#it's very expensive to live in Pacifica

[eltristanexplicitcontent]

Watch: Pacifica Coastal Erosion Jan 14 2024

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.III

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai​. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.II - ch.IV

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello? Monsieur Soos? Monsieur Stan told us to find you.” Mabel called out nicely on the stairs. Dipper watched as his sister optimistically roamed the stairs for the keeper of the key and grounds of the castle. There were so many times he wished he was more like her. Mabel was super strong and kind and just outright amazing; no matter what the world threw at her, she was happy and cheerful. Through losing their parents and then their Grandpa Shermie, through being lost in the woods and nearly eaten, through meeting a beast, Mabel was still joyful and out-going. Dipper wished he could be more like that, but sometimes it felt like a dark cloud forever hung over his head; he was the realistic twin, the Debby-downer of the two; someone had to be, and he never wanted it to be Mabel. “Maybe we misheard him.” Mabel pondered when no one was responding to her calls. “Did Monsieur Stan say Soos or Zeus?”

Dipper shrugged. “Or maybe we were sent on a wild goose chase.” “Eck! A goose?!” Mabel gasped with sparkling eyes. “Sup, dawgs!” A voice called from the top of the second flight of stairs. “I’m Soos! Sorry, just wanted to make sure your room was clean. So dusty… anyways, welcome!” Dipper and Mabel peered to where the voice was coming from and saw a hammer standing up on it’s handle. It was smiling with long buck teeth and kind eyes. Split from the handle, like big splinters, were the arms, but it had no legs. Mabel smiled while Dipper just stared. “Hi! I’m Mabel! So you’re Soos?” “Sure am!” The hammer gestured to follow him. “C’mon, dudes, I’ll show you to your room.” Mabel followed with Dipper right behind her. Past expensive, dusty objects and paintings, the hammer led them to another set of double-doors. The hammer pushed them open and the kids awed at the living quarters. Beautiful twin-sized bunk beds stood proudly with the finest silks and pillows stuffed with feathers. A giant window with a balcony displayed the calm fall rain and a huge chest filled with toys and a wardrobe occupied the room, but the space was so vast that it somehow felt empty. The walls were painted gold with knights and kings and glorious battles telling stories on the ceiling. Mabel squealed with delight and ran to the bottom bed and plopped down. “Wowie, zowie! Is this all ours?” “Sure is, dude.” Soos said. “The boss wanted you kids to be safe and comfortable.” “You mean that big scary beast downstairs?” Dipper asked. “That’s the one!” Dipper couldn’t keep his smile at bay any longer. “I have always wanted bunk beds.” “I think he’s nice.” Mabel said from the bottom bunk. “Oh, the dude’s a nice guy.” Soos insisted. “Once you get to know him. He saved me and Abuelita from the streets a long time ago, gave us jobs and a home.” A cart came in, carrying a beautiful china pot that smiled at the guests. “Welcome!” She said with an Asian accent. “My name is Candy. So good to have company with us. Dinner will be ready shortly. Oh, no! You two look cold. Grenda! Grenda, wake up!” She barked. The wardrobe burst open and the eyes on top of the piece of furniture popped open. “I’m up, I’m up! SWEET LORD! Finally, new muses! You two need some new clothes!” Grenda opened her drawers, but moths flew out and she closed up immediately. “Oops. That’s… that happens sometimes.” Grenda opened her drawers again and whistled. “Okay, ladies, let's get to work, up, up, up!” Sewing needles, measuring tape, and thread sprang up from a drawer and began to work, pulling rolls of cloth out from the other drawers and sewing around the twins as they stood still. Mabel giggled and lightly touched the needles in greeting, treating them like butterflies, while Dipper stood rigid and still, afraid of being hurt. “Aw, don’t be so tense, boy.” Grenda giggled. “You like blue?” Dipper took in a deep breath, trying to relax, and he smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I like blue.” Soon the kids were changed into nicer clothes; not formal, but not made from itchy material and much more comfortable than their soak garments. Mabel twirled in her pink petticoat and jacket with golden buttons and she grinned at her brother, who wore a navy-blue jacket over an orange top. He kept his blue cap on proudly and he seemed comfortable. “Tuck your shirt in, scruffy.” The mirror on the wall spoke, spooking the kids. “Be nice, Pacifica.” Candy warned. Dipper had a million questions. He looked at Soos the hammer, Candy the teapot, Pacifica the mirror, and Grenda the wardrobe, and said quietly, “This is impossible. Objects can’t talk or move on their own.” Grenda shrugged, her golden arms free from being folded on top of a drawer. “Well, here we are.” “Abuelita used to say the world’s more full of magic than we know, dudes.” Soos said. “You’re magic?!” Mabel gasped happily, squishing her cheeks with her hands as her eyes shined like stars. “Duh,” Pacifica said as a reflection of her human form shined on the mirror, a pretty girl with long blonde hair. “This castle’s full of weird secrets and magic and mystery and whatever.” “We LOVE mystery, don’t we, Dipper?” Mabel asked, gripping his hand. “This guy is really good at solving them! He figured out who was stealing Manly Dan’s jerky.” “Everyone wanted to blame it on the kids, but no one with a shoe size of five could have made such a deep footprint in the mud unless they were heavier than an adolescent.” Dipper explained and shrugged with a sheepish smile. “And Mabel’s really smart, too. She discovered who was eating all our garbage and leaving smelly trails.” “All signs pointed to the goat.” Mabel said, puffing her chest out proudly. “Then you’ll fit right in, dudes!” Soos exclaimed excitedly. A harsh cough came from the door and an axe hopped in, with a beautiful girl carved into the handle. She dipped the heavy head of the axe and said, “Dinner’s ready.” The kids thanked the axe, at this point used to inanimate objects suddenly being animate, and left for the dining hall. Wendy gave Soos, Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica death glares and followed them out. Pacifica scoffed and her reflection faded away. Soos felt his face turn warm as he hopped on the cart and caught a ride with Candy; Grenda fell back asleep. Mabel and Dipper followed the axe into the dining hall and admired the scene before them. A huge table that could fit thirty stood polish with mahogany, filled with bread water, the best china and dishes the kids had ever dreamed of, and silverware made out of real silver. The axe hopped in front of them and said, “Alright, guys, my name’s Wendy. Basically I’m in charge when the boss isn’t here, and since he’s not here, I’m in charge right now. Follow me?” The kids nodded; Dipper really didn’t want to argue with an axe, in case if turned into an axe-murderer. They sat next to each other at the right hand of the head of the table, where the host would normally sit. Mabel laid her napkin on her lap and Dipper waited for something to happen. Just as Mabel opened her mouth to talk to Wendy, the axe hopped away and Candy the teapot hopped at the center of the table, a surprise spotlight on her. “Lady and gentleman! It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you here tonight! Now, we invite you to relax and get comfortable, as the dining room proudly presents: your dinner.” And magical dishes and trays filled with food hopped out from the kitchen and onto the table. Mabel leaned forward, elbows on the table and chin resting on her knuckles, while Dipper smiled unsure of what to make of this, but enjoying it nonetheless. “Be our guest…” ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan paced on all fours back and forth, his mind racing. He occasionally spoke, trying to think better by thinking out loud, but there was just so much to tackle at once. Stan stood on his back legs and his eyes rested on the journal. Decorated with a golden six-fingered hand, the journal was safe inside a glass case, never allowed to be touched. Still, it was so tempting, but too risky. That book was fragile and Stan was dangerous. The beast growled in his throat and resumed his pacing. What was he thinking, letting those kids stay here, allowing Soos to open the door, even meeting the kids. He should have stayed hidden and let them leave. But he couldn’t just let those kids go out into the woods and die; not even a monster like himself would do that. But Stan needed confirmation that he had made the right choice. Once again his gaze fell on the journal. He ceased his pacing again and stared at the journal. He sighed through his nose and approached it. He slowly, carefully, sat on the floor before the small table that occupied the book, staring at it, lost in thoughts and memories. A few minutes later, Stan found his claw on the glass cover, yearning to touch the journal, but he dared not to. Not yet. Not right now. It was too risky. A page fell out a few days ago. But then his cruel mind made him remember his brother’s pleading words. Stanley, I’m fine. You know I’m still here, right? I’m not just some book you can place on a shelf and walk away. Stanley, I can’t breathe in here. It’s maddening. I am not afraid of you. Stan tenderly lifted the glass case from over the journal and placed it on the ground. His gentle paws, the beast picked up the book and opened it. He smiled tiredly at a blank page. “Hey, Sixer.” Hello, Stanley. A knock came at the door, the one at the entrance of the West Wing; Stan’s advanced hearing could pick it up. He quickly shut the journal, put it on the table, and protected it with the glass cover. “What?” He called when he went to the door, but he didn’t open it. “Hi, Monsieur Stan!” A girl’s voice called. What did she say her name was? Maple? “Are you gonna come down to dinner? Madame Wendy said you didn’t want to. Are you okay? Does your tummy hurt?” Stan raised an eyebrow at the door. “Mabel, leave him alone.” The boy said. “He’ll come when he wants to.” “But Dipper, he should eat.” Stan had thought of hunting for a deer after the little pains in his side went to bed so he wouldn’t scare them or bother them when they were trying to recover and eat. He was surprised and apprehensive when they seemed to not only expect but desire his attendance. “You want to eat dinner with freak-show over here?” He asked suspiciously, not believing it. “Sure! Why not?” The girl called. Her name was Mabel, Stan recalled. “I don’t think you want that.” He warned. “What?! I totally want that! It’ll be fun, now come on! There’s delicious gray stuff!” She added, hoping it would tempt her host to join them for dinner. Stan snorted. He opened the door and looked down at the tiny humans. One could stand on the other’s shoulders and they wouldn’t reach his height. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” “Yay!” Mabel punched the air and laughed at Dipper’s face. “Hah! I win, sucka!” Dipper punched her shoulder and they started back to the dining hall. Stan followed them, giving them plenty of space. When they sat to eat, Mabel and Dipper chatted among themselves about how they loved the musical performance the servants had given. Mabel was careful to thank every single object individually, while Dipper settled for thanking them as a combined team. Stan smiled teasingly at the foolish kids, gushing over a stupid show. “Monsieur Stan, are you sure you’re not sick?” Mabel asked gently over her goblet of water. Stan gave her a skeptical look, expecting a jab at his monstrous appearance. “I’m fine, kid.” He growled. Mabel blinked, unsure as to why he was so stoic and strict. “Really? You’re not eating. Do you not like it?” Dipper also noticed it, privately predicting that the beast would tear into his meal, but he had not even touched his meat or picked up his drink. “Had a big lunch pretty late in the day.” Stan said, waving the question away. “Now quit pestering me about it!” “Oh. Okay. By the way, you never answered my questions.” “Huh?” “What’s your favorite color? Do you have a sweet tooth? Do you like sweet or sour things? Do you have a favorite song?” Mabel asked all in one breath, so quickly that it took the host a minute to gather his answers. “Oh. Um… red, yes, sweet, and no.” Mabel grinned, excited to elaborate on Stan’s answers, and she and Stan gradually had a conversation. It was an odd conversation, with Mabel doing most of the talking and the two knowing so little about the other and having next to nothing in common that it might have been tricky to talk pleasantly, but soon Stan found himself flapping up water with his scratchy tongue as he listened to the girl’s twenty-first story. Mabel smiled and covered her mouth with her hand at the sight, finding it endearing. Dipper would occasionally inject and join in, but mostly he observed. Stan hadn’t realized how quiet the castle had become until it was filled with noise. A grandfather clock out in the hall screamed, “NINE O’CLOCK!”, making Dipper jump and splash water on his face, and Mabel laughed at the little scare. “Right, time for bed, gremlins.” Stan said and pointed to the door. “You’ve got your work cut out for you in the morning. No more softening you up. I want you wide-eyed and bushy-tailed by sunrise.” “But, we don’t have tails.” Dipper sneered with a smile. “Not my problem, runt, now go before you get nightmares from looking at this face for too long.” Mabel didn’t like that last comment, but she decided to let it pass. “G’night, Monsieur Stan!” She said cheerfully and waved to him as she walked out of the dining hall with Dipper right beside her. When the door was closed behind them, Stan sighed with relief; he was starving. Acting on instinct alone, he tore into his food like an animal and spewed it all over his face and clothes. He later huffed in shame and humiliation, and with as much pride as he could muster, he left the table and ventured to bed. Meanwhile, Mabel slipped on her white nightgown and climbed up to the top bunk bed; Dipper had a habit of falling out of bed already, he didn’t need to be six feet up. She snuggled under the cozy covers and was pleasantly surprised to find warm pans between the blankets. “I like it here.” Mabel said sleepily, rubbing an eye. “It’s like we’re in a story of our own.” Dipper smiled up at the bottom of Mabel’s bed, his head resting on his folded arms. “Yeah… I guess so.” There was a long pause. Despite Mabel’s optimism and cheerful attitude, now that there was nothing to distract her, a sudden worry made a knot in her stomach. “Dipper? Do you really think Fiddleford is okay?” Dipper took too long to answer for her sister's comfort, but when he spoke she felt much better. “He’s fought in two wars, survived crazy invention-attacks, and raised you. He can handle anything.” Mabel giggled at the jab he made at her and said, “More like he survived raising you, Dumb-Dumb.” Dipper chuckled, “Goodnight, Stupid.” “G’night, Stupid.” Dipper blew out the candle, but it would be a long time before Mabel finally closed her eyes and fell asleep. ~~~~~~~~~~ The rain had finally stopped, but the cold was even worse now. Even so, it could not he felt inside Gleeful’s Glee-Filled Tavern, where hard-working men and women were relaxing in the comfort of fires and warm beer. Gideon had just finished a musical number that left the policemen crying with happiness and the other girls cheering. His mother shakingly filled drinks and his father collected some money for the performance by the piano. Gideon sat on the instrument to be eye-level with Ghost Eyes. He sighed tiredly. “I don’t understand it, my hench-angel. Why won’t Mabel admit that she loves me?” “Maybe because she doesn’t?” Ghost Eyes suggested into his beer. “I bet it’s cuz she keeps herself so busy.” Gideon speculated. “Think about it, with only old Man McGucket taking care of things she and Dipper have to… wait. What if she’s afraid to love me?” The white-haired boy gasped. “Wait, what?” “It all makes sense now!” Gideon proclaimed. “She’s lost almost all of her family! For someone so young, she’s lost so much! What if she’s afraid to only gain something to lose?! What if she’s afraid one day I’ll be gone, too?!” Gideon stood up proudly on the piano, with his fists on his hips. “Well, I swear by all this is holy and unholy that that will never happen! I will always be there for her, no matter what!” “YEAH!” Ghost Eyes cheered and had the boy sit on his muscular shoulder. “We love you, Lil’ Gideon!” Durland yelled. “Sing more of those funny songs!” “You got it! Ahem, ahem… nooooo oooooone…” The doors burst open, letting in some cold air, as Old Man McGucket came running in. the townsfolk gasped at him. He was dirty and his hair was frazzled and his glasses were cracked, but worst of all his arm was bruised and cradled by his chest protectively, as if it was broken. This man had obviously been through something horrible, his eyes wide and his jaw tight. “HELP!” He cried out. “HELP ME, PLEASE!” “McGucket, what happened?” Blubs asked. “It’s the children!” Old Man McGucket yelled and scrambled around the tavern, informing all of the tragedy. “We were attacked by wolves out in the woods n’ separated! They’re out there somewhere, lost n’ cold n’ possibly hurt! Please! We have t’find ‘em!” The townsfolk muttered among themselves. It was dangerous in those woods, filled with wolves and horrible animals. They were unsure if the children were alive. What was the point of risking their lives for dead bodies, especially the dead bodies of the troublesome Pines twins. “Aren’t these the same kids that built that wretched sound box?” Old Man McGucket paled a shade. “Y-Yes, b-b-but they were only tryin’...” “And are always reading? What’s that boy doing, teaching a girl to read? It’s unnatural.” “It’s beautiful!” Old Man McGucket snapped. “Dipper’s only tryin’ t’help his sister…” “I thought his name was Mason…” “It’s Dipper!” Old Man McGucket’s energy was failing him as he appeared alone in the world. “I… I know they seem different, but… but, please. They’re still only children. My children. Will no one help me find ‘em?” Gideon leaned towards Ghost Eyes’ ear and whispered excitedly, “This is perfect! Mabel needs my help; she’ll see how I’m willing to do anything for her and she’ll finally realize she loves me!” Gideon stood on Ghost Eyes’ shoulder and declared, “I’ll help!” Old Man McGucket turned and stared at the boy. “Ya will?” “Sure I will!” Gideon said and hopped off to walk on a long table. “Folks, I know we’ve had our fair share of whoopsie-daisies in the past, but Mabel and Dipper are still part of our fair town. They need our help, so I say no one should rest until they’re safe at home!” “YEAH!” Manly Dan yelled and punched a whole in the stone wall. “Let’s find the Pines!” Blubs said and the whole town cheered for Lil’ Gideon. Old Man McGucket approached the boy shakingly and smiled. “Th-Thanks ya so much. Ya’ve always been a… a loyal friend t’em.” “Don’t thank me yet.” Gideon said with a smile. “Let’s just get my queen and future brother-in-law back.” And he went off to gather the volunteers. Fiddleford watched the boy leave and he winced. “Aw, banjo polish.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: I know it seems like I’m a hater of BatB songs since only one is in here, two songs are not from BatB at all, and I teased two BatB songs in this chapter but never delivered, but I promise that more are on the way (or at least obscure gestures to the songs since this isn’t a musical).

I will share that I ALMOST opened the entire story with a Hercules-like intro, with Dipper and Mabel destroying the town with an invention and being rejected by the village, making the scene of Fiddleford trying to convince people to help look for them more compelling, but I backed away since I couldn’t think of a good destructive invention that could be built by two twelve-year-olds in the early 1800s. I’d love to hear some of your ideas, guys!

Pacifica is kinda a reference to the Magic Mirror from Snow White, and while Lazy Susan would’ve made a great Mrs. Potts, I decided to make Candy head of the kitchen and the tea pot and have Lazy Susan be a friend of Fiddleford and Shermie’s and give hand in raising Dipper and Mabel sometimes, one of the few people in town that actually liked them. I will warn you that this story does not focus much on the side characters, rather the development of the main characters.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope y’all enjoy it!

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

Gravity Falls S02E10 - Northwest Mansion Mystery

I'm surprisingly excited about the return of the Northwests after that glimpse of character depth we had of Pacifica back in Golf War. I doubt she'll ever be 100% likable but she doesn't have to be to be a fun character to explore. So, let's do this!

What an economic way to remind us the type of people Pacifica's parents are. Two lines is all they needed.

Less than a minute in and I already love where this is going.

Shortened op song? ooh, this episode is gonna be good

I'm in this picture and I don't– actually, I wish I was in this picture, that looks like comfy.

Gravity Falls TV continues to be amazing.

Never let it be said that Dipper is not a man of his word.

I hadn't noticed but that's a really good sweater. Like most of them.

NW's Manor is even more amazing that I expected.

Oh no. My worst fear has come upon me. They'd look _cute_ together.

Nevermind, this b-plot is my worst fear.

WHY DIPPER WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT

This is your fault, Dipper.

Wow

cool cool cool, that's just great

biggest lore drop right here

This is so stupid. I love it.

...i'd try it.

Grenda is a certified expert in negging.

Oof. Of course it makes no sense for Dipper but we _know_ how terrible Pacifica's parents are and she knows she's who's going to have to deal with them afterwards.

These kids are never going to learn.

Trapping someone, even a ghost, in a mirror for eternity feels a bit... bad for your karma. But maybe I'm having Steven Universe flashbacks.

Who are you trying to impress, Dipper?

That's the Dipper I know.

This feels very end-episodey but it's only half way through. Are we going to find out about the Northwest's dark past?

A blue being trapped in a mirror revealing truths untold to the protagonist. Hmm.

Damn, he was really articulate and specific in his final moments.

Congratulations Gravity Falls, you're making me fell bad about Pacifica Northwest of all people. Who, as you can probably remember, was (is?) _the worst_.

Fuuuuuuuuck this guy.

He dying from a mudslide and the mention of mud tracking in their favorite carpet makes me think he's going to somehow summon exactly that. And they deserve it.

That's a very delicate mirror.

I hope Grenda teaches them a lesson.

That's the face of a boy who just became a man.

...do all ghosts get superpowers based on their job? Because I just realized mine would be incredibly boring, cursing websites to make them load 2 seconds slower.

That's incredibly disturbing. And funny.

Welp, I guess this is Dipper and Pacifica's show now. Can't believe they'd change the cast so late in the season. I guess Mabel's VA was too expensive, with all that Bob Burgers money rolling in.

Huh. I guess this is Pacifica's show now. I guess Dipper's VA was too expensive, all that... actually, I have no idea what else the guy has done.

I thought I remembered that expression from somewhere and yup, here it is. As horrible as it was then.

Can you imagine Pacifica having to go live with Stan because her house is haunted and everyone she knows is wood? It'd be _hilarious_. And a bit sad, of course, but mostly hilarious.

WHY ARE THEY STILL ALIVE

Wow. That probably took more strength than most of Dipper's supernatural adventures. She... is not _the worst_ anymore, y'all.

His rhyming powers were powered by vengeance

Man knows what he likes

There wasn't a mud slide but this is even better.

The plot! The plot is back!

Noooooo, unless by tomorrow you mean next episode.

Wait, that really is imminent. Next episode, please?

BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL IS COMING

Everything is coming together... but it's only episode 10? What's going on!?

STANISNOTWHATHESEEMS STANISNOTWHATHESEEMS STANISNOTWHATHESEEMS

Are we finally going to find out what's up with Stan!?

---

I've mentioned it before but I really like the "rich kid with bad parents learns how to be better than them" trope and this episode was exactly that. I can't believe I actually like Pacifica now. I thought she'd remain mostly the same with just more sympathizing about her situation but they went all the way and turned her into someone cool.

It helps that the writers reminded us how terrible her parents are in the first 30 seconds of the episode, with the comment about diversity and that bell (WTF IS WITH THAT BELL? _WOW_, what an awful thing to use to quiet down your kid!), so Pacifica ends up as "not that bad" even without doing anything. But she does. And it's great.

As an aside, I love that Dipper instantly became known as a mystery solver now that the society of the blind eye no longer exists to erase those memories from everyone affected by his adventures.

Mabel's B-plot wasn't as good as the main one, but Grenda's triumph was worth the awkward start.

And the episode ended with the promise of plot! That's everything I've ever wanted!

Excellent episode from beginning to end, I can't wait for the next one! Until next time!

[minijenn]

Pacifica or Pink diamond?

Headcanon A:  realistic: She gets sent off to boarding school during the school year and honestly? She’s glad for it, its a chance to get away from her shitty parents 

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious: Imo I basically dumped a big HC of mine for her in Mismatched Making: she doesn’t know fuckin squat about normal people food cause she has a very refined, very expensive pallet 

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends: Not really sad but i totally HC that her parents end up disowning her (at least in the UF timeline of things) when her and Dipper end up getting married; and she does not care whatsoever, honestly she’s just so glad to be free (though she does hate it when her parents randomly show up again years later to try and meddle in the lives of her kids (aka something I wanna write an MK2 oneshot about because holy shit) 

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own: Even after the Northwests aren’t rich anymore, Pacifica still manages to be quite fashionable! She learns how to shop on the cheap at thrift and discount stores (imo don’t hate ya’ll that’s literally how I do all my clothes shopping too and its great) 

[sirkkasnow]

12 Finer Points Of Damage Control

Ao3 link

07/20/13-07/25/13 Saturday - Thursday

Stan didn’t say anything when he got home, because the slumber party crew had arrived and there were people underfoot everywhere. Clary coordinated dishwashing duties in the kitchen, passing silverware off to Candy and lifting plates out of Grenda’s towel as soon as they were dry. “Did you get dinner?” she asked as he stuck his head warily through the door. “We have leftovers.”

“Uh - I’ll wait until you guys’re done, thanks.” Mabel teetered atop a stepstool to put away glasses. She managed a shameless wink over Clary’s head. Pacifica sat at the kitchen table looking bored and vaguely hostile, fingertips busy flicking across her phone’s screen. “If you got a minute later, Clary, could we have a word?”

“You bet, Stan, I’ll come looking for you.”

There was really no time at all to talk. Clary chased after the four girls like a harried mother goose, hopping over Waddles when necessary. Stan could not believe the amount of chatter they generated - commentary on the guest list, the likely menu, Ford’s relative hotness - he winced at that one.

They spent a good hour in the living room huddled around Mabel’s phone, watching videos and arguing over the party soundtrack. Clary was pushing for classic tunes, forties and fifties stuff. “Lowest common denominator. Everyone can dance to that.”

“My grunkle’s got pretty light feet,” Mabel shot back. “Seventies or bust! Let’s give the old man a chance to strut his stuff!”

“Every time Stan struts his stuff, something gets broken.” Pacifica was leaning in, still looking a little bored but at least engaged. “Which might be fun to watch.”

Stan hovered within earshot for a little while, hoping Clary would pull herself free, but he gave up after one too many intense debates over boy bands. He’d have to wait them out. The cash was burning a hole in his pocket anyway. He stomped off to the old office, flicked on a lamp, cleared a space on the desk and buckled down to work.

He couldn’t really enjoy the whole process with the sense of impending doom winding tight in his chest. The old answering machine’s red light blinked angrily from across the room; he threw stuff at it - Gold Chains For Old Men from last April, a Lil’ Gideon promo t-shirt, a ratty coonskin cap he’d never repurposed - until something stuck and covered it up.

By the time he had the guest list and the cash bundled up and packed away in the safe it was well past midnight. Stan crept through the darkened house, reflexively avoiding all the creakiest spots in the floor. Dipper, he knew, was crashing on the study couch downstairs.

Indistinct girlish voices and the steady thump thump thump of muffled bass were still trickling under the kids’ door. The narrow line of light painted onto the floorboards was dim, at least, so things must be winding down by now. Stan paused and raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it and slunk off towards his own room.

He was on the verge of tucking himself in when he heard the soft creak of hinges down the hall. Cracking his door open a sliver revealed a bare glimpse of Clary tiptoeing out and downstairs in pajamas and kerchief. Eventually she returned with the plastic pitcher and a few old tumblers.

Stan just watched. She glanced over as she made to slip back in, spotting his silhouette against the faint light of his room, and with a tiny conspiratorial smile held a finger to her lips.

He closed the door, flopped flat on his back in bed, and stared at the ceiling that was too far away to actually see until he tumbled unwilling into restless sleep.

Come morning the yammering traffic of teenage girls throwing together a full-on Mabel-style breakfast was too much to bear. There wasn’t a chance in hell of extricating Clary from the chaos, so he headed straight for the museum.

Soos had rigged construction curtains across the space they’d blocked out. The ‘Coming Attraction!’ sign sported a cheerful, toothy, horned-and-winged weasel with wide cartoon eyes, probably Melody’s work.

Stan had argued for scaling the whole production down a little, but Soos had been adamant in his laid-back way. By hook or by crook it was going to be a walkthrough with hidden lighting, surround sound and special effects, whatever that meant.

He spent most of his time slathering black paint over the framework that had already gone in. The blackout shell that would eventually enclose it all would at least cover up any number of construction sins. Positioning marks for lights, showpieces and electronics got chalked in according to the elaborate plans he’d been handed.

Morning tours swung past his sheltered corner and Stan listened in pleased bemusement. There was already a snappy line of patter for the new exhibit. Soos had a gift for this - the style had changed but the appreciative giggling and gasps from his audience were familiar.

After all, Stan had fallen into the role. Soos had aspired to it.

It was easy to lose himself in the work for a couple of hours, but eventually his stomach’s vague grumble and the angle of sunlight through the windows warned him that he had other things to worry about. Soos stuck his head in between curtains and tapped at the framework. “Time for lunch, Mr. Pines! The girls have all gone home and I think Miss Clary’s got sandwiches made up.”

“Yeah, yeah, comin’.” Stan rubbed at a few flecks of black paint on his fingers and emerged squinting into the main room. “Sounds like a nice busy mornin’. Everythin’ all right with plans for the dance thing?”

Soos tugged a notepad out of his jacket. “Oh, yeah, we’re selling a ton of tickets! I guess they all saw your posters. Lots of messages came in last night. Took a while to get through them all before we opened up. And we had a bunch of people asking about dinner tickets?” He flipped a couple of pages while Stan cringed internally. “Yup, about fifteen of those. Couple more calls today, too, and a few people asking at the gift shop.”

“Uh. Yeah. About those. Didja get phone numbers an’ names?”

“Oh, sure. Looked like you settled on eighty-five bucks apiece for those, so that’s what we charged.”

“What you - Soos, did you actually sell them tickets?!”

Soos blinked. “Well, sure! I saw the envelope in the safe and that ticket book, so I figured you and Miss Clary worked something out. It’ll be one big party!”

“Sweet Moses.” Stan squeezed his eyes shut, slapped a hand to his brow, and started to pace. Surely there was still a way to contain the damage. “Okay. Okay, you got contact info, all we gotta do is call people - “

He swung around to look out across the exhibit space, spinning possibilities in his mind - reschedule, shift the venue, anything but issuing refunds. His focus flicked blankly from point to point, then settled on the woman standing with arms folded right behind the Sascrotch.

Ah, fuck.

“Stan,” Clary said gently. “May I have a moment of your time, please.” It wasn’t a question.

Stan held out a hand. Soos laid the notebook in his palm and backed away until he was out of her line of sight.

Clary turned and walked with measured strides through the museum and then the house until she’d arrived at the porch. Stan followed with feet dragging as though they were already encased in concrete.

She set hands to her hips and looked out into the distance - he wasn’t sure if she even saw the trees. As the silence drew out he thumbed through Soos’ notebook and mentally counted up tickets, arriving at a number large enough to make his stomach flip in delight and dread.

“The girls and I came up with a guest list of eighteen people,” Clary said at length. “Am I to understand that we are expecting more, now.”

Stan cleared his throat and launched in. “So, funny thing, I stopped off for a coffee down at Greasy’s an’ Susan’s the one who brought it up, since you’ve been lookin’ to get this whole thing organized for the last couple days, said you asked about cherry pie, good choice by the way - “

Not a word. Her fingers were drumming out a restless rhythm against the khaki of her shorts.

“So yeah. Yeah, people were startin’ to get the wrong idea ‘bout dance party tickets so I thought maybe we’d, y’know, sell some dinner tickets since they’re so hot on it, we’ll make enough - more than enough! - t’offset all the expenses an’ then at least we know who’s comin’, we don’t get a buncha people bustin’ in uninvited - “

“How many?”

He had a good head of steam up and had to fumble around for a second. “Uh - what?”

“How many tickets?” She hadn’t raised her voice but there was an edge in it like the wind of a January blizzard and he nearly shivered.

“Looks like about fifty - “

“Fifty!” Clary barked it out and turned to glare at him full on. Her face was pale, a hard spot of angry pink high in each cheek. “Stan, that’s seventy people. I can’t cook for seventy people out of the house, there is no damn way and the minute money’s involved you need a certified commercial kitchen! How in the hell - “

Stan knew he’d gone red in the face and hell if a direct challenge wasn’t making his temper start to flare a little, too. “Well - well, fine, we have Greasy’s make it all! We shuttle it up an’ make sure we have plenty of paper plates, no problem!”

Clary scoffed. “There is no way you didn’t sell this as a home-cooked meal from your very own resident lawyer.”

Okay, so she wasn’t entirely wrong. “No one’s gonna care about the food. They just wanna meet you - “

“So you’re telling me I make a decent roadside attraction?”

The last syllable rose and broke. She clapped a palm over her mouth. Stan looked at her, his jaw gone slack, a sharp little sting lodged in his chest. Tears of fury or frustration had welled up at the corners of her eyes and one made a break for it as she pulled a shaking breath.

“I need a minute,” she said, rough-edged.

“Clary. C’mon.” He reached out, hoping to lay a hand on her shoulder. She twitched away, then slipped past him with fluid ease, making no contact. In three long strides she’d thrown a leg over her bicycle. One foot found a pedal and she took off at speed down the path that’d eventually get her to town. “Oh, come on!”

Both of the kids clattered out onto the porch, standing to either side of him.

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel looked up to him in wide-eyed concern. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

“She forgot her helmet.” Dipper folded his hands, thumbs twirling awkward loops. “Uh, so the dinner thing got - bigger?”

Stan set a hand to his chin for a long moment, breathing through his fingers to steady himself.

“Yep,” he said. “She’s headin’ out to work on logistics an’ supplies an’ so on. We’ve only got a couple days to pull it all together, yeah?” Stan scraped up a smile and lightly patted Mabel’s hair. “You know how this town is, things get outta hand pretty quick. We’re all gonna have to pitch in, got it?”

Mabel looked on the verge of tears for a moment, then her back straightened and her jaw set in determination. “I don’t know what the heck just happened but we are gonna fix it. Right, Dipper?”

“Right, Mabel! Come on, we’ll go track her down!”

“Kids. No.” He shook his head when they looked up at him in surprise. “She wants peace an’ quiet, she gets peace an’ quiet.” Mabel looked briefly mulish, Dipper troubled, but he put on the stern look and eventually they nodded.

She didn’t reappear that afternoon. Stan did his best to stay busy with piecing the exhibit together, focused more sharply than usual in service of not thinking about anything else. He was genuinely starting to worry along towards dinnertime when his phone chimed with an incoming one-line message, then more in rapidfire sequence.

Rented out Greasy’s kitchen. Add’l food lined up. Updated menu. Pls send guest list when complete. Still need: tables & chairs, linens, serveware. Suggest asking McGucket. Manor might have garden party supplies.

Hesitant, Stan tapped in: You okay?

The reply was near instant. I’m fine. Will see you at dinner.

He’d about finished off the wiring, packing away tools and electrical tape, when Mabel came dashing in out of breath and yanked aside the construction curtain. “She’s back! C’mon, c’mon, you’ve gotta clean up!”

Ford had been on dinner duty that evening, which meant it was heavy on vegetables and light on anything interesting. Dipper and Mabel were buzzing around Clary. She looked freshly scrubbed, maybe a little drawn, tossing together a salad at the counter. Her head came up as Stan entered; she set down the dressing, marched right over and offered her right hand. “I apologize.”

Stan accepted her clasp immediately and squeezed in what he hoped was reassurance. “Hey. Ah, glad you’re all right, real sorry about the inconvenience an’ all.” Grateful though he was to see her, the smile she wore was surface-slight, her eyes cool.

“I’ve run fundraisers before. It’ll all be under control in a day or two.” Clary’s fingers slipped from his and she pivoted to collect the salad bowl. “All right, you lot! War council time! As you know we’re running the biggest party of the summer here at the Shack and I am going to need help from all of you.”

Ford dished up brown rice and poached salmon. Clary laid out the menu, jotted in several additions and got quite serious with Mabel about desserts, settling on ‘Fireworks Krispy Treats: They’ll Light Up Your Mouth!’ in addition to the cherry pies and lemon bars she’d apparently negotiated with Susan.

“You,” Clary said, pointing her pen at Stan. “Logistics. The exhibit and the seating are yours to manage. Remember that at this rate we may have to set up an outdoor dance floor. You,” indicating Ford, “please keep working on my car. I’m going to need both of you early on the morning of this thing to knock out the chicken.”

Stan watched the whole process with trepidation - she was a monster of efficiency and it was a far cry from the laid-back approach she’d been taking for the last couple days. “Yes ma’am.”

“We’ve got less than a week to knock this out of the park.” Clary took up her fork and saluted the table at large. “Let’s make this legendary.” She tucked briskly into her dinner and finished well before everyone else, dropping off her plate at the sink and ducking out of the kitchen before Stan could catch her.

It went like that for the entire following day. Clary disappeared before anyone was awake, communicating only in an endless series of texts. Most of those hit a broadcast group including Stan, Soos, Ford and the kids, friendly if brisk updates on the state of the picnic.

A few of them came only to Stan, and those were ...terse.

Status on tables etc?

Updates to guest count?

Pls keep any receipts for supplies. Will collect them later.

An argument about who was going to pay for what would be coming down the pike soon, he was sure of that.

Got time in the morning? he tapped in.

Working to clean Greasy’s kitchen up to code. Will probably finish tomorrow. A pause, then: Wouldn’t want to poison half the town.

Clary didn’t even make it back for dinner that night. When he went looking for her the next morning she was already gone, and her phone went unanswered. Stan lasted until just before lunchtime before pure frustration drove him to start working his way through local contacts to track her down.

“Greasy's diner - we have food!” That was Susan for sure, sounding slightly manic.

“Heeey, Susan. listen, is Miz Merrick down there? She headed out early this mornin' and I was wonderin' where she landed.”

“Oh, gosh yes!” Susan giggled against the background racket of customers. “You should've seen her. She's been hauling stuff out of that old walk-in fridge that I didn't even know existed! We've got some pretty weird specials for lunch, let me tell ya. She’s helping with the rush while she's stocking up all this stuff for the big picnic - ooooh, it's all going to be delicious! I can't wait!”

Stan squinted. “Wait, what, you're comin'?”

“Oh, sure! She traded me a ticket and got me the ingredients for all those pies!” Her cheerful tone dropped a little into rusty affection. “I can't wait to take a spin around the dance floor with you.” He thought that over, then shuddered faintly to himself.

“So, ah, she free to come to the phone? Guess she's set hers on silent or somethin'.”

“Gimme a minute, sweetie, i'll go check.” The rattle of industrial-grade china and indistinct conversation went on as she left the receiver on the counter, calling out towards the back of the place.

Eventually she wandered back. “Sorry, Stan, she's in the middle of juggling like eight trays of biscuits. Says she'll see you back at the Shack tonight.”

Stan propped himself against the wall and managed not to sigh. “All right, Susan, thanks. Glad she's gettin' out ahead of it all.”

“You bet, sugar. See ya in a couple days!”

He'd been too engrossed to notice company in the hallway, and when he glanced up glumly it was right at Mabel perched on the bottom step with Waddles leaning into her side. Stan jerked upright but she was already shaking a finger at him.

"Don't you give me that look, Grunkle Stan. She's too ‘busy’ - “ Biiiiiig air quotes around that one. “- to talk to you, right?"

“Ah - um - “ He juggled a couple of possible deflections, then shoved the phone in his pocket and looked at her in naked desperation. “I swear this is not what I meant to happen!”

Mabel heaved a theatrical sigh. “All right. This is something I can fix. Clary and I have an appointment with Soos' Abuelita tomorrow morning.” She waggled her eyebrows. “A secret appointment. When we get back at around lunchtime you better be ready to shake your moneymaker, got it?"

“Shake my what now?”

“You two are gonna host this thing, so you better dance. And since the spotlight's gonna be on you, you'd better be good! Everyone will be watching!”

Oh boy. He was probably a dead man walking as it was and this wasn’t gonna help.

“And that means,” Mabel said, cheerfully oblivious, “That you two need to practice. Don't worry. Mabel's on the case and I'll make it happen.” She zapped him with the finger-guns and shoved Waddles aside enough to get to her feet. “I'll let you know where you need to be and when. Make sure you’re tidy, okay?”

‘Where’ turned out to be the old storage room he’d converted to a ramshackle boxing ring, the ropes downed and folded up in a corner. ‘When’ was late morning the following day, and ‘what’ - well. That was answered when Mabel came in, dragging the karaoke machine in her wake. Clary stepped in right after, a bandana at her neck and another binding back her hair, bleach spatters dotting her old t-shirt.

Stan stuffed hands in his pockets and rolled his shoulders back, doing his level best to meet her eyes without a twinge of guilt - because, come on, they were going to make a ton of money on this picnic thing - and found himself mostly failing. He was really starting to hate the polished, faint, impenetrable smile she had for him.

Mabel’s voice was a vague buzz through the tangle of his self-justification but he caught the gist of it - dazzle the rubes, make it look easy, inspire swooning jealousy in the audience. “All right,” she wrapped up, as rah-rah as he’d ever heard her. “Let’s you and him dance!”

Clary pinched her lips, unfolded her arms, and stalked out across the floor to join him.

“So,” Stan said.

“Mmhm.”

“Carved some time out of the schedule?”

“Barely. Your young lady over there makes a good argument.”

This was worse than her trying to punch him. Clary settled into the arch of his arm with professional precision, a frosty six inches of space between them, the six inches his mother had lectured him about a billion years ago and that he’d promptly ignored at the first opportunity to get up close and personal.

Stan maintained that six inches like his life depended on it because maybe it did.

“My waltz is all right. My samba’s shaky. Meet in the middle with foxtrot?” Clary looked up to him with clear, fearless eyes, the faintest of curves drawn along her lips. Her fingers were chapped and rough in his.

“Might as well start off easy. Mabel, whatcha got, pumpkin?”

“Got it!” There must have been some consultation beforehand because what came out of Mabel’s hot-pink speakers was honest-to-god big band music. Stan nearly protested and stifled it when Clary looked at him askance.

“Come on now,” she said sweetly. “We should really start with the lowest common denominator, shouldn’t we? If you would.”

He inhaled, flexed his hand at her waist and rocked back for the first step.

Their first pass around the room was dismal. She obviously had some formal training and he could barely remember what the hell went into a foxtrot, it’d been so long since he had done anything more than improvise on a foxtrot theme. There were a few near misses with her feet before she clicked her tongue and murmured. “Slow, slow, quick quick. I can tell you know this.”

One brassy number blended into the next as they paced and whirled, Mabel razzing them or calling encouragement by turns. “Clary, stop looking at him like you want to stab him! Dance is the language of love! You gotta sell it better than that!”

“Maybe I want to stab him.” Clary glared somewhere off over his left shoulder.

“No you don’t. You want to knock the socks off everyone at this party, right? I know you two can do it.”

Stan gritted his teeth and fought to earn back her trust with the respectful press of his palm, honoring whatever distance between them she wanted. By the third pass the six-inch block of ice had softened a little. “Spin?” he suggested, and at her faint nod he tried some fancier footwork.

They were uncoordinated, discordant, his feet clipping the edges of her sandals, frustration building between them as they lurched and wobbled. Mabel’s face was a worried glint in a corner of his eye. When Clary went off balance she caught herself with the awkward combination of a foot jabbed down out of sequence and his hand tightening at her waist in support.

He couldn’t quite look at her, but he hissed out, low as he could, “This is not gonna work if you can’t trust me a little.”

“Should I trust you?” she breathed back at him in a near-subsonic murmur. Her fingernails pricked at his shoulder.

Stan snorted softly. “Hell, no, you shouldn’t.��

There was a little pfft, pure disbelief, and a direct sidelong look of complete exasperation. The music spun to a stop as they stood interlocked and distant, then finally, mercifully, launched into the next tune. Something in her ramrod spine trembled, then snapped; he felt her make herself relax and sway into his grip.

“Fine,” Clary said dryly. “Honesty I can work with.”

This one was easy, a big swinging number with a nice solid four-square beat, nothing but a framework to whirl around the room to. Stan took it slow at first. She’d stopped fighting him so much, still hesitant but at least responsive to the little nudges that offered guidance, and as they moved he felt the tension in the room dissipating. The next time he signaled a spin she took the cue, pivoting neatly through and landing back in the crook of his arm with a quirked brow.

After a couple minutes he chuckled in surprise. “You’re not terrible at this.”

Her heel came down square on his toe, deliberate, he thought. “I suppose you’re not terrible either.”

Mabel relaxed too, flashing him a hasty thumbs up when Clary was looking elsewhere. The next track she cued up was overtly sappy, loaded with layered strings and lyrics dripping with longing. “Mabel,” snapped Clary. “Next please.”

“Sorry, wrong song!” Mabel wasn’t the least bit repentant but she did skip this one.

Time pressure was sort of a foreign thing for Stan - he had no problem putting his head down and plugging away, but was used to more open-ended projects. Possessed by grim determination, assisted by Soos through a couple of late nights, he got the Dreaming Denizens exhibit up and running in the nick of time.

They’d moved the cannibal pixie village over to hang in the rafters above the disguised darkroom. Melody had rigged a couple ragged little bits of LED-centered tulle mounted on wires to flutter around in the shadows. The effect was surprisingly creepy and convincing once they’d tweaked the lighting in that corner.

The ticketed picnic crowd had swelled to nearly seventy before Stan managed to shut it all down. Fortunately the Northwests had abandoned enough folding tables, chairs and lawn tents to handle twice that, easy, in the cavernous manor basement. At Clary’s direction they’d also hauled out enough stainless steel chafing dishes to serve a small army. Of course, they were serving an army.

“You could do weddings,” Stan mused to Soos as they stacked folding chairs in the lee of the Shack. “Bar mitzvahs, birthday parties, hell, just rent this stuff out. Be a shame to just let it molder in storage.”

“Set up a chapel?” Soos wiped his brow and grinned. “Might be fun, Mr. Pines. There’s still plenty to do around here.”

“I’m retired, y’know that. I’m only willin’ to crank out brilliant new merchandisin’ concepts for free because I like ya, kid.” Stan plucked off Soos’ cap and ruffled his hair before pivoting to haul down the next stack of chairs.

Dance practice with Mabel became an urgent matter for the last couple days before the event. Clary and Stan carved out half an hour at a time between projects. Mabel played all kinds of music at them - big band, BABBA, a smattering of 80s stuff, one or two classical waltzes - and they worked to adapt.

All of it was still professional. Polite. The impulse to pull Clary close for the slower bits was ever-present, but like hell was he going to screw things up any further. At least she was starting to pick up a familiar glow of satisfaction as they got the measure of one another. As partners they were really beginning to click. He regretted on some mercenary level that there wasn’t a contest or something around to game.

Thursday of that week was a whirlwind of setup and anticipation. Tents popped up like mushrooms across the summer-bleached lawn, the entire Shack crew bustling to get it laid out with time to spare. Clary was either helping move tables into place or tapping into her phone with a frown of focus, tracking the thousand things that needed to get done.

By late afternoon they were as close as they were going to get - the audio equipment would go up in the morning. Mabel and Dipper had been hovering around the edges of the fracas in anticipation, and as things slowed, they pounced.

“Clary, c’mon, we need to let the others finish up out here. I’ve got a couple of drink concepts in the kitchen I really need you to check out..” Mabel caught Clary’s hand and tugged, heading for the house. Clary was still thumbing through some checklist as she allowed herself to be hauled along.

Dipper waved frantically from the porch. Stan took the hint and headed off at a trot down the Shack’s long drive. By the time Clary was back outside, sipping warily from a tall glass of some sparkling pink concoction, he was rounding the corner in the purring Fairlane wagon.

Clary shrieked. She managed to fumble her glass down to the ground and dashed over to the car, running hands along the freshly rechromed grill, then flopping over to stretch her arms out along the polished hood. “I can’t believe it! Look at this thing, it’s like brand new!”

Stan killed the engine, hip-checked the door closed and held out the key, the finest of the Mystery Shack’s souvenir keychains dangling from its ring. “Ford an’ McGucket finished up late yesterday. I still want t’go over the insides one last time, but she’s runnin’ like a champ now.”

The first unrestrained smile he’d seen on her all week lit up her features. With great delicacy Clary hooked a finger into the keyring and plucked the key from his grip. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Nothin’ left to do but get through this party and then you’re finally on the road, huh?” Stan hooked thumbs through his belt loops and gave her the best of his showman’s grins, papering over the regret twisting hard in his gut with practiced ease. Her eyes flicked to his.

“We’ve still got a ton of work to do.” Clary reached out with a fist and cautiously nudged him in the shoulder with her knuckles. “I’ve got to go finish up a last round of prep at Greasy’s. You and Ford be ready to go at quarter to six, got it?”

“Got it.”

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“Should I trust you?” You’ve seen midwinter storms friendlier than the icy glint of those eyes.

Of course you can trust me!

We said we’d get the car fixed, we’re getting it fixed!

Honestly? Nope.

[bluebird167]

The Sinners and Their Saints Chapter 22: The Search Part 1

That attack had left the organization greatly damaged. Solomon was treating victims who had been bitten by the vampires, Frida was healing Manny's wounds along with the wounds of the injured, as for Steven he just wanted to be alone. He sat alone in his room, blaming himself for what had happened. 

It turns out there never was any recruit. Kevin was a vampire spy of Jasper who had hypnotized the Romanian organization to call Solomon and tell him that a recruit was coming. He then killed a human and inhabited it's dead body so he could walk around during the day without being destroyed by sunlight. His mission was to use that body to find the praying bat and spy on Steven but when he found that he couldn't find it he decided to try a different approach. Kidnap one of their allies and threaten their lives. But that also served as a problem because no one not even Steven knew what the praying bat was let alone where it could be.

Dipper being very smart and good with books decided to go to the library and get as much information about the praying bat as possible. He was theere for hours finding one dead end after another.

"Hey." Pacifica said, she placed a mug and a box on his desk. "I brought coffee and doughnuts."

"Thanks." He grabbed the mug and opened the box. He was just about to help himself when he stopped and looked at her suspiciously. "Okay what's going on."

"What?"

"That was pretty nice of you to give me this. Did you put something in this coffee and doughnuts?"

"No."

"Alright what do you want?"

"What makes you think I want something? Can't I be nice?"

"You once kicked a kitten."

"Alright I kind of wanted to make sure that you wouldn't squeal on me about my confession."

"Hmm." He said sipping his coffee. "I don't know."

"Look I know you think it's no big deal but if my father or anyone else finds out I'm not a virgin anymore I am dead. Do you hear me? Dead and buried."

"Oh come on lots of girls nowadays lose their virginity before marriage. They're called prostitutes." 

"Yeah and they're poor people who live on the streets so people expect that by I'm a Northwest. A woman of class, if people found out I wasn't virgin it would ruin my father's image and if his image is ruined then he'll ruin me."

"What do you mean?"

"You saw him that night when he slapped me didn't you? He did that just because I told him you guys might take awhile with getting your job done. Imagine what he would do to me if he or God forbid the public knew I was....Well....Unclean."

"I'm guessing pretty bad? But I'm sure he won't kill you, I mean he's your father right?"

"I wanna show you something, come with me." 

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the nearest closet. She locked the door, turned on the lights, and began to undo her dress.

"Now wait a minute I may be an animal but I'm not that wild."

"Shut up you idiot! I'm not trying to seduce you! I just want you to see something." 

She turned around and continued to undo her dress. It fell to the floor leaving her in just a corset pantaloons. Dipper blushed at first but his embarrassment soon became horror when he saw scars, bruises, and cuts all the way down her back and legs. He had never seen anything so horrible in all his life.

"Did...Did your father do this to you?"

She kept still and quiet for a long time before she started speaking again. 

"All parents have their own way of discipling their kids. My father's was his cane and his belt. Three weeks ago the mayor's son asked me to dinner, I told him no and my father beat me with his cane, when I was twelve I told a man that my parents had lied about going to a charity event and he turned out to be a reporter so my father beat me with his belt, and then when I was five I spilled tea on an expensive carpet he bought."

She turned forward and showed him a large, blood red, scorching, burn mark on her chest.

"So he burned my chest with hot coals and then had me buried alive in the yard. Said he would have me dug out when I would stop my stupid crying. As for my mother she just stood there and watched while she was drinking her damn wine." 

Dipper was speechless. He knew the Northwests could be cruel but he never imagined they would do something like this to their own daughter. That wasn't cruel, that was evil. He watched her turn around and start to put her dress back on. He slowly raised his hand up and used it to gently touch her back. She tensed and turned around.

"Sorry." He said. "I just-"

"I don't need your pity, it's my own fault for causing so much trouble. All parents punish their kids when they make mistakes."

"Not like that. Mine didn't."

"Well yours must've been very permissive. Look I wasn't trying to get any sympathy okay I only wanted to make it clear to you that no one can know about my confession in church okay? So don't tell."

"Alright I won't."

"Good now let's get out of here before someone gets the wrong idea."

They left the closet and went back to the library. Dipper couldn't help but think about those scars and marks, he couldn't imagine someone doing stuff like that to their own child. No wonder this girl was so mean and stuck up, her family had basically beaten whatever goodness she had out of her.

"Any luck on the whole bat thing?" She asked.

"No and I've spent nearly the whole night trying to figure out what on earth this praying bat their talking about is and so far I've got nothing. I've read nearly every book about bats in this library and not one of them have provided any information about what we're looking for."

"Well maybe it's not a bat. Maybe it's something else."

"It's called the praying bat, what else could be?"

"Well it has the word praying in it's name right? So maybe it's an idol or something."

"An idol?"

"Yeah some people worshiped idols, little statues of animals made from rock. I learned about it from my tutor."

"Idol..Hmmm....I think you might be on to something. Quick help me gather up all the books on false gods, myths,  and idols."

They began pulling out those exact books and began reading through them. And by they reading them I mean Dipper. It took him awhile but soon he found one book with a page about the praying bat. Once they had the information they needed they checked out the book and went back to the Van Helsing Organization to tell them what they found out.

"According to this book the praying bat is a stone idol used to protect all vampires from spells and curses but only during the night of a full moon." He explained.

"So that's why they want it before the full moon." Solomon said.

"But what do they want it for?" Frida asked.

"It doesn't matter." Steven said. "What does matter is we need to know where it is. Dipper does that book tell us where we can find it?"

"No but Kevin seems to think you have it."

"But I don't."

"Well your mother took it so she must've hidden it somewhere."

"Well I don't know where she put it. She died when I was born and my father never mentioned that to me."

"There maybe one way we can find out where it is." Solomon said. "Imps."

"Imps?" Manny said.

"Pesky little creatures who are notorious gossips, con artists, and tricksters. Some times they'll pretend to be gods or demons just mess with ignorant humans, if there's anyone who knows where we can find an idol or information on one it's them. Here's a picture."

He opened a book and showed them a little green creature with red eyes.

"Hey boys is it my imagination or does that little creep seem familiar?" Manny said.

"Yeah it's Zim!" Steven pointed. "Hey Zim told me earlier that he's been working with Jasper maybe he knows something."

"Where do we find these imps?" Dipper asked.

"Try the imp's market, the closest one is hidden underneath a bridge near here, some imps will disguise themselves as humans so you'll need these." Solomon pulled out some goggles. "These goggles are made with a special lens that allows you to see things as they really are."

"Fascinating." Dipper said observing them. "Hey there's only three?"

"Sorry they're difficult to build especially when getting the right lens."

The five teens drove down to the nearest bridge  As if luck was on their side, with in five minutes an old lady carrying a cat and a dog in two different cages came under the bridge. Well it looked like an old lady but with the goggles Manny, Steven, and Dipper saw it was hideous, drooling, snotty, imp.

"Uh sick!"Manny said.

"Ugh revolting!" Dipper said.

"Eww!" Steven said.

"What is it? Let me see." Frida said.

"Oh trust me sweetie you don't wanna see this." Steven said.

"Dipper, what the hell are we looking at?" Manny asked.

"I believe it's an imp, by my calculations it weights 200 pounds, female, and judging by the dry skin and dripping bags of flesh she's elderly." Dipper explained.

"That's a she?" Steven said in surprise. "I've seen men prettier."

They watched her open one of the cages, grab the cat, and lick her lips.

"Oh crap she's gonna eat the cat!" Manny gasped.

"Keep quiet, if you scare her off we'll never get inside." Dipper whispered.

"But she's gonna eat the cat."

"So? "

"It's a cat! You're not supposed to eat cats!"

"The Chinese do."

"Then they're sick! I can't! I can't let this happen!"

"Manny it's just a cat!"

"A quarter of my family are related to cats!"

"You'll blow our cover!"

"But-"

"You can't! We need to follow her and find out if we-"

"Oh screw this! Hey!" Manny called out causing the old woman to freeze. "Lucy! I'm home!"

She dropped the cat and turned around to give Manny her best smile.

"Hello young man can I help you?" She said sweetly.

"Give it up nasty we can see ya."

"You see me?"

"We know you're a dirty imp."

"How?! How do you see me?!"

"None of your business, listen can you do us a favor and take us to the imp market?"

"Come any closer and I'll rip your heart out!"

"Now madame let's not get violent." Dipper said. "I'm sure that we can come to an agreement about-"

WACK!

She hit him on the head with a cane.

"Ow!"

"Beat it! The both of you! Or I'll tear out your throats!"

"Okay I tried to be nice, now it's the hard way." 

"Boys time for plan b." Manny said.

 They took off their goggles and gazed at her with their dark and frightening eyes, and bared their fangs. She saw the fires of hell, demons, screeching bats, blood, wolves, bones, and many other frighting things. The she imp froze in terror.

 "Now let's try this again." Dipper asked. "Madame would you kindly take us to the market?"

 "Ri...Right this way." She pointed a terrified finger over to the bridge wall and handed Steven some chalk. "Draw a door and knock."

[recosvidi1978-blog]

The reason I don use it in my Wednesday house shot league is because urethane doesn take advantage of the inherent easy ness of the pattern. Urethane needs head oil, which house shots lack on the outside of the lane, forcing you to play the middle and swing the lane. Well, urethane has worse recovery than reactive, and so misses outside may not recover, and even if it does, it has worse carry than reactive.. University of Toronto is the most prestigious and has a great location, but it is also very expensive and academically strenuous. Waterloo has a very well recognized tech sector, but a program like international relations is certainly not what they are known for. Western is well rounded and London probably has the lowest cost of living of any of the listed schools, but the geography of London is certainly nothing spectacular. I 34 with large pores that clog easily that gets very dry in the winter but oily in summer. This winter i switched to an oil cleaner only (Farmacy green clean balm) because every other cleaner left my face dry. I also splurged on Fresh Black Tea Kombucha essence as a hydrating toner (i think Klairs makes a good hydrating toner too) another hydrating product i will use that hasn caused breakouts is the Pacifica Wake Up Beautiful overnight mask i will use this when its esp cold/dry and it seems to prevent the dry patches i prone to around my mouth in winter. Social networking giant Facebook responded to these concerns in a blogpost last month, claiming that it down to how you use social media rather than social media itself being inherently bad. That true many technologies have the capacity to cause harm if used improperly. But that doesn mean that we 의성출장샵 shouldn interrogate the design and impacts of social media in its current form.. Ones I love are Paula Choice Resist Fluid SPF50 and UltraSun Fluid SPF50. Both runny fluids, and neither greasy or mattifying, which is just right for me. The UltraSun can leave a little shine, but I powder my face everyday anyway so that isn an issue. The second floor features the master bedroom with a spacious bathroom and walk in closet. Finally, the third floor features two additional double bedrooms, each with en suite bathrooms, and a kitchenette. This charming and historic residence, situated in a quiet but central corner in the heart of Rome, provides the perfect Roman holiday retreat.. 의성출장샵 That a really short sighted way too look at things. You don want to listen to Offset for "personal" rap because you used to Offset rapping about Pateks. Offset isn just a product, he a person and an artist, and he clearly wants to create more personal/meaningful work than he has in the past. There is a nomogram, which is another way of expressing data observations. It effectively a graph of size in cm vs percentile and you notice it fairly regular, with sharp increases in slope at the extremes. This indicates that while most people (in this case about 95%) 10 15 cm, there is more variability at the extremes, which again is to be expected in a normal distribution. Its honestly hard to portray the sinister vibe my step father had. Especially when he cut off the power to the house. He used to have this old timey medicine man mask stitched together with leather (similar to this), he would put that on the top of his head, get on all fours, and chase us making blood curdling screams and growls.

[daniel11ryan]

12 Best Entertainment Center for 2021

In the 1960s, there was a massive trend for entertainment centers. Everyone wanted to see and feel what it is like to own one. But due to limited options and exorbitant costs, people were reluctant to buy these big entertainment centers. But now things have changed. Technology is cheaper and more affordable than ever before.

A basic entertainment center costs less than $200, and the premium one can go as high as $10,000. Here are the 12 best entertainment centers you can buy right now, ranging from the cheapest to the costliest.

Better Homes & Gardens Steele TV Stand

The Better Homes and Gardens TV Stand adds a classic look and feel to your room. It comes with multiple storage options, and it can accommodate any flat television up to 80″ and 135 lbs. It features two separate storage drawers and an enclosed storage cabinet with two tempered glass doors. You can attach your DVD player, Gaming consoles, and other media devices without any hassle.

The Pros

Cheap and affordable

Classic design with espresso color

The Cons

Hard to assemble

Norloti Floating Entertainment Center

Get yourself a Norloti Floating Entertainment Center that matches any room with its minimalistic design. It can easily fit a 70″ TV, and the symmetrically equipment shelves complement the overall look and feel of the Norloti Floating Entertainment Center.

The Pros

Minimalistic design

Easy to assemble

The Cons

Limited storage space

Dorel Living Moriah Entertainment Unit

The Dorel Living Moriah Entertainment Unit is a modern entertainment center cum furniture that offers two cupboards with shelves and cutouts for wiring and one lower shelf for extra storage space. It sports a clean and trendy design that looks elegant in any room. The faux marble and natural wood complement the Dorel Living Moriah Entertainment Unit’s overall look, making it one the best entertainment centers for the price.

The Pros

Aesthetically pleasing design

Extra storage space

The Cons

Hard to assemble

Ameriwood Home Chicago Electric Fireplace TV Console

The Ameriwood Home Chicago Electric Fireplace TV Console gives you the perfect storage space and an electric fireplace as well. With features like AltraFlame Patented Technology that produces realistic fireplace effects while the inbuilt electric heater keeps your place warm, the Ameriwood Home Chicago Electric Fireplace TV Console is completely bang for your buck.

The Ameriwood Home Chicago Electric Fireplace TV Console supports TVs up to 50″ wide or 70 lbs.

The Pros

Cheap and affordable

Compact size

The Cons

Heavy

Hard to assemble

Manhattan Comfort Cabrini 2.2 Floating Wall Theater Entertainment Center

The Manhattan Comfort Cabrini 2.2 Floating Wall Theater Entertainment Center is one of the most prominent entertainment centers on our list. Apart from its pitch dark tones, the entertainment center comes with three media shelves, three telescopic drawer slides, and one overhead shelf with LED Lights.

It comes with three color options black, nut brown, and white gloss. Among the three, the black color looks soothing to the eyes and compliments the center’s overall look.

The Pros

Wire management

Super functional

The Cons

Hard to assemble

Fly AB3 35TV Wall Mounted Floating Modern Entertainment Center

The Meble Furniture & Rugs Wall Mounted Floating Modern Entertainment Center is a heavyweight in the entertainment center’s catalog. With a high gloss front panel and LED lights system, the Fly AB3 35TV takes the lead with its clean and sophisticated design. From gaming consoles to DVD players, the Fly AB3 35TV is the perfect companion for all kinds of entertainment devices.

The Pros

Urban design

Easy installation

The Cons

Heavy

Not recommended for smaller rooms

Wenge/White Cerie Floating Entertainment Center

The Wenge/White Cerie Floating Entertainment Center offers an easy-to-use sliding compartment that comes with cable management and a minimalist design that compliments this budget entertainment center’s overall look and feel. You can easily put your DVD players, gaming consoles, and other media players all at the same time with its spacious storage compartments.

The Pros

Clean and minimalist design

Spacious compartments

Cable management

Uniform body

Not recommended for smaller rooms

Domadeco toledodwhite

The Domadeco toledodwhite is a unique entertainment center that comes with wall units and glossy front doors. The two hanging cabinets with hardened glass doors and internal glass shelves look like futuristic cyberpunk machines. The illuminated LED lights add character and give a futuristic look to the entertainment center.

The Domadeco toledodwhite comes with 2x wall cabinets, 2x tv cabinets, and 2x shelves.

The Pros

Scratch-resistant

High gloss fronts

The Cons

Very hard to assemble

Walker Edison AZ60FPTTSG ($2,208)

The Walker Edison AZ60FPTTSG is a timeless piece of furniture with a unique modern design. The tempting fireplace stand and an excellent cable management feature put other entertainment centers to shame. With ten color options and adjustable LED flames, and adjustable heat frequency, the Walker Edison AZ60FPTTSG is the best entertainment center in this price segment.

The Pros

Unique design

Color options available

The Cons

Very heavy

Welton Solid Wood Entertainment Center

A classic European design mixed with the carved scrollwork accent on top, the Welton Solid Wood Entertainment Center takes you back in time with its traditional look and an excellent wooden finish. You can feel the luxury and royal sensation with this state-of-the-art entertainment center from Wayfair North America.

The Pros

Traditional European design

Carved scrollwork accent on top

The Cons

Very heavy

Limited storage space

Ocean Club Pacifica Entertainment Center by Tommy Bahama Home

Ocean Club Pacifica Entertainment Center by Tommy Bahama Home is one of our list’s costliest entertainment centers. It mixes elements from both traditional and contemporary styles and gives this unique and fresh aesthetic look to your living room. It has several open-face compartments, and it is made of high quality manufactured wood. The simple yet elegant design makes this premium entertainment center worth the price.

The Pros

Symmetrical design

Multiple storage compartments

The Cons

Expensive

Lacks feature like LED and glass

Saphire TV01 TV Wall Unit

The most expensive entertainment center comes from Macral Design. The Saphire TV01 TV Wall Unit is the most luxurious entertainment center on our list. Apart from being the priciest entertainment center, it is also the easiest and sturdiest entertainment center with a high gloss finish and LED lights.

The Pros

High-quality MDF material

Luxuries gloss finish

The Cons

Overpriced

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect entertainment center can be a difficult task. With so many options and brands, things might get confusing. If you want something that doesn’t empty your pocket while maintaining the same level of luxuriousness, then Manhattan Comfort Cabrini 2.2 Floating entertainment center is the best option for you. If you can spend more, the Domadeco toledodwhite that comes with LED lights and hardened glass doors would be your best bet.

Visit: office.com/setup

Source:https://luzelectronicsandtechnology.wordpress.com/2021/07/19/12-best-entertainment-center-for-2021/

[malgal7777]

Hiking with Tracy 2021:  Coyotes, Cliffs and Route Changes...Oh MY!

Boy, does time fly when you’re having fun!  In less than a month I will be filling my pledge to hike a 100 miles within the month of April.  In case you don’t remember why, it’s because I’m raising funds for 12 Bay Area public schools through RIDE 4 A REASON.  IF you can, please sponsor me at:  https://runsignup.com/tracyalbert

Of course I’m falling behind on this blog.  This might be the hardest part.  Hiking in California is easy.  I now know why John Muir kept going when he left Oakland and walked to Yosemite.  The East Bay regional parks, that’s why!

I find it unfathomable to want to live anywhere else.  According to the current talking heads on the news there’s a big exodus out of California.  My reply:  BYE FELICIA!  California, the Bay Area in particular, has always been good to me.  I came here via Amtrak in 1994 with no $, no job and no place to stay.  Literally came off the train with nothing.  Within a week I had a job & apartment and was on my way to bringing in some cash.  Wasn’t easy, and I even had to go back to Illinois with my tail between my legs for a couple of years, but now, I’m living the dream with my wonderful husband and beautiful daughter!  Life is a Gift when you appreciate what you DO have and stop complaining about what you DON’T.  

Do I miss my family back in Illinois?  Terribly.  Is it expensive?  I guess.  Does CA have problems?  Yes, lots.  But name a state that doesn’t?  And the whole “you get a lot more for your $ in other states”...more what?  I get so much out of CA.  I don’t need bigger or more.  Here’s a taste of what I need:

This is my neighborhood.  Nothing fills your soul like a little fresh air and a beautiful sunset.   

COYOTES!!  The coyote’s in the Bay Area are getting restless.  I’ve come across a few coyote’s in my two recent hiking spots:  Inspiration Pt. in Tilden Park and the Lafayette Reservoir.  I guess there’s one in particular that has attacked a few people in Lafayette.  Luckily, I got my walking sticks and I also carry a small mace spray can.  The mace spray is more for the perverts that undoubtedly are out there, but can be used for coyotes too!  When walking at Inspiration Pt. there were two large ones, coyotes, not perverts.  Took a snapshot (below).  Let’s just say they are very well fed. 

So we decided to give the coyotes a break and headed to the coast.  The West Coast of the Continental U.S.A is about 20 minutes from our house. There’s a portion of Hwy 1 that was closed off and they moved the highway inland.  The portion they closed is called Devil’s Slide. Not sure if it was called that because of the dangerous turns or the hillside collapsing onto the cars. Regardless, a vehicles loss is a pedestrians gain!  It’s a spectacular 1.3 mile stretch along the coast.  VERY WINDY, but spectacular and it’s now only used by pedestrians and bicyclists.  I even got Bob & Charlotte to join me again with the lure of the Pacifica Taco Bell afterwards.  I HATE Taco Bell.  Always have, always will.  But my husband LOVES it.  I think we’ll fill his coffin with Taco Bell soft tacos and he can enjoy eternal bliss.  It’s actually a cool spot.  Tons of surfers, no matter what time of the year it is.  Obviously this is where families go to teach the kids how to surf.  The Taco Bell “Cantina” is right along the water and the lure is you can walk up barefoot after your surf session. Except that window is never open.  The reality you’re in a dirty Taco Bell settles in quick and disappointment ensues. By the way, I stuck with my energy trail mix. Pacifica is quite nice though.  A quaint town tucked into a cove.  I hope to come back and try a different restaurant one of these days!

In one of my previous posts I mentioned that I wanted to do an urban hike.  Oakland is home to multiple street murals.  I love street art and that includes a lot of what people would refer to as “graffiti”.  One beautiful Saturday morning my husband Bob was enjoying a root canal in downtown Oakland and I was his ride home (he was all doped up on Xanax). So I decided to keep myself busy with a stroll through the neighborhood.  It’s one of those neighborhoods that has A LOT of potential.  Older vintage buildings with small businesses scattered throughout. It was good to see that the pandemic did not wipe out all of them, but saddened to see it definitely took its toll.  It’s a neighborhood that seems to take one step forward and then two steps back. They’re building a lot of Condos, so we’ll see what that does to the neighborhood.  That discussion is for another blog. 

I was not disappointed.  Fantastic!  I only wish a camera could do them justice. I started at 19th street and made my way into Oakland’s Chinatown.  I would like to document them all by canvassing a neighborhood each weekend.  I say document because they can disappear.  There’s a lot of building happening in Oakland and if a parking lot owner sells it’s property, most likely the murals there will be covered up by a condo monstrosity.  Which is what happened to one of my personal favorites.  Here are just a few that I encountered on my walk:

This weekend I’m headed back to Anthony Chabot Regional Park and Mt. Diablo.  I’m up to 10 miles, so steadily gaining traction.  Anthony Chabot has become my new happy place.  AND...I’m changing a couple of my routes:  First, I’m no longer going to hike Lake Chabot twice.  Instead, I’m going to start near my house (MacDonald Gate) and walk there, then go around the lake.  That will be 20 miles.  Second, Charlotte has a volleyball tournament in Reno on the last weekend of April.  Parents are not allowed to be inside for tournament, only athlete’s and coaches.  SO, I’m going to close my Ride4aReason pledge in Reno, which in my book is Tahoe.  I’ll keep you posted on the route I find. 

 Lastly, I’m so grateful for Ride 4 a Reason.  If not for them, I wouldn’t be doing this.  I’m absolutely loving it!  So, if you want to give yourself a challenge, sign up at https://rideforareason.weebly.com.

Or sponsor me and I’ll do all the hard work at: https://runsignup.com/tracyalbert.

Until next time people and Be Kind to One Another!  

[adorkablephil]

I’m here for you

I know sometimes it seems odd to have an older person in the phandom, but here’s a situation in which it might be comforting. I’m 47, but I love Dan and Phil just like you do, so we have something in common ... and I live every day dealing with mental health issues. If you suffer from depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, PTSD, DID, schizophrenia, borderline personality disorder, eating disorders, addiction, or any other mental health issue...

YOU ARE NOT ALONE

I myself deal with generalized anxiety disorder, panic attacks, PTSD, and bipolar disorder with severe depression. I don’t struggle with all of it at the same time, but it’s all there in my life ... every day ... ready to jump out at me at any moment. And sometimes it tackles me to the ground so hard I can’t get back up without help.

If that’s you, too, let me lend a hand to help you up.

I’ve been dealing with mental health issues since 2000, when I dropped out of grad school due to a sort of breakdown due to prolonged extreme anxiety. I’m not a professional, but in the years since then, I have put a lot of effort into learning how to live a happy life while dealing with mental illness. I’ve read books. I’ve attended support groups. I’ve attended classes. Benefit from my experience! Message me if you have questions or just want to talk. I don’t judge. I don’t care if anyone has diagnosed you or if you just feel rotten and want to talk to someone.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE

Lastly, I wanted to list a few of the apps I’ve found that help me, in case they might help some of you, too. It’s extremely useful to me to know that I always have these with me, right there on my phone, in case I start to panic or spiral downward.

- Pacifica: This is my favorite app! I use it on my phone to help with my anxiety and depression, and it has tons of features, including lessons about Cognitive Behavior Therapy, tools to help you question and reframe unhealthy thoughts, recorded “meditations” to help you calm down (I’ve listened to the five-minute “Anxiety Emergency” meditation many times and it has helped me a lot, but there are also specific meditations to help with “School Stress,” “Public Speaking,” “Social Situations,” “Falling Asleep,” “Coping with Physical Pain,” etc.), a section where you can set goals and give yourself credit for every small step you take toward achieving them, etc. The free version gives you tons of functions, or you can upgrade with a subscription to get access to even more. I have a subscription ($5.99/month or $35.99/year) and it’s totally worth it. But, like I said, the free version already has tons of stuff. I used the free version for about a year before I decided I liked it so much I wanted access to the rest of the features.

- BreathingZone: Unlike Pacifica, with its millions of features, this app is extremely simple, but I find it very effective. It basically just guides you through a paced breathing exercise, with soothing sounds and a pretty rainbow shape that expands with your in-breaths and shrinks with your out-breaths. I’ve often used this on crowded buses or when I feel a possible panic attack coming on. This app is completely free. (I’ve tried tons of paced breathing apps, but this is my favorite one because it’s calming and pretty.)

- iMoodJournal: Again, a fairly simple app, but effective for how I use it. It’s basically just a mood tracker, but tracking your daily moods can be very useful, especially if you have bipolar disorder. What I like most about this one is that the levels are customizable, so instead of the lowest rating (on a scale of 1-10) having to be “Awful” (or whatever the default is) and the highest rating be “Amazing” (or whatever the default is), I’m able to set them to “Most Depressed Ever” and “Most Manic Ever,” customizing all the levels in between as well. It also allows you to indicate feelings/emotions you’re having along with that mood rating. I can see how this app could be customized just for tracking levels of anxiety, too, if you wanted to make that highest rating “Worst Anxiety Ever” and the lowest rating “No Anxiety At All.” (If you have ever experienced “No Anxiety At All,” I am incredibly jealous of you.) This app is completely free.

- Spire: This one is more complicated and expensive, because it requires you to buy an actual device that clips onto your waistband and tracks your breathing. My breathing is a real indicator for me for a lot of things, so it was worth the money in my case. What the device does is notice how frequently you’re breathing and how deeply you’re breathing, and notify you (with a gentle buzz at your waist) if your breathing is going funky. You get to adjust the settings to tell it what situations should cause buzzing, and how strong the buzzing should be. I have mine tell me if I go 5 minutes without taking a deep breath, because that is usually a sign of increasing anxiety. Often, I won’t notice the anxiety building, but the little buzz at my waist will remind me to take some deep breaths, and it calms me down. But the Spire is $129.99 on Amazon, so it isn’t something everyone can afford. I’ve had mine for a couple years, though, and I can say that it has been really helpful. I’ve definitely had fewer panic attacks, because I think it has helped me calm my breathing before things got bad enough to get out of control. I’ve even learned that it can help me spot not only anxiety but also breathing patterns that indicate I’m starting to swing into hypomania! The app that comes with it has quite a few useful features, as well.

Anyway, those are just a few of the tools I use regularly to help deal with my own challenges. If you have any questions or anything, I’m always open to messaging or asks. I’m always here for you, and I honestly really do care. You are not alone!

[4evafitstore]

Best Holiday Gifts Under $30 in 2020

A present or a heartwarming gift should not be restricted to a big budget and most people in your life does not expect such gifts either. Holidays are all about being with your love one’s and showing your caring gesture toward them. A small budget gift does not count as a poor gift as long as it can carry some feeling with it.In any case, budget gifts are bit tricky to find. They must be thoughtful, meaningful and also a nice present for your love one’s at the same time. So, with the perfect combination of these three qualities, we ranked the online gift items this year and selected 54 of the best under budget gift below for you to choose from. Every one of them are things we already have or would happily buy and use in our daily lives.

4evafit lifestyle recives a commission from our affiliate partners when you buy through our links, but our reporting and recommendations are always independent and objective.

23 best holiday Gifts Under Budget

Dead Sea Mud Mask

Spa Quality Pore Reducer for Acne, Blackheads and Oily Skin ★★★★☆ $14.95 #1 Best Seller on Amazon Check On Amazon One of the most popular and best sellers on amazon with 82% positive reviews from people who used it. It’s really not just another typical face mask. It’s very smooth and easy to apply on and takes only 10mins of your time to give you a face smooth as a baby’s buttcheck. Makes your face soft, gives you refreshed and hydrated feelings.

Beard Grooming Kit – Gift for Men

Beard Grooming & Conditioner Set ★★★★☆ $25.91 Check On Amazon A wonderful gift for every man in your life. No need to worry about your husband using your conditioner or your daughter's comb.A all in one complete Beard Grooming Kit for your father or brother. Most of the people who bought it are very with its multiple usefulness. It has quality shops, conditioner, oil and some fine scissors & brushes. A wonderful holiday gift for men.

Wine Bottle Opener

Vintorio Wine Aerator Pourer ★★★★☆ $12.15 #1 Best Seller At Amazon Check On Amazon A thoughtful gift for the party host or someone’s personal use in daily life. Easy to use an easy to clean with ability to make your wine test better, even the cheaper one’s. A beautifully designed wine opener looks nice in dinner table with guests.Thousands of people experienced how Vintorio Wine Aerator Pourer dramatically improves their wine’s aroma. Texture and flavor simply by pouring with it in the glass. A wonderful gift for any dinner party. 

DASH MINI MAKER

THE MINI WAFFLE MAKER MACHINE ★★★★☆ $9.99 #1 Best Seller At Amazon Check On Amazon You would be surprised to know what a tinny waffle maker can do for one’s life. Because of its size, it’s really easy to fix in any palaces in the kitchen area. Totally not sticky and you won’t go through any scrapping or scrubbing of any sort.This mini waffle maker is just what they says, “plug & play”. This again defines that a great gift does not have to be a pricey gift. A wonderful Holiday Gift for $9.99 and it’s useful throughout the year. 

COLORFUL PAIR OF SOCKS

TIPI TOE WOMEN’S 12 PAIRS COLORFUL PATTERNED CREW SOCKS ★★★★☆ $18.99 Check On Amazon Beautiful dress color set of socks matches with your everyday clothes. A nice little gift for women’s in the house. Multiple color and patterns in soft worm shocks feels just nice to wear. Makes it a wonderful Holiday Gifts in Budget. 

5-BLADE VEGETABLE SLICER

SPIRALIZER STRONGEST-AND-HEAVIEST SPIRAL SLICER ★★★★☆ $32.97 Amazon’s Choice Check On Amazon Let’s makes Holiday more about eating healthy food’s and help the process of it easier. Spiralizer 5-Blade Vegetable Slicer makes slicing vegetables faster, easy to use & safer. There is nothing complicated about using these slicers.A wonderful Holiday Gift for anyone who likes to be a chef in the kitchen. Chopping just got fancier and faster for those who loves to be creative with their foods. A perfect tool for the job gets done right, super easy to use and clean and everything done within minutes. 

A MILK FROTHER MAKES COFFEE TEST BETTER

POWERLIX MILK FROTHER HANDHELD BATTERY OPERATED ELECTRIC FOAM ★★★★☆ $12.97 Amazon’s Choice Check On Amazon A milk frother is a great tool to have around the house to make a frothy latte or cappuccino that’s closer to what you usually would buy at a café. Makes it a very thoughtful Holiday Gift for people who drinks coffee in a regular basis. A small little gift to make your life easier. 

TURN ON OR OFF ANY ELECTRONICS FROM ANYWHERE USING YOUR PHONE

KASA SMART WIFI PLUG MINI BY TP-LINK ★★★★☆ $14.99 Available on Amazon Check On Amazon A very convenient and useful gift for almost anyone these days. Smart WiFI Mini Plug let’s the owner control his/her electronic turn on or off from anywhere thanks to Kasa app. Any home or office gadgets they can use amazon echo or google home assistance to control them. With the help of Kasa help they can set schedules and scenes for controlling as many devices as they want with one button. 

SKIN-CARE PRODUCT THAT HELP COMBATS BLEMISHES OVERNIGHT

MARIO BADESCU DRYING LOTION, 1 FL OZ ★★★★☆ $14.45 Amazon’s Choice Check On Amazon Skin care products are always bit risky to use especially when you have a very sensitive skin. A not so well produced skin care product can burn or damage your skin badly. Mario Badescu company is well known for their facial sprayers. If someone takes good care of their skin then Mario Badescu Drying Lotion can be a great Holiday Gift for them. 

A COLD BREW COFFEE MAKER

TAKEYA 10310 PATENTED DELUXE COLD BREW ICED COFFEE MAKER ★★★★☆ $19.99 #1 Best Seller on Amazon Check On Amazon It’s a very convenient Holiday Gift for anyone who drinks a good amount of coffee every day. It can save someone hundreds of dollars per year on iced coffee. Easily fits in to almost all refrigerator doors and very simple to use. Takeya 1310 Patented Deluxe Cold Brew Coffee Maker makes quite a good amount of cold brew at once and also if someone need more than one quart, it’s also comes with a two-quart option. 

A POPULAR COOKBOOK THAT AMAZED LOTS OF PEOPLE THIS YEAR

NOTHING FANCY: UNFUSSY FOOD FOR HAVING PEOPLE OVER –BY ALISON ROMAN ★★★★☆ $24.87 Available on Amazon Check On Amazon A fancy and filled with the latest cooking instructions cookbook can be a great Holiday Gift someone who loves cooking and be creative with it.  A perfect cookbook for DIY from author Alison Roman which is suitable for people around all ages. DIY martini bar, coconut-braised chicken and chickpeas are one of the few testy recipes elaborated in this cookbook. 

SHOES PROTECTOR SPRAY

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[goodnightwatch]

AN (IM)PERFECT COLLECTION

An Horological Psychologist’s Magnum Opus, or How a Lowly Graduate Student Amassed a World-Class Collection of Fine Timepieces.

By: Andrew Lawrence Smith

Part 1

You might think it’s easy to collect watches, but I’ll have you know that even if you’re the richest person in the world, you simply cannot know what to buy and when and where and why to buy it until you have put in an insane amount of work. In some ways it really evens the playing field between the rich and the working class because it’s not about money, it’s about achieving a holistic collection that balances and harmonizes everything from wrist-time to occasion. Collecting is as much of an art as the watches themselves. Some people get lucky, sure, but then again some people win the lottery and if you’re reading this, that is not going to happen to you, probably ;).

Hi there. My name is Andrew and I am a 37 year old PhD student and Jungian Depth Psychology Consultant finishing a dissertation in Jungian & Archetypal Studies and Horology at Pacifica Graduate Institute. Do they offer the horology part? No. I created that after being unable to separate my depth psychological research from wristwatches. This is what we deem a vocational call. When you spend hours observing the least and the greatest of watches under magnification to understand what “fine” means and when you press each watch against your ear to hear every tick and tone made by the watch, you’re just barely beginning to be on the path. My research discusses how timepieces, the wristwatch in particular, might function as a modern mandala, having a real connection to the unconscious archetypal Self, but that goes way beyond the scope of this essay. To understand some of the terms I use, you might need to dip into Jungian depth psychology, and for the most important definitions, they can be found here: http://www.psychceu.com/jung/sharplexicon.html

Many arrive at a collection that fits them by procuring countless timepieces and then throwing them back into the abyss in order to please their peers (fashion watches and status pieces) and have the experience that refines one’s taste, some of which I’ve done, but the serious collector will lie in wait like a dragon observing from atop a mountain of gold; the gold being serious knowledge, in the vein of attempting to acquire an horological and psychological philosophers’ stone. When all variables align—after months and years of reading and discussing and visiting boutiques and second-hand shops either brick-and-mortar or online—only then will one receive the full satisfaction of the perfect watch for them, the perfect complete set, and the perfect price to once again return to one’s perch fully satisfied with the catch/game of a lifetime. Needless to say I will not be discussing the auction world at all. Auctions are for rich people. Although the rich or super-rich should go through the process that I have gone through, they really don’t have to. Their loss. Then again, they hire guys like me to pick out their watches! This is a story for the ultra-conservative (no politics implied) watch collector. The metaphor of the miserly, yet punctilious dragon, represents the foundation of the composition of an horological psychologist. Horology is cool, psychology is cool, but I contend that it is only when the whole process of being an horologist is twinned with the knowledge and experience of depth psychology that one can truly enter into this deeper world of alchemical achievement, understanding, and appreciation.

Put another way, what I have found from studying wristwatches—as they relate to universal mandala symbols—is that the image of the timepiece, especially the wristwatch (in my own psyche) replaces every single religious symbol with a unified and integral symbol of the height of human consciousness and beyond. I’m more than just your average atheist, I am an horological psychologist who has integrated world mythologies into a knowledge and gnosis of being that connects the alchemically perfect timepiece and the supreme meaning of the individual and collective psyche; Jung’s notion of the archetype of the Self, the whole being of the individual. For more on that, you can hold out for my completed dissertation, and in the meantime read C.G. Jung’s “Memories Dreams Reflections.”

The image above was taken by me and is from C.G. Jung’s “The Red Book: Liber Novus.” It is one of many mandala images that Jung created to symbolize the whole Self archetype. A perfect watch on the wrist does not fall short of the feelings evoked through this depiction of presentiating origin: becoming fully integrated into the purest harmony of consciousness.

Part 2

It was by accident, or rather synchronicity, that on the 28th of June, 2012 I found myself attracted to a cheap, skeletonized mechanical wristwatch that was glaringly out of place amid items I was perusing to fill a few needs for my San Francisco apartment. I had been studying Nikola Tesla in depth and was possessed by the genius of his inventions and notions of free electricity. I thought that using/wearing a watch, which would need no battery replacement, was/is an ecologically responsible and very cool thing to do. At $120, it seemed expensive, but I was overcome by a strange feeling of passion and curiosity in the name of the great Tesla (best human who ever lived) and so I ordered it. Full disclosure, I sweat bullets on the MUNI back then thinking someone would mug me for that watch. Now I ride the bus with a Rolex hanging out like IDGAF x). But I digress.

Upon removing the watch from its box for the first time after it arrived at my door, little did I know that I would from that day forward never go another day without enjoying a mechanical watch on my wrist. Case and point, at this very moment I am wearing my Breguet 5327. Thus commenced hours upon days of winding, listening, and viewing the watch under magnification so that I could figure out how everything worked. It might’ve been a poor excuse for a watch, but I could not stop staring at all of the moving parts, which had me mesmerized as if I was flying through the clockwork at the train station in the film Hugo.

Even in this bottom-of-the-barrel movement that had been manufactured in a place with vastly lower standards than Switzerland, I could see motion and beauty that had/has me transfixed on a level that was/is far greater than any basic aesthetic, technical, or functional appeal. I purchased a few loupes—5x, 10x, and 30x—to get a closer look. Since I still have this watch, I do not have to imagine what it feels like to dive into the minute details of every stationary and moving part. I can gaze upon, and through, the synthetic rubies right now and see a universe of possibility in an instrument that is only meant to tell us where the sun in the sky might be at any given moment so that we will know when to perform certain socially agreed upon human rituals. That said, with each of my watches I often engage in Active Imagination (a Jungian method by which one re-members or discovers knowledge sourced from the collective unconscious) and the imaginal entities that animate in my own mind, inspired by the wristwatch, tell endless, fascinating stories.

Two years after encountering that initiatory watch, owning cheap mechanical watches of various designs and complications (my experience of horology exposure 101), I finally took the plunge and bought my first fine timepiece. Now to be fair, I must mention that I spent a lot of time during those years defending my cheap watches as if owning something that costs more than a few hundred dollars US would never be necessary, like some poor souls still do, but eventually I grew up and made the sacrifices necessary to possess something serious. You need a thick skin in the watch world in order to interface with other Modern Day Watch Enthusiasts who are worth talking to. Surviving your own ignorance to become horologically knowledgeable is a noble and brutal journey through the underworld. And as Jung would have it, emerging from this underworld is simply another stage of individuation; an expansion of consciousness improving the abilities and life of the individual.

My first fine watch was the Omega Speedmaster Professional ref. 3577.50 “from the Moon to Mars” purchased on the 2nd of January in 2014. Obsessed with Elon Musk’s dream to travel to and terraform Mars, as a byproduct of being equally obsessed with Nikola Tesla, this was a watch that not only met all of my horological desires but also instantly possessed a multiverse of meaning for me. I imagined that one day I would take this watch with me on a public transport to the Red Planet. Elon wants to die on Mars, and quite frankly, so do I. To me this watch was so expensive (for me at the time) and so perfect that there would never be a reason to own anything else. Again, little did I know that I would be very wrong about that. Enter the “Coke.”

The Rolex GMT-Master II 16710 Coke began to burrow into my mind as I continued to scour the internet for the best deals on fine watches of all kinds. Every single day I was on eBay, Chrono24, watchestobuy, watchuwant, Crown & Caliber, Jomashop, The RealReal… You name it, if the site was selling fine watches, I was keeping tabs. Apologies to anyone I missed. By this time I was reading magazines, blogs, and watching all sorts of videos that were giving me a fairly exhaustive exposure to what was out there and who was buying/selling certain kinds of timepieces in certain categorical brackets. My aim was/is to understand watches on a deep psychological level as they affect the experiences of others and of course my own Self. Not just to be a numbers guy who can flash the timepiecs but say almost nothing meaningful about them. I must confess that it is important to know that, in regards to my personality type (INFP), I operate heavily by listening to my own intuition, and I could not shake this watch; just as I could not shake the Mars. There was more than just the analysis and process of elimination, it was something like a powerfully religious magnetism. The Coke was coming to me in my dreams. I have the dream journal to prove it! However, that’s in my dissertation. On a number of occasions I placed offers on a Coke, but came up with nothing because either a) the seller was shady, or b) I just couldn’t get the price or set where I wanted it. Dealing with watch sellers can be tricky, unlike being face to face with your local AD, so it’s important to be patient and cautious; to not be so excited about that exact watch you’re hunting that you get taken for a ride.

Then finally the day came when I saw a great deal for a clearly authentic Coke (gotta have that paperwork) in amazing condition and I made an offer that stuck. Again, I thought I was going to be done forever. That this was the collection of a lifetime. I had unique Speedmaster that almost no one else had and I had a Coke, which is a highly respected and desired timepiece across the globe. I chose the GMT because I could use it to track 3 time zones more efficiently than on any other timepiece, including world timers, and this came in very handy with all of the traveling and international communicating that I do. Not to mention, the whole design of the watch and color scheme is unusually attractive and versatile (still my favorite Rolex, aside from material objections), but I had not ever seen one in the metal. On a flight home from Cyprus I ran into a guy who was wearing one. I asked him if I could see it and of course he obliged. I have pictures to prove it (see below). I was wearing my Moon to Mars and just knew that the Coke would complete the circle for me. The one thing that I did not really take into account until my own Coke arrived was the size, which didn't register on that agonizing flight back to the US from Cyprus, where I had attended an amazing conference on Time and the Psyche. The conference was a magical experience, but I do not recommend that anyone fly a cumulative 44 hours just to have 5 days on the ground, no matter where you are going.

I ordered my 16710 from 1989 at a great price in pristine condition with papers and when it came, I was bewildered. It seemed so small! Was it actually fake? Did I get bamboozled? Impossible. All of this time I had been looking at huge blown up pictures of the watch and assumed it had the same presence as a Submariner, but there it was, 100% authentic and smaller than I expected. I wanted that Submariner-style crown, big and chunky, but after a while the size of the 16710 crown began to make sense and the tasteful nature of this specific piece became clearer from one day to the next.

I spent so much time examining this Coke, to make sure that it I hadn’t made a mistake, that synchronistically every aspect of its charm became powerfully apparent and intoxicating beyond belief. I had been wearing obnoxiously large watches with Chinese tourbillons that dwarfed even my Speedmaster and now finally the curse was lifting. I saw the light. Praise the gods! Certain watches worked for certain wrist sizes and certain moments in life. Wearing a watch that is too big for you is simply childish and lacking in discipline and taste, just like believing that there is a god that is literally real. This Rolex functioned as training wheels for wearing watches that actually fit properly and looked correct for my physical build and personality type. I remember thinking that the bracelet was too narrow and that the case of the watch only covered the surface area of my wrist, which made it feel like there wasn’t enough watch there, but in reality it was a match made in mythological, alchemical heaven. To this day I still think that the textural design and character of that vintage Oyster bracelet is better than the new 904L iteration and that the 116710 is right on the line of just barely being not too big. Unless you’re deliberately trying to be a clown, a dinner plate on the wrist is no bueno.

In all of my idealism, I thought that the Coke and the Mars were going to be my life companions, but alas we never really do finish growing and developing. Especially when we finally meet that special someone! Enter the Kwan.

Part 3

It was my great fortune to synchronistically meet (a story for another time), date, and ultimately marry my wife, the magnificent Jane Kwan, who for better or for worse has supported me through this transformational journey that is watch collecting. She was kind enough to be fascinated at first, and is now at least tolerant, but when I began to show her how you could actually store value or even potentially make a little money with the acquisition and sale of certain timepieces, she started to pay attention. Chinese people, like those of my Jewish heritage, love a reliable investment opportunity. I made it my goal to abandon hunting “good deals” on a wide range of watches and began hunting the exact watches that I would personally want to own and wear (not just stick in a vault), but only if the price was extraordinary or unusually fair. The Internet has made this relatively easy, if you’re willing to put in the time, and so I scoured the entire visible market for what I felt would be the perfect watch. Long story short, I discovered and then began to obsess over and follow/hunt the Patek Philippe Calatrava 5153G-001. Believe me when I tell you that I have written many pages about why this watch is, to me, the perfect dress watch, if not the perfect watch all around, aside from not being as durable as a Rolex, but again I digress. To be honest, this watch was my holy grail (a subject that I have expounded upon in other places as possibly the single most abused horology term aside from “in-house”) and I thought that I would never get to see it in my lifetime.

One day I found the Calatrava for sale online at a price that was unbelievable. My wife is almost painfully patient, and so we watched the piece sit on the website for nearly a month, while I nearly fell apart with anxiety waiting for her to make a choice. In the end, her instincts were right because the price continued to go down. But I really could not comprehend why no one was buying it. When we made the phone call to see about a best offer, we were able to take the price down even lower and so acquired the watch well below value thanks to my wife’s belief and investment in me, your humble watch hunter. Blasting into the side of this mountain precipitated a landslide to follow.

Not long after that my wife wanted something that she could wear every day. I had been hunting the Rolex Datejust 116234 with black dial, because it is my favorite iteration of the DJ and was able to find that watch well below value also. I thought it might be a bit large for her, but when it arrived it was a perfect fit at 36mm. While the watch is very cool, and occasionally I’ll sneak it away from her to wear it for a little while, it doesn’t make the cut for a perfect collection for me. I needed my watch collection to devour the catalogue of essential horological functions and representations.

However, I was jealous of the almost white-gold looking oyster bracelet and thus I faced a dilemma. The call to adventure was back! I realized that I could own both my Mars and Coke or I could sell them and own the singular Rolex GMT-Master II 116710 BLNR as basically an even trade (at the time), a watch that I still think is slightly less appealing aesthetically than the Coke as it at that time pertained to my personality, but possesses the ultimate in materials ever released from Rolex. I needed some time to think about this. Rolex’s alchemy game had become massively stronger than where it was in 1989. A few weeks later, in Honolulu, I was flipping through one of the tour books and when I turned it over to look at the back, there it was: the BLNR. Synchronicity, as usual, was determined to prevail. Now, I know that this watch is heavily advertised, possibly more than Tag or Hublot if that’s possible, but at that moment I felt like I was looking at a picture of a long-lost friend. The time had come to pull the trigger. I had spent several lovely days swimming in the ocean with my Coke, and now it was time to let it go.

The beach I frequented during my stay in Honolulu. Anyone who has been there knows where it is ;).

A shot of my Coke in Honolulu on the way to get some Spam Musubi!

The rosary bracelt pictured here was acquired in Cyprus, gifted to me by the great Angeliki Yiassemides (author of “Time & Timelessness”), not long before I managed to acquire my Coke. The meaning is strong in this image…

The book in the hotel room demanding that I trade up.

Horology boutiques... Always calling me…

Impossible to find one with black dial in a boutique, I spent some time admiring this beauty in white before that time came when my wife made a dream become reality.

With a heavy heart, I managed to part with my first fine watch and my first Rolex, selling them for fair market prices. Finding the BLNR for a steal is basically impossible, especially if you’re looking to buy within a relatively tight timeframe (aiming to acquire the watch mere months before moving to Copenhagen), so I found the best deal I could with a complete set and as planned basically traded about the same amount of money for those two watches to buy the one BLNR. This was good enough for me and my wife because it is still holding around the same value I invested and I basically had the experience of buying a brand new Rolex with a complete set minus stepping foot inside of an Authorized Dealer, an experience that is not at all important to a watch hunter like me; at least not at this time of life, but maybe later when I have established myself and I can afford that level of treat.

I honestly thought that I wouldn’t be as happy with the BLNR, as with the Coke, because black and red is so much more “me” along with other reasons and qualities (yadda yadda yadda, as Jane is fond of saying), but when it came I was filled with excitement. I opened the box and there it was: my long-lost friend whom I had been missing for the gods know how long. Most call it the Batman, I knew immediately that this was to be my R2D2. It doesn't matter that so many others own it or that the adverts were drilling into my brain. Consolidating to this watch was possibly the best horological decision I’ve ever made because although there was still a lingering color objection, I suddenly had a monstrously better watch to wear every day that met every single other checkpoint I felt one could demand from a daily-wear: 1. 904L steel, which really does feel like wearing white gold, but not quite as heavy a. Something that can take the hits and scratches and will withstand polishing dramatically better 2. White gold hands and indices, which contrast perfectly against the black dial 3. Blindingly bright blue lume, which my wife prefers to her green lume and makes it easy to tell the time under any circumstances aside from maybe actual blindness 4. The blued Breguet overcoil hairspring in the tried and true 3186 movement, something I don't even need to see to appreciate 5. The 5mm comfort link, which is a huge design leap forward compared to the oversized and floppy comfort extension on the original Oyster bracelet 6. GMT aligned clicks, which didn’t really ever seem to line up perfectly with the 16710 7. And most important of all, the very first two-color Cerachrom bezel, completing, to me, the most wearable, useful, and legible timepiece ever made 8. When you consider that this watch not only embodies everything you’d want and nothing you don’t, it’s easy to excuse the blue and simply hope for the red to come through someday 9. Finally, in review, this watch contains the best of every Rolex white metal: 904L steel, white gold, and platinum. As such, it is an alchemical masterpiece; and it has that chunky Submariner-style Triplock crown! Now I like both crowns for different reasons.

People have been calling it the Batman, and I get that. I’m a huge Batman fan and wouldn’t try to change the moniker even if I could, but for me it is the R2D2 riding along with me as I pilot this time machine we call a human body. My consciousness is the Luke inside of this Incom T-65 X-wing Starfighter and my 116710 R2D2 is the choice navigator, always down to take a beating for the rebellion ;).

So now I had a BLNR and a Calatrava shared with my wife (plus her 116234 to enjoy when she isn’t wearing it), completing two out of four watches of a complete set that I call “a holy quaternity.” What more could a man ever hope for? Would I really ever need to break a sweat over more than these two watches to complete the ultimate collection? I even had access to my favorite Datejust when my wife wasn’t wearing it, even though it does not fit the bill for my personal living symbol of wholeness of Self. My little wrist R2D2 and our white gold Darth Vader seemed like a complete set all by themselves. And yet, there was more to come, and rightly so!

My wife and I moved to Copenhagen so that she could attend DTU to earn her MA in Architecture. Being the unreasonably lucky guy that I am, I got to tag along and spend my days exploring one of the coolest (and happiest) cities in the world whilst writing my dissertation on psychology and horology. Several months in, after spending day after day chatting with awesome folks on MDWE, a gentleman put a Speedmaster “Legendary Moon Watch” ref. 311.30.42.30.01.005 complete set in basically new condition up for sale. A discussion about how this boilerplate design was so perfect it’s boring was going around and so at first I wasn’t too keen on the watch. I remembered my Mars and thought that the original Moon Watch was too plain and too common. However, the more I looked at it the more I realized what it had to offer. So many guys were/are going in for that vintage chronograph with the running seconds and 30 minute register without the hour register, which is a great and classic and traditional watch concept/discipline, but I need the hours! Even if it challenges aesthetics and purity. Honestly, purity has never really been my thing ;). Authenticity is a whole other kettle of fish! So then what I realized was, this was not going to be a watch that I spent time looking at during the day. This was a Good Night Watch that needed/needs to be useful in the dark. What better watch for darkness and time writing/recording/chrono-scoping than a boilerplate Speedmaster?!

The price was fair and I could certainly get most if not all of my money back if I needed to sell it, so I figured, why not experience the moon watch as a complete package in all of its boring glory. Sure, it’s no Moon to Mars and the literature won’t come in Japanese with a dedication to one of the world’s greatest artists, Leiji Matsumoto, but it would still be qualified by NASA for space missions and there were lots of other very cool accessories that would be fun to explore. Not to mention the history, which I must say ought to be valued well above just one spectacular artist. I pulled the trigger and the watch and its enormous packaging were at my Danish door within a few days. Upon opening the display box, a feeling came over me that I did not expect. The watch was/is so much nicer than the Moon to Mars, so much more sober and less cartoonish (not really an insult, actually accurate), and it instantly felt like it belonged on my wrist and that it would blend in like some kind of chameleon-like symbiotic creature. Almost instantly I finally knew what this watch was for.

While the Speedmaster had been and is still being used for outer space missions, I would be and am using this watch for INNER space missions. I sized the bracelet, which was a joy because it came/comes with screw end-caps rather than the basic link pins, placed the watch on my wrist and then started the chronograph right before going to sleep. When I woke up in the middle of the night to journal my dreams, I knew almost exactly how long I had been asleep, which really helped me to prioritize my time so that I wouldn’t wake up so much that I wouldn’t be able to return to slumberland. After finishing my journaling, I started the chronograph again, went back to sleep, and when I woke up I could see that I had gotten the eight-ish hours I needed to be rested enough for the day. I’m sure some of you go through the process of sleeping for eight hours without even thinking about it, but my dream life is so active that it is easy for me to lose track of how long I’ve been asleep, so this watch became an instantly useful tool that I can’t live without, just like the BLNR. And because it’s manually wound, I don’t have to stress out the winding train of an automatic chronograph; plus I have the pleasure of winding a watch every morning as the third thing I do after photographing the dial and resetting the chronograph. What a sweet ritual for a watch enthusiast!

My collection was complete. Right? I had my R2D2, which would go with me everywhere during the day, and I had my Good NIght Watch, which would track my sleep intervals and follow me into my dreams. And when it came time to celebrate something special, the Darth Vader (Calatrava) would take its place on my wrist under a cuff. Who could ask for anything more? There was only one slight problem. A large part of my journey after receiving that first mechanical wristwatch was exploring RGM in depth, which led me to Breguet. While I wasn’t sold on the idea of spending big money for a tourbillon since the science shows that it essentially has no real effect on accuracy, there was an element to watchmaking that I had fallen in love with before I even considered owning a fine watch of my own: guilloché.

RGM makes a killer tourbillon (reminiscent of a Speake Marin/Hamilton hybrid), let’s not mince words, only paralleled by the likes of Breguet, Patek Philippe, and Greubel Forsey (honorable mentions, Louis Moinet and Jaeger-LeCoultre - that one’s for Tim Mosso), and does some outstanding guilloché work with their own rose machine/lathe in Lancaster, PA. However, if you’re going to really tighten the restraints on a collection that is meant to be perfect (a true holy quaternity), there’s really no other choice than to go with the godfather of the practice: Breguet; arguably the most important historical figure/alchemist in watchmaking, and the inventor of many components that even the so-called “holy trinity” (lame designation, because Christianity is for people who don’t want to read more books—funny/not funny) still benefit from today. Hence I controversially argue that Breguet completes the holy quaternity and in many ways is still on top of PP, VC, and AP as the senex manufacturer (Harlan MDWE, bless his heart, will of course agree–love you, mean it). By this time I had visited so many boutiques, Tourbillon SF being one of my favorites, that I was saturated with the knowledge of what Breguet and other top-end (not just high-end) watch companies had to offer. Out from behind the stormy clouds of tourbillons and Jacquet Droz and Blancpain and A. Lange & Sohne and De Bethune and Ulysse Nardin came a piece that on any other day I would’ve ignored.

The Calatrava that was/is already in our possession does in fact have a guilloché black sunburst dial, but I wanted something that had/has/emanates the vibrant, timeless energy of 18th century watchmaking tradition, radiating from its finely crafted alchemical masterpiece of a dial and case. I had the opportunity to experience the skeletonized Breguet perpetual calendar tourbillon, but there was something missing even with that watch. Again, size and money are meaningless and relative. It was when I finally had a chance to take a close look at the 5327 that I saw that in any class for any money, this watch had/has it all. It has one of the most extraordinary complications ever invented, the perpetual calendar. It has moon phase, which is hugely important in psychology as a principle of divine consciousness. It has power reserve, which is arguably unnecessary on an automatic watch, but with the layout of the power reserve, moon phase, and date register at six o’clock, the 5327 pays perfect homage to the notorious automatic (perpétuelle) quarter-repeating watch with dumb (à toc) repeater from the late 18th century. This was/is the Breguet to own! Sitting in an office piled with books, including volumes about Breguet and the lovely publication that was created for The Legion of Honor in San Francisco, when they had their Breguet exhibition and lectures, I found myself having a full experience of awakening to the truth of yet another wristwatch. Except this time it was THE ONE. The only... This time, without a doubt, it was THE watch to end all watches, for me. I had done the work. I had read the books, scoured the Internet, been to the boutiques, met or at least studied the people, and in the end the Breguet Perpetual Calendar Classique 5327 presented itself as the answer I was looking for from both the multiverses of horology and psychology: all of the craftsmanship, all of the technology, all of the meaning, and all of the enjoyment from wearing one could ever ask for. Period, paragraph, life mission accomplished. Except, I didn't have the money x). That solution, which came later, was the real blessing.

Before I get into that, on a more somber note, I would like to mention that compared to Breguet’s latest QP, the ref. 5447, Breguet made an unfortunate design decision that is not in keeping with the more traditional layout. Maybe it’s great for marketing, but it does two things: departs from the classique tradition in a way that is unbearably modern, and treads dangerously toward cheapening the name of A.L. Breguet. Swapping power reserve for retrograde month was a particularly unfortunate decision, almost as undesirable as the choice to switch the angle of the moon phase to a less interesting and, I would contend, invasive vertical position. While that dial might be slightly more efficient in terms of the flow of reference and legibility, it is far from an upgrade and has lost that original 18th century charm. I’d wager that Breguet himself might agree. As such, this specific reference, the 5327, continues to wear the crown (pun intended) as what I feel is the greatest Breguet QP wristwatch ever made. That being said, I have dubbed the watch my Holy Grail, together with the Speedmaster, the GMT, and the Calatrava, this completes my personal Holy Quaternity. However, there is always a “fifth element,” intentionally playing on a reference to the film of the same name from 1997. That fifth element (the eternal energy of love and passion) to me is the transcendent holy grail, which is a watch that is so extraordinary and so perfect for the individual that it doesn’t even exist yet. The super rich uber-collectors will know what I’m talking about: a subscription piece that perhaps one’s preferred watchmaker doesn’t even know how to make. For me, in all seriousness, this would be the currently imaginary and absurd Greubel Forsey Quantième Perpétuel Chronograph Grande Sonnerie in a 41mm platinum case. Although, I’d take a GF chronograph, as long as it’s hand-wound. Could it ever possibly get any better than that? I seriously doubt it. At least for an individual like myself.

And so recently I found this perfect Breguet at a ridiculously low price. I mean a price that normally only dealers get from other dealers. This watch needed to be procured. My wife was not about to invest another substantial sum into a wristwatch since she felt that she had already diversified in that direction far enough with the Patek. And so she suggested that I ask my father if he would be interested in making the investment. After lengthy explanations over email and handling some obvious objections that a non-horology scholar might have, he generously agreed to help me make the investment to both aid in my research and hold value that only presents itself once in a lifetime. Due to this generosity and collective cooperation, it is my privilege and responsibility to care for this Breguet as the final piece to my horological individuation puzzle. The mandalas to complete the supreme mandala of the current manifestation of my own archetypal Self have been assembled like Voltron. And now that the collection is complete, my mission is to take exhaustive photographs, engage in active imagination (alchemical hermeneutics) with each piece and the whole collection for my research, and to cook it all down in the vas alembic of consciousness to create my very own horological opus.

Here’s an example of what enters my imagination when I engage in reverie (Active Imagination or Alchemical Hermeneutics) around one of the watches (often including its literature), offering a lingering (reverie) around or daydreaming into the Breguet dial: The guilloché pattern for the power reserve looks like the waves of the sea or the ocean. I am reminded of the image of the solar barge in Liber Novus p. 55. Aptly placed, it is above the other complications, next to the moon phase, which is obscured by a hand carved cloud pattern: the essence of the imagination. So the heavens and the waters, forged in fire and carved into earth or metal. The pattern in the date register is that of a waterfall or descending cliffs, reaching down into the underworld. All of these being supported by the primary dial hand carved rose lathe or rose machined pyramids (clou de paris). The pyramids or sacred geometry of transcendent consciousness. Within the big mandala that is the watch dial are 5 smaller mandalas: the moon phase, which embodies our human-centric lunar story and mythology; the leap year, which makes it possible for me to see the accurate date for the rest of my life without adjusting the timepiece; the month, a centered indicator of the positions of the gods; the day, a de-centered indicator of the positions of other gods; and finally, the date, a concept invented by people who want to control time and other people, to no avail one hopes. Might be best to simply let go of that craving for control, let people be peaceful unto themselves and allow time to flow with the Force of Nature. A dream within a dream... The watch does have Breguet’s signature coin edge or fluted sides, so the watch is to be treated as a sort of super sacred coin. This coinage or coin edge appears to be symbolic of the archetypal pillar: the pillars that held Samson, the pillars of Rome, and the pillars of current modern civilization. However, even after this current human experiment is dust and rubble, the pillars of time will stand as strong as they always have and it will never have mattered that humans were a part of it. A testament from the Antikythera mechanism.

It is possible that I may actually have to sell the Breguet after I am finished with my research sometime next year, unless by some miracle I make enough money to completely own the whole thing by myself, but that is not important because all that matters is that for a time in my life I had, in my possession, a perfect collection. The Holy Quaternity! “For a few minutes, they were mine. That is enough.” https://youtu.be/c9O1VVeMzhc Charade (8/10) Movie CLIP - The Most Valuable Stamp (1963) HD.

It doesn’t matter how it got there and it doesn’t matter if I don’t get to keep it. What matters is that, since we can’t take any of this with us to the grave anyway, I have the priceless gift of the experience. This was a group effort. My sacrifices and investment were/are largely those of time, obsessive research, and unearthing opportunities, which in reality is just as valuable as the money others allowed me to use to assemble this project. From the depths of passion, love, and family, I have been made individuated and whole, for now. Through psychology and horology I have healed myself in ways most people cannot imagine and have had the great fortune to inspire others. Countering the cruel trick of the perpetual calendar complication (never being able to live long enough to see it need an adjustment), I am filled with gratitude for what I have had the privilege to do with the time I have been given. Through bringing all of these elements together, I have found true happiness and may for a time be with this imperfect, perfect collection to remind myself of the cost involved in striving to create something truly special: a genuine opus, if not magnum opus. No one can do it alone. We require relationships to individuate, as Jung said, and at the ripe age of 37, I know that my watch collection and my Self are at last in harmony.

Conclusion

Watch collecting is not just some silly thing men do with their extra money, nor is it about amassing a monstrous volume of different examples for the sake of becoming your own museum. Watch collecting is as much an art as is watchmaking itself or the creation of any sculpture or painting. It requires focus, dedication, precision of craft, and most of all it requires a determination to produce the best possible result from the knowledge that has been gained and the resources—people or otherwise—that have been procured.

I am continuing to work on my dissertation on psychology and horology while figuring out where I want to focus my career from here on out. It seems like Tesla, Inc. is the most logical choice, so we’ll see if they or a watch boutique will have me. As far as this collection goes, what I know is that I will always have my R2D2 because it is the one watch that I can’t live without that can go anywhere: land, sea, air, and space. Depending on what the future holds for me career-wise, I might have to live without the Speedmaster and just use a beater chrono until I rebuild my value strength, since it takes quite a bit more to hold a collection like this all on one’s own. The Calatrava will be here because it is my wife’s investment and my privilege to enjoy as part of our partnership. However, it is worth bearing in mind that none of these things are permanent and that any amount of time being in ownership of the completed holy quaternity set is ultimately more than enough of an accomplishment no matter how long you keep it together. It takes a lot of work to learn about all of these manufacturers and iterations and value propositions. It’s even harder to get clear which ones matter to you on a profound level to the point that you would choose four and exclude all others; especially when considering that owning these watches is a choice that was made at the exclusion of any other products, such as cars, houses, hoarding currency, and any other type of man-made creation. And then to have them all just sort of casually ticking away on your desk is a luxury that very few people will ever know/experience. For that I cannot thank the people who believed/believe in me enough. I am lucky, I am grateful, I have my wife and family to thank for everything, in addition to other friends and enthusiasts who were willing to engage my passion, and I hope that what I have learned and my story will be something that is paying my fortune forward: giving back to the collective community of folks who simply wish to be their best selves; to be good citizens, as Plato might’ve imagined it.

In review and in final conclusion, this is an imperfect watch collection that to me is perfect, in my estimation from the research I’ve done and the experiences that I have had:

It is my personal gnosis, based on my research in depth psychology and horology, that there are two kinds of quaternities (not trinities, because a trinity is really just an incomplete system, lacking the feminine principle, among other things) in the horological universe: 1. The top four watchmakers in the Swiss watchmaking industry a. Breguet b. Patek Philippe c. Vacheron Constantin d. Audemars Piguet 2. The top four timepieces in an individual collection a. The Good Night Watch i. A chronograph worn to bed to time sleep intervals ii. An instrument that centers one’s being between sleeping and waking b. The R2D2 i. The most essential and sturdy of all of the timepieces ii. A trusty companion for all of life’s terrains c. The Darth Vader i. The finest example of elegant simplicity with a touch of violence ii. A watch that possesses a seemingly invisible and powerful Force d. The Holy Grail i. The watch you will wear on your deathbed that will outlast you ii. The QP is a cruel trick because it offers a feature that you will never live to enjoy: not having to adjust the watch for over 150 years. iii. A watch that satisfies one from ever wanting to buy anything better, for now ;).

Quick note: I’ve mythologized part of this collection with Star Wars metaphors because that is the best story I grew up with: the futuristic mythological vision of Joseph Campbell only barely understood by George Lucas (as is evident in his prequel trilogy), based on his seminal “The Hero with a Thousand Faces.” One could easily substitute other similar archetypes for the designations that I have commandeered. Whatever gets you there. It’s all imaginal, but inarguably objective in terms of the archetypes.

As for the selected manufacturers, my opinion here is highly controversial. Breguet should be at the top, Swatch or no Swatch, because Breguet is the Grandfather of all of these other innovators. A Breguet watch lacks nothing in quality and discovery that these other companies are engaged in and in fact, in addition to the legacy/pedigree/history of invention, Breguet is still making timepieces that exceed the expectations of any connoisseur. Every little detail is given the utmost care and contemplation. This does not, of course, take into account watchmaking in other regions. Germany, A. Lange & Sohne in particular, is making watches that appear to be exceeding even the Swiss standards of excellence. This also does not take into account even conceivably more exciting independent watchmakers and inventors like Greubel Forsey, Roger W. Smith, nor even the late George Daniels.

Final thoughts, for now:

There’s a point at which, once you’ve hunted your favorite watch for it’s best price, you stop thinking about what the watch is worth and you begin to think more in terms of what the watch is. For example, I could stand outside in shorts and a t-shirt sipping a beer while admiring a watch that retailed once for $65-70k, but what I’m really thinking about is, 1. how does it fit my wrist? 2. how long will it last? 3. when will it need service? 4. how legible is this dial really? 5. do I like the weight and the fit of the band (strap or bracelet)? 6. could this have been designed better in terms of how it handles a diverse set of lighting situations? 7. was this really the right choice for the lug length? Cheers, Marc Goldberg ;). 8. could the moon phase have been tooled to be more accurate. 9. why isn’t the power reserve exact? 10. Are there any flaws in the guilloché? I’m looking at you, FPJ! 11. Why did they design the clasp like this as opposed to the Patek clasp method? 12. And sure, this dial is amazing with all of the guilloche patterns, but I can’t really see them without magnification because a) I’m getting old and my eyesight isn’t what it used to be and b) the beauty and contrast is only apparent under certain lighting, which makes the dial look washed out at all other times; not nearly as aesthetically pleasing as the Patek, which always looks good even when its sunburst guilloché pattern disappears into the black. 13. However, the most important question of all is four-fold: a. what did/does this watch and the work mean to the watchmaker? b. what did/does this watch mean to the manufacturer? c. what did/does this watch mean to the boutique collective? d. and what does this watch mean to the consumer in every sense: aesthetically, spiritually, historically, and depth psychologically?  

What’s next?

There are many watches that I still find attractive and many watches to come from the various great houses that might cause me to fall in love with one watch more than another, but to be honest I seriously doubt it. I mean, the only watch I want more than my BLNR in its category is a Coke version. The only watch I want more than my Speedmaster in its category is another Speedmaster of far rarer origin and pedigree, a vintage example maybe or who knows. As far as the Patek and Breguet are concerned, there are no better iterations of those watches and there never will be. Finally, for the ultimate grail watch, I believe that it has to be something so amazing that it doesn’t even exist yet. It has to be a dream or a fantasy that one chases and pines over until one’s heart is so broken that one cannot even leave the house without wishing it was either already on the wrist or to finally acquire the watch. As mentioned before, for me, that would be a Greubel Forsey QP chrono with moon phase and grand sonnerie; or yeah, I’ll simply take a GF chronograph, because that is what would replace the super boring yet perfect Speedmaster. Yes, the only thing that will replace the Speedmaster for me is the currently non-existent, fantasy hand-wound Greubel Forsey Chronograph. Sadly, as far as I know, it’s just not going to happen and that hurts me deeply. I want, after I’ve amassed an impossible amount of wealth near the end of my life, well beyond having had the opportunity to help others, to fund what I believe to be the greatest wristwatch ever made and while I may not be the man to do it, it is the fact that I want this for the whole of humanity and my Self that I put this energy out into the world and wish it will happen to someone someday. What you buy is a vote. When you make a purchase, it casts a ballot. I vote for fine horology all day every day. Everything else is an accessory to horology and life, even psychology and fancy electric cars, in spite of my obsession with Tesla’s inventions and values.

The argument could be made that this is not a perfect watch collection because not all complications are represented. For example, I do not have a minute repeater, much less a grande sonnerie. To that I say, I’m not dead yet. At this time of life I can still see (you know, literally, with my physical eyes) and there is this amazing thing, lume, you’ve heard of it, that makes it possible for me to tell the time in the blackest of darkness, so sure, I would love to own a chiming watch, but they’re not only way out of reach, but I don’t have any real use for them in the same way that there is value and use for the watches that I have selected (see what is of value and of use in Liber Novus). Will I ever own a QP chrono minute repeater grande sonnerie, with all of the bells and whistles like power reserve, moon phase, and sunrise sunset and equation of time someday? I certainly hope so!

P.S. Synchronistically, after finishing this essay, I went downstairs and found this puzzle to solve for my horological and mildly intellectual enjoyment :).

Okay, I swear this is it:

Some might ask, “so then what are your values, exactly, spending all of that time, and yours and other people's’ money, on wristwatches?” Don’t you have a job, a house, kids, a car, money, etc.? The answer is this: 1. I’m courting the job that I want to do until my heart stops: Tesla, a watch boutique, or something like that. 2. Having a house is not important to me, but maybe someday we’ll have one. Until then, my time and value will always be dedicated to horology in some way/shape/form. 3. Kids are just more people. People die. Watches are forever. 4. Cars are for suckers, unless you own a Tesla or a really sweet mechanical car, as is essentially the same case with watches. I ride a bike, and not a nice one, a cheap one, because I’d rather spend the money on timepieces.   5. I’d rather have the watch of my dreams than any amount of money. Money is just an imaginary number. The right watch is an instant and immortal best friend. a. To further make this case, look at the gentlemen at auction who are spending more more money with reckless abandon to own the perfect watch for them. Money is essentially meaningless outside of holding value to acquire goods and services. A watch is a deeply psychological and spiritual enterprise for those who really get it, and so it makes sense that one would spend it all to acquire the ultimate alchemical composition that bridges one’s “I” with the Self archetype—via an horological mandala—through the chain of watchmaker, to manufacturer, to dealer, to owner; or as Patek Philippe would have it, caretaker.

Thank you for reading.

The super sacred Holy Quaternity in all of its gorgeous horolgical glory!

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

Gravity Falls S02E03 - Golf War

A return of the fabled mini golf battle from last season!?

The title sounds like it's a return to the less mysterious plots but who knows, maybe it'll have even more world-shattering revelations so, let's do this!

That's a _great_ cereal name.

Please don't interrupt Dipper, he's watching a very important episode of Duck-tective.

That's the greatest newspaper tagline I've ever read.

Also, I mentioned Pacifica as a joke last episode and here she is. Hopefully the second part of that joke doesn't come to pass.

Of course! That's like half the reason I liveblog!

Aw, they are all doing things together now! And it only took a small zombie apocalypse!

For such a small town, Gravity Falls has way too many weird tourist traps.

I'm on the edge of my chair waiting to see how it all goes wrong.

oh god what's wrong with that woman's face

and _of course_ Pacifica is what's going to go wrong

oof, it's getting too real

the face of evil

A duel at midnight in a place where they probably shouldn't be?

Is Pacifica going to tell Snape?

Pacifica may be evil but I love the in-sync stylishness of her exits.

that's the life right there

Won't no one tell her that even if there's someone better than her that doesn't diminish the strength of her talent? I guess it does hurt that it's Pacifica of all people though.

All things aside, damn, now I want a burrito. THANKS GRAVITY FALLS.

this is so extra, I love it

awwwwwwwww

well, of course there's a mini civilization of mini golf balls living in the mini golf obstacles

No, but seriously, this isn't at all what I expected. I thought there would be a monster or something but not... this

Wait, is this Patton Oswalt? Wow! What's with the expensive cameos this season?

* groan *

Best joke this episode by far

I _love_ that the subtitle is both right and wrong at the same time

oh god put the helmet back put it back

untitled duck game

So, do they do this all night every night?

Dipper "Eat the Rich" Pines.

On one hand he's very right, but on the other hand it probably won't mean the same to Mabel if she feels she's cheating.

Yeah, this is not going to work.

Amazing parents! Showing this side of the picture makes me think that maaaybe we'll get a redemption episode for Pacifica at some point. Obviously not this one but maybe she's not so horribly bad without her parents' influence?

Yeaaaah, they suck.

Okay, _this_ is the best joke of the episode. Maybe the season. Wow.

I knew it was going to go wrong but I didn't think it was going to go _so_ wrong. It looks like the supernatural is open season for everyone now that Stan acknowledged he already knew about it, although I guess Mabel's friends have already been close to dying in the halloween episode.

oh my god

She may not be _the worse_ any more but she's still pretty bad. Which is good! Character depth~

There's the musical I was promised.

---

I didn't have much to write during the second half but I really liked this episode. I'm weak for "rich kid with bad parents slowly learns how to be human and have friends" plots (sounds pretty specific when written down but it's surprisingly common) so I was always going to like it. Especially because I thought Pacifica was going to be a villain this episode (and that her backstory was going to be used in the future) so it was cute to see her come around even if it was just a little bit.

Also, Mabel got an A-Plot! Woo!

Until next time!

[allianceinternational-blog]

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[cosmosfated]

“ I need help. ” let's have a nice angsty memory somewhere in here

   Things were different, once.

He used to have short ginger hair, used to prefer bomber jackets and ripped jeans to button ups and slacks, used to prefer sneakers to work boots.  He used to have bright red eyes instead of soft purple, used to have magic that slept violet and ventured scarlet instead of the other way around.  He used to be more confident in his every move, used to understand where this would all end, that every move was just another step towards checkmate, and this run would begin again.

   Things were different, once.

She used to have a tangle of brown hair that covered her eyes, used to prefer sundresses and Mary Janes to expensive blouses and fitted leggings, used to prefer Mary Janes to high-tops.  She used to have a fire in her eyes instead of the quiet flickering flame seen these days.  She used to be more go-getting in everything she did, because she felt as if every day may very well be her last.  She used to be a spark to tinder, the revolution starter, the mover and the shaker.  She used to believe in a happy ending that couldn’t be undone, couldn’t be taken away.

   Things were different, once.

He didn’t go by Fleur back then.  Not yet.  Not fully.  It was just a JOKE, just a GAME.  A distinguishing factor, and not a name.  He knew so much about flowers, almost too much.  He could tell you the difference between each petal, could tell you which was poisonous and which wasn’t, knew the remedies to half of them and knew which ones had no remedies.  He could look at the sky and tell you the exact time it would start to rain, he could look at the ground and tell you the exact time it would start to shake, he could close his eyes and tell you the exact time the sun set.

She didn’t go by Pacifica back then.  Not yet.  Not fully.  It was just a suggestion, just a passing thought.  She was far from perfect, but in the eyes of the multiverse, she was as perfect as it got.  She didn’t want to harm anyone, but she knew how to fight back.  She didn’t know how the magic flowed through her, brilliant shades of red and orange- once upon a time, sparks of gold cast a flicker of hope in his hollowed out soul, but just the same as a spark against damp wood and leaves, that would soon come to fade.

   Things were different once.

He was walking down the street in Castelia, one hand in the pocket of his jacket while the other was holding an umbrella over him.  He was coming home for an impromptu meeting with the board members of the Embassy on a sudden hot topic issue that he’s relatively certain that they were doing just to get him to stutter and trip over his words until he caved into what they wanted.  Thankfully, he managed to hold his ground - and briefly put the fear of the gods into their hearts - long enough to get the meeting over with and actually get to go back to where he lives.  After grabbing a cup of coffee from the best place in Castelia, of course - that suggestion was courtesy of his big brother.

The rain wasn’t particularly heavy.  It wasn’t quite storming, but neither was it drizzling.  A happy medium, as it were, and some of the clouds were absent, as if the sun were trying to see how people were reacting to their warmth having a slight day off in the area.  The glow of the city lights, though a horrid imitation, still give off a little false warmth through the gloom of encroaching dark.  The people on the streets rush to and fro different places, some not watching where they’re going and some grumbling about waiting for a light to change.  Some would bicker on their phones, some would laugh, and others would find a bit of solace in the chaos of the city while a few would mutter a resolve to get out of here sometime.  It was such a beautiful place to visit, somewhere truly MAGNIFICENT.

He used to be proud of the World he created.He used to be proud of his work as God of Creation and the Flow of Time.He used to be proud of his choices as a global representative.He used to be proud of… a lot of things.

He was snapped out of his faint admiration of the mismatched and slightly new scenery to hearing a soft noise that didn’t match the city sights.  He stopped, and took a moment to look around without moving his head too much.  He never told Whisper when he’d be back, truth be told, but they both could tell when he was ratted out by their souls– rather, when he was ratted out by the flicker of a light across a relatively new and hard to understand bond.

It’s only when he looks down the alleyway that he feels his heart ache at the sight.

She was young, then.  Too young to be on her own, too young to be crying alone in a New York City alleyway, too young to be the broken girl in a pop song.  She was too young to be in this situation, and he couldn’t just keep walking by while he knew she was suffering.

He smiled at her as he approached, not standing too close yet not too far.  He held the umbrella over her without much care to himself getting slowly drenched.  He could handle a little bit of water- hard to make a dead man get sick when most of him, or at least what of him actually mattered, wasn’t exactly there to begin with.  When she asked him why he would do something like that for a stranger, when she asked him why he would risk getting sick for someone he just met, when she asked him what he wanted from her, he laughed and found himself grinning.

“All I want is to make your day a little better. And if you’d like, you’re welcome to stay with me and my caretaker a few blocks away. Huge house, you can’t miss it. I’m a rather dramatic sort, and it shows.”

She had stared at him as if he was mad.  Perhaps even then he was a little off his rocker.  Perhaps even then he wasn’t exactly with it, stuck somewhere between the now and then, between the here and there.  But even so, his answer remained the same, and his offer was well meant.  She had said nothing, only took the umbrella insistently offered to her and looked down at the ground, muttering a ‘thank you’.

His grin had softened, at the words uttered so quietly one would believe the wind had tried to speak through another.  “You are welcome. The offer is always open.”

He barely made it a quarter of a block away before her strangled voice caught his ear.  He hadn’t expected her mind to change so quickly, but nonetheless, he turned to face her as she ran up to him.  Still a few long strides away.  She was staring at the ground, nervous once again about accepting an offer that would remain open no matter what.  He was seen as violent and chaotic to many, even to a fair bit of the multiverse he was seen as just another violent alternate of someone who he would shortly become completely separated from.

In the middle of her frenetic self-conversation, he merely held out a hand to her.  Palm upwards, facing the sky and perhaps a new dawn.

When she fell silent, the smile - genuine, yet quiet - softened.  Understanding.

“No one should be alone within their suffering, little miss.”

   Things were different, once.

They used to understand each other.

   These days, it’s as if they never knew each other at all.

starters that i’m using for memories.  /  accepting.  /  @bittersweetbuttercups.

[alliance-recruitment-agency-blog]

Oil And Gas Headhunters - Oil Gas Jobs And Rig Jobs Is Training Required?

The prices of gasoline or petrol increase daily, wherever you live in the planet. The associated with a barrel of oil has quadrupled since the key of the millennium. It went from about $20 a barrel to almost $80 on these days.

Image Source:

Headhunter Oil And Gas - If You Do Not (Do)OIL AND GAS HEADHUNTERS Now, You Will Hate Yourself Later

It's straightforward to need to alternative associated with energy in this context. The idea of using solar panels or biomass heating may seem like something much more really only ever usually useful to find a minority folks. Why would most of us ever think about making use of those options?

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Oil And Gas Headhunter - The Truth About OIL AND GAS HEADHUNTERS In 3 Minutes 

The second thing to consider for are some basic grammar and spelling troubles. These errors might very minute but a person is sending communication about such important topics like oil jobs and oil and gas headhunter, it is fairly a due to the fact they shouldn't make these mistakes. Realizing what's good need to start through shape of the solution very carefully and watch out for result.

Video Source: 

Oil And Gas Headhunting Services - 5 Secrets: How To Use OIL AND GAS HEADHUNTERS To Create A Successful Business(Product)  

Is this the only step that you should be using? Most experts agree that using less energy is also vital. Might possibly mean having showers compared to baths, or thinking about how precisely exactly many appliances you leave on stand by.

Hire Best Oil And Gas Headhunters - The Ultimate Guide To OIL AND GAS HEADHUNTERS  

Scoff Facing Disaster - Just ask people who lose their properties in tornadoes or hurricanes, losing the whole sized home in a disaster can be extremely unfortunate. Not only do you lose your worldly belongings, but you also take a sizable financial hit, especially if you do not have home insurance that will take care of such thinning.  Any loss is hard, but at least this sort would be considerably easier an extra chance from. Imagine as well the chance to hook the house up along with vehicle and move it to safety if needed.

Generally, employers offer a beneficial remuneration package to potential and worthy candidates. Lessons may include a housing allowance, health care benefits and allowance towards children's education, money for annual trip home any Required Oil And Gas Headhunters other such positive aspects. While you are considering a job offer, do not forget- housing and schooling in Dubai are expensive. So, any job offer that pays each would make you save a whole lot. Then, all you need to do is to weigh it in relation to its number of hours likewise let need become worked 1 week to make a decision whether the sale is acceptable or possibly not. 

When seem at the cost of entertainment oil during year, you see it went from $70 a barrel June 2007 to $140 a barrel in June 2008. Going Need A Oil And Gas Headhunters through the cumulative impacts of the opposite six reasons why you are the increased price, consider does in which sense. During the 1990's internet stocks could double everyday. Recently, housing prices could double in a couple of years. Did the prices for internet stocks and home prices remain at those elevation?

There can be a fast associated with women doing the male-dominated mining plans. Before, this job is mostly done by men though gender neutrality, things become more even better interesting for female. The fast-growing population of women in this career proves the actual way the labor force have became more advanced. 

It is up to around you to ask about the cash flow. Pensioners, self-funded retirees and then of those who earn lower $60 000 could definitely benefit from ownership of Australian shares and/or managed funds. Check with your accountant or call the ATO regarding RITC. Invest a few minutes of your time and as little as $500 of one's money to help twice (the investment forces you to money, additionally, the ATO anyone money possess fill in the RITC form). Call your favourite investment adviser or Financial Planner to gather more information. Keep Thinking RITCH.

The most rudimentary requirement of oil jobs and oil and gas headhunter is that you carry basic studying. If you have cleared high school you begin your career in the oil industry in an optimistic level. 100 % possible work being a roughneck or roustabout and go about doing drilling and removal. As you gain experience, you offer the chance to go up into the corporate hierarchy and reach supervisor levels.

Were just purchaser any kind of time level any kind of kind of business? Imagine YOU eventually as being a purchaser on an off shore rig. You go to help 28 days straight. Next, you take an excellent vacation for 28 occasions. All the while, you consider home $120,000 a 2010. Are you on the deck with big pipes swinging around? Not on your life. you have a desk inside, with an ocean view, most of your time. Yes, part of the time you may be putting new supplies on shelves, but you'll be keeping ones toes and fingers because purchasing and stocking can be a relatively safe occupation.

There is definitely an oil and gas revolution happening quietly in north america and occasion spreading around the world. OPEC (the organization in the guts east which works if oil prices up) is scared because China recently discovered major shale oil reserves. Several States in the usa are producing huge quantities of shale oil now and thousands of brand new wells are being drilled everyday.

There is lots of research going on worldwide top solar power and hydrogen power. They'll need to substitute oil, gas, coal and uranium a great intermediate phrase. Photovoltaic, wind power and power from biomass progress briskly. The process of transformation lasts decades. New solutions need time to step fully into the foot prints of oil based.

Do the enough guts to work offshore a good oil platform? The job certainly pays well enough, in spite of the temporary ban, hiring will resume sooner compared to later. Where will you be, when the oil companies start looking for workers again?

Author Name:- Shreya Mehta

Address:- 104 Esplanade ave 120, 

                  Pacifica, CA

Mobile No:- +1 917-668-8461