn….: We must unlearn what we have learned because a conditioned mind cannot comprehend the infinite.  *** *** *** So even…: I didn't grow up having role models.  I grew up having people I didn't want to be like and seeing situations I'd never want to be in. Not all of us are dealt the right cards, but that doesn't  mean you can't reshuffle your deck for a better outcome.  *** *** *** You must step back a bit and try to view yourself from a broader perspective.  You must see yourself as a being who has lived thousand of lifetimes, physical and non- physical, one who has gained knowledge through all of those life experiences. ~Abraham *** *** *** Because…: You're not dealing with people or situations, it is your thoughts, your beliefs, about people and situations that you are dealing with. *** *** *** But realize this…: No one can deny you anything. Only you deny it through your vibrational contradiction. ~Abraham *** *** *** Before you can live anything, in what you are calling physical manifestation—you have to have conjured it in vibrational form. You have to have imagined it before it can become a reality. Everything that you are living here in this physical body, you have imagined the essence of it before you are living it.  ~Abraham-Hicks  *** *** *** The reality gives birth to the dream - but the dream is where you are wanting to  put your attention. ~Abraham-Hicks  *** *** *** If you realize that you create your physical reality through your own thoughts and desires…:  then you have learned the most important aspects of reality. -Seth  *** *** *** "All you have to do is realize that you are free, that you form reality as you know it... through your most intimate desires and thoughts and fears. You change the exterior circumstances by changing your thoughts and your desires and by forgetting your fears. There is no other way. There has never been another way." -The Early Class Sessions: Book 2 ESP, February 3, 1970 *** *** *** We remind you that you are dreaming right now.  Wake up and live the dream you prefer.  Understand that you are always making choices. That's your free will. If you do not prefer what you are choosing, redefine it; choose something else.  Then lock the new choice in by acting as if the new choice is now  the real reality. Do not play "what if-— play *what is."  Be bold.  Be who you are.  Be in joy, and enjoy yourselves.  Believe in yourselves.  You are all there is to believe in. ~Bashar ** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** And…: The chicken always came first.  The chicken was imagined in its entirety as an egg-laying being.  -Abraham Hicks  *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Everything Created Twice! *** *** ***  Like building a house, first draw it in mind, and then draw on paper. *** *** ***  Eagle dream of flying in the sky,  While it still in the egg. Big oak tree dream of swaying in the wind,  While it still in the seed. *** *** ***  Everything is Created Twice. Once in the mind and then in reality. Pay close attention to the thoughts-feeling-emotion you choose. They have a way of becoming real. *** *** ***  If you want it, identify with it as " me; myself; I; mine" and "true".  *** *** ***  If you don't want it, use your heart like "Mirror-Witness-Consciousness", Relax-empty your mind-body,  don't identify with it as " me; myself; I; mine" and "true". *** *** ***  99.99% of your creation is complete before you see Any physical evidence of it! ~Abraham *** *** ***  The relationship between you and "YOU"(True Self; Tao; Brahman) is not one of separateness but of alignment and resonance. ~Abraham *** *** ***  Faith is: Knowing what the "Source"(True Self; Tao; Brahman; God) within me Knows, without life having to prove it to me. ~AH *** *** *** If this time-space-reality has the wherewithal to fill your Vortex, and become a dream, or an idea; or a desire within you, it is our absolute promise that this  time-space-reality has the wherewithal to deliver the goods.  But you have to stay in harmony with your own desire. ~Abraham-Hicks *** *** *** If you doubt - lots of resistance.  If you hope - a little less resistance.  If you believe - a little less resistance.  But when YOU KNOW - no resistance. ~Abraham—Hicks  *** *** *** What you are living is always an exact replication of your vibrational patterns of thought. ~Abraham *** *** *** Nothing is more delicious than to think the thoughts that Source is thinking with you about the things that matter to you. -Abraham *** *** *** As you identify the thing that you want and you achieve vibrational harmony with it, by Law of Attraction you summon the Energy through you, and that is what life is. When someone stops desiring, Life Force no longer flows through them, and then they re-emerge into the Nonphysical where you have all kinds of goals and intentions. ~Abraham *** *** *** Achieve, first, the vibrational essence of your desire—and then, through the  crack of least resistance the manifestation will be delivered... work on the essence of the feeling of freedom; work on the essence of the feeling of empowerment— work on the essence of the feeling of Well-Being...  ~Abraham Hicks  *** *** *** It is more comfortable to maintain momentum than it is to achieve it and lose it, achieve it and lose it, achieve it and lose it. It really is much more comfortable. [...] The fluctuation of the current is much harder on you than the consistency of the current, so to speak. But most physical Beings don’t even imagine having any kind of control over that, because they are observers, and there is so much diversity to observe. So they see this, they get connected, they see this, they get unconnected, they see this, they get connected, they see this, they get unconnected. So the way to modify all of that and smooth it out is to take control of your own life by more deliberately directing your thoughts. By not being a captive of observation, but a master of visualization. -Abraham *** *** *** So…: I'm a inner and outer life scientist. I’m very picky with whom I give my energy to.  I prefer to reserve my time, intensity and spirit exclusively to those who reflect  sincerity.  *** *** *** I'm a inner and outer life scientist,  I am Self inquiry-Study; Research; investigation; experiment; verification and Question what kind of the material & knowledge can help me and another people transform our psyche & physical environment, our health and all aspects of our inner and outer life for the better...  And I can gained and used it for beautiful dream come true or at least help me cease bad-life-fruits-Vicious circle.  *** *** *** So...I’m very picky with whom I give my energy to.  I prefer to reserve my time, intensity and spirit exclusively to those who reflect  sincerity. *** *** *** For those who can Mirror the most simplest “Cosmic Principle”(Tao; Source; Ma at; Brahma) in every area and topic….^^ *** *** *** And as a inner and outer life scientist. You must unlearn what you have been programmed to believe since birth. That software no longer serves you if you want to live in a world where all things are possible. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Question your thoughts.  Question your stories. Question your assumptions. Question your opinions.  Question your conclusions. Question them all into utter emptiness, stillness and joy. The keys to freedom are in your hands. Use them. ~ Adyashanti *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Special thank for "The Mind Unleashed" & "Open Your Minds" *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 【Kingdom of Heaven】: Vain are the beliefs and teachings that make man miserable, and false is the goodness that leads him into sorrow and despair, for it is man's purpose to be happy on this earth and lead the way to felicity and preach it's gospel wherever he goes. He who does not see the kingdom of heaven in this life will never see it in the coming life. We came not into this life by exile, but we came as innocent creatures of God, to learn how to worship the holy and eternal spirit and seek the hidden secrets within ourselves from the beauty of life. ~《SRT-256 : Gibran》 *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ✔Ears-to hear about "Tao"(Ma-at) = 耳徹為聰 = the wisdom ears of heart can gives clear hearing about "Tao"(Ma-at)  ✔Eyes-to observational & study about "Tao"(Ma-at) = 目徹為明 = the wisdom eyes of heart can gives clear insight about "Tao"(Ma-at)  ✔Mind-to think & question about "Tao"(Ma-at) = 心徹為知 = the wisdom mind of heart can mirror "Tao"(Ma-at；Nature；Logos)  ✔Heart-to feel and realized about "Tao"(Ma-at) = 知徹為德 = the totally mirror "Tao"(Ma-at；Nature；Logos) is constitutes virtue of "Tao"(Ma-at) *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Where the wisdom of ears , eyes , mind , heart come from?; 耳，眼，頭腦, 心靈的清明智慧來自何處？ *** *** *** Wisdom does not come form age,  對大”道”(大道；邏格斯；瑪特)的生命智慧並不來自年齡， It comes from alignment with "Tao"(The overall wisdom & light & love & truth of the universe). 「永恒生命智慧」來自校準結盟於大”道”(宇宙整體智慧&光明&愛&真理)。 It comes from alignment with "Tao"(God；Brahman；Allah；True Self ). 「永恒生命智慧」來自校準結盟於大”道”(上主；梵；阿拉；真正自己)。 You can be old and in the vortex or young and in the vortex. 你可以年級大，而心靈處於眼前所有「氣運幻化經驗現象」之能量游渦的「如如不動見證觀照」中心， 或者 你可以年級輕，而心靈處於眼前所有「氣運幻化經驗現象」之能量游渦的「如如不動見證觀照」中心 But wisdom comes from in the vortex, not age. 然而，「永恒生命智慧」來自心靈處於眼前 所有「氣運幻化經驗現象」之能量游渦的 「如如不動見證觀照」中心，不在於年級大。 ~Abraham *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** So~~~! 所以，~~~! It is the penetrating eye that gives clear vision, the acute ear that gives clear hearing, the discriminating nose that gives discernment of "Truth" odours,the discriminating tongue know what is bitter and sweet fruit taste , the mind can mirror "Tao"(Ma-at；Nature；Logos) that acquires "Gnosis & Salvation"(True wisdom and liberty), and the far-reaching "Gnosis & Salvation"(True wisdom and liberty) that constitutes virtue of "Tao"(Ma-at) . 目徹為明，耳徹為聰，鼻徹為顫，口徹為甘，心徹為知，知徹為德。 *** *** *** In no case does the connexion with what is without like to be obstructed; obstruction produces stoppage; stoppage, continuing without intermission, arrests all progress; and with this all injurious effects spring up. 凡"道"(Tao；Ma-at；Logos)不欲壅，壅則哽，哽而不止則跈，跈則眾害生。 *** *** *** The knowledge of all creatures depends on their breathing. But if their breath be not abundant, it is not the fault of Heaven, which tries to penetrate them with it, day and night without ceasing; but men notwithstanding shut their pores against it. 物之有知者恃息，其不殷，非天之罪。天之穿之，日夜無降，人則顧塞其竇。 *** *** *** The womb encloses a large and empty space; the heart has its spontaneous and enjoyable movements. If their apartment be not roomy, wife and mother-in-law will be bickering; if the heart have not its spontaneous and enjoyable movements, the six faculties of perception will be in mutual collision. 胞有重閬，心有天遊。室無空虛，則婦姑勃谿；心無天遊，則六鑿相攘。 *** *** *** That the great forests, the heights and hills, are pleasant to men, is because their spirits cannot overcome (those distracting influences). 大林丘山之善於人也，亦神者不勝。~莊子 外物篇 *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Maintain a perfect unity in "Tao"(True Self；God；Allah) of your will, You will not wait for the hearing of your ears about it, but for the hearing of your heart. You will not wait even for the hearing of your heart, but for the hearing of the "spirit energy". Let the hearing (of the ears) rest with the ears. Let the heart one with "Tao"(True Self；God；Allah) . But the heart is free from all pre-occupation and so waits for "Tao"(True Self；God；Allah) itself. Only the heart one with "Tao"(True Self；God；Allah) , can make one's heart "relax & empty & mirror & witness" inner infinite uncontaminated sky. Where a perfect unity in "Tao"(True Self；God；Allah) is, there is freedom from all pre-occupation; such freedom is the "fasting of the heart"(No-mind). 若一志，無聽之以耳而聽之以心，無聽之以心而聽之以氣。聽止於耳，心止於符。氣也者，虛而待物者也。唯道集虛。虛者，心齋也。 ~莊子 人世間篇 *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** So…: Set A Goal So Big That You Can’t Achieve It Until You Grow Into The Person Who Can.  *** *** *** Whenever science or religion seeks the origin of the search for it in the past. 'The universe is being created NOW.  Creation occurs in each moment,  In your terms "The illusion of time itself is being created NOW. ~@Seth *** *** *** "What people most believe in is WHAT IS. Well then how could WHAT IS ever change? If you believe that you have to believe in everything that is, then how will you ever move beyond what is? You have to lessen your grasp on what is in order to allow what isn’t yet to be the new what is." - AH *** *** *** Very often we will meet someone who is extraordinary in their perception, in their alignment and in their control of their own point of attraction.  And we recognize that they came from very, very hard times.  And, in many ways, that was a gift to them. ~Abraham-Hicks *** *** *** The reality gives birth to the dream - but the dream is where you are wanting to  put your attention. ~Abraham-Hicks  *** *** *** How Long It Takes to Manifest??? The amount of time it takes you to get from where you are to where you want to be is only the amount of time it takes you to (change)... the vibration within you ! ~Abraham Hicks *** *** *** You can train yourself into a vibrational expectancy that will yield you a life that you,  or anyone watching you,  would have to call a very lovely life. ~ Abraham-Hicks ~ *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** As you imagine and visualize and verbalize your new story, in time you will believe the new story, and when that happens, the evidence will flow swiftly into your experience. A belief is only a thought you continue to think; and when your beliefs match your desires, then your desires must become your reality. There is no physical body, no matter what the conditions, that cannot achieve an improved condition. Nothing else in your experience responds as quickly as your own physical body to your patterns of thought. Excerpted from Money and the Law of Attraction on 8/31/08 - Abraham Hicks *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Teaching isn't about conveying knowledge to someone,  teaching at its best is helping others to connect with who they are so that they  can be the masters of their own experience, ~Abraham-Hicks  *** *** ***  No one can deny you anything...  only you deny it through your vibrational contradiction. ~Abraham *** *** ***  "Until we have met the monsters in ourselves , we keep trying to slay them in the outer world. And we find that we cannot. For all darkness in the world stems from darkness in the heart .  And it is there that we must do our work. "  *** *** ***  So…: Practice, practice, practice. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Just your imagination?; Of course it's your imagination! This world is your imagination. Have you forgotten? ~Illusions *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** All matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration.  We are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively.  There is no such thing as death.  Life is only a dream. And we are he imagination of ourselves. --Bill Hicks *** *** ***  And…: You can only fight the way you practice. ~ Miyamoto Musashi *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** There is nothing outside yourself that can ever enable you to get better, stronger, richer, quicker or smarter. Everything is within. Everything exists. Seek nothing outside yourself. ~ Miyamoto Musashi *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Because…: Vibrational requests. ~Abraham *** *** *** We Understand That The Way You Chose To Experience This (PHYSICAL Reality) Makes It Appear To Be Outside Of You. So, The Thing To Remember In Order To Give Yourself More Opportunity To Choosy And  Experience The Kind Of Physical Reality You Prefer, The Kind Of Physical Reality That You Say Is More In Alignment With Your True Vibration, Is To Begin To See And Experience Physical Reality As A Reflection, Similar To The Idea Of The Reflection That Exists In Your Glass Mirrors.  ~Bashar (HALL Of Mirrors)  *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** So what if you missed those clues. So what if you didn’t remember. So what if you were born into a family who didn’t encourage you to be emotional. So what if nobody cared how you felt and just ran roughsgod over the top of you and forced you to do things you didn’t want to do. So what if there are things in your life that are not the way you want them to be. So what!??! Here you stand with the potential of offering  a vibration that Law of Attraction will match. So What-Has-Been doesn’t mean didly-squat! And What-IS doesn’t either. What-IS does not matter. It’s only an indication of vibration. You have the power to change your vibration right now,  right now,  right now. ~ Abraham-Hicks ~ *** *** ***  So…: Practice, practice, practice. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** You don't have to coin a word that will lead everyone-to where they want to be.  You just have to help them that they have got guidance! ~Abraham-Hicks *** *** *** Everything you are living, you are making up in your mind and then you practiced it, and the universe confirms it. ~Abraham-Hicks  *** *** *** The True Self stands beyond the mind, aware, but unconcerned. —Nisargadatta Maharaj  *** *** *** And…: The Source within is thinking about the same thing with you. *** *** *** CLARITY is Source thinking with you,  and you knowing the Source. ~Abraham-Hicks *** *** *** You create your dream state just like you create your awake state—  with the same law of attraction, and with the same focus. ~Abraham-Hick  *** *** *** We're going to lay a big one on you right now that is going to cause you to reach into a place that most of you have never reached before...  Everything that you see, is illusionary anyway. And the illusion can be anything you choose it to be. You gotta go there before you can accept the infinity in which you live and the never-endedness of what you live.  -Abraham Hicks, YouTube:' What you believe is your reality ‘ *** *** *** Never mind what is,  Imagine it the way you want it to be so that your vibration is a match to your  desire. ~Abraham *** *** *** You create your dream state just like you create your awake state—  with the same law of attraction, and with the same focus. ~Abraham-Hick  *** *** *** You Do Not Allow Because You Do Not Believe.  What You Believe Regarding Anything That You Want Is Extremely Important - For You Will Allow Only Within The Boundaries Of Your Beliefs.  And So, In Many Cases, Your Beliefs Must Be Altered To Harmonize  With Your Intentions. ~Abraham *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Via and thanks “Abraham Hicks Picture Quotes N Open Forum”: *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** So we’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately trying to help you understand that as you are the creator of your own reality, how things come from that vibrational, not-yet-tangible state of being into a manifested tangible state. And it ALL lies in perception. It all lies in your ability to tune to a frequency that allows you to perceive it. And this is the thing, humans (we love you so much) stubbornly hold back from. You want to call reality one thing and you want to call nonphysical another. You want to call what’s manifested like the money you’ve got in your bank one thing, and you want to call vibration something else. And we want you to understand that it’s all the same thing. And that when you accept that it’s all the same thing, and you accept that you are the thinker of the vibrational currency, that you are the director of the thought, and you are the synthesizer of the energy. And most important of all, you are then the translator of the energy that you have created into the reality that you call real life. ~Abraham-Hicks, Sacramento, CA, 03/1/14

*** *** ***

"You cannot persist in wanting what you already have. If you assume you are what you desire to be to the point of ecstasy, you no longer want it. Your imaginal act is as much a creative act as a physical one wherein man halts,  shrinks and is blessed, for as man creates his own likeness, so does your imaginal act transform itself into the likeness of your assumption. If, however, you do not reach the point of satisfaction, repeat the action over and over again until you feel as though you touched it and virtue went out of you." - Neville Goddard  *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Via and thanks “Samiksa Love”: *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Doubt is not A lack of trust.  Doubt is a 100% trust in a definition that is out of alignment with your truth. ~Bashar *** *** *** You rise to a higher level of consciousness by taking your attention away from your present limitations and placing it upon that which you desire to be. Do not attempt this in day—dreaming or wishful thinking but in a positive manner. Claim yourself to be the thing desired. I AM that; no sacrifice, no diet, no human tricks. All that is asked of you is to accept your desire. If you dare claim it, you will express it. — Neville Goddard  *** *** *** I am convinced that the being that you really are, is dreaming what you believe yourself to be. One day you will awaken, and you and the dreamer will become one. -- Neville Goddard  *** *** *** Your joy factor will remain constant as you are continually refining your ideas of what you want, and that's why it is so important for you to get everybody else out of the equation. They've got their own game going on; they don't understand your game. Give them a break; stop asking them what they think. Start paying attention to how you feel. Joy will be yours immediately, and everything else that you have ever thought would make you happy, will start flowing, seemingly effortlessly, into your experience. ~Abraham-Hicks  *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Via and thanks “Mina Milos”: *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

You are not here just to fill space or to be a background character in someone else's movie. Nothing would be the same if you did not exist. Every place you have ever been and every person you have ever spoken to would be different you. We are all connected and we are all affected by the decisions and existence of those around us. Never forget this.

Whispers Of Beautiful Souls

*** *** ***

As your frequency rises you will no longer feel the desire to follow trends

and fit in. Authenticity is a huge factor in growth / evolution. You know your on

the right path when being yourself and honoring who you truly are becomes a

priority. No more hiding and blending in. Whispers Of Beautiful Souls

*** *** ***

[cecilspeaks]

Episode 105 - What Happened at the Smithwick House

If you could press a button that would give you a great deal of money, but it would cause someone you don’t know in a distant part of the world to die, then you would have a good model for how our current economy works.

Welcome to Night Vale.

To start off, the story that everyone is talking about. In the interest of the common good, I feel I must report to you what happened at the Smithwick house.

Mr. and Mrs. Smithwick lived in a neat two-story home on Butterfield Lane. They had two small children, Lisa and Jake. Their lives were mostly normal.

Mr. Smithwick was a gloomy man. He had an anger inside of him. He hadn’t used this anger to do anything, but Mrs. Smithwick could smell it, and the children could smell it. They were always very careful around Mr. Smithwick. Sometimes it would be a day, just any day, and they would turn to find him looking at them with a blank stare, and they would feel as though teetering on the edge of something wild.. and final. And then they would look again and it would just be stolid Mr. Smithwick going about this day.

Even the neighbors could smell it. There was always something dark hanging over the Smithwick house. They never consciously thought but always felt. And because of this, they stayed away. Mrs. Smithwick was often lonely since few neighbors would talk to her. Mr. Smithwick was never lonely. He did not have the capacity for loneliness.

One day, Mrs. Smithwick discovered she was pregnant. An accident. And how would they care for a third child? But they would. There would be no choice. Dutifully, Mr. Smithwick began to prepare a nursery in what had previously been a guest room. He moved out the furniture that had only ever been used for guests once - a visit from a cousin three Thanksgivings before, never repeated.

He was in the process of painting the room a soothing green, when he first saw the hole in the wall opposite the wall. He called in the other members of the family, because the hole was.. so truly odd. Perfectly square and opening onto a tunnel that was also square. The tunnel’s sides were a cool damp concrete, leading away into darkness. On the other side of the wall was the outside of the house, but the hole seemed to lead somewhere very distant, although it was too dark to see.

A soft breeze came from the hole. It was too small to enter, only about a foot on each side, so the family stood in the unfinished nursery looking at the hole. Mr. Smithwick thought he could hear from far in the distance of its depths a soft humming.

More soon. But first, as many of you probably heard, two weeks ago I was arrested, after my explanation of the secret hierarchy of.. angels. Ahem. I was dragged in front of the City Council and informed I would be sent through a lengthy re-education and brain reconditioning program, before I would be allowed back on the air. But then I got City Council chatting about how Station Management is doing, their relationship is on a little bit of an icy patch again. And I see Station Management on a daily basis, so it was pretty easy to draw the Council into a series of questions about what Management’s mood has been like and how many hapless employees of the station have been lured to the Management’s office, and relieved of their life energy. Finally, the Council forgot what they had called me in to punish me about and let me go. So here I am, speaking to you once again.

By the way, there is a difference between a rough patch and an icy patch in a relationship. A rough patch is where there is a great deal of arguing and disagreement, a (chostle) [0:06:59] to both parties’ lives. An icy patch is where outwardly all seems to be smooth, but there is no actual connection made. Simple sentiments skitter off in unintended directions and both parties feel like they’re lurching without control towards destinations they had not foreseen. The angels, meanwhile, continue to fight for a legal acknowledgement of their existence. They’ve been protesting outside City Hall, blocking the entrance. Now this has made life extremely difficult for City Hall employees. The employees are unable to get inside the building, but since angels do not legally exist, these employees are also unable to accurately describe the reason for their absence from work. The angels have called on our unions, including the Steelworkers’ Union, the Taxi Drivers’ Union, the Tree Shrub and Moss Union, to join them in a general strike until the denial of their basic identity is finally purged from the books of law.

And now your Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. Today, we will look at birth stones. If you were born in January, your birth stone is the garnet. If you were born in February, your birth stone is also the garnet. You have to fight with January to see who gets to have the garnet. Whoever wins gets to be born. That’s how birth works. If you were born in March, your birth stone is, that’s right – the garnet. This is going to be a brutal battle for that stone.

If you were born in April, your birthstone is flat and gray and sits next to a pond. It is dusty and warm in the sunshine, and if you put it against your cheek, it would feel like taking a long walk on a nice day.

If you were born in May, your birth stone is cemented into the wall of a rich person’s indoor shower. This stall has several different shower heads and built-in surround sound speakers, and your stone is near where the person’s butt usually goes. I’m sorry to have to inform you of this.

June, your birth stone is this one that I have in my hand. If you want it back, then you need to listen very carefully and [creepily] do everything I say.

July, you don’t have a birth stone, you have a birth rock. It’s in a park in San Diego and children sit on it to tie their shoes. August, your birth stone is in space! A shard broken off of an asteroid that is spinning away from the sun. Thousands of years from now, your birth stone will leave the solar system.

September, your birth stone was swallowed by a little boy who is very sorry about having swallowed a stone. Swallowing a stone is uncomfortable and dangerous. A lesson that little boy is learning now.

October, your birth stone was buried by drifting soil thousands of years ago. It will never again be uncovered.

November, your birth stone is falling from a great height. Soon it will land. I hope it will not land on anyone but then, life has no guarantees.

December. Your birth stone is a dump truck. You may correctly notice that this isn’t a type of stone, but you may also correctly notice that at least you didn’t get stuck fighting over a garnet.

This been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

And now back to what happened at the Smithwick house. 

A few days after the discovery of the hole, Mrs. Smithwick disappeared. She did not pack any of her clothes. There was no sign of violence. She was just… gone. The children, Lisa and Jake, did not cry. They were too shocked to cry. They realized without realizing that they had passed through a threshold that there would be no way to ever return. Mr. Smithwick called the police, who investigated thoroughly. He tried to tell them about the hole, still in the wall of the unfinished nursery upstairs, but they were uninterested in that. They wanted to know where he had been last night and if he could prove it.

He had been with the children. They said so as well. The police didn’t like it. But they couldn’t find evidence of a crime, let alone evidence that any specific person had done a crime, and so they left. Mr. Smithwick took the children to school on his way to work. He made dinner that night. He felt as though he should be searching for his wife, but something in him did not seem to find that urgent. Instead, he went into the nursery, painted a green he now found overbearing.

The hole was where it had been before. He listened closely. Yes, still the humming from deep in the darkness. He bent over and looked, but in the depth of its perfectly square tunnel he could see only shadow. Then, there was a gurgle, a movement coming toward him. And he stumbled backwards, and a stream of clean fresh water begun to pour from the hole.

And now, traffic.

I have never seen snow in person, and yet I can taste it. I know its bite, but I have never felt it. We go places we never go. We achieve what we do not achieve. This is the power of imagination. Is imagination a blessing, or a prison? Would I be more driven to seek out snow if I could not imagine snow? If I could not project in my stomach what a ride down a hill might feel like, would I be compelled to seek out a slope and a sled? Does imagining make me less likely to act?

Here is what I think. Imagination might hold us back, but the exchange is worth it. By imagining, I can experience things that not only haven’t happened, but couldn’t happen. For instance, I will imagine an event now.

A.. creature with a long.. forehead and, wide golden eyes on the planet.. Zardaz, in a galaxy that is not even visible from our galaxy, this this creature who is named.. Ersdawn is on trial for the crime of having viewed the sacred animal. Tom..pet of the queen of Zardaz, when asked to defend themselves, Ersdawn looked over the assembled citizens of Zardaz. All six of them. It is an inhospitable planet, and their population is very low. [grandly] “Have we not all, at one time or another, viewed tom, the sacred animal? Have we not all?” Ersdawn asks. It turns out they have not all. No one has ever seen tom before, not even the queen, and the queen is annoyed at this. And Ersdawn is tossed off a cliff, and the population of Zardaz.. is now five.

What would our lives be without the ability to imagine nonsense like that? Anyway, there’s a patch of falling snow on Route 800 that scientists cannot explain, given that the rest of the region is currently in the usual early spring heatwave. I have never seen snow in person, but can imagine exactly what that snow looks like, and so feel no urge to go check it out.

This has been traffic.

More on what happened at the Smithwick house. The children were gone. They had not attended school in days. Mr. Smithwick could not say where they were. He expressed utter confusion. The police did not believe this and arrested him. He sat quietly in his cell, and when they were forced to let him go because there was no evidence of his involvement, he quietly went home.

The neighbors avoided him, but they had always avoided him. The police left a car outside his house indefinitely. He went about his days as he always had. He made breakfast, he went to work, he made dinner, he went to bed. His wife and children were missing. He did not look for them. Instead, he went each evening to the nursery, where the hideous green paint on the wall now seemed an act of violence upon him. And he sat crosslegged on the floor, looking at the hole. The air coming from within was cold, like air from a cave.

One evening, after several weeks of this, he stood and reached his arm into the hole. He felt something soft rush his fingers. He cried out and tried to grasp it. It felt like.. the faintest touch of a hand. He stretched his arm as far as it would go, and found a finger hold. He pulled it. What he had felt in the tunnel moved easily with his pull. To his astonishment, his arm emerged holding the branch of a tree, several feet long, covered in leaves the same shade as the wall. He sat back down. He did not try to reach into the hole again.

Soon, the rest of what happened at the Smithwick house, but now.. the weather.

[“You Cannot” by Erin McKeown, erinmckeown.com]

Mr. Smithwick no longer went to work. He did not make breakfast or dinner, he did not sleep. He sat in the nursery and looked at the hole. From deep in the tunnel, he heard humming. The neighbors noticed that he didn’t go out anymore, and they assumed the worst about this. they confirmed with each other that there had been something heavy and strange about the man. They agreed that this had all been a matter of time.

Time did not matter to Mr. Smithwick anymore. He didn’t notice if it was day or if it was night. Inside the tunnel, leading away from the unfinished nursery, it was always the same: dark and cool. When no one had seen Mr. Smithwick for several days, the police in the car outside decided to investigate. Earlier this week, they searched the house but.. There was no trace of Mr. Smithwick. All of his things were still there, and there was no sign of violence, he was just.. gone. One of the police officers wandered into the nursery, where the green paint on the walls resembled a person turning ill. It did not appear that anyone had been in the room for days. There was no hole in the wall.

Evidence was searched for, and evidence was not found. The Smithwick house stands empty, with all of the family’s things still inside – furniture and clothing. Even the food, rotting in the refrigerator. The neighbors still shake their heads and say that this just goes to show… Although none of them understand what it went to show.

And that is what happened at the Smithwick house. If there was anything to be learned from this, I… refuse to learn it.

Carlos has called in to the station to let me know that he is thinking quinoa balls for dinner. Also to remind me that the “Dancing on the Stars” finale is tonight and also to say that what happened at the Smithwick house happened a long time ago, and he has no idea how it happened. Again. And I told him that this is definitely the first time anything like this happened in Night Vale, I mean haha ah, I would have remembered something this weird happening in our quiet little town. But he insisted that he studied the Smithwick case already almost four years ago. He doesn’t understand how the whole incident could have repeated exactly as it happened before. Reality doesn’t allow for that, he said.

Well. I suppose there’s no accounting for reality.

Stay tuned next for a look back at your life, featuring the most embarrassing moments and biggest failures, hosted by your own brain. If you miss this showing, don’t worry! It plays on a nightly repeat.

Good night, Night Vale, good night.

Today’s proverb: you are what you eat. That’s very confusing phrasing. Let me simplify: you consume your own flesh. Much clearer.

[dustmetal]

Fic: This Is Not A Test of the Emergency Broadcast System

In which the long awaited awards ceremony comes to pass.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for readership, loyalty, kindness and making this a fun overall writing project to do. Hope you’ll stay with us in the future...for now Frank is going to be taking a long overdue hiatus from Tumblr.

Five of the seven occupants, all human got up from the corner table by the window at Grillby’s;  just a bunch of people out for a drink until last call. The significant lack of alcohol being poured down throats or food being ordered had apparently gone unnoticed by the bartender who made no move to tell them to order or leave and definitely unnoticed by those in the bar who were altering their state of consciousness. The two left at the table, one a hooded and hunched figure zipped up tight into a hoodie, the other a fire monster who could have been related to the attractive green-flame female monster, or at least the same species presently tending bar.

Pushing back her hood to reveal a terrible case of hat-head, Undyne jostled Grillby in the side. "Well that went well huh? We're gonna kick ass at the awards show tomorrow!" She slammed a fist on the tabletop to emphasize her point and let out the whooping battle cry she’d been holding back all night; allowing them to continue their meeting uninhibited with the stage manager and the hand-selected staff from their significantly expanded crew she’d be bringing to the awards show to work with the venue staff.

"Speaking of, you gonna ask the Que--er, Toriel?"

"I...no." Grillby shook his head.,."I'm going with Andraia instead, since we both need to be backstage early anyway.. It makes se--"

"Don't give me that nonsense! C'mon, dude, We can SO all see you like her, you git! You get all stupid and start to talk like you swallowed a bad anime tape with terrible subtitles."

"It's. Complicated...." he muttered, trailing off then adding as an afterthought  "...plus I don't think I'm her type."

The look of sheer frustration that crossed his face was something even his expression obscuring flames were unable to fully disguise.

“OH MY GOD!” Undyne’s reaction went from frustration to what was unmistakably a fangirl moment. “It’s a case of UNREQUITED LOVE! You can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t THINK straight….although, um, you’d better fuckin’ well tomorrow at the show.”

Grillby let her have her moment, nodding a bit. It was actually somewhat not without a ring of truthfulness, he had rather obviously lost weight and was more tired than usual but well, his romantic life (nonexistent though it was) was only half the reason. Maybe not even half. Quarter. Eighth.

He was thinking about his life in musical terms now.

"So all this is over a lady, big brother?" Agni snapped the bolt lock on the door behind the last stragglers and ducked behind the bar to emerge with two leftover burgers for each of them. There was something that suddenly felt so terribly like deja-vu, yet not...no, more like an out-of-body experience about the situation, sitting here slouched and in his civvies, half preoccupied and half asleep in his seat, on the opposite side of the bar.

Agni hugged him around the shoulders though.

"Undyne is right. You should get a good night's rest. Big day for you tomorrow."

Grillby ate as ordered, grateful that Undyne did not know the extent of the situation; his feelings for not only Toriel but his feelings for...well, he supposed that in some way he was kind of grateful for Sans' ability to be constantly in trouble when left to his own devices, it had certainly given him an excuse for keeping him close by without having to confess anything about how he /felt/.

At the end of the day, Toriel, Sans...he wasn't sure which of them he was supposed to be feeling disappointed to be losing. Or, losing to.

Presently however, Sans being in some kind of relationship, whether or not it was with him or Toriel or someone he met off the street, should be the least of his worries. Come hell or high water, tomorrow there would be a decisive battle in the Subterranical versus Glamour Bomb rivalry. Regardless of who took home that trophy, it would change the course of the game. He knew a win was always the best outcome,  and he dropped off to sleep feeling restless and what sleep he did get peppered with unusual, undecipherable dreams that felt somewhat ominous... but it could have had something to do with eating so close to bed.

***

Grillby woke from his as-restful-as-it-was-going-to-get sleep to find that the butterfly vs snake fight club was currently using the pit of his stomach as their meeting place. He stood, groaning a little having (not for the first time since becoming a band manager) slept in his clothes and he swiftly swapped them out for another rare instance of a casual outfit. He resolved to grab a couple of biscuits on the way to the Tuxedo rental place (and forgot) as well as grabbing Undyne's dress (from the local anime cosplay shop which despite his misgivings actually seemed quite appropriate for a black tie event). He re-resolved to get some lunch on the way back (and didn't.).  

He finally arrived back at the bar tux firmly on and as ready as he would ever be to find the band waiting for him, his own father and sister in tow. . Agni gave him a hug and a kiss on the temple, his father, ever the stoic, shook his hand.

"Proud of you Junior." he said gruffly. "...and the rest of you too." he added, speaking to the group but Grillby knew the words were primarily for Sans and Papyrus. His father had allowed the Skeletons to grow up on their own terms but anyone who knew the elder Flame monster knew darn well he considered them as his own dust and magic.

He smiled genuinely,  the first thrill of pure excitement finding its way past his nerves.

"Thanks everyone. Let's go ah, get 'em."

“Geez NERD! You SUCK at these things. Look, this is how you get monsters fired up!”

There was a definite snort from Sans’ general direction, followed by a clack of bone on bone as Papyrus covered his mouth before he could get a word out.

“... We are going to go to that awards show and show ol' MTT HOW IT IS DONE!"

Papyrus  jumped up with enough energy for ten of them. "YEAH! YEAH! We're going to WIN! 'Cause we ARE THE GREATEST! METAL! BAND! OF! ALL! TIME!"

"S'right Bro."

"Yeah, even the internet says so." Jerry flashed around an advance poll he'd looked up on his phone that did indeed paint Subterranical as being a shoo-in for a number of awards. It was a rare moment of perfect unity for the entire band.

Grillby hated to jinx a good thing, but he had to admit things were definitely looking good.

***

Despite the fact that the snow had morphed itself into freezing rain and the driver had to pull the limo around the back of the pub to the loading dock so everyone could enter in relative dryness and safely,  there was still something profoundly special about getting into a limousine.

"Okay check this!" Undyne grinned and Grillby simply let her spring the cork on the expensive and totally not complimentary champagne and clapped along  when Papyrus impressively distance caught it, right from the opposite end of the elongated cab.

In what seemed no time at all, the Limo rolled up to the red carpet with a perfectly smooth stop and there was a click as an aide pulled the handle to, flooding the interior of the luxury car with a deluge of sound and noise. .

"Let's go, nerds." Undyne edged along the seat first, sliding from the vehicle in a practiced motion, the white silk of her empire-waisted dress fluttering dramatically as she stepped into the new world on the other side.

Grillby knew that by now his relegation to the penumbra distinctly adjacent to the spotlight was far more compromised than it once was, but he was finding himself surprised by the sheer amount of flashbulbs that turned his way.

A few yards away, Mettaton was surrounded by a cluster of reporters, allowing one of his stunning heel-clad legs to peep out from the slit of his strapless, silky dress, all in his signature glittering fuchsia of course

"Naturally, the real question is who is going to play me in the upcoming autobiographical movie: ‘The Mettaton Story’?" he was saying to one of the reporters.

"But of course I would normally consider playing myself, and with my talents, who could blame the directors for coming to me first, but it IS fashionable to have someone else play your part these days…

” He paused as if he expected the cluster of gathered individuals to chime in with a ‘how true’.

Some of them actually and LITERALLY did. Grillby had to remind himself that he was no longer anonymous and also that human perfumes and colognes were flammable just to keep from snorting.

“Besides,” he continued, and his gaze flickered unmistakably in the direction of the Subterranical party, "As my workload has increased so dramatically as of late, there are not even enough hours in the day for the band alone, am I right darlings?" He smiled winningly back at the flashing cameras.

With his own emotional response under control, he turned swiftly at to look at Undyne, but she didn’t seem to care. Either she had not heard the comment or had was exercising far more self control than he was giving her credit for.

"Miss Ó Maoilriain." Grillby’s attentions were brought back to the here and now as he had forgotten that his 'date' was herself a well-known figure in the musical community. “How does it feel to have your first post-retirement job be a Monster band?” one snotty-sounding member of the press sneered at her, eying Grillby with incredibly thinly veiled contempt.

""I was never in retirement." she said smoothly. "I just decided that after Ravenous ended a very successful career, I had the option open to work for the right band for me."

She very subtly steered the grateful fire monster away on that note and he began his headcount again.

Across the way, Papyrus was preening under the cameras, almost as easily as Mettaton, being asked dozens of questions by some gossip-rag about (unsurprisingly) his love life, mostly; what did people think of the rumours that he was dating Mettaton,? Or Undyne...or any number of human actors and actresses? What did he have to say to the gay and lesbian community?

The skeleton's apparent lack of any kind of sexual pursuit seemed to serve him well in this scenario; considering he seemed more flattered at being considered interesting enough to merit press coverage than considering the many rumours that had landed and answered quite similarly to each prospective 'suitor' inquiry with equal deference.

Satisfied that most of his band and he himself were doing very well, he turned his attention to the more problematic members of the group.

As it turned out, Papyrus already had Jerry well-to-hand, given that the first person he wound up chatting with after escaping his interrogation was pop idol Monique Mondale; the very same that Jerry had been bragging about his expectations to charm (the tight mini dress off of) all night long. Miss Mondale seemed to be far more interested in what Papyrus had to say however, but at least Jerry was getting something in by proxy - he assumed, at least enough to let him think he was.

That left him with the biggest  troublemaker of the lot who was presen...oh.no.

Where was Sans?

Grillby's practiced eye scanned the crowd, increasingly frantically when he couldn't immediately spot the frontman, but then nor could he see any kind of disturbance.

"Oh ho, ho... It is good to see you, young Grillbert!"

Grillby winced at his seldom-used and much-despised full name, then winced and staggered as the sudden powerful clap of paw-to-shoulder sent him stumbling a few paces forward, coming dangerously close to pitching him on his face.

“Hello Asgore, Sir.” He gasped, not needing to face the source of the voice to know that he was in the presence of the head of Under the Mountain Records, former King of All Monsters and his boss.

"And who is this charming young creature?" Asgore continued, pressing a kiss to Andraia's hand as gently as he had roughly ‘patted’ Grillby's back.

The Fire monster blushed a brilliant white, but thankfully not for the reason that Asgore imagined. Andraia was a lovely human and he definitely didn’t have a problem with either her company or the quality of her work with the band, but the fact that he was nursing a glaring and obvious (at least to those regularly around him) crush on his boss's ex-wife was...well…

He caught himself and stammered through the introductions, relaxing a bit when Asgore introduced his own human date - fiancee (or so they hoped if some bill allowing Monster and Humans to marry passed), even. It did make the circumstances a little bit easier to bear.

It also helped that Asgore's new beau was  clearly feeling about as uncomfortable with the massive party as he was.

"The crab cakes are excellent and you might want to get a few drinks,." she advised him with a small smile.

Asgore turned away to introduce himself to a young Japanese human with a spiky haircut and heavy eye-makeup who Grillby didn't recognize. Andraia snagged them some Gin and Tonics from a passing waiter, the aforementioned crab cakes from another (which were indeed damnably good) and introduced him to a professional looking blonde and a strung out redheaded human, both of whom were old friends of hers and veteran managers of various backstage areas. The trio fell into an easy conversation...for about five minutes, after which Andraia tugged on his sleeve.

"I think that's my cue."

She gestured towards  - and Grillby's heart sank, the approaching and unlikely duo of Sans and Alphys.

On a slightly more positive note, Alphys didn't appear to be sobbing or indeed exhibiting any other undue signs of distress. Sans too seemed remarkably quiet, even downright pleasant around her.

Grillby knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Stranger things had happened. .

"I-I'm afraid I need to...we should really..."

"Right." . Andraia nodded and followed the lizard monster, evidently having interpreted the stuttering as intended.

Still somewhat unconvinced of Sans' apparent innocence, Grillby grabbed a  drink off a passing waiter that, from the smell of it probably contained enough alcohol to turn himself into an incendiary device of massive proportions if he wished it. Something of it must have shown on his face as Sans too managed to acquire one; incidentally despite the fact that the man had apparently long moved on from their location.

Deciding that actually drinking it might not be the worst idea he'd had all evening, Grillby knocked the thing back and despite the acrid alcohol smell, it turned out to be one of those drinks that was rather somewhat dangerous in nature, going down far easier than anticipated, but he did feel somewhat better for it and he turned back to Sans.

"Please tell me you were civil to her?"

"Hey I might have bugged her a little..."but you saw her, she ain't annoyed or anythin’."

Grillby turned the phrasing over in his head, fighting boozy inhibitors to suss out any hidden meaning in Sans' words

He decided however that Alphys reaction being fairly devoid of hysteria spoke for itself and he resolved to spend the rest of the night allowing the remainder of his surviving magical brain cells to ensuring the performance part of the evening went off without a hitch. Muffett was actually the first one they ran into, she seemed as impervious as ever to having arrive a touch late for the opening festivities suggesting business was clipping along as usual. She did in a more decidedly out of character turn however have a box for him and apparently one for Sans.

Inside was an intricate, strawberry-topped pastry in the shape of a boutonniere.

"Nice." Sans reply was muffled through the fact that he was already eating his, while Grillby was more enchanted; old habits died hard and this was aesthetically pleasing food if ever there was an example of it.

"This is...beautiful Muffett. Thank you."

"Oh it's not from me Dearie..." she winked three of her six eyes at him, and that made his stomach and his SOUL swoop in a dizzying way that he knew had very little to do with having consumed very potent alcohol.

"We're just heading to the green room." he informed her as though his thoughts were still right here and not off in bedroom land, choosing to pull his phone out and try to focus on anything about it in a vain attempt at mastering himself.

"Please pass along the message to Papyrus, Jerry and Undyne. they may not be checking their phones." . he added, steering Sans along by the shoulder blade so as to avoid getting strawberry or chocolate on his still-immaculate tux.

***

The most important category they'd been nominated for was after the midway point of the ceremonies, and fortunately after their performance, which was agreeable given that a loss would not be in the cards to tamper with their mindset for a good show.

This year the awards were being hosted by a woman stand-up he knew his father liked, She had very little to do with the music industry as a whole, but he'd been aware the last year's debacle of a host who could have given JERRY lessons as to how to offend every person in a earshot (namely by being in front of a world-reaching media platform,), so it seemed they weren’t pulling any punches. He could hear the MC introducing her to the stage, just as they arrived at their destination.

While the rest of the group checked out the backstage riders and started their pre-show rituals, Grillby paced around a small corner of the Green Room, thinking hard. As it turned out, the rest of the members of the band also had pastry corsages (though he was sure none but his and the Skeleton brothers’ had also included a strawberry rose), but at least the gesture being extended to all of them had helped put some of the more distracting notions out of his head for the time being.

"What do you MEAN you can't?"

And here they went.

Grillby spun to face Undyne and of all monsters Papyrus.

Nerves were getting to everyone he supposed.

"What's going on here?"

"Who told Papyrus he can't play a flaming guitar with his tongue!?"

"I-wh--"

Undyne ignored him. "WE TOTALLY PRACTICED IT?! IT'll BE BADASS!"

The fire monster went for the hail Mary. "...The fire-code people. For the building."

It worked, much to Papyrus’ relief, Undyne dropped it, but she could very clearly be heard to mutter under her breath something that sounded an awful like a variation on '...and yet they let you in'.

He sighed. He sat down. .He nibbled on his pastry corsage.

"Hey."

Grillby wasn't sure if if he'd not been looking where he had sat down or whether Sans had maneuvered himself in that tricky space manipulation way he always seemed to have, but one way or the other he found himself being tugged back against something soft and warm that was not so as a result of his own flames.

The fire monster let himself be ...cuddled, such as it was, falling a little bit limply against his new, squishy backrest. with a sigh that belied his true stress levels and (he hoped) just how well he'd been holding things together, up until now.

"Relax Gribblies, it's going to be a great show."

"Yeah. You're right."

Something sort of hard and almost-but-not-quite sharp scraped the outside of his wrist.

"Fricking...Sans, you bit me?"

He lifted his hand to his face to see the damage, and flames swirled back over the little divots in his magic.

He was tempted to stand up, especially since he could feel Sans laugh where his back was pressed against him

Instead he stayed down. He was comfortable and God knew how long that would last.

"Papyrus?"

"Nyeh?"

"Can you turn up the loud speaker a bit please?"

The skeleton who was not presently being a pillow nodded affably, setting down his guitar and in the next moment the sound of an entertained audience's appreciative chuckles filled the room.

Satisfied that there was no way he could totally drift off, despite being comfortable, (make that VERY comfortable, as Sans had decided to play with the wisps of flame that sprung like 'hair' from the top of his head) he decided there was nothing for it yet curling his long legs up under himself and simply waited for the first strains of Glamour Bomb's performance, the timing by which he had gauged their own pre-performance preparations to start in earnest, both in part because it would give them a good  amount of time to accommodate for any technical mishaps that might occur during checks, but also because they would not have to listen to and subsequently be riled up by MTT, his band or any of the rivalry they represented.  

Normally it might not have mattered as half the band were at the least professional if not strictly speaking 'chill' and the other half mercurial regardless of any outside influence, but he was unduly pleased in this case that the mercurial half seemed to be completely under an unprecedented wave of utter calm. One that he refused to allow to go to waste.

The deafening roar of applause and cheering was  shut off with a crackle and a click that barely cut through Grillby's drowsy state despite his personal insistence that he would not succumb to sleep.

"BROTHER!"

He lifted his eyes  to observe looming above them, expression an odd mixture of confusion, excitement and mild disgust.

Grillby snapped himself back to full consciousness and alertness excruciatingly slowly, up until he realized  that he had a skeleton still chewing on his wrist. that was tingling in a very odd way. He retracted his limb and attempted to rub some feeling back into it.

"IT IS TIME TO GO, NOW! WE CANNOT BE LATE!” Papyrus, who had likely never been tardy a day in his life was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet and looked more than a little wired. Grillby fervently hoped that his apparent nausea was in regards to his willingness to get Sans’ germs all over himself.

On to the first order of business. "Ah, Undyne. I need you to take a quick walk with me." he commanded.

The fish turned to him, the eyebrow above her good eye disappearing into her hairline. . "Sure, what's up?"

Grillby walked her away from the group, hoping she wouldn't balk at the idea. Normally he tried not to let his fidgeting show in his gait, but he had set this up without her knowledge and was  none too sure of what kind of reaction he'd get from it.

"I know you've ah, earned your stripes as our veteran band member." he said, going for a certain demureness he hoped would deflect any potential ire, but regardless of how she reacted this needed to be done. He ploughed on, coming to a halt a few yards away from a patient looking Korean man with a youthful face and carrying a complicated looking metal case.

Undyne's good eye flickered to him curiously and then back to Grillby. and with good reason. He wasn't the type to spring a huge event without warning normally and he had more than enough sense not to do anything that might potentially demoralize someone before a massive performance as well.  Still, he must have looked a great deal more dire he imagined and he attempted to soften his features as much as was instantly discernable by anyone who wasn't a fire elemental or....a member of his band he spent massive portions of every day with.

“This is Tae-Yong.  I know that Doctor Alphys looked at your arm earlier today, but  I would feel more comfortable if you got a second opinion."

Grillby braced internally.

Undyne hacked out a laugh. "Geez you are such a nerd. You're clenching your arse  so hard you might leave behind a diamond when you dust. Come on, even I know you're like a damn helicopter parent with a bullied kid over everything remotely relating to Mettaton.  I'm surprised you aren't insisting we be in one of those bullet proof Pope cases or something that humans use." she snorted. “Cripes, I hate to agree with the fatass---SANS." she drawled her correction and punctuated it with an eyeroll, "But if it'll keep you from having whatever the fire monster equivalent of an aneurysm is, I’ll totally let the little guy look at my arm. Yo kid, let's do this."

Grillby hovered while he watched Tae-Yong look at Undyne's proesthetic, but he was anxious to get back to the rest of the group.

Sans was one to talk about being uptight,. Even if it sounded like an oxymoron where the stout skeleton was concerned, it had taken the monster a very long time to start treating their human staff,  in spite of any definite trustworthiness and competency with any kind of  valid respect or at the very least to get through a day without getting bored and trying to prank them into enough annoyance to net them a cut practice session so as to knock off early.

"Go on." Undyne rolled her eyes. "I think I can take the little guy if it comes to it. Trained by Asgore instead of Juvie, remember? I’ll totally smoke the little nerd if he tries to boobytrap my arm.." She laughed at the expression on the poor technician's face, but Grillby was weighing his options and decided to go check on what sort of chaos might have developed with the rest of his band.

Chaos backstage was an omnipresent creature in general, and it was best to assume the worst.

Papyrus seemed to have been reassured that his tongue was heretofore safe from burning guitars, and was hovering by a young woman bent over an amp while he plucked his guitar, perhaps a touch nervously.  The amp in question belonged to Jerry and in any other instance the whole situation could have been seen as a bad case of White Knighting, but there was a common force against Jerry that transcended appropriate assumptions to make about gender roles and personal ability to stand up for oneself.

Speaking of nerves, the lumpy little spud was practicing, taking a cue from Papyrus he supposed. Muffett was having a reasonable discussion about her drum set and even Sans was about as serene as could be, dozing on his feet instead of rehearsing like the rest, but nor did that put him in anyone's immediate line of ire or anyone in his immediate line of interest.

"Yo, we're all done here. Got a clean bill of health - arm is virus and bug free." Undyne came up behind him, and he turned to watch her make  a fist with the prosthetic and pump it in a show of enthusiasm.

Grillby pulled out his mobile and made the transfer of funds to the young technician, shook his hand and bade him stay around the back monitors for the remainder of the show. Only awards recipients, managers and directly involved individuals had the prime seats and the back rows that could be purchased by the general public had been long sold out, but it hadn't taken much to allow an extra to join the behind-the-scenes hangers on.

Now all there was to do was wait and hope that the leadup did not belie the success of the final product.

The crackle from his cb radio  was a confirmation from Andraia that things were a go from her technician's perspective and he copied it, then pulled an unused amp just inside the audience's blind spot at the edge of the stage, took a seat and waited, hovering on the edge of it.

On stage, awards were being passed out for something; Grillby didn't recognize the recipients, he thought perhaps it might have been Spoken Word but even if he’d been interested this was too close to zero hour to pay the barest polite attention. They were in the final moments now; behind the set-covering curtain, Subterranical were taking marks, roadies were scrambling to complete their last chances to make sure nothing had slipped notice.

He caught Sans’ eye, in part because it was flashing gold-blue; but it was gone the moment they locked gazes.

“...Subterranical!” the MC walked off stage left to screaming and cheering and it was on.

Grillby tensed without realizing it.

The song was supposed to be the single - 'Fuck the War Machine'. Sans had no problem with censorship, personally finding  'bleeping' network sanctioned ‘offensive’ words amusing rather than anything else.

But this was not that song. Grillby’s SOUL clenched as it went through a wave of nervous emotions

Subterranical was definitely playing a new song. None of them had managed to disclose it; even Papyrus who was normally transparent as glass had managed to keep the secret.

There was no profanity in the song; and by the second verse, Grillby had stopped panicking enough to realize that it wasn't a prank.

He began listening to the song. It was good. Really good. Better than anything on the album.

Sans' lyrics were perhaps what put the the band as over the top popular as it was. Sans sang songs of war and murder and 'dark' things and that was to be expected of a Metal group and it probably lent some edge that they were Monsters which had evolved into something ‘unknown’ and ‘scary’ for humans. His true power lay in his odd...ability - ability really was the only word for it - to sound like a veteran of these things, even if Grillby knew personally that he was more or less the same age as him. They’d met as children. Not even Muffett - the eldest member of the band had anything on that kind of a scale as part of her lifespan. It would have been one thing if Sans were a researcher with a degree of accuracy and respect for a sensitive topic, but this wasn’t that either.

The long and the short of it was that Mettaton was a decent actor, but whatever talent he brought to his role as Monster Performer: Idol to Human and Monster alike, there was no match to Sans ability to exude something that suggested he’d been personally present for major events in their history.

However he managed it, it had only gotten stronger with time and it was in full force now. The audience was going predictably insane.

Grillby thumbed on the button of the walkie talkie, legitimately struggling to keep his voice low. "Wow. Got me."

Andraia flashed him a thumbs up from the sound booth and with that he let himself enjoy the moment.

The fire monster was very nearly doing a dance of joy.  He had sat down to counteract the emotional and physical turmoil of the long day exhausting his magic, but no one watching him could have known it and for himself being tired was the farthest thing from his mind. He was burning bright, white-hot and orange, gold flickering off him in such fervor that he had to sink further into the shadows, cheering along with the crowd, almost feeling as though he was louder than all of them.

Something cool blew past the back of his neck, fanning his flames and he whirled in shock and a thrill of embarrassment to see Toriel standing behind him, a bemused expression on her face and lips pursed from the teasing puff of air she'd sent at his neck.

"Why hello there ‘Mr. Grillby.’" she smiled.

He didn't bother to restrain himself, still too caught up in the moment to care much about some minor bashfulness and hugged her, unashamedly. "You were able to come!"

"Yes, Muffett made a small tweak to the green room rider." she was wearing her bakery uniform and was still a little floury.

"The gifts you sent were excellent." he added, adrenaline continuing to eclipse his usual low-key shyness. And he was still holding her hand. There it went.

He barely had the time to dwell on the situation as the band had made their way off stage and he was bowled over literally by a sea of bones, fur, scales and hair. The tar from Muffett's black lipstick managed to sear a lasting lipstick-kiss mark on his cheek and his air was being uncomfortably choked off but yet he couldn't think of a situation he'd rather be in. Papyrus hefted him and Undyne had a brief scuffle with him with him over which of them could supplex him better.

Across the way the crew along with Andraia were celebrating in an equal, though somewhat less limb-heavy tangle, which he found himself pause to watch.

“So take it y’aint too pissed off with the new song?” Someone said into his back.

“No.” The breathlessness of the reply had very little to do with the fact that Sans’ arms were locked rather fiercely around his waist.

He relaxed into the embrace until Papyrus ripped his brother away with a whoop.

Grillby went to extract Andraia to take them down to their seats for the remainder of the evening, after they were re-dressed and/or cleaned up into their party clothes once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sans and Toriel, huddled close together.

He squashed down the invasive spike of envy (and the still-lingering question of who it was for), wanting to get out of there in a huff...kind of...but mastering the childish impulse and busying himself with getting back on track until ''Professional Grillby was back in control.

He found himself , along with the rest of the band being hurriedly ushered out after the music played to coax a long-winded -award recipient off the stage, and the group were soon being served Champagne in an aisle-adjacent table. Grillby didn't know if it was coincidence  or because they would be expected to be using that aisle soon, but he crossed his fiery fingers in the hopes of the latter.

As it turned out, Andraia won an award for Best Engineering on the Blue Album, which meant they were officially not walking away empty handed. Papyrus had been nominated for Best Metal Performance but lost gracefully to Metallica's latest tour (and he quite rightly felt there was no shame in that.)  Still, it would be good to receive something band-specific for their troubles and Grillby found himself fidgeting through Lil' Hal's  acceptance speech for best Hip Hop Artist more than he'd like to admit.

Monique Mondale was the presenter for the newly crafted Monster-produced album award and she had a short speech prepared on the importance of Asgore's significance in forming Under the Mountain records and how it was significant that this year there were enough Monster performers to create a category for awards.

Everyone knew including Punk Hamster himself that the race was between Glamour Bomb and Subterranical but the rodent-like creature waved at the cameras when they trained themselves on him.

Grillby tried to relax himself, but even using the big screen as a reference couldn't seem to unclench his muscles. Never had he been so grateful for his elemental nature - most anyone watching who wasn't familiar with a fire elemental would be able to read his body language for what it was.

Of course, his whole family would likely have something to say about it later.

Up on stage, Monique had come to the end of the ‘drawing out the suspense for extended viewing’ portion of her presentation and slid a manicured nail under the seal of the envelope. She bent near the microphone.

"And the winner of the award for Best new Monster artist is..."

She used the expectant pause to slide out the paper and bring it to eye level. "Subterranical!"

The declaration rang out to Grillby's ears las though it was screamed at decibel level. They’d won. There was no mistake about it.

Beside him, Undyne was impressively wrestling Jerry back into his seat with one arm on the pretense of a congratulatory hug and trying to maneuver Papyrus into getting up and making his way to the stage with her leg.

The tall skeleton walked to the stage, receiving a kiss on the cheek bone and a half-air hug from Monique and leaning down to the microphone even though it was hefted to its furthest height to read the brief speech.

“No, it IS fair, Mettaton...!”

In the chaos it took everyone a moment to realize that the voice that was speaking was not Papyrus'.

“...A-after...after what w-we did...we...di...didn't deserve to win."

Papyrus fell silent, realizing that he wasn’t being listened to and a horrified expression crossing his face as he finally processed just what was interrupting him. Even the curious buzzing that had started up had died down to near complete silence now, with the tv coverage crew having located the source of the unfamiliar, nervous soprano stutter.

"Y...You nearly killed Undyne." The cameras had zeroed in on Alphys, who was standing at her unimpressive full height over the seated and blank-looking Mettaton and twisting the bodice of her black polkadotted evening dress in her claws. If she was aware she was on television she either hadn't noticed or had moved beyond caring.

"A-and...and I kn--know it was a-an a-a-a-accident." her stuttering became more pronounced in her half-determined, half fearful bravado. "B-but...you---you made me lie and I don't want to lie and hide things Mettaton!I ...I hate it and Undyne deserves to win and we do not. A-and I...I-d-don’t care i-if you fire m-me! I q-quit!"

Sans folded his hands across his stomach peaceably. Undyne's face was now the one on camera but she seemed unusually calm.

At the end of the row, Grillby stood up.

He found himself walking down to the row of tables by the stage, . He saw the cameras follow his progress in his periphery vision. .

The entire room of elegantly dressed people was silent in the wake of Alphys’ pronouncement and (he acknowledged it as being) Sans retaliatory ‘prank’ . Grillby came to a halt at the end of the row in front of the duo, rooted to the spot and staring at the both of them. It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. That was generally the case as with no incredibly obvious facial ticks or features, but this was a whole different case.

Sans might have made a joke about ‘frozen’ and ‘irony’ but it was just so eerie.

Mettaton stood and finding himself almost immediately in Grillby’s face, took a careful step back, almost stumbling over his carefully crafted pink spile of a heel; an impressive feat for a robot with servos and motors designed to keep his balance level at all times.

Sans had sat up a little bit from his initial pleased ‘innocent observer’ slump but now was quite aware that what to come next was not good. Grillby had, it seemed, run totally out of his last vestiges of patience.

[Maybe this timeline had finally run its course.]

The fire monster reared up like a cobra - he was certainly tall but had always been thinner than even Papyrus (or so said Sans), In that moment however he seemed intimidatingly huge, his face, livid with blue-white flames looming down over Metaton’s .

“If you ever.” he began, voice dripping with bile “Come near my band again, I will find out EXACTLY how much heat it will take to melt magic-imbued metal.”

He plucked the award out of Papyrus’ fingers, turning to find him there; presumably to stop him but the elemental didn’t even miss a beat. The stunned guitarist didn’t make a move and he ascended the stairs, and very calmly placed it onto the podium. “We do not want this.” he informed the dumbstruck Idol hostess with quiet politeness, for all the world sounding as though he was returning a pair of trousers he’d discovered a stain on just out of the store.

He ushered himself off the end of the stage and as one the remainder of the Subterranical party stood. Somehow it seemed like the right thing to do. Grillby offered his hand to Andraia who barely hesitated to take it.

Internally he was delighted he had not found time to ask Toriel to be his date as he had initially planned. He swept her down the aisle before the confused and grateful looking security guards could react, stopping only at the auditorium doors to turn back.

Subterranical gazed back at him.

His eyes were kind now but his voice brooked no argument. “Let’s go home.”

***

The rest of the night passed in such a blur Grillby could have been intoxicated for all he remembered of it, though at least that would have been a better excuse. Much like being drunk the enormity of his actions at the ceremony hit him all at once once he had rubbed a decent amount of sleep from his eyes.

He had behaved foolishly, impulsively and childishly, so focussed on and distracted with his ridiculous (and nonexistent) love life he'd let his professional one slide into the proverbial ditch.

He dressed himself in a casual jumper and jeans and peered into the mirror. There would be a lot of work to do.

He had to start right away.

He was still livid.

Stepping out of his room, he predictably found the entirety of the band clustered around the dinette table as best they could, waiting for him and not even bothering to bicker about personal space.

Apparently somewhere in the last 12 hours or so, the table had acquired a new centerpiece - namely their award from the previous night.

Grillby had a pretty good idea where - or more accurately, by whose hand that had come from.

He tore his gaze from it and tried to spread it evenly among the rest of the group.

He took a deep breath and let it out, willing away some of his ire, even if he could feel his own flames licking as white as they had the previous night.

He opened his mouth. He was going to apologize, explain himself, ask forgiveness. Instead, he told them only two words.  "September 6."

That said, he turned and exited into the kitchen, letting the door click quietly behind him.

Subterranical looked at each other from across the cramped Banquette.

70 days, 22 Hours, 35 minutes and 8 seconds before the next album dropped….

End of Season 1

To Come in Season 2…:

Grillby lay back comfortably on the bed, catching a rare moment of comfort and uninterrupted rest in the the peace of his hotel room. He scraped the last bit of pasta off the admittedly well-made room service plate and got up to put it outside for collection by the staff, only to be greeted by Papyrus, one hand raised pre-knock.

***

"DARLINGS! We are here for our turn to use the soundstage!"

***

“‘Sup Pap?”

“What’s this?”

“Well that would be food Papyrus. That’s what you tend to find in a fridge.” she’d been somewhat quiet since the moment of Alphys painful confession, but even she couldn’t keep the sass out of her voice.

“I KNOW THAT.” the Skeleton put his hand on his hip bone and then and grabbed the door before it could swing back shut. “BUT ALL OF THIS TUPPERWARE!”

***

"Yes." he said rather stupidly.

"I am sorry, I asked if you preferred cinnamon or butterscotch."

“Still yes.”